The Phenomenals: A Tangle of Traitors by F. E. Higgins

Author:F. E. Higgins [Higgins, F. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781447217763
Publisher: Bolinda Digital Pty Ltd

CHAPTER 17

THE LANTERN BEARERS

‘Folly?’

Vincent’s voice echoed around the Kryptos and a cursory glance told him that he was alone. He threw off the blanket and stretched, and proceeded to make himself a weak tisane from a used bag and eat a piece of bread he found on the table. Then he explored the Kryptos thoroughly. There was little to see: Folly’s bedroll, his own makeshift bed, some crockery. He went to the trunk and in a matter of seconds he had sprung the lock and lifted the lid. There were clothes on top – trousers and shirts – and he helped himself to one of each. He also found a compass and a roll of maps, including one of Antithica province and a smaller detailed map of Degringolade. He spread the latter on the table and took a few moments to peruse it. The Flumen River was clearly marked in blue, skirting the city before flowing out to the Turbid Sea.

With his left index finger he traced a path out of Degringolade along the Great West Road to a wide area marked Palus Salus – the salt marsh, he guessed – in the middle of which was the symbol for a Komaterion. Further across, a dark patch indicated the Tar Pit. Folly was making it out to be harder than it was, he thought; all he had to do was follow the path across the marsh and it would lead him back to the city. In a decisive mood, refreshed from sleep and frustrated at having wasted so much time already, he quickly packed up his belongings, including the map and compass, and took a spare manuslantern. ‘Goodbye, Folly, whoever you are,’ he murmured on the threshold of the Kryptos. ‘And thanks for everything.’

He stepped out into semi-darkness and a thick swirling mist. The warm Kryptos suddenly seemed very inviting, but the sight of his bandaged hand steeled his resolve. He set off, whistling to keep himself cheerful, and spent a few hundred yards relishing thoughts of how he might exact his revenge on Kamptulicon, each more grisly than the last. Suddenly he remembered the heel of his boot and stopped to check it. He was not surprised to find that the book was gone. Kamptulicon must have taken that too. Oh, how he would have loved to give the sadistic maggot a taste of his own medicine.

But, if he was completely honest with himself, Vincent knew that all he really wanted was to retrieve his smitelight and go on his way. He was a thief and a picklock with a badly injured hand; Kamptulicon was quite obviously a lunatic with an equally mad and stinking friend. At least he couldn’t sneak up on him; his smell would always give him away! Yes, he would exact his revenge, but he could wait.

He was heartened, however, by the thought of the mansions on the hill. He would pay one or two a visit before he left Degringolade. He remembered too the green-eyed girl’s Trikuklos.

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