Chapter 38. Closing the Barn Door after the Ponies are Gone

 ‘What a waste,’ the Pilgrim whispered, staring down at Ferdibrand. ‘You shouldn’t have hit him so hard!’

 ‘This is going all wrong,’ Brant gritted. ‘You said it would be simple! You said we could get out of the City after this, and it’s getting worse, not better!’

 ‘Why it is simple,’ the Pilgrim said, and giggled under his breath. ‘Look at how much we’ve accomplished! We’ve killed the Fox, for starters!’

Brant started. He’d been too busy keeping an eye and ear on the market just beyond the entrance to the alley to pay much attention to the hobbits at his feet. Now he looked more closely.

 ‘I know we wanted to give him to the flames,’ Pilgrim whispered, ‘but we’ll tell the flames what happened and I’m sure they’ll understand.’

 ‘Got to keep the fire happy,’ Brant said absent-mindedly. As long as they kept feeding the flames, the tongues of fire would not go for him. He didn’t much like it, but it was the only way. He sighed again for a quick, easy death, but Pilgrim was always telling him he was destined to burn, should the flames ever grow angry or impatient. He shuddered. He’d reluctantly watched too many others to want to go through the same agonies.

 ‘Now we’ll take the little ones and...’ the Pilgrim said, turning to where he’d secreted the small hobbits.

 ‘Wait,’ Brant said. His stomach turned at the thought, and he was happy to seize on an observation of his own. ‘Now you’re the one not using your eyes.’

 ‘Eh?’ Pilgrim grunted.

 ‘The hobbit mum,’ he said. ‘Look at her! She was with the Fox before, and she’s the same one now.’

The Pilgrim bent closer to Nell. ‘Yes,’ he hissed, his mouth beginning to water in his excitement. ‘She’s the one I made the promise to!’ Forgetting the youngsters, to Brant’s secret satisfaction, he scooped up Nell and began to hurry down the alley, away from the market. ‘My father taught me, a promise made is a promise you’re honour-bound to keep!’

Brant nodded absently. His father had taught him the same. He was busy watching for guardsman and others who might notice them carrying off one of the Little Folk. Pilgrim had lost all caution, he knew, and was thinking only of anticipated pleasures. Brant didn’t like it, much, but it was better than carrying off the two tiny lasses.

Pilgrim stopped, however, and put Nell down again.

 ‘What are we doing?’ Brant hissed.

 ‘You watch her a moment,’ Pilgrim said. ‘I’ve got to take care of some unfinished business.’

Brant didn’t stay to watch, of course, but followed Pilgrim back towards the market. He saw his companion stop to pick up the little hobbits.

 ‘We can’t carry them all,’ he said desperately.

 ‘No, but we can put them away safe for later,’ Pilgrim chortled under his breath as they jogged along. ‘O yes, quite safe!’ He laid the little ones gently in a barrel near the dusty stone wall of one of the flanking houses, just past one of the alley’s crooked turns, out of sight of the market. ‘There,’ he muttered in satisfaction. ‘Nobody will notice them there and steal them away from us. We’ll come back later when all is dark and quiet and fetch the little darlings.’

 ‘Too dangerous,’ Brant muttered. Somehow he had to dissuade the Pilgrim.

 ‘Too dangerous not to,’ the Pilgrim shot back as they hurried to reclaim Nell and escape the market’s environs before the true guardsmen discovered hobbits missing. ‘The flames, you know, they’re always hungering...’

When Pilgrim wasn’t looking, Brant did some furious thinking. He’d try to get them to leave the City without the youngsters, if he could. A part of him would rather face the flames himself than stand by while Pilgrim went about his business with those tiny ones.

***

 ‘Lapis! Lassie!’ Forget-me-not called. Her mother had urged her to join the marketing party, and all had seemed lovely for a time, but now she was growing increasingly worried. ‘If you’re hiding, come out now!’ She’d thought they were with Auntie Nell, but Auntie Nell and Uncle Ferdi were nowhere in the market, and neither were her little sisters.

 ‘Perhaps they went back to the Houses of Healing,’ one of the guardsmen said.

 ‘They wouldn’t have, not without telling us,’ Forget-me-not said, and shook her head impatiently. ‘No, that’s not right! They would have insisted that all of us go back with them, escort or no escort!’

Berry and Borry and their remaining sister Jonquil stood huddled in a fearful group, surrounded by guardsmen. Others were searching through the marketplace, looking under every table, calling, assisted by most of the vendors.

 ‘They were just here,’ the flower vendor said in tears. ‘And then I thought I saw them by the toymaker.’

Bergil shook his head. Berry and Jonquil had been at the toymaker’s, while Borry lingered to watch the puppet show. All their guards had been in place.

 ‘Who was watching Nell?’ he said.

 ‘I was,’ Celon said sheepishly. ‘I was right behind her at the flower vendor, and when the little lass started to shriek I turned to see what was the matter. When I looked back I saw another guardsman had her and I...’

 ‘Who was it?’ Bergil broke in.

Celon thought back. ‘Adonion,’ he said uncertainly.

Bergil raised his voice to call that guardsman. Adonion trotted up. ‘Sir!’ he said smartly.

 ‘You were with Pimpernel?’ Bergil said.

 ‘No, sir,’ Adonion said in surprise, ‘I was watching the north entrance to the market as you told me. No hobbits approached that entrance.’

 ‘There was a guardsman standing by the alley,’ the flower vendor confirmed. ‘He followed the little mother in.’

 ‘No,’ Celon contradicted. ‘I started to follow her.’ Frustrated he insisted, ‘There was another guardsman in the alley.’

 ‘Search the alley,’ Bergil snapped, leading the way. Not far away, amidst a clutter of barrels and broken boxes, his worst fears were realised as he found Ferdibrand’s crumpled figure.

 ‘Ferdi,’ he whispered. He turned the hobbit over, lifted him in his arms, and carried him back towards the market, snapping over his shoulder, ‘Keep searching!’

Ferdibrand’s body was cool and limp, his head lolling. Bergil had a terrible feeling that things were about to get much worse.

When Jonquil caught sight of her uncle in the tall guardsman’s arms, head bloody, eyes closed and face pale, she began to shriek once more, and as before, all movement in the marketplace stopped.

 ‘Back to the Houses of Healing,’ Bergil said to the detail surrounding the remaining hobbits.

 ‘But what about Lappie and Lassie?’ Berry said.

‘And Auntie Nell?’ Borry echoed. ‘Have they been hurt too?’

 ‘Back to the Houses of Healing,’ Bergil repeated, and broke into a jog. To expedite matters, several guardsmen picked up the young hobbits and jogged after him. The rest began to take the marketplace apart, board by board, stall by stall, scattering the wares on the stones as they went.