With a faint whistle it began to spiral away, spinning up into the sky. Not many did that. Usually they gave a sort of groan or howl and plunged into the earth. So Old Rowler was clearly an Up. I’d missed out on a new soul, but what did that matter? He was gone now and my curiosity was satisfied.
I began to search the body. There was only one coin. Probably the same one I’d given him earlier for the ox blood. Next I pulled out the sabre. The handle was a little rusty but I liked the balance and the blade was sharp.
I swished it through the air a few times. It had a good feel to it so I thrust it safely into the lining of my own overcoat.
That done, I was free to begin the main business of the night.
Old Rowler’s daughters . . .
IT WAS GETTING dark when I reached the farmhouse. There’d be no moon tonight and there was only one light coming from the house – the faint, fitful flicker of a candle behind the tattered curtains of the front bedroom.
I loped up to the door and rapped loudly upon it three times. I used the black knocker, the one decorated with the one-eyed head of a gargoyle, which was supposed to frighten off anything threatening that approached by night. Of course, this was just superstitious nonsense and my triple rap echoed through the house.
There was no reply. Those three girls had no manners, I thought. No manners at all.
Angrily, I dropped on all fours and ran three times round the house in a widdershins direction, against the clock, and each time I passed the front door I let out a loud, intimidating howl.
Next I returned to the front of the house and blew myself up to three times human size. I placed my forehead against the cold glass of the bedroom window and closed one eye.
With my left eye, I could just see through the narrow chink where the curtains met. I spotted Nessa, my inheritance, and her two sisters, huddled together on the bed.
Nessa was in the middle, with her arms wrapped about the shoulders of her younger sisters, Susan and Bryony. I’d spied on them many times before. There wasn’t much I didn’t know about these girls.
Nessa was seventeen, Susan a year younger. Susan was plumper than Nessa, with hair the colour of ripe corn. She would have fetched the best price at the slave market. As for Bryony, she was still a child, about eight summers old at the most; cooked very slowly, her flesh would be succulent, even tastier than day-old chicken – though many kobalos would prefer such young flesh raw.
The truth was that Nessa was worth the least of all, but her sale would allow me to fulfil my duties under the law of Bindos. A trade is a trade, and I always keep my word, so I shrank to human size and, with one almighty blow of my left hand, struck the front door.
The wood splintered, the house shook, the lock shattered and, with a groan, the old door swung back upon its hinges. Then, without waiting for an invitation, I stepped across the threshold and climbed the wooden stairs.
NESSA
I felt ashamed at having left my father like that. I’d left him to die alone. But the terror of seeing the beast so close had overwhelmed me.
Having reached the safety of the house, I’d locked all the doors and then led Susan and Bryony up to my bedroom. My anguish and terror had rendered me almost speechless, but once there I could keep silent no longer.
‘Father’s dead!’ I’d cried. ‘He’s dead – gored by the bull!’
My sisters both gave wails of grief. We’d climbed up onto the bed and I’d put my arms around them, trying to give what comfort I could. But then we heard the terrifying noises outside the house. They began with three loud raps, quickly followed by a series of terrible blood-curdling howls which made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
‘Cover your ears! Don’t listen!’ I urged my sisters. Of course, my arms were still around them so I was forced to endure the terrifying sounds. I thought I heard heavy breathing from outside the window, and for one awful moment it seemed as if a gigantic eye was peering through the gap in the curtain.
But how could that be? The beast was not that big. I’d glimpsed him on his visits to our farm and he’d seemed hardly taller than my poor father.
Next there came a terrible crash from below. I knew exactly what it was and my heart began to beat even faster. The beast had smashed in the front door.
I heard heavy feet stamping up the stairs, approaching the bedroom door. It was locked, but the door was nowhere near as stout as the one the beast had already forced – it would prove no defence at all. My whole body began to shake.
The door handle slowly turned while I gaped at it in terror.
‘Nessa,’ the beast growled. ‘Open the door and let me in. I’m your new father now. Be an obedient girl and let me in.’
I felt appalled at what he was saying. How could such a monster claim to be my father?
‘Your old dead father left the farm to me, Nessa,’ the beast continued. ‘And he gave you to me. And if you’re good to me, Nessa, then I’ll be good to your two plump sisters. He asked me to take your sisters on a long journey to live in happiness with your aunt and uncle. I promised him I’d do that because I always keep my promises to the dead. But you belong to me, Nessa. So you have to be obedient. Why don’t you answer? Don’t you believe me? Well, read this, then. It’s your father’s will.’
I couldn’t believe what he was saying. My sisters were whimpering in shock. How could my father have agreed to such a terrible thing? I wondered. I thought he’d loved me. Didn’t he care about me at all?
The beast pushed a piece of paper under the door and I clambered off the bed, picked it up and started to read what was written.
To Nessa
I’ve promised the beast that he can have the farm and you. In return he’s promised to deliver Bryony and Susan to your aunt and uncle. I’ve tried to be a good father and, had it ever proved necessary, I would have sacrificed myself for you. Now you must sacrifice yourself for your younger sisters.
Your loving father
Despite the shakiness of the letters, it was undoubtedly Father’s handwriting, but I had to read it three times before its meaning sank into my befuddled brain. There were spots of blood on it – he must have written the letter in his final living moments.
I couldn’t think straight, but I knew that I had to get the beast out of the house. If I didn’t agree to what my father had written, the dreadful creature would smash down the bedroom door and perhaps kill all three of us. So I took a deep breath to calm myself before speaking.