Monstrous Races (5 page)

‘In my defence, he was trying to cheat us out of those coins and we need them. He can’t have been that wise anyway, I threw in a couple of less solid ones for good measure and he didn’t even notice. How can you be a trader and not know faked coins? Useless.’

‘Rufus, I’m learning more about you all the time. What did you take?’

‘This scarf,’ he said, holding it up. ‘I thought you might cover your face with it sometimes and pretend to be a dog-head. Not the most original idea but it might pay off.’

‘Or you could pret
end to be a human,’ she replied. ‘A
very tall one. With a muzzle.’

The doors of Brayston were made of thick oak criss-crossed with iron, and her overriding impression was to question whether they were designed to keep people in or to stop them getting out. They’d heard it well before they’d seen it, a cascading noise of movement, carts and horses, street vendors shouting and the occasional squeal of laughter or flash of raised voices. The walls around it were thirty feet
at least, but somehow the aromas
permeated outside as well, the rich meats sizzling and smell of bread mingling with the great unwashed and greasy cattle stench.

They were in a queue of people tr
ying to get in and walked
between carts, traders, and people on foot, all talking loudly and conducting some business there and then. Every few minutes somebody would sidle up to them with an offer or a deal or a piece of merchandise they really couldn’t do without, except they could. They’d bought vegetable pasties and weak beer from a woman with a small cart at the back of the queue, and now they were hungry again but were too close to the front to leave it.

Humans and dog-heads patrolled in pairs up and down its length, looking for trouble or queue-jumpers. Anyone daring to do so would be marched straight out of the line and booted down a very steep hill at the bottom. Children and the elderly however
would be gently pushed. An equally heavy door to t
he right let people
out of Brayston, another time-consuming process as this time everything had to be checked to make sure that they weren’t wanted by the
gendarme
f
or making off with anything valuable that hadn’t been properly paid for. Elli was over-awed with the vibrancy and speed of the place before she got inside, and asked Rufus how it all worked.

‘Well, the
gendarme
is a foreign idea that came over a few years ago,' he said, casually scouting for snacks. 'Humans, dog-heads and anyone else can join, and the idea is that they stop people doing anything they shouldn’t be, like stealing or clubbing somebody around the head, and if they do they stick them down together in the cellars. They’ve started to spread them out a bit now, because in the early days people would try to be put down there so they could learn from the best. They’d go in for refusing to pay tax and end up as a master-criminal in a year.’

‘What’s tax?’ she asked, trying to keep on top of all the new information.

‘Tax is what you pay when you’ve got no other choice,’ he said bitterly, ‘so you effectively pay to live in here. Everyone is expected to pay the minimum of one groat every thirty days, and it’s a sliding scale dependant on how much you earn or thieve.’ Elli’s blank look forced him to explain further. ‘Look, say you make a hundred groats in thirty days, you’d then pay more than somebody who earned five. It’s fair in a way,’ he grumbled.

‘So who is in charge of checking how much everyone should pay?’ she asked. ‘What if you’re rich so you don’t earn money but have it already?’

Rufus scratched his chin thoughtfully. ‘I presume that they still pay and are forced at some point to earn some. Look, it’s all incidental anyway because people with that much money try not to declare it or else it’ll normally get stolen soon enough.’

‘But who has all this money? Where does it all go, the collected tax?’

‘That would be the Blemmyae Council,' he said in a loud whisper.

Before she could ask any more the queue moved on and she found they were finally next in line. She looked over at the
gendarme
, each wearing a green jacket and pointed green hat, and every one had a sword and heavy wooden club. She’d only ever seen dog-heads in the Dogheadhood before, and she shuddered at the new sight of them. Suddenly they seemed huge and frightening, towering over people with their wolfish grins. She was used to humans being like this, carrying weapons and trying to instil fear, but dog-heads were safe and familiar to her. Perhaps like humans they were all capable of unleashing something else. She thought back to Rufus as he’d saved her in the fight, an awesome sight that scared those horrible children. She hadn't seen it at the time because he was protecting her.

‘When did you come here Rufus?’ she asked, finally braving the question.

‘I, er, used to live here, a long time ago. Probably best to talk about it when we’re
inside,’ he said, placing his hand on her shoulder a little m
ore firm
ly than usual. The people in front went through the gates and they both walked up to the entrance booth where an alsatian dog-head stood to the side. She was wearing the green jacket and hat of the
gendarme
, and had leather boots with block hee
ls
that made her even taller.

‘Hello Rufus,’ she said in a husky growl. ‘Long time, no see.’

‘Josie!’ he exclaimed, suddenly standing very upright. ‘How have you been? You look...sorry, this is Elli. We want to come and stay for a while.’

A monotone voice from inside the darkened booth said, ‘what is the purpose of your visit?’

Rufus cleared his throat. ‘We’re here to visit friends of mine. And my Father, DH Maximillian of the Archways, Cannyngs.’

‘I see,’ came the monotone voice. ‘Any horses?’

‘Two,’ he replied, his mouth turned up as he grinned at Josie. ‘I had to leave in a hurry,’ he whispered, ‘I wanted to say goodbye.’

‘Why does a dog-head travel with a human girl?’ came the question, monotone but with slightly more emphasis now. Rufus paused.

‘I’m her guardian,’ he said to the darkened booth. ‘Her parents left her in my care.’ Josie coughed and he looked up.

‘And your name, girl?’ the voice asked.

‘I’m Elli,’ she answered, confused and tired. ‘And you are?’ She heard Rufus and Josie take a sharp intake of breath. The booth wobbled slightly and from it appeared a man-figure that Elli had heard stories about but had never quite believed until then. He was as tall as Rufus but had a smooth, straight line where his neck should connect to his shoulders. His head was positioned in the centre of his chest, as though his head and neck had been pushed into it. His skin was dark and golden and he reminded Elli of a tortoise, craning his neck this way and that and moving his head slowly. His hair (at the front of his head only) was black and cut short, and he peered at her whilst holding his hands together. ‘You’re a blemmyae,’ she stuttered, ‘a real one.’

He stood with his hands clasped together looking slowly from her to Rufus. ‘Your full name, child.’

‘Elspeth Sparrow, of Yewminster,’ she mumbled, ashamed now of her reaction.

‘Very well, you may stay on a temporary basis and must report to the Council House at first light tomorrow morning. Any questions?’ They both shook their heads and the blemmyae held out his hand. ‘That will be two groats administration costs please.’ Rufus grumbled and handed over the coins. ‘Next!’ shouted the blemmyae.

They walked on, and as they left Rufus leant over to Josie. ‘The Dog and Duck on Corn Street, I’ll be in there tomorrow night. Be good to catch up.’

‘Come on Rufus,’ said Elli, dragging him away. ‘Let’s just get in.’

The first thing that hi
t Elli was the size, a huge mas
s of noise and splutter and movement. Horses and carts streamed past, and towards the walls vendors of all kinds of food had set up stalls to which both Elli and Rufus were automatically drawn. ‘What’s that?’ she asked, peering into a sizzling cauldron of glistening and exotic vegetables.

‘It’s called Chill-he my dear,’ said the large man stirring it with a wooden oar. ‘It comes with a free drink of clean water, boiled and cooled only this morning.’ He was shiny with sweat and had an accent she’d never heard before. Rufus sniffed the cauldron.

‘Phew, that’s powerful stuff. Is that the ‘burn your head off’ chill-he they tried to ban a while ago?’

‘The very same,’ said the man proudly. ‘A connoisseur I see. Will that be two chill-hes and water?

‘How much?’ asked Rufus, as Elli’s stomach flipped with hunger.

‘A groat, and I’ll throw in cooling cream with it.’

‘My friend, for a groat I’d want the stall. A quart and I’m being generous.’ The man smiled and poured out two steaming hot chill-hes on two flatbreads topped with cream.

‘Why are they called
chill-hes?
’ asked Elli as they sat on a bench to the front of the stall and were about to eat.

‘Because when people here first tried them they would throw themselves into a river, a lake, a trough, anything cold and wet to cool down. Hence
chill-hes
,’ he said, his food in one hand and a tankard of water in the other. Elli bit into hers and very quickly finished her drink, pouring the remaining drops over her head.

‘More water for the girl?’ asked the man, already pouring it out.

They walked around after that, taking in the new smells and sounds. It was larger than anything Elli could have imagined, and she found herself clinging to Rufus and becoming anxious if he stepped out of her sight. Dog-heads and humans walked around together, and blemmyaes would weave in and around them, tending to walk with other blemmyaes. All had short, clipped hair, whether male or female, and wore dulled, plain clothes. In contrast some of the humans and dog-heads wore vibrant colours and gold and silver jewellery, and sometimes they walked with a human or dog-head in a purple jacket and hat behind them.

‘Who are they, the ones that follow?’ she whispered.

‘They’re personal-guards, privately paid for by those rich types,’ he sniffed. ‘Another idea of the Blemmyae Council. They’re like a private
gendarme
, and they guard that person and their belongings. When I was here last, some rich Lord or other woke up to find everything, his clothes, money, everything taken by his own guard. He even managed to make it out of the city. You’ve got to hand it to him. Of course, that’s why you pay insurance.’

‘Insurance?’

‘You pay it to the Blemmyae Council on top of tax, so that if your personal-guard walks off with your stuff they’ll either replace it all or find them and bring them back with all your belongings.’

‘And did they find him?’

‘Oh yes, they don’t stop until they’ve got what they want. In this case they searched for miles, spent a fortune but got him in the end. He was disguised as a female winkle-picker by the Eastleigh estuary.’

‘Um, and who are they
?’ she asked, as a group of people covered all over in hair of different shades and colours walked past. On the faces their hair was shorter, and she could see that it was trimmed to be like that. They wore less clothing, she presumed because they were warmer, and they were a little taller than her.

‘Gorgades. Do you know I think that’s...hang on,’ he said, and ran over towards them. ‘Billy, is that you?' he asked a fair, plump ma
le towards the back
and the hairy group stopped in unison. 

‘Rufus,’ called out a sing-song voice. ‘What you doin’ back around here? We haven’t seen you for ages.’ He grabbed Rufus’ hand and shook it firmly
. ‘You remember my wife Christina? And this is little Elvis,’ he added, gesturing towards a boy covered in very dark hair. ‘He’s in a band. I heard you took holy orders, I couldn’t believe it.' Some of the group sniggered.

‘Yes, that’s the reaction I thought I’d get being back here. It’s good to see all of you, you’re looking well. Billy particularly,’ said Rufus, pointing to his rotund belly. ‘How have you been?’

‘We’re good, thank you,’ said Billy. ‘We’ve still got the laundry business and the inn, you’ll have to come over and see it. We’ve gone up-market now, only the best. Tiny meals and everything. Goat cuisine, the best goat in Brayston. How about you, did you get chucked out?’ As there was no trace of a smile Elli presumed he meant it.  

‘No, not quite. This is Elli, and we’re spending some time here, seeing old friends and family. I’m her...guardian.’ There was a long pause.

‘You. Her guardian. Oh, right. Well, come on over and have some goat. If you need anything my love, you make sure you find us,’ he said, addressing Elli and taking her by the hand. ‘My wife makes a marvellous apple pie, you’re always welcome.’ Elli couldn’t be sure, but she thought his wife might have blushed beneath her hair.

Rufus gestured for a cart to stop for them, and after haggling about the price they got in and looked out at the rich tapestry of life in Brayston. The buildings here were higher than any she’d ever seen and crept upwards, tilting towards each other like neglected, yellowing teeth. She saw brightly coloured birds for sale in
rusty cages, and they rode past
a farmers' market where a creature the size of a horse was being sold. It was jet black, and had one horn pointing forward and the other backwards, penned in as farmers and butchers scrabbled to make their bids.