Fighting with fire lt-2, page 23
part #2 of Lex Trent Series
Lex shook his head, impatient with himself. If he didn’t watch out, he’d end up as nutty as Nathaniel. He’d never heard of a dream-fox before? never in all the books he’d read. And Lex was very well read.
He went on, past staircases that led up into ceilings and windows set into the floor. At one point, the entire floor was made out of glass. It looked directly down on to the umbrella room. Lex could tell because he could see the umbrellas? all of different colours? opened out beneath his feet.
He spent a few minutes in the entrance hall examining the paintings there. He noted that the one with Nathaniel having tea with a giant fox was entitled, Taking Tea With Plantagenet. Not only that, but the fox appeared in several other paintings, too, usually in the background and sometimes partially obscured. One painting of Nathaniel showed him serenely strolling, stick in hand, through a battlefield. An ancient battlefield from the looks of things because the warriors all seemed to be half naked, and wielding bows and arrows. Indeed, even Nathaniel’s top hat had an arrow sticking through it. And there, at the bottom right-hand corner of the painting, was a fox’s tail, only just visible.
In another painting, Nathaniel stood, balancing on one leg, in a river, surrounded by pink flamingos. He had his umbrella up, despite the fact that it wasn’t raining. And on the nearby bank, peering through a bush, was what looked suspiciously like a giant fox in a waistcoat.
Lex spotted the fox in a few more paintings but it was always partially hidden or obscure. The teatime one was the only one that showed him clearly. Clear enough to see that he couldn’t possibly be real.
Lex moved on to the fourth floor. At one point, he opened a door and almost went through it before realising? just in time? that there was no floor beyond? just a sheer drop to the courtyard below. Later on, he came across a sort of games room that might have been fun were it not for the fact that all the balls on the snooker table, and all the chessmen on the chess table, were nailed firmly in place.
He did not come across another person during his explorations. The cowboys staying in the house were all either asleep or still down in the bar. But, in actual fact, Lex could have easily got away with wandering about the house, even as Sid the Kid, for it was just so easy to get lost, which was probably why the other cowboys stuck to the bar and the bedrooms rather than attempting to navigate the rest of this madhouse.
As Lex went on, he began to feel a little disheartened, for the house was just so big. It had taken years to build and it would take years to search. Jesse had been here on four separate occasions looking for the sword and had no luck. Hundreds had attempted the task before him but with no success. Lex had only four days before the third round began. Four days to do what everyone before him had failed to do.
He had an excellent sense of direction but, when he started trying to make his way back to his bedroom, he found it extremely difficult, even with the map he’d drawn. The problem was that most of the rooms had doors leading to several other rooms. It was not simply a case of one room following on from another in a logical order.
At one point, he came across a room that was full of doors. There was a grand total of twenty, set around the walls. Lex opened every single one of them, sure that many must lead to the same room. One door led nowhere: when Lex opened it, there was just a brick wall behind it. And another led to a room so small there was no way any human would ever be able to get into it. But the other eighteen doors all led to different rooms. How was that even possible? Surely there should not be enough space for them all. Granted, they were all narrow rooms but even so…
Lex felt a mounting sense of frustration. The house was too big and there was no logic to it. He could be the cleverest person in the world and still be unable to crack the riddle on the stained-glass windows. Trying to unravel the messed-up mind of a madman was like trying to untangle a never-ending ball of string.
Still, there was nothing for it but to forge on. Lex spent most of that night exploring the house. In fact, due to the fact that he got hopelessly lost, he was later back to his room than he’d intended, and only fell into his hammock a bare hour before the sun began to rise.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE BLACK SWANN AND THE SECRET TEA PARLOUR
The next two days were a tiresome, irksome business for Lex. His time was split between playing Jesse’s pet monkey for the entertainment of the other cowboys down in the bar, and searching for the sword at night. It was worse than looking for a needle in a haystack. If Lex had had a proper riddle to work with, he would have cracked it already by now, but all he had to go on was a madman’s drivel that might not even hold the answer at all.
Something unexpected happened on the second morning, though: Jeremiah came to Dry Gulch House. Lex was in the bar when he arrived. Jeremiah came on his own, by carriage? the fool. He must have brought the carriage with him on board his ship, for it had the East coat of arms emblazoned in gold on the door. No doubt he had travelled across the desert in it when he reached the Western shore and was forced to leave his ship behind.
Lex was sitting by the window eating a tin of beans when Jeremiah arrived. Someone had given him a spoon but, for the look of the thing, he felt compelled to spill most of them down the front of his shirt, anyway.
No one actually noticed Jeremiah until he walked into the bar. When he came in, dressed in his fancy royal-blue coat with the golden buttons, hair brushed, jaw shaved and generally looking as clean cut as a man can be without being a woman, he couldn’t have stuck out any more than he did. Everyone went quiet, staring at him in amazement. Everyone knew that only cowboys were allowed into Dry Gulch House, now. Peasants weren’t allowed, farmers weren’t allowed and noblemen definitely were not allowed.
‘I am Jeremiah East,’ he announced to the room. His booted feet were planted firmly apart on the floor like he owned the place. It was clear that he was pleased with the fact that everyone had gone silent at his appearance. He had no idea that this was just the calm before the storm. ‘This house was the rightful property of my great-great-uncle, Nathaniel East. It was unlawfully taken from him a hundred years ago by savages. I have consulted a lawyer who has assured me that, despite the time that has elapsed, no deed of ownership was ever passed. This house is therefore still the property of the East family. You are all trespassing. I will give you one hour to vacate the premises. I expect you all to provide me with contact details so that later we can negotiate reparations for the vandalism done to the house. If you carry out my instructions to the letter then I will agree to waive my lawful right to collect rent for the period during which this house has been illegally occupied.’
Lex goggled at him. He’d known Jeremiah could be stupid, but he hadn’t realised just how stupid. As an ex-law-student, Lex knew that everything Jeremiah had said was, technically, true. But things like that just didn’t matter out here. Not here in the Wild West where disputes were decided by duels and the sheriff was just someone to throw stuff at on a slow-moving day.
The scar-faced cowboy Lex had crossed earlier was the first to react. He stood up from the table where he’d been drinking and told Jeremiah? with rather a lot of unnecessary swearing? to get out. Jeremiah actually looked shocked and outraged by this. It was clear that he had expected his little speech to work flawlessly.
‘The law is on my side,’ he said, going quite pale with anger. ‘I have the documentation with me, if you’d like to examine it. It’s quite bad enough that my poor uncle was slaughtered right here in his own home by a gang of savages like you, without having his house overrun by them as well! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves! You’re a corrupt, contemptible lot of cowards and I want you out of my family’s house right now.’
Calling them cowards was going just that little bit too far. These were men who produced far too much testosterone as it was, and prided themselves on being tough and manly and other such meaningless things. Yet there Jeremiah stood, looking rather smug and clearly thinking that he had just put everyone in their place, when, actually, the most likely reaction now was for one of the cowboys to stand up and shoot him straight in the chest.
‘Y’know I’m getting the sort of feeling that history is about to repeat itself,’ the scar-faced cowboy said. ‘First the uncle, then the nephew. We’ll put your head up in the trophy room, kid.’
‘You wouldn’t dare touch me!’ Jeremiah sneered.
Lex could have groaned aloud. He believed it! The idiot actually believed he wouldn’t be harmed here, when the fact was that he was seconds away from either being shot, or dragged outside to be strung up from the nearest tree. Lex had to wonder how the nobleman had even managed to survive into adulthood. He shook his head in despair (but only on the inside). The parents were to blame, really. This was what a posh school and too many private fencing classes could do to a person. But Jeremiah getting himself killed was the last thing Lex wanted. After all, he didn’t want to win the Game by default. Where would be the fun in that? He wanted to win gloriously. And that would be difficult to do with both Lorella and Jeremiah dead, and no one but Tess and a little sprite left to compete against. It would be like being the only adult on a toddlers’ wrestling team: you’d win all right, but there would be no glory in it. No, this wouldn’t do at all. Lex was just going to have to save the nobleman from himself. Again.
Before anyone else could do anything, Lex quickly scooped up a spoonful of beans from his tin, drew the spoon back, took careful aim and flicked them right at Jeremiah’s face. Lex was sitting only a few tables away and his aim was good. The beans splattered right across Jeremiah’s right cheek.
‘Boring man,’ Lex announced blithely to the room in general. ‘Boring speech. But nice coat.’
The other cowboys erupted into cheers and laughter at the same moment that Jeremiah roared in outrage. The nobleman’s head whipped around, looking for his assailant. Lex could have lowered his head and hidden his face under his hat, but he didn’t. Their eyes met and it was worth the risk to see the expression of utter amazement and fury on Jeremiah’s face at the sight of Lex sitting there in Dry Gulch House, calmly eating a tin of beans? or calmly dribbling a tin of beans, as the case may be. Disciplined as he was, it was too much for Lex and he broke one of his own rules then by breaking character just long enough to wink at Jeremiah. Then he instantly slipped back into Slow Sid and continued to eat his beans, staring vacantly out the window as if he’d already forgotten Jeremiah was even there.
‘Oh my Gods, that’s Lex-’ Jeremiah started to shout above the din, but was instantly cut off by a crust of bread hitting him on the nose. A moment later, he was being positively pelted with food. Everything and anything edible within easy reach was hurled at Jeremiah. It was mostly beans. Soon they covered his coat and his skin and his hair. It would have been glorious fun to watch but Lex forced himself to calmly finish his lunch whilst gazing blankly out of the window because that was, after all, what Slow Sid would have done.
Jeremiah tried to throw a punch at one point but the danger had passed by then. The cowboys were in too good a mood to think about killing him now. A lot of blood all over the place would completely ruin the atmosphere. So he was unceremoniously hurled out of the front door instead where he landed on his back in the dust by the front steps.
Lex hoped he would just get back in his carriage and drive away but instead Jeremiah stood up and, still bellowing in anger, actually started coming back towards the house? like someone just begging to be hanged by his neck until he was dead. The cowboys had clearly had enough of the game by then, for one of them fired a shot. It was not intended to kill but, still, the sound seemed to tear through the air as the bullet bit the ground between Jeremiah’s feet. The nobleman stumbled back, white as a sheet. The sudden quiet from the rest of the cowboys indicated very clearly that the fun was most definitely over.
‘If you don’t want to be strung up from that tree right there,’ the scar-faced cowboy said, pointing at the nearest one. ‘Then get in your fancy carriage, drive away, and don’t ever let us see your sorry face here ever again!’
Jeremiah? bean-stained and dusty? stared at the cowboy for a moment. Then his eyes swivelled round to the window where Lex was watching. All eyes were on Jeremiah and? as this was make-or-break point? Lex broke character a second time, just long enough to emphatically mouth the word, ‘ Go!’
To his relief, Jeremiah finally turned on his heel and stalked back towards his carriage with his head held high like there weren’t really beans dribbling all the way down his back. Lex only breathed a sigh of relief once Jeremiah had climbed up into the driver’s seat, grabbed up the reins and ridden away, back in the direction he’d come.
‘He’s really going to hate you now,’ Jesse remarked in their lime-green bedroom the next morning.
Lex shrugged. ‘He hated me anyway. Besides, this is all his fault. He started it by spiking my drink in the Wither City.’
‘You really are one to hold a grudge, ain’t you?’ Jesse said.
‘I never forget an insult,’ Lex replied in a hard voice. ‘A person might wrong me once but, by the Gods, they won’t do it again!’
‘Well, if you feel that strongly about having a bit of somethin’ extra put in your drink in what was just a childish sorta prank, then think how Jeremiah must feel about having his uncle killed and a family mansion stolen away by a gang of ruffians like us.’
Lex was slightly startled by that, for he hadn’t thought of it in that way before. But he had to admit Jesse had a point. If Dry Gulch House had once belonged to the Trents, Lex would have been every bit as outraged as Jeremiah? more so, probably? and utterly determined to get it back. Only he would have been cleverer about it. He would not have simply marched in, expecting self-righteousness and legal technicalities to carry him through. He would have made sure he succeeded. And he would never have waived his right to rent? never! He would not simply have got the house back from the cowboys, he would have had his revenge on them, too.
But he shrugged Jesse’s comment off carelessly. ‘The Easts have plenty of other family mansions. I’ll bet they don’t even miss this one. It’s not like any of them would want to live here, especially after what happened to Nathaniel. Anyway, enough of all this talk about Jeremiah. I need to carry on looking for the sword.’
Although it was now morning, Lex had decided to continue his search straightaway, after snatching a few hours sleep, rather than waiting for nightfall again. It didn’t matter much, anyway, since the other cowboys tended to spend all their time in the bar. There was, therefore, no reason why Lex shouldn’t search during the day as well. Especially as he was fast running out of time.
‘Ain’t you tired of that, yet?’ Jesse asked. ‘I told you, that sword ain’t real. You’re lookin’ for somethin’ that don’t even exist!’
Lex scowled. The truth was that, even if the sword were real, he was starting to think that he might be forced to concede defeat for the simple reason that he was going to run out of time. In a house this huge, it could be hidden in any number of places. After hours of exploring, there were still rooms he hadn’t been into at all. Let alone the countless secret passageways he knew the house to contain but which he was yet to discover. It could take him a year or more to locate the sword.
And yet the thought of having to admit failure was a bitter pill to swallow for Lex. He had bragged to Jesse about finding the sword. The idea of having to admit that that had all been a lot of talk was intolerable. Jesse would gloat insufferably. He would rub it in and pour salt into the open wound. Lex knew he would do that because it was exactly what he would have done himself.
‘The sword is here!’ he snapped. ‘Just because you were unable to find it doesn’t mean that I won’t. It’s right here, somewhere in this house. I just wish I knew where that sword was. Then I could-aarghh!’
He broke off with a cry of pain as something very hot suddenly started to burn through his trouser pocket. He reached his hand in, grabbed the velvet pouch and flung it on to the bed. It was practically smoking. Gingerly, he picked the pouch up between thumb and forefinger to tip the contents out on to the bed. The Wishing Creatures of Desareth tumbled out together. The white and red Swanns and the blue Dragon lay there as usual. But the black Swann was steaming hot. In fact, as Jesse and Lex watched, it even started to char the sheet.
The black Swann? the one whose wish was recorded as ‘unknown’ in Erasmus Grey’s book. And Lex had just said aloud that he wished he knew where the sword was hidden. Now the Swann was burning hot to the touch. When Lex had been very little, he had played a game with his brother, which involved one of them hiding an object for the other to find. The seeker would move around the room whilst the hider said they were getting hotter the nearer they got to the hidden object, and colder the further away they went from it.
Could it be… Could it really be that the black Swann’s wish was not to turn pumpkin pies into poo, as Lex had feared, but to locate missing objects instead? Could it be that just one of his Wishing Creatures could actually do something useful?
‘What are those things?’ Jesse said, peering down at the stone animals on the bed.
Lex ignored him and used a corner of the sheet to pick the black Swann up gingerly. ‘I wish I knew where my brother, Lucius, was,’ he said, loudly and clearly.
The Swann did not go instantly cold as he had expected, but remained hot instead. Lex frowned at it for a moment before the idea occurred to him that perhaps the Swann could not locate more than one missing object at once. Perhaps it would not ‘reset’ itself, so to speak, until Lex had found the sword.
He picked up the other Wishing Creatures and thrust them into his pocket before looking around for something with which to pick up the Swann. He couldn’t carry it in his bare hands for any great length of time without it burning his skin. He could try using a piece of the sheet but he feared the Swann would burn right through that, too.
