best to inject as much calm and assurance as he could muster into a single nod, ignoring the unbroken, glassy sheen to Helen’s eyes, and closed the door.
He hurried back to his room, slithered out through the window, and returned to the crawlspace beside the stables, the acrid odour of fear crawling into his nostrils, wafting up from the folds under his shirt.
Alex’s voice had grown louder, but was still peaceable enough. He was standing his ground, just where James had left him, that same plastic, diplomatic smile on his face.
The band of mounted Mooners had come to a halt before the first cobbles of the square, lining up along the border between dirt and stone as though they had piled up against a solid wall.
James took a moment to pick out the others in their hiding places: Lincoln in the roof space just below the thatch-line, Lucian in the recess in the floor leading to the cellar, and Agatha amongst the water tank’s maze of pipes. Then he took a steadying breath, settling down to listen.
“What difference does it make if we’re early?” the closest of the Mooners bawled. He had a nasal, simpering voice; James guessed from having his nose broken a few times, probably from being such a greasy little worm.
He pulled a wide smile that was more like a silent snarl, showing a mouthful of yellow misaligned teeth.
“No problem, traveller,” Alex called. “You surprised us is all. Surely you know we can’t have just anyone approach our home without raising the alarm.”
“Don’t think me a fool, Cain. I see the guns pointed at us. I see them well.”
Alex was unperturbed. “Just as I see the revolver you have under your duffel there, traveller.” He let that sit for a moment, and James was satisfied to see the sneer drop from the man’s face. Then Alex said, “What do you say we get a little friendlier?”
The gathering of Mooners shifted upon their mounts, each puckered face squinting at the golden-haired man, calm as a monk before them, so effortlessly in command of the situation.
“Come now, surely Mayor Malverston would hate to hear our first meeting ended with any unpleasantness.”
“We’re here to learn, Cain. Learn the Old Ways. But don’t think for a second any one of us wants anything to do with you or your ilk,” the lead rider said, sneering.
Not the most diplomatic right-hand man.
This idiot was bound to start a firefight wherever he went.
Something of what Alex had said before came back to him now: Malverston was a cruel and greedy man, but Newquay’s Moon could have had far worse. Swathes of towns in the North that otherwise might have flourished had met sticky ends because of a handful of barbaric leaders. And it seemed that amongst Malverston’s inner circle of slithering serpents, there was no shortage of would-be tyrants.
What had Alex agreed to? They were getting involved in a situation that could get bad fast. When Malverston met his end—and he would, soon—these were the men who would fight over his corpse. And the worst part of it was that none of them were the kind to fight tooth and nail; that would have been over in seconds, and a single victor would emerge to claim his prize, if only to play King of the Hill.
But these men were of the weasel variety, pale-faced and insidious. Their battle would be one of backhanded politics, multi-layered schemes, and subterfuge. In their bid for power, these men would poison that quaint little town like an oil slick poured over an ocean reef.
“To learn the Old Ways you’ll need a civil tongue for starters. Any leader worth his salt doesn’t ride up to an ally’s—nay, a teacher’s—home with a loaded gun pointed at him. I’m sure you’re not one of those people, are you, traveller?”
That sneer appeared on the pallid rider’s face once more, but it was faded now, on the brink of embarrassed anger. He was quiet a moment, then a barely-audible click rang out from under his duffel, and he relaxed back a tad in his saddle. “Renner,” he said.
Alex nodded. “Mr Renner, it’s a pleasure to receive the scholars of Newquay’s Moon. If you’ll dismount and follow me, we’ll get you settled.”
All was silent for an absurd, awkward stretch. James momentarily wondered whether everyone would start shooting then, and the courtyard would vanish in a hail of shrapnel. His finger tightened on the trigger, and a single rivulet of sweat danced down the groove