some lengthy time, and the strings were of a material other than gut, one that he could not immediately recognize.
He was about to pluck a note when he saw that the sound hole was obstructed, and that there was something inside the body of the mandora. Closer investigation revealed it to be a parchment folded into a triangle, which was sealed with wax at each corner. It could not be removed without de-stringing the instrument, which meant that it had been put there on purpose, and the mandora strung thereafter.
“Aha,” said Sir Hereward. “A mystery within the mandora.”
“What is it?” asked Lallit. The novice stood on tiptoe, craned her elegant neck, and took several steps closer.
“A parchment,” said Sir Hereward. He held the mandora up to the nearer window, so the light fell more clearly through the sound hole. “Sealed three ways, and stuck to the body with a red tape and three further seals…I think perhaps this is a matter for…”
He had been going to say “Mister Fitz,” for the sealed parchment smacked of sorcery, but as the true nature of the puppet was best not revealed even to the servants of friendly gods, he fell silent.
“Oh, it is exciting!” said Lallit. She clapped her hands together and took a further step toward him. “What is written on the parchment?”
Sir Hereward carefully rested the mandora across his knees, and thought. There was something not quite right about Lallit’s enthusiasm, the parchment, and the mandora. He noticed that the instrument’s strings were humming slightly, though he had not struck them. They appeared to be aping Lallit’s enthusiasm, and Sir Hereward did not like this at all.
Nor on closer examination was he sure that it was the same Lallit who had returned from the attic. She looked a little taller, and thinner, and now that he studied her, he could see that her eyes were too far apart, and her hat was on backward.
“I shall have to remove the strings,” said Sir Hereward. “To get the parchment out. I believe there is a spanner in my saddlebag…I shall just fetch it.”
Sir Hereward’s saddlebags were propped against the far wall, under the shuttered window on that side, as were his saber and two holstered wheel-lock pistols, though unfortunately these were neither primed nor loaded.
“Allow me,” said Lallit.
Sir Hereward held up his hand as he swung his legs off the bed. “No, no, remember my vow.”
He hopped over on his right foot, and caught hold of the shutter bolt.
“Might as well have a little more sunshine, while the weather holds,” said Sir Hereward. He did not think that the thing that had assumed the shape of Lallit would be deterred by sunlight, given that the other window was already open, but more might help. He opened the shutter, knelt down by his saddlebag, and cast a smiling glance back over his shoulder.
The light from the second window had no visible effect upon his visitor, but it did allow him to see very clearly that the woman in the door was neither Lallit, nor actually a woman. It was some kind of other-dimensional entity that had assumed the shape of Lallit, and stolen her clothes. Hereward hoped Lallit was still alive in the attic, just as he hoped he would live through whatever was about to occur.
“It’s very good of your god Narhalet-Narhalit to look after me so well,” added Sir Hereward. He leaned into the window alcove, and looked out as if idly surveying the ground beneath. Saying the god’s name might help bring its attention to this intruder in its temple. “Narhalet-Narhalit is good to look after my companion, Mister Fitz, as well.”
He said “Mister Fitz” quite loudly, for the puppet’s senses were extraordinarily sharp. If he was anywhere nearby, he would be alerted. But he was probably off in his sea cave, which meant Sir Hereward must manage on his own.
“The spanner,” said Lallit. The thing was having trouble keeping its voice human. “The strings. The parchment.”
“Ah yes,” said Sir Hereward. He bent down to his saddlebag, and began to rummage through it, removing items as he went, as if to make it easier.
“Let me see. A dagger, needs a bit of sharpening…another dagger, this one’s not too bad…where is that—”
He sensed a sudden movement behind him, and spun about on his good foot, the daggers in his hands. The thing was in front of him, losing its human form as it moved, its claws reaching for his arms. Hereward parried