Toll the Hounds

‘Assuming Tor ever shows up.’

‘He will, you’ll see, Leff. He was our partner, wasn’t he? And he’s back.’

The conversation ended abruptly, for no reason obvious to either of them, and they stood looking at each other for a dozen heartbeats. They were opposite the entrance to the Phoenix Inn. It was morning, when they did their best thinking, but that had a way of dying quick, so that by late afternoon they would find them-selves sitting somewhere, sluggish as tortoises in a hailstorm, arguing about nothing in particular with monosyllabic brevity and getting angrier by the mo-ment.

Without another word they both set out for the Phoenix Inn.

Clumped inside, looking round-just to be sure-then heading over to where sat Kruppe, plump hands upraised and hovering like hooded snakes, then striking down to one of dozens of pastries heaped on numerous platters in front of him. Fingertip fangs spearing hapless sweets right and left, each one moving in a blur up to his mouth, gobbled up in a shower of crumbs one after another.

Mere moments later and half the offerings were gone. Kruppe’s cheeks bulged, his jam-smeared lips struggling to close as he chewed and frantically swallowed, pausing to breathe loudly through his nose. Seeing Scorch and Leff approaching, he waved mutely, gesturing them into their seats.

‘You’re going to explode one day, Kruppe,’ said Leff.

Scorch stared with his usual expression of rapt disbelief.

Kruppe finally managed to swallow everything down, and he raised his hands once more, left them to hover whilst he eyed his two gurst. ‘Blessed partners, is this not a wondrous morning?’

‘We ain’t decided yet,’ Leff said, ‘We’re still waiting for Torvald-he had a runner find us down at the docks and said he’d meet us here. He’s already changing things all round, like maybe he don’t trust us. It’s a blow, I tell you, Kruppe. A real blow.’

‘Conflagration of suspicions climbing high into yon blue sky is quite unnecessary, shifty-eyed friends of wise Kruppe. Why, infamous and almost familiar offspring of House Nom is true to his word, and Kruppe asserts-with vast confidence-that the first name is about to be struck from dire list!’

‘First? What about the six-’

‘You’ve not heard? Oh, my. Each had flown, only moments before the cruel night-beaters closed in. Most extraordinary ill-luck.’

Scorch clawed at his face. ‘Gods, we’re back where we began!’

‘That’s impossible, Kruppe! Someone must’ve tipped ’em off!’

Kruppe’s gnarled brows lifted, then waggled. ‘Veracity of your discoveries is not in doubt, you will be pleased to hear. Thusly, you have succeeded in your task with said six, whilst they who compiled the list have, alas, not quite matched your rate of success. And so, how many remain? Twelve, yes? Not counting sleep-addled Torvald Nom, that is.’

‘He ain’t no sleep-addered or whatever,’ Scorch said. ‘In fact, he looked just fine yesterday.’

‘Perhaps glorious reunion has sapped all verve, then. Kruppe assumed sleep-addered indeed, given the man’s hapless and ineffectual perusal of this taproom-ah, at last he sees us!’

And both Scorch and Leff twisted round in their chairs to see Torvald Nom sauntering up and, noting the man’s broad smile, they were instantly relieved and then, just as quickly, nervous.

‘My apologies for being late,’ Torvald said, dragging up another chair. ‘I got a shave and the old woman threw in the buffing of my nails for free-said I was sur-prisingly handsome under all those whiskers and if that’s not a good start to a day then what is? True, she was about a thousand years old, but hey, compliments don’t have to be pretty, do they? And you’re Kruppe. You must be-who else in this city tries to eat with his nose when his mouth is filled? I’m Torvald Nom.’

‘Sit, newfound friend. Kruppe is generous enough this morning to disregard du-bious observation regarding his eating habits and the habits of his orifices. Kruppe further observes that you, while once a poor destitute man, have suddenly acquired impressive wealth, so finely attired and groomed are you, and that with great relief friends Scorch and Leff are soon to pay a most propitious visit to one Gareb the Lender. And on this of all days, one suspects Gareb to be most gracious at repayment of said debt, yes?’

Torvald stared at Kruppe, evidently speechless with admiration.

Kruppe’s left hand darted down, captured a puff pastry that indeed might have been trying to escape, and pushed it whole into his mouth. Beaming, he chewed.

‘You got the money?’ Leff asked Torvald.