Page 60 of The Neverfear

‘You can tell the Gardai are having a day off,’ said Anya uneasily, as two hooded figures hurried past, one carrying a sack of something pulsating. Everywhere Christopher looked, the crowd thrummed with tense excitement. There were betting touts moving through the crowd, and money was changing hands. Some in the throng were open-faced and eager, laughing with giddy pleasure. But there were many hidden faces, tattooed cheeks and a small crowd of men sitting outside a bar who seemed to be competing in a ‘Who has the thickest neck’ competition.

Christopher halted suddenly as they passed, as a word caught his attention.

‘Astorians?’ said one of the men. ‘I heard they were in the west. They looted a town in Riverrun. Stole their herd of Geryonian cattle, and slaughtered a dozen hippocamps.’

‘Seems to be no logic to it,’ said another. ‘Some places rich, some poor. Some places not even inhabited – they burned a forest full of Diomedian mares.’

‘There’ll be a logic,’ said a woman. Her face was like a slab of granite, but there was something sharp in her eyes. ‘It’s just we can’t see it yet.’

‘I dunno,’ said the first man. ‘Sometimes there isn’t logic. Maybe it’s random terror.’

‘Why are they called Astorians?’

‘For Astor Morax. The man they serve. The man with the snake.’

‘What d’you mean – what snake?’

But he shook his head. ‘I met him once.’

‘And? And what?’

‘His face …’ The man looked round, and saw Christopher and Anya listening. He half rose. ‘Eavesdropping, kids?’

Christopher didn’t move, but Anya seized his arm and pulled him away.

‘Did you hear?’ said Christopher. ‘He said a name! Astor Morax.’

‘I heard.’ She spat on the ground. ‘We won’t forget it.’

He twisted to look back at the men. ‘But when we find Irian, we’ll find Morax.’

‘And we’ll make him regret his entire life,’ said Anya. And she said the name again, disgust in her mouth. ‘Astor Morax.’

They pressed on, winding between the revellers. Then Christopher saw it: at the far end of the square was a row of dun-coloured stables made of tented canvas, each with a flag flying. He nudged Anya.

‘The contestants,’ he said. ‘That’s where the hind will be. Come on.’

I Could Bite Them

The tented stables were cordoned off from the crowd, and two guards stood at the rope. Every now and then someone approached, and they pulled aside the rope to let them in; the vast majority of people, though, were turned away.

‘How are we going to get in?’ said Christopher.

‘I could bite them,’ said Jacques.

‘Yes,’ said Christopher, ‘but without your fire, I don’t think it would have the effect we need. And we’re trying to be subtle.’

Anya appeared to be fighting an internal battle. Then she sighed. ‘I can get us in,’ she said.

‘How?’

‘Stay close behind me.’

‘You’re not going to bite them, are you?’

‘Only as a backup. You’ll see.’ It was extraordinary to watch. She ran her hands through her floor-length hair until it fell in a cascade over one shoulder. She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, put her hands behind her back, and her entire aspect changed. Her mouth and eyes shifted, became sharp and confident and entitled. She became, Christopher thought, more visible, more deliberate.

More like a princess.