Deathscent: Intrigues of the Reflected Realm. Robin Jarvis

whistle Quicksilver over and get her to carry it off.”

      Enjoying the spectacle for a little while longer, Adam hesitated before clapping his hands. Obediently, Suet forsook his victim and came trundling to heel.

      Henry kicked at the lawn and glared at the pair of them. Then he craned his head back to see where his hawk had got to.

      After destroying Adam’s bird, Quicksilver had flown steadily higher, surging upwards until at last she could go no further. At the absolute apex of the protective firmament, Henry’s creature was angrily battering her metal wings against the leaded panes.

      Far below the boys could hear the insistent clattering, but however loudly Henry called, Quicksilver took no notice and remained up there, floundering hopelessly beneath the glass.

      “She’ll never come down now,” Adam said. “I told you she was too strong. A bird like that needs a bigger isle than this to fly in. All that temper you put in didn’t help either.”

      “But she’s so high,” Henry declared. “You’re only jealous, you with your pet pig.”

      Adam shook his head and threw a stick for Suet to fetch. “That hawk of yours will be stuck up there until the tin rusts or she bumps her crest on the glass and stills herself. I’ll warrant that before either of those happen, we’re all going to be heartily sick of her incessant, clacking din.”

      This had not occurred to Henry and he gave a gloomy sigh. He was a dreadfully light sleeper and detested any form of noise at night. Lord Richard would not like it, and nor would anyone else on the estate.

      “Fish wigs!” he droned.

      For the rest of that day the inhabitants of Malmes-Wutton tried to grow accustomed to the annoying clatter with little success. Everyone was angry with Henry. Lord Richard reprimanded him, Mistress Dritchly scolded and threatened him with mouldy bread and maggot soup for a month. Folk in the fields grumbled and shook their fists at the nuisance bird, and when the boy’s father heard who was responsible, he came marching from the village to administer a belated beating.

      When evening came and the hawk still tapped and rattled against the glass, Henry climbed into the darkened loft and eased himself on to his bed, grimacing from the bequeathed bruises. “What with them and that row,” he griped miserably, “I won’t get no sleep at all. No one wants me round here. Don’t know why I stay.”

      Lying close by, Jack heard Henry’s grumbles and tried to console him. Thus far he was the only person in all of the estate not to have made any complaint. “Don’t get maudlin,” the older boy said. “We’ve all made mistakes in our time. Look what I did when I was your age – the first job Dritchly entrusted me with and I went and put too much temper into Old Scratch. Terrible devil that thing is and it’s all my fault. Learned from it, though; always measured the cordials exactly ever since.”

      Pulling more hay beneath him, Henry sighed. “Least that boar hides in the wood and don’t make a clackety clackety riot all day and night.”

      In the yard, Adam was lifting a reluctant Suet over the piggery fence. “Go back in there,” he ordered. “I’ve got to go to sleep and you don’t want to come with me into the loft, do you?”

      The piglet danced excitedly so that the boy knew there was nothing the wooden mechanical wanted more.

      “All right,” he submitted. “If I don’t say yes then you’ll only start squealing. To think, it wasn’t a week ago when you didn’t even like me picking you up.” Snorting with bliss, Suet jumped into his arms, the little snout pumping furiously.

      Before crossing the yard, Adam raised his eyes to the distant shape of the hawk flying far above. A crooked smile played across his face. Poor Henry – he really had a flair for getting himself into trouble.

      Beyond the hawk’s fervent fluttering, through the clear panes of the firmament, the bright stars shone cold and fierce. It was a spectacle that Adam never tired of seeing. Above the horizon, the nearest floating isle was a remote black crag. Saxmundham was many times larger than Malmes-Wutton but there was such a gulf between the two uplifted lands that it appeared small enough to fit snugly inside his pocket.

      Viewing it through half closed eyes, Adam held up Suet and played games with the beguiling perspective.

      “Suet the Great!” he pronounced, lining the piglet up with the faraway island. “Monstrous enemy from the Outer Darkness, come to trample and destroy. All Englandia quakes at his approach. Spare us, oh colossal fiend!”