‘Keep your voice down,’ Nick muttered. Most of the people inside the ring were huddled right in the centre, as much to get away from the drifting smoke of the fires as for the psychological ease of being farther away from the creature. But a knot of half-a-dozen guests and servants was only a dozen yards away, the servants helping the kitchen maid up and the guests getting in the way. ‘I meant Old Kingdom help. I sent a message with Malthan. A telegram for him to send to some people who can get a message to the Old Kingdom quickly.’
Ripton bent his head and mumbled something.
‘What? What did you say?’
‘Malthan never made it past the village,’ Ripton muttered. ‘I handed him over to two of Hodgeman’s particular pals at the crossroads. Orders. I had to do it, to maintain my cover.’
Nick was silent, his thoughts on the sad, frightened, greedy little man who was now probably dead in a ditch not too many miles away.
‘Hodgeman said you’d never follow up what happened to Malthan,’ said Ripton. ‘He said your sort never did. You were just throwing your weight around, he said.’
‘I would have checked,’ said Nick. ‘I would have left no stone unturned. Believe me.’
He looked around at the ring of fire. Sections of it were already dying down, generating lots of smoke but little flame. If Malthan had managed to send the telegram six or more hours ago, there might have been a slim chance that the Abhorsen … or Lirael … or somebody competent to deal with the creature would have been able to get there before they ran out of things to burn.
‘Hodgeman’s dead now, anyway. He was one of the first that thing got.’
‘I sent another message,’ said Nick. ‘I bribed Danjers’s valet to go down to the village and send a telegram.’
‘Nowhere to send one from there,’ said Ripton. ‘Planned that way, of course. D13 keeping control of communications. The closest telephone would be at Colonel Wrale’s house, and that’s ten miles away.’
‘I don’t suppose he would have managed it anyway—’
Nick broke off and peered at the closer group of people and then at the central muddle, wiping his eyes as a tendril of smoke wafted across.
‘Where is Danjers? I don’t remember seeing him at the dinner table, and he’s pretty hard to miss. What’s the butler’s name again?’
‘Whitecrake,’ said Ripton, but Nick was already striding over to the butler, who was issuing orders to his footmen, who in turn were busy feeding the fires with more straw.
‘Whitecrake!’ Nick called before he had closed the distance between them. ‘Where is Mr Danjers?’
Whitecrake rotated with great dignity, rather like a dreadnought’s gun turret, and bowed, allowing Nick to close the distance before he replied.
‘Mr Danjers removed himself from the party and left at five o’clock,’ he said. ‘I understand that the curtains in the dining room clashed with his waistcoat.’
‘His man went with him?’
‘Naturally,’ said Whitecrake. ‘I believe Mr Danjers intended to motor over to Applethwick.’
Nick felt every muscle in his shoulders and neck suddenly relax, as a ripple of relief passed through on its way to his toes.
‘We’ll be all right! Danjers’s valet is bound to have sent that telegram! Let’s see, if they got to Applethwick by seven thirty … the telegram would be at Wyverley by eight at the latest … They’d get the message on to the Abhorsen’s House however they do it … Then if someone flew by Paperwing to Wyverley, they’ve got those aeroplanes at the flying school there to fly south … though I suppose not at night, even with this moon …’
The tension started to come back as Nick came to the realisation that even if the Abhorsen or King Touchstone’s Guard had already received his message, there was no way anyone could be at Dorrance Hall before the morning, at the very earliest.
Nick looked up from the fingers he’d been counting on and saw that Ripton, Whitecrake, several footmen, a couple of maids, and a number of the guests were all hanging on his every word.
‘Help will be coming,’ Nick announced firmly. ‘But we have to make the fires last as long as we can. Everything that can burn must be gathered within this ring. Every tiny piece of straw, any spare clothes, papers you may have on you, even banknotes … need to be gathered up. Mr Whitecrake, can you take charge of that? Ripton, a word if you don’t mind.’
No one objected to Nick’s taking command, and he hardly noticed himself that he had. He had often taken the lead among his school friends and at college, his mind usually grasping any situation faster than his fellows did and his aristocratic heritage providing more than enough self-confidence. As he turned away and walked closer to the fire, Ripton followed at his heels like an obedient shadow.
‘There won’t be any useful help till morning at the earliest,’ Nick whispered, his voice hardly audible over the crackle of the fire. ‘I mean Old Kingdom help. Provided Danjers’s man did send the telegram.’
Ripton eyed the burning straw.
‘I suppose there’s a chance the fire’ll last till dawn, if we rake it narrower and just try to maintain a bit of flame and coals. Do you … Is there a possibility that … that thing doesn’t like the sun, as well as fire?’
‘I don’t know. But I wouldn’t count on it. From the little I heard my friend Sam talk about it at school, Free Magic creatures roam the day as freely as they do the night.’
‘Maybe it’ll run out of puff,’ said Ripton. ‘Like you said. Dorrance didn’t even expect it to wake up, and here it is running around—’
‘What’s that noise?’ interrupted Nick. He could hear a distant jangling, carried on the light breeze toward him. ‘Is that a bell?’
‘Oh no …’ groaned Ripton. ‘It’s the volunteer fire brigade from the village. They know they’re not to come here, no matter what …’
Nick looked around at the ring of red fire, and beyond that at the vast column of spark-lit smoke that was winding up from Dorrance Hall. No firefighter would be able to resist that clarion call.
‘They’re probably only the first,’ he said quietly. ‘With this moon, the smoke will be visible for miles. We’ll probably have town brigades here in an hour or so, as well as all the local volunteers for a dozen miles or more. I’ll have to stop them.’
‘What! If you leave the circle, that monster will be on you in a second!’
Nick shook his head.
‘I’ve been thinking about that. It ran away from me after it drank just a little of my blood. Dorrance was yelling something about getting it other blood to dilute mine. It could easily have killed me then, but it didn’t.’
‘You can’t go out,’ said Ripton. ‘Think about it! It’s drunk enough in the last hour to dilute your blood a hundred times over! It could easily be ready for more. And it’s your blood that revved it up in the first place. It’ll kill you and get more powerful, and then it’ll kill us!’
‘We can’t just let it kill the firemen,’ Nick said stubbornly. He started to walk to the other side of the circle, closer to the drive. Ripton hurried along beside him. ‘I might be able to hurt … even kill … the creature with this.’
He pulled out Sam’s dagger and held it up. Fire and moonlight reflected from the blade, but there was green and blue and gold there, too, as Charter Marks swam slowly across the metal. Not fully active, but still strange and wonderful under the Ancelstierran moon.
Ripton did not seem overly impressed.
‘You’d never get close enough to use that little pigsticker. Llew! Llew!’
‘You’re not catching me like that again,’ said Nick, without slowing down. He stowed the dagger away and picked up a rake, ready to make a gap in the burning barrier. A glance over his shoulder showed him the huge-shouldered Llew getting up from where he was braiding flowers. ‘If I want to go, you’re going to let me this time.’