Ranger's Apprentice 12: The Royal Ranger (33 page)

‘We just came from Danvers Crossing. The kids there said a travelling storyteller came through some weeks ago. Told really good, scary stories, they said.’ She pretended to take keen interest in the lacing of her shoe.

Again there was an awkward pause. Then Eve said, in somewhat stilted tones, ‘We don’t have anything like that here.’

Maddie shrugged. Her manner said it was of no great importance.

‘Oh? Well, that’s a pity, but never mind.’ She looked up, gauging the level of the sun over the trees in the west. ‘I’d better be going. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget to bring the thongs and leather and we’ll make some slings.’

Now that she had changed the subject and seemed to have lost interest in the concept of a storyteller, the mood lightened and the group enthusiastically agreed to meet again next day for sling-making lessons.

Maddie rose and dusted some loose grass off her dress. She wound the sling around her waist and fastened it there, then waggled her fingers in farewell.

‘See you tomorrow then. Same time?’

There was a general chorus of farewell and she turned away, striding across the thick grass towards the inn and the stable where she and Will were staying. As she went, she muttered softly to herself.

‘That storyteller was here all right. I’d bet my life on it.’

At the time, she had no idea that she might be doing exactly that.

‘
NO. WE DON’T
have a storyteller in this village,’ the innkeeper said in response to Will’s casual question.

‘Pity,’ Will said, taking a sip of his coffee. ‘My daughter could use a bit of entertainment. It’s hard for her, travelling all the time, with nothing to do and no permanent friends.’

The innkeeper nodded sympathetically. ‘I can understand. Pity you didn’t get here sooner. We had a travelling spinner come through here some weeks back. The kids loved him.’

Will looked up, feigning no more than polite interest.

‘Heard tell of a travelling spinner in Danvers Crossing recently,’ he said. He rubbed his jaw, pretending to think. ‘What did he call himself, now?’

‘The Storyman, was it?’ Jerome suggested. Will mentally slapped his forehead with his hand as he realised that Storyman was a name.

‘That’s him,’ he said. ‘The Storyman. Of course.’

‘Colourful type, he was. Wore a bright blue cloak and scarlet shoes.’ The innkeeper frowned, remembering the man. ‘Seemed a little odd. But I suppose that goes with the job.’

‘Odd?’ Will’s interest was aroused but he didn’t show it. ‘How do you mean?’

Jerome made a dismissive gesture. ‘Oh, not in a bad way. Just . . . theatrical, I suppose. He wore bells on his wrists and ankles so you could hear him coming. And he acted out his stories with great enthusiasm, I’m told.’

‘You didn’t see him at work?’

Jerome shook his head. ‘He entertained the children. I remember giving my nephew a coin for him. He’d sit down with them by the pond on the village green and tell them stories.’ He grinned at the memory. ‘Ghost stories, I think. I recall the children were often a bit pale when he’d finished.’

‘Well, children love a good scare now and again,’ Will said. ‘When was he here, do you recall?’

Jerome threw back his head, looking at the ceiling while he considered the question. Finally, he replied.

‘Must have been two, maybe three weeks ago. It was a few days before the Spoker boy disappeared.’

Will frowned, looking a little concerned. ‘A boy disappeared? Does a lot of that go on round here?’

Jerome shook his head, recognising a parent’s natural tendency to worry. ‘Lord, no! Never happened before that I recall. If you ask me, young Maurice simply ran off. His da used to beat him too often for my liking.’

Will drained his coffee, setting the mug down on the bar. He nodded good night to the innkeeper.

‘Well, I’m for my bed. Got a long day tomorrow. Going to visit some of the outlying farms and see if there’s any work going.’

‘No luck in the village?’ Jerome asked and Will shook his head, a dejected expression on his face. Jerome smiled sympathetically. ‘I’m not surprised. Times have been hard and people don’t have any extra money to spend.’

‘Well, I certainly don’t and that’s for sure,’ Will said. He hesitated, then said uncertainly, ‘Matter of fact, I was wondering if I could ask a favour?’

Jerome’s eyes narrowed. Favours usually involved money in his experience, and Will’s next words bore out his assumption.

‘I could be gone for a night or two. Wonder could I move Maddie into one of your rooms while I’m gone. I’d feel safer about her that way. I wouldn’t like to leave her sleeping in the stable, what with children disappearing and such.’

‘It was only one boy went missing,’ Jerome said defensively. Then he saw the worried look on Will’s face and he relented. It must be hard being a sole parent and travelling round the countryside, he thought. And he had several rooms unoccupied.

‘All right then,’ he said. ‘She can take the attic room. I’ll charge the same as I’m charging for two of you in the stable.’

Will heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks for that. It’ll stop me worrying about her while I’m gone.’

Privately, he resolved to bring some game back for Jerome’s kitchen. The innkeeper was a likeable fellow and his gesture was a generous one. He turned away for the door.

‘How long will you be gone?’ Maddie asked, when he told her of the new arrangement.

‘A day or two. I thought I’d ride over to Boyletown and see if this Storyman character has visited there as well.’

He’d explained the confusion over the travelling spinner’s name. Maddie had a similar reaction to his. Once you knew it was a name, everything seemed clear.

‘We know he was at Danvers Crossing, then he came here.’ Will paused, frowning. ‘Wish we’d thought to find out when he was at Danvers Crossing. Jerome said he was here shortly before the local lad went missing.’

‘And Jerome told you Maurice Spoker’s parents mistreated him,’ Maddie said thoughtfully. ‘Just like Carrie Clover’s father.’

Will’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yes. The coincidences are beginning to mount up, aren’t they?’

Maddie nodded agreement. ‘So what do you want me to do while you’re gone?’

‘Keep talking to the local kids. See if you can find out more about this blue-cloaked, red-shoed storyteller. Jerome seemed to think they loved him.’

‘Not the impression I got,’ Maddie said.

‘Well, see what you can dig up. But be careful. Don’t push it if they’re reluctant.’ A separate thought struck him and he added. ‘Oh, by the way, while you’re staying in the room, you might make yourself useful. Make your bed and offer to help out in the kitchen.’

‘I’m not a good cook,’ Maddie pointed out.

‘I was thinking that your efforts might lie more in the area of dishwashing,’ Will told her.

Maddie recoiled in mock horror. ‘I don’t know if I’m trained for that.’

He raised one eyebrow at her. She’d seen him do that before and found herself wishing that she could do it. She resolved to practise the expression.

‘I’m sure you’ll pick it up,’ he said. ‘It’s not alchemy.’

As it turned out, Maddie didn’t need to ask any further questions about the mysterious blue-cloaked Storyman. She met the other children as arranged the following afternoon and they sat on the grass as she showed them how to fashion their slings. She had brought a small knife with her and she lent it to them so they could cut the leather thongs to length, then fashion the pouches. There was only one other person on the common – a farm worker, judging by his patched work smock and a shapeless old hat. He was leaning on a fence, idly watching them. He had a small bundle wrapped in a spotted cloth at his feet.

As the group sat in a semi-circle, heads bent to the tasks of cutting, shaping and tying, David caught her eye, rose to his feet and jerked his head in an unmistakable gesture for her to follow him. She rose and they moved away from the others. She looked at him expectantly.

‘Did you want to say something?’ she asked.

He glanced around. She could see he was nervous. No, she corrected herself. He was more than nervous. He was scared.

‘The Storyman,’ he said finally. ‘Don’t go asking about him any more. And above all, don’t mention him to your da.’ He paused, then added anxiously, ‘You haven’t said anything to him, have you?’

She shook her head. ‘No. But why not?’

‘He told us things. And he said we should never repeat them to any grown-ups, or something bad would happen to us.’

Maddie’s eyes widened. ‘What things did he tell you?’ she asked, her voice wavering. David’s nervousness was getting to her.

He shuffled his feet. ‘At first it was just normal stories. Some funny ones and some scary ones. They were all good fun and we all enjoyed them. Mostly they were stories we’d heard before, like the Ogre of Alden Pass and the Great Green Troll of Tralee.’

Maddie nodded. These were well-known folk tales. They varied in detail with each different storyteller, of course, but they were always essentially the same, and were calculated to give children a good healthy scare – without causing too much concern.

‘But then he told us about the Stealer in the Night,’ he said, his voice becoming very quiet.

‘The Stealer in the Night?’ Maddie repeated. Even the name sent a shiver of fear down her spine. It seemed so sinister, so evil.

David nodded, licking his dry lips in a nervous gesture.

‘The Stealer is a mysterious spirit, dressed all in black, and wearing a black mask and cloak. He materialises in a village and takes children.’

‘Takes them where?’ she asked. Her heart was beating a little faster as his tale unfolded. She leaned closer to him, dropping her own voice. ‘What does he do with them?’

David shrugged. ‘Nobody knows. He takes them away and nobody ever sees them again.’ He glanced round once more and Maddie did likewise. The other children were all intent on making their slings.

‘The thing is, the Storyman said if we were ever to see him, we were to say nothing. Just pretend we’d seen nothing. And he said we must never, never tell a grown-up about the Stealer in the Night.’

‘What would happen if you did?’ Maddie asked, her voice now barely above a whisper.

‘If we did, he said the Stealer would know. And he’d come after anyone who told. He’d come in the night and carry them off as well and they’d never see their family again.’

There was a long silence between them. Both of them were wide eyed. David’s fear was contagious and Maddie found herself wishing she was back in Redmont, in the cosy little cabin in the trees. She heard a slight noise and looked round nervously. The farm worker she had noticed earlier had left his position by the fence and moved closer to them. He was sitting on the grass, cutting thick slices from a piece of cheese he had taken from the bundle. He caught her eye, nodded and smiled pleasantly as he ate some of the cheese. She wondered if he’d heard what they had been discussing. She decided he was probably too far away, but she lowered her voice anyway when she spoke again.

‘Do you think that’s what happened to Maurice Spoker?’ she said.

David recoiled half a pace. Unaware of the nearby farm worker, he raised his voice in surprise. ‘How did you know about Maurice?’