The Talisman

I’m most intolerably, indubitably vexed. Was it the Kingsland?’
    ‘Yes,’ Stephen said. ‘I regret to say it, but—’
    ‘On the Outpost Road?’
    ‘Osmond—’
    ‘On the Outpost Road, you dripping penis?’
    ‘Yes,’ Stephen gulped.
    ‘Of course,’ Osmond said, and his thin face was split by a hideous white grin. ‘Where is All-Hands’Village, if not on the Outpost Road? Can a village fly? Huh? Can a village somehow fly from one road to another, Stephen? Can it? Can it?’
    ‘No, Osmond, of course not.’
    ‘No. And so there are barrels all over the Outpost Road, is that correct? Is it correct for me to assume that there are barrels and an overturned ale-wagon blocking the Outpost Road while the best ale in the Territories soaks into the ground for the earthworms to carouse on? Is that correct?’
    ‘Yes . . . yes. But—’
    ‘ Morgan is coming by the Outpost Road! ’ Osmond screamed. ‘ Morgan is coming and you know how he drives his horses! If his diligence comes around a bend and upon that mess, his driver may not have time to stop! He could be overturned! He could be killed! ’
    ‘Dear-God,’ Stephen said, all as one word. His pallid face went two shades whiter.
    Osmond nodded slowly. ‘I think, if Morgan’s diligence were to overturn, we would all do better to pray for his death than for his recovery.’
    ‘But – but—’
    Osmond turned from him and almost ran back to where the Captain of the Outer Guards stood with his ‘son’. Behind Osmond, the hapless carter still writhed in the mud, bubbling My Lords .
    Osmond’s eyes touched Jack and then swept over him as if he weren’t there. ‘Captain Farren,’ he said. ‘Have you followed the events of the last five minutes?’
    ‘Yes, Osmond.’
    ‘Have you followed them closely? Have you gleaned them? Have you gleaned them most closely?’
    ‘Yes. I think so.’
    ‘Do you think so? What an excellent Captain you are, Captain! We will talk more, I think, about how such an excellent Captain could produce such a frog’s testicle of a son.’
    His eyes touched Jack’s face briefly, coldly.
    ‘But there’s no time for that now, is there? No. I suggest that you summon a dozen of your brawniest men and that you double-time them – no, triple -time them – out to the Outpost Road. You’ll be able to follow your nose, to the site of the accident, won’t you?’
    ‘Yes, Osmond.’
    Osmond glanced quickly at the sky. ‘Morgan is expected at six of the clock – perhaps a little sooner. It is now – two. I would say two. Would you say two, Captain?’
    ‘Yes, Osmond.’
    ‘And what would you say, you little turd? Thirteen? Twenty-three? Eighty-one of the clock?’
    Jack gaped. Osmond grimaced contemptuously, and Jack felt the clear tide of his hate rise again.
    You hurt me, and if I get the chance—!
    Osmond looked back at the Captain. ‘Until five of the clock, I suggest that you be at pains to save whatever barrels may still be whole. After five, I suggest you simply clear the road as rapidly as you can. Do you understand?’
    ‘Yes, Osmond.’
    ‘Then get out there.’
    Captain Farren brought a fist to his forehead and bowed. Gaping stupidly, still hating Osmond so fiercely that his brains seemed to pulse, Jack did the same. Osmond had whirled away from them before the salute was even fairly begun. He was striding back toward the carter, popping his whip, making it cough out those Daisy air rifle sounds.
    The carter heard Osmond’s approach and began to scream.
    ‘Come on,’ the Captain said, pulling Jack’s arm for the last time. ‘You don’t want to see this.’
    ‘No,’ Jack managed. ‘God, no.’
    But as Captain Farren pushed the right-hand gate open and they finally left the pavillion, Jack heard it – and he heard it in his dreams that night: one whistling carbine-crack after another, each followed by a scream from the doomed carter. And Osmond was making a sound. The man was panting, out of breath, and so it was hard to tell exactly what that sound was, without turning around to look at his face – something Jack did not want to do.
    He was pretty sure he knew, though.
    He thought Osmond was laughing.

5
    They were in the public area of the pavillion grounds now. The strollers glanced at Captain Farren from the corners of their eyes . . . and gave him a wide berth. The Captain strode swiftly, his face tight and dark with thought. Jack had to trot in order to catch up.
    ‘We were lucky,’ the