Chapter Twenty-One: The Watchmaker

For what seemed like infinity the three of us remained frozen, as if paralysed by some unknown force. In my mind, I could see Cyril, loping towards Death under the cloak of the unknown man. I saw his olive green eyes fixed on me again, with that look of horror covering his face like a mask. With effort, I galvanised myself into action and sprinted towards the door.

I whirled around to face my companions. "Don't just stand there!" I exclaimed. "After them!"

We skidded out of the apartment, only to find a deserted corridor. I rushed towards the stairs, running down them as fast as I possibly could. The sound of hoarse breathing from behind me alerted me to the fact that Tarngold was tagging along as best he could. That little imp of a Peter Rose nimbly overtook me and sprinted ahead. We clambered out into the open air, into the blinding sunlight, and stopped abruptly. Nothing. Nobody. Not a masked man to be seen.

"Now what?" queried Peter.

"To be, or not to be," puffed Tarngold philosophically. He looked as if he was on the verge of collapse.

"There is certainly something rotten in the state of Emereldom," I replied. " - Peter, to the left, follow the main road and check any small alleys. Mr Detective, to the right, if you please...just follow the road."

"And you?" piped Peter.

"I shall go straight ahead."

"The marketplace? But Elf...that will be the hardest," said Peter. "It would be much too easy for them to avoid you in those crowds."

"That's Duke of Monte Agosto to you, Peter. No more talk now - we're wasting time. Forward, men!"

"Or sideways, as the case may be," said Tarngold with another sickening smirk.

I refrained from rolling my eyes, and charged at my proposed path like a bull at a red flag. "And remember," I called back at the other two, "we've got to find them!"

Contrary to what I had expected, the marketplace was completely empty. The tall white buildings that lined the street seemed to closet it; I felt uneasy walking there alone. I was just about to go back and follow in Peter's footsteps when a poster caught my eye.

"The Masked Men on Freedom: The Benefits of Democracy. Tomorrow at Seven o'Clock. Do not miss."

A strange sensation passed over me: I gazed at the poster as if it could give me some clue as to where Cyril had been taken. And, as if by magic, it spoke.

"They've taken him into the woods."

I started. That a poster should have such a familiar voice - a voice with a mellifluousness that reminded me of the sound of violoncello strings resonating - struck me as mighty strange.

"Do they really think he did it?"

This poster was certainly talented. Not only could it talk to itself, but it could speak in two different voices.

"They don't know. They want to question him," replied the original voice.

I realised that it wasn't the poster talking, but two people that must be somewhere out of sight. I tiptoed towards the sound.

It came from a narrow alley, away from the main marketplace, with a tree flanking the entrance to it. Hiding behind its accommodating gold-covered boughs, I surveyed the alley. A little way from where I was standing, there was a single stand covered in watches of every size and description. Behind this stand sat a young man of about seventeen with thick brown hair, pale skin and liquid brown eyes that gleamed in the sunlight.

My heart skipped a beat: it was Jimmy.

He was talking to a figure in a long black coat whose face I could not see; something told me it wasn't a customer. "Of course," said the other voice I had heard before. "Of course they can't know." A chill spread over me. It couldn't be...it just couldn't... "Anyhow, I had better head off home," continued the voice.

"Yes," agreed Jimmy. "You'd better. Here - I'll take your coat."

"Thank you," murmured the other, disrobing. A swirl of white and rose pink, and a dress flurried out of the coat. As the girl moved towards Jimmy, I glimpsed the face that was crowned by her fleecy brown hair.

Nelly's face.

A heavy clot of nausea - pain all over. I dug my fingernails into the tree bark.

She handed him the coat, and proceeded to give him a hug and a light kiss on the cheek.

"Take care," said Jimmy meaningfully.

"Don't worry," she said, equally meaningfully, slowly extricating herself from the embrace. "I will."

She smiled, and, picking up a basket full of vegetables next to the stand, left. To my horror she was coming my way, brisk and business-like.

I had no choice. I ran. I ran as far away as I possibly could in the opposite direction, tears streaming down my face, into my nose, down my neck, choking me, strangling me. I ran blindly, rage burning inside me, flames devouring my heart. At last I could run no further, and I stopped, gasping for breath.

I found myself at a clearing; the houses had grown more and more scarce, until now there was only one left. A stretch of greenest grass, and then the forest. Ardendale Forest.

I stared, unseeing, uncomprehending, unflinching. Jimmy had betrayed me. Jimmy was in love with Nelly. Nelly had betrayed my trust, Redmond's trust. - Nelly a princess? Never! She must have deceived Redmond...or there must have been something he wasn't telling me. Jimmy loved her. I could not believe it, would not believe it. And yet it was true. He loved her. They were a pair, they were plotting something together. Jimmy was in with the Masked Men, and Nelly was too. They were planning a revolution. They would uproot the royalty and replace our age-old families with papers and voting booths. He loved her. He loved her.

I never wanted to see him again.