Red, White and Blue (Book Two of The Powder Trail)

Chapter Thirty Eight: The Man with Eyes

The gargoyles led Ellini up to the cooler regions of the Cherry Hinton caves, which was the first surprise. They never went up there if they could help it. She suspected they were ectotherms, and needed the hot rocks of the fire-mines to maintain their body temperature.

And, indeed, they did get paler as the air got cooler, turning from charcoal to ashy grey. She wondered if they would turn completely stony once they got up into the fresh air, like their architectural namesakes.

She walked meekly between them until they approached a bend in the cave tunnel, and then they shoved her round it, as though they thought she wouldn't go willingly once she saw what was there.

They were right.

She was not prepared for the sight which met her eyes – and, by the look of it, the stranger wasn't prepared for the sight which met his. For a few moments, they just stared at each other.

But then he got up from his seat, took off his hat, and motioned courteously to the one unoccupied chair at the other side of the table.

For he was, indeed, sitting at a table, set up on a reasonably flat portion of the cavern-floor. It had a table-cloth, and was laid with cutlery. There was even a small, silver vase with a pink carnation in it. On one side of the stranger's place-mat was a napkin, and, on the other, a folded-up newspaper. He had actually been sitting under the stalactites, trying to read The Times.

"English?" he said, when she made no move to sit down. "Food?"

"English, yes," said Ellini. "Food, no."

"Curious," said the man, sitting down himself, and unfolding the napkin on his lap. "We're obviously feeding you girls too much. I'll leave instructions with my associates to reduce the ration sizes."

Ellini hovered miserably beside the table for a moment, and then said, "No. Don't do that."

"Do sit down," said the stranger, motioning once again towards the empty seat. "Eat something. We've a long night ahead of us."

Ellini took up a slice of buttered bread, and tore at it in a way that hopefully conveyed her contempt for his table-manners. She didn't want to touch the food, but she had a presentiment of what was coming, and thought she would probably need her strength. It wouldn't be napkins and table-cloths and pink carnations for long.

He was a little unkempt for a man who insisted on silver cutlery while dining in a cave. His hair was long, as though he didn't trust anybody to come near him with scissors.

But that wasn't the worst thing. The worst thing by far was that his eyes kept returning to her – with wariness, but also fascination. 

It had almost been a holiday, spending five years underground with the gargoyles. She had forgotten what it was like to be seated in front of a man, watching her horrible influence set to work on him.

"I've heard a lot about you, Miss Charlotte Grey," he said, taking up his cup of tea and sipping elegantly. "Every report of disobedience that ever reaches my ears seems to contain the name 'Charlotte Grey'. I give instructions for the gargoyles to flog you – I even believe they act on their own initiative sometimes – but it seems to have no effect. Why is this?"

"Because I was born free," said Ellini, amazed that he even needed to ask.

"You were also born bald and pink and helpless, without the ability to speak," said the stranger. "Why can't you accept that circumstances change?"

Ellini said nothing. There didn't seem to be any point.

"I know what you're planning, Miss Grey," he said. "I know what all this disobedience means. You want to lead the girls yourself. You're planning to mutiny against me."