Tortus Bay

3.07: Extreme Measures

"Why are you still looking through those?" Niles asked. It was late in the evening, and the last of the light was burning out of the sky. "We already have enough for Teresa to go on."

Henry sat huddled on the couch, flipping gingerly through the yellowed pages of the bestiary. None of the books were titled, at least in any meaningful way; the ones which bore text on their cover often contained nothing to do with those words. But there was interesting information nevertheless. He could not tell how much of it was real. A little part of his brain argued that at this point he'd seen enough that he ought simply to assume all of it were true. Yet some things were too fantastical for even him to accept. "There's a lot more to know."

"I'm worried that you might be psyching yourself out."

"No," Henry said, closing the book and rubbing his eyes, "I've been trying to put something off. I'm going to visit the mayor."

Niles' eyes flicked toward the darkened window. "Tonight?"

"I need to see him before the next festival. If he's planning something, I've been too distracted to notice it so far."

"And you imagine that he'll spell it out for you?

"I think he'll talk around me for a couple hours, offer me some weak tea, and I'll leave knowing a little more than I went in with."

Niles pursed his lips. "This doesn't have to be your fight."

"It does. I might not be sure about everything yet, but that much seems clear to me."

"Well, it's dangerous, then."

"I'm going to the man's house. You know where I'll be." He stood. "If I'm not back by midnight, come looking for me. And bring some whiskey."

***

The Gauthe estate lay at the tail end of Glosspool Lane, which whipped around itself in a well-manicured cul-de-sac. No gates, watchhouses, or alarms impeded his way, despite the opulence of the looming mansion and the exaggerated time of night; there were only lines of emerald hedgerows, arranged almost to be a maze.

The knocker was a gaudy golden teardrop, which Henry didn't have occasion to employ. No sooner had he set foot on the bottom step than the door swung open, spilling golden light onto the broad lawn. "Henry," the mayor said, beckoning him inside, "I'm so glad you came by. Can I interest you in something to drink? Darjeeling? Green? Honeysuckle?"

"No, thank you." Upkeep was the only differentiator between the gross displays of wealth in the Brihte and Gauthe estates. Where in the former there hung an air of disuse, in the latter Henry walked through an impeccably dusted and lovingly polished showcase. Noel led him through several crowded drawing rooms. "Do you live here alone?"

"My wife and children are here, as well. I have three of them. The real trick to parenthood, you know, is in securing a home large enough that if you stand at one end, you will be incapable of hearing a child's wails from the other. But this is the reception wing, and it is quite late, you know." They landed eventually in a narrow study, where the mayor insisted that Henry sit in a plush office chair behind the desk. He himself took the leather armchair in the corner. "I was overjoyed, of course, to hear what you did for Clint. The entire village owes you a debt of gratitude. Perhaps even more than gratitude. But how is that shoulder holding up?"

The desk was littered with old envelopes and pens. A few books sat on the ground by his feet. "It looks worse than it is. Teresa says I'll be doing handstands again in a matter of weeks."

"That is excellent news. I heard through the grapevine that you wished to speak with me. I was overjoyed at this, as I also wish to speak with you. It was my impression that you might be hesitant to meet. Yet here you are. So tell me: what can I do for you, Mr. Cauville?"