Barnaby the Wanderer

Chapter 13: What Exactly Are the Questions?

Enter four Gobelins, center stage, descending the ladder. The Benefactors watched, ready for further battle. But the newcomers lacked weapons or any air of menace. They took up the bound form of Agat, the limp form of Hemp. Departing again. Barnaby waved farewell; the leader returning the gesture with a roll of frog-like eyes.

Meanwhile St. Lucif, patron of Just Penance, leaned beside the door he'd dramatically opened. Humming, tossing a bronze gear from the dismantled saint of holy artifice. Posing as a street-corner lounger enjoying a quiet morning.

Val called a quick meeting across the chamber.

"Anyone think it safe to go up those stairs?"

"Maybe," said Jewel.

"Agreed on the maybe," said Bodkin.

"I do," said Barnaby.

"I also," said Cedric.

"Well, I don't," replied Val. "We are missing what this is all about." She began pacing, waving knife to conduct her thoughts. "They brought my bitch-mother here, and Jewel's coven and Barnaby's stepmother. Why?"

Bodkin shrugged.

"For the fun of seeing us jump, obviously."

"But why would two saints from separate parts of the House play such idiot tricks? Don't tell me Lucif and Hefestia care a shining shit about treasure or miracle plays. This has all been about something else."

"No great surprise if Lucif is up to mischief," mused Cedric. "The mystery is his unlikely partnership with Saint Hefestia."

Barnaby gave a sad glance to the pile of bolts and wires. Shadow Night-Creep now sat atop the jumble, ostentatiously washing his fur. Bath completed, he stepped to the side, scraping his hind legs back and forth in pantomime of kicking dirt upon the remains.

Disrespect asserted, he deigned to approach the company, taking his customary throne upon Barnaby's shoulder. There, of course, he began to declaim.

"As I previously stated, if you want answers, you are most likely to find them at the tower top."

"Do we want answers?" asked Matilda. "What exactly are the questions?"

In answer, the cat merely blinked in sign of mysterious wisdom, as cats oft do.

"Darned if I know what to ask," growled Val. "I just feel we won't be safe till we know why a handsome but gormless miller was sent wandering the world with a mad map, gathering all a tribe of talented tag-alongs."

"You could try asking," said St. Lucif from across the room. "Not that I'm eavesdropping. But seriously?"

Val faced him, arms crossed.

"Fine. First, suppose we just want out of this asylum. Can we skip your mysterious new stairway and leave the same way we came?"

Lucif nodded. "I my own saintly self shall conduct you past every last trap and trick. To the very doorway you entered, then down the mountain steps without fear of snake, spider, wolf." He tossed the gear, caught it with a Bodkin grin. "After that, you are back in the wide world and on your own."

"Sounds good to me," said Jewel. "What about your mad play?"

Lucif brightened. "Oh, that offer stands, as does the reward. Tour Infernum but a single year, enacting my brilliant rendition of the Baptismus. In return you shall have another go with the treasures of the tower."

The company looked to the closed door of the vault.

"No."

"No."