She was dressed in the clothes her father believed made her look exactly like a boy. After a moment's thought she said, 'Sluce. You should call me Sluce.'
'Sluce, Serenity?' Kitterick's nose wrinkled in distaste. 'A little… merchant class, surely?'
'We're supposed to be merchant class,' Blue said firmly. The cover story was they were here to offer Chalkhill a new wrinkle cream that actually reversed the ageing process to leave the skin soft as a child's. Madame Cardui claimed it was exactly the sort of nonsense to guarantee Chalkhill would see them. 'Are all the arrangements in place?' Blue asked Kitterick.
'Of course… Mr Sluce,' the orange dwarf confirmed with an audible sniff. 'We can move on a whistle.' He patted his briefcase and stared, mysteriously, up at the sky.
The ouklo reached the courtyard in front of the house and descended like thistledown to the gravelled surface. Blue and Kitterick both stepped off delicately. There were several gardeners at work within sight of the windows, but they ignored the visitors completely.
The mansion was a mixture of styles. The central portion had the look of a minor manor and would have been perfectly acceptable had it been left alone. But someone had extended it with two enormous baroque wings and added gothic towers inlaid with something crystalline that sparkled in the sun. An extra storey – clearly only built within the last few years -squatted on top like some monstrous cosy. All the external surfaces that did not sparkle had been painted a uniform pink. The windows were outlined in a delicate sky blue and their glass sprayed with a liquid spell that created the illusion of cherubs dancing.
'A little… sudden for my taste,' Kitterick remarked.
Blue shushed him. 'It's probably better inside.'
Kitterick shuddered.
Two enormous rock-crystal manticores guarded the front steps. Like the windows, they had been enchanted for they turned to watch as Blue and Kitterick approached. Blue gave them a wide, nervous berth, but they made no move to block the way. She jerked the bell-pull on the pulsing pink front door and was rewarded with the brief swelling of a phantom orchestra somewhere deep inside. The amount of money Chalkhill had spent on spells and nonsense was quite extraordinary.
They waited. Behind them, the crystal manticores settled back laboriously into their original positions.
The door swung open and Blue almost gasped. She had an impression of luxurious brown ringlets and deep, dark, soulful eyes. The boy was tall. He was dark. He was handsome. In fact he was the most handsome young man Blue had ever seen. He was wearing formal butler's uniform, but the trousers had been cut off into shorts, worn with ankle socks and soft, green, pointed shoes.
'Yes?' He didn't seem too pleased to see them.
Blue dragged her eyes away from his legs. 'I am Sluce Ragetus,' she told him boldly. 'This is Mr Kitterick. We're here to see Mr Chalkhill.'
She expected him to ask the nature of their business and had her story about the wrinkle cream all ready. But he only said, 'You can't come in.' He looked Kitterick up and down. 'He would clash with the furniture.'
Blue's jaw dropped as the door closed.
'Sluce Ragetus?' Kitterick exclaimed. 'No wonder he wouldn't let us in.'
Completely at a loss, Blue said, 'What are we going to do now?'
'May I suggest, Ser – Mr Sluce, that we walk around to the back? I understand from Madame Cardui that Mr Chalkhill owns some sort of swimming pool. He may be taking the waters or enjoying his enchanted sun.'
'You think they'll let us just… go round to the back?'
'I see no one to stop us,' Kitterick said.
Which was surprisingly true. After her experience in Brimstone's rooms, Blue had expected tight security around Chalkhill's mansion, but so far there was really none at all. The butler who had refused them entry hardly constituted an armed guard.
A flower bed of foxgloves and bluebells sang softly to them as they walked around the side of the mansion. The path meandered through a heart-shaped grove and past a croquet green with luminous pink hoops. The swimming pool, when they reached it, was nothing short of breathtaking.
At first Blue thought it must be some sort of illusion spell, but as she looked closer, she realised this was actually exactly how the pool was built. Although she was no stranger to wealth, the extravagance astonished her. The pool had been cut from a single piece of amethyst, the largest she had ever seen, then rimmed in gold and filled with sparkling water driven by machinery that maintained its fizz.
Blue's eyes slid reluctantly away from the pool to take in the painted apparition reclining on a heavily cushioned lounger beside it. Although the creature was severely under-dressed, she could not decide for a moment whether it was a man or a woman. It was certainly plump and it was painted more extravagantly than Madame Cardui. The skimpy bathing costume was a mix of gold lame and ostrich feathers.
'What on earth is that?' asked Blue underneath her breath.
That,' said Kitterick, 'is Mr Chalkhill.'
They stepped back together, out of sight of the pool. 'What now?' Blue whispered.
'I believe,' said Kitterick, who never seemed at a loss in any circumstances, 'we might simply approach him openly. We appear, after all, to be honest merchants -travelling salespeople, if you will -with something to purvey. A certain… aggression is expected of us.'
'You don't think he'll find it suspicious that we've sneaked around the back?'
'That is precisely the point, Mr Sluce. We are not sneaking anywhere – we are approaching quite openly.'
'And then what?' Blue asked, irritated with herself at how vulnerable she felt. She'd been more together tackling Brimstone's traps which were a thousand times more dangerous than this.
'Then,' said Kitterick patiently, 'we lay out our sales pitch, engage Mr Chalkhill in conversation and hope he – ' He stopped as a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.
The man was no giant, but he still towered over Kitterick. Blue had an impression of well-balanced features and a pockmarked skin. He was wearing the bottle-green uniform of a Security Guard Captain. There was a vicious-looking stun wand hanging from his belt. He glowered at them. 'What are you two doing sneaking round back here?' he asked.
Blue swallowed. 'Sluce Ragetus,' she said automatically. 'Here to see M-Mr Chalkhill. On business,' she added lamely.
Captain Pratellus's dark eyes bored through her, turned to Kitterick, then back again. 'Do you have an authorisation from Mr Chalkhill for your visit?'
'Well, no,' Blue said, 'but – '
'Do you have identification papers?'
'Well, actually – ' Blue began.
Kitterick turned and bit the hand on his shoulder.
'Is he dead?' Blue asked, staring down at the prostrate body.
Kitterick shook his head. 'No, but he will remain in a coma for several hours. And there will be a substantial headache when he wakes up. And tremors. Something of a limp. Blurred vision. Impaired hearing. A few facial tics. Some nausea, loss of appetite, occasional hallucinations, flatulence, a weakness in the back. The nerve damage will repair itself in a few years. Providing he rests, of course.'
'What are we going to do with him?'
'Perhaps you would be so kind as to help me drag him underneath those bushes. I doubt he will be missed for an hour or so. By which time we shall have finished our business with Mr Chalkhill. One way or another.'
Blue's heart was pounding as they stepped out on to the patio surrounding the pool. Chalkhill spotted them at once.
'Why, visitors!' he exclaimed. 'How unexpected. How intriguing.' He removed his sun-glasses and stared at Blue. 'A young man – how delightful.' His glance moved to Kitterick. 'And a small orange person.' He struggled from his lounger. 'I was just about to go inside. Will you join me? I find too much sun so destructive to the skin.' He hesitated, looking at Blue. 'Unless you'd prefer to stay out here?'