“You cold, dearie, dearie?” asked Seamus.
I nodded.
He sat down on a crate, drew his hand in his cloak pocket, and what he pulled out of it made me fall backward off my seat and caused Harry Two to start barking.
Seamus ignored this commotion and placed the small ball of blue fire he held in his hand on the dirt, sprinkled a bit of something he had pulled from his other pocket on the tiny tendrils of flames, and they immediately grew to over a foot in height.
I regained my seat and said, “How did you do that?”
He looked up at me with an innocent expression. “Do what?”
“Pull fire from your pocket?”
“I pulls it, I does. Does yousey?”
“No, I does notsey,” I said before catching myself. “I mean I do not. I can’t. Where did you learn to do it?”
“All hobs cans pull fires from their pockets. We just cans, dearie, dearie. We just cans.” He finished this statement off with a cackle.
I drew closer to the flames and felt immediate and deep warmth even though it was not a large fire. Flashing through my mind was a remembrance from many sessions ago.
My mother and father and my brother were sitting in front of the fire back at our modest digs in Wormwood. We had eaten our usual small meal. We never had much in terms of things. But I remember sitting on the floor in front of that fire and looking around at each of them, my father with his ready smile, my mother with her kind ways, and my brother staring at a spider in the corner of the ceiling and silently counting its legs, and thinking I was the luckiest Wug there ever was.
The memory faded and I refocused. “Can you help me find my friend?” I said again. I pulled some tins of food and a jug of water from my tuck. “Would you like some of my food and water?” I asked. I had no idea if this would constitute a proper gift, but I had to try.
“What you gots, dearie, dearie?”
“Smoked meat, cheeses, breads, fried pickles, vegetables and some apples and pears, among other things.”
He looked disappointed. “Is that alls?”
I looked down at my foods and wondered how there was nothing he fancied. I rummaged around in my tuck and, in doing so, brought out a tin of chocolates that I had purchased from Herman Helvet’s shop back in Wormwood. Quick as a flash, Seamus seized the tin and sniffed it.
“This be what Seamus wants, dearie, dearie.”
“The whole tin?” I said, stunned.
He answered by using one of his fingernails to slice right through the metal top. He plucked out the chocolate on top and bit into it. He smiled, showing off his pile of crooked, darkened teeth. He devoured that chocolate and then finished off another. “Onesy-twosey for Seamus, saves the resties for later, I will.”
He put the tin down and held his hands over the flames. I stared warily at those quite sharp fingernails that had so easily cut through my tin top.
His eyes became more hooded still as he leaned back against the wall and huddled in his cloak. I listened to the storm raging outside and drew closer to the flames. Could Delph find shelter? Would something find him first? I shivered.
“Can you help me?!” I said. “Please!”
He said nothing but continued to stare at me with half-lidded eyes. Though the look was a bit creepy, I decided to carry on.
“Seamus,” I said, “I’ve given you sweets.” When he still didn’t say anything, I drew out my Quag book and opened it to the page on hobs.
I read, “A hob is a force for good. It will befriend those in need. All one has to do is be kind to the hob and provide it a gift and it will serve the giver faithfully.”
I stopped reading and held up the book so he could see the drawing.
“Where did you gets such a thingy?” asked Seamus as he stared curiously at the picture.
“From someone who’s been in the Quag and knows of blokes like you,” I shot back.
His gaze darted to the tin of chocolates that sat next to the crate. As his hand reached out for it, Harry Two shot forward to perch in front of it, his fangs bared.
Seamus quickly withdrew his hand and said sullenly, “No needs to be like that. Seamus is a good hob, he is. Like the wordsies say.”
“So you can help me, right?” I eyed the tin of chocolates. “I’m really worried about my friend.”
Seamus clucked. “You should be, dearie, dearie.” And then he added without a trace of his claptrap, singsong speech, “For ’tis a dangerous place, this is.”
We stared at each other over the smoky flames of the ball of fire. It was suddenly so silent in the cave that I thought the storm must have ceased.
“He disappeared in a cloud,” I said again. “What might you know about that?”
Seamus put a finger up to his mouth as though signaling he was deep in thought. I watched him through the smoke of the conjured flames.
“There’s a place,” he said. “There’s a place rounds here.”
“What place?” I snapped, my fear of what might be happening to Delph growing with each breath I took.
“A cottage.”
I gaped at him. “What is a cottage doing in the Quag?”
On this he fell silent and closed his eyes completely.
“Seamus, what is a cottage doing in the Quag? Does someone live there?”
“Maybe someones does and maybe someones doesn’t.”
“Are you a good hob or not?” I said heatedly.
“I is a good hob.”
“So answer my question. Please.”
He opened his eyes and looked at me grumpily.
“ ’Tis a female that lives there,” he said, again with none of the claptrap.
“Dearie, dearie?” I said, my eyebrows hiked.
He sat up and looked at me. I mean he looked at me for what seemed like truly the first time.
“Who’s the female in the cottage?” I asked.
“Why you be here?” His tone was suddenly both aggressive and accusing.
“I asked first. And you’re a hob who has yet to show me kindness, despite the tin of chocolates.”
He pointed at the flames. “You were cold and now you’re not!”
“And you’ve had two of my chocolates.” I picked up the can and tossed it to him. He caught it neatly. “And nearly a full tin to spare.”
He considered this, his features turning sulky.
“Don’t know her name,” he said finally.
“Is she kind?” I asked.
“Kind enough,” he commented in a pouting tone.
“How does she survive in the Quag with so many dangerous creatures?”
“They leave her alone, don’t they?”
“Why?”
“They just do,” he said with finality.
“And can she help me find Delph?”
He shrugged. “If she can’t, no one here can.”
“Can you show me the way there?”
“What! In this bloody storm?” he said in a protesting voice.
“I can fly,” I added.
His eyes widened. “Fly? What rubbish!”
I strapped Harry Two into the harness.
“I’ll show you. Come on. We haven’t a sliver to lose.”
He rose and followed me to the cave entrance. The rain was still bucketing down and Seamus gazed out ruefully, but I didn’t care. I just needed to find Delph. Though it wasn’t night, it was dark because of all the black clouds. Clouds. Like the one that had taken Delph.
I said to Seamus, “That flame you conjured, can we use it to see?”
He seemed surprised by my request but nodded, reached in his pocket and pulled out another little blue ball of fire.
“Climb on my shoulders,” I said.
He drew back. “I’m too heavy.”
I hoisted him up effortlessly.
“Now, when we fly you can hold on to the straps of the harness, okay?”