Undaunted, he carefully lay Europe's feet down. Without quibbling over whether it was polite at so early an hour, he hammered with the wrought knocker of the ironwood gate as loudly as his exhausted arms would allow. Indeed, he could only just lift them to grasp the knocker.
Eventually a round grille high in the gate emitted a gruffly quizzing voice. 'Whot's this 'ere, then? Whot's yar business at this throodish hour?' It was a strange accent Rossamund had never heard before-a little like Poundinch's yet different again. It was hard to understand.
'I have a… a friend who's hurt!' Rossamund called up to the grille in his deepest, most certain-sounding voice. 'We have escaped an attack in the Brindleshaws! We need help!'
There were slidings, there were scrapings. There was a muffled conversation.
'I see…' the grille returned eventually. 'An' whot's a scamp like yarsalf doing up so late-or so eerly, if yar'll 'ave it at that-in risky places an' with no hat on his noggin?'
Rossamund sighed. 'I lost it in the river. Please, sir, my friend is very, very ill and she needs a physician quickly!'
'A lass, yar say? We cain't have a sickly lass stuck out there. Stay yar ground.'
One of the gates opened and a short man came out. He was almost as broad across the shoulders as he was tall, and wearing, of all things, a chain mail shirt over the top of longshanks and jackboots.
'Let's 'ave a look at 'er, then,' this stocky gatekeeper said as he stepped onto the road. He glanced about with a quick but shrewd eye and then down at the stricken fulgar. 'Blast me! That won't do at all. Pretty lass too.'
The stocky gatekeeper picked the fulgar up under her shoulders, as if her weight was of little consequence. She stirred, but little more. He directed an 'Oi…' over his shoulder. This prompted another person to move out from the shadows of the gateway. It was a woman, a dangerous-looking woman glowering into the dark spaces all about, ready for a fight. She was tall and wore a strange-looking coat-of-many-tails. She looked to the other gater, then at Europe in his arms and, with no further prompting, stepped over with swaggering grace and took the fulgar by the ankles. As this woman obediently hefted Europe by her boots, Rossamund saw that the backs of her hands were marked in strange brown filigree. It was the quickest glimpse but it fixed his vague attentions. Monster-blood tattoos! She was a monster-slayer too. Beneath her left eye was a line of spikes, spoors of some unknown profession.
Not too gently they carried Europe through the gate, the short fellow saying over his shoulder, ''Ere, grab 'er chattels an' all, an' follow me. I'm the gater,Teagarden-I look after the gate, see-at yar service. Whot's yar name, boy'o?'
'Rossamund,' he answered simply as he gathered up Europe's fallen saddlebags. He could barely grip the straps. His hands cramped, neither shut nor open.
He was vaguely aware of a brief but pronounced pause.
'Oh. Yar pardon, lass. Mistaked yar fer a lad in this darkling hour.' This Teagarden fellow actually sounded embarrassed.
Rossamund did not quite know what to say. His exhausted mind offered no assistance. 'I, ah… that's all right, I am a boy.'
Another pause, even more uncomfortable than the first.The woman bearing Europe's legs gave Rossamund an odd look.
Teagarden coughed in a perplexity of even greater embarrassment. 'Ah yes, right you are, and I knows it too, boy'o. 'Tis the paucity of light, methinks, playing tricks. This lass with me be Indolene-she's me fellow gater.'
Rossamund, too wayworn to care, offered only what he hoped was a smile.
Behind the gate was a dim, confined coach yard. A yardsman hurried over with a lantern, his feet crunching noisily in gravel. The light was shone in Europe's face while the two gaters took her to an entrance in the large, low house before them.
She still breathed! Rossamund could see her cheeks puffing as he followed closely. However, her skin was a ghastly pale green, showing the deep blue spoor vividly. Great bruised rings sunk beneath each eye, while sweat ran freely from her brow and hair. She was unrecognizable. She was getting worse.
The yardsman gasped, ever so quietly. 'Oi'll be! She's a lahzar!'
The lady gater seemed to scowl but continued in her work.
Teagarden whistled softly. 'Upon me 'onor! Yar keep yar comp'ny strangely, boy'o. Still, thass neither here nor there-get her inside sharply, she looks fit to expire!'
The door they approached opened, casting an oblong of light on the scene. A lanky man in a maroon powder jacket and stocking cap stood there, looking tight-faced and beady-eyed. 'What is all this huff and scuffle?' he demanded tetchily.
'We've got two new arrivals, sir,' Teagarden offered respectfully, 'an' this lady is poorly. Physic-needingly so, sir. She also be a lahzar, sir, so I'd thunk it best we come through the back ways to avoid raising an unnecessary alarum.'
'Well, good, good, Teagarden, no need to wait for my permission, man, if you see a physician is needed.' The lanky man, who was obviously of some importance at this establishment, seemed the type to be peeved no matter how he was answered. 'Bring them in, man, bring them in. Don't wait for me to invite you. Hello there, my boy-you look most weary. Welcome to the Harefoot Dig. I am Mister Billetus, the proprietor.We will do all that we might for your mother, and for yourself too.'
Mother?
This Mister Billetus, the proprietor, took Rossamund by the hand and gave it a stiff shake. Europe was carried on within and down a passage of white daub and many doors. It looked very much like a servants' entrance.
'Now, fellows,' Mister Billetus continued, 'take the boy's poor mother to the Left Wing, Room Twelve.' He addressed Rossamund. ''Tis the only room we have left for persons of quality as yourselves. Quality which, if I may be so bold, I can see you have in spades. Will it do?'
Rossamund had no idea if the room would or would not do. Any room was good as far as he thought. 'Any room will do, sir. I just want her to be seen to by a physic…'
'Excellent, excellent. Of course, certainly. Go on, fellows,' Mister Billetus said, turning to the gaters and yardsman, 'the mother needs seeing to-get her to her room! Properato!'
Teagarden seemed reluctant, but said, 'Right you are, sir. Ah…?'
'Yes, Teagarden?'
'Like I said afore, sir, she be a lahzar.'
The proprietor's eyebrows shot up. After brief reflection he recovered. 'Well, I didn't make her that way, man. Money is money. Keep her hidden from my wife for now. What Madam Felicitine doesn't know won't hurt us! I'll sort the rest. Off to their room, now, now!'
Holding a pale bright-limn, Mister Billetus led them through a labyrinthine confusion of dark passages and darker doors.
A boy joined them and Mister Billetus said to him, 'Ah-ha! Little Dog! There you are, you scamp! Now hurry and quick to Doctor Verhooverhoven's estates and bring the good physician back with you. No dawdling! Lives are in the balance.'
Despite his fatigue, Rossamund thought it mightily untoward to send such a little fellow out while it was still dark. Little Dog did not seem happy about it either. Nevertheless he dashed off stoutly.
'The physician should be here within the hour,' Mister Billetus said with open satisfaction. 'Good, good, to your room we go.'
Mister Billetus stopped by a door and looked at Rossamund just as a cat might coolly regard an agile mouse. 'You, er, can afford these lodgings, can't you?'
Rossamund's heart skipped a beat. He thought on the expensive foods and fine upholstery of the landaulet-all of Europe's flaunted wealth-and declared, with a quick-witted rattle of his own purse, 'Absolutely.'
Billetus looked powerfully relieved. 'Wonderful! So you won't object to settling a portion of your board in advance, then?'
'I, ah… no.' The foundling hoped he was doing the right thing.
'Good, good. One night's billet, board and attendance for a room of such elegance-and I do believe, by the cut of your clothes, that elegance is in order-the board for such a room is six sequins, paid in advance for two nights. If you leave after the first night, then we happily reimburse you. So, we should count this as your first night-since
