With a small sigh, he reached up above the side post to retrieve something. And smiled as he found it.
A key, old as dirt, they used to say, but impossible to use unless you knew the combination. It had been a well-kept secret, known only to the residents of the house behind the gate.
Silently, the gentleman slid the key into the right position, and turned it...once, twice...then back once again. As he did so, a series of gears engaged somewhere, and with a delightfultick tock tickthe huge door slowly swung inward, revealing little but darkness within.
He paused for a moment or two, as if to collect his thoughts. Then he squared his shoulders and walked through the gate, following the path to the front door. The entrance seemed to respond, since the huge wooden door swung silently back into place and the locking mechanism solidly thunked as the ticking slowed and then stopped.
Everything stilled, as if the world was holding its breath.
But then the man moved forward, lifted the latch on the interior door, and walked inside, closing it quietly behind him.
Sir Lucas Ashcombe had returned to Arcvale.
Definitely an important event, but to his disappointment, no explosions of fireworks, aerial displays put on by the Arcvale Flight Division, or soft screams of excitement from hundreds of beautiful women, greeted the closing of the door behind him.
Instead, he was facing a rather musty corridor, with practically no light at all coming in from the high windows. Which wasn’t surprising, given that they were pretty much covered with grime.
Lucas sighed. Of course this place had been allowed to fall into disrepair. He’d made it quite clear that he was done with his family, done with Arcvale, and did not intend to return. Ever.
Reversing that declaration had been difficult—but necessary—and had matters been different, he’d still be in his delightful cottage in Sectorvale, with his feet up by the fire. For a moment he almost expected to see his very first tiny tickerkin trundling along the carpet. But little Patch had been gone now for close on three decades.
He froze as an odd noise percolated the silence. Sort of a squeak-screech-clatter. He relaxed as he recognised it, surprised and pleased at the same time.
“Edgar, you rusty old sod. What on earth are you doing here?”
The raven-shaped tickerkin clanked his way toward Lucas, one eye glowing red, the other blinking furiously. “Master Lucas,” he said, voice creaking and rusty. “Is that really you?”
“In the flesh, Edgar. In the flesh.”
“In that case, may I say it’s about damn time, because I need an oil change, a great deal of lubrication, and possibly a few new gears. As your tickerkin, is ityour dutyto attend to my maintenance, which you have failed to do for going on ten years.”
Lucas’s lips twitched. “My most profound apologies, Edgar. You may be assured I shall attend to all those matters, if not immediately, then shortly thereafter.” He glanced around. “Is the rest of the house this bad?”
“Worse.” Edgar managed a snort. “I did my best, Mr Lucas. But without help and guidance?” He lifted his beak in thatgesture of mild distaste and managed to almost fluff his feathers, dislodging a few flakes of rust. “You’re damn lucky the walls of this place are still standing.”
“I can tell.” He started down the corridor toward what used to be a hall. “I need to see if this place is habitable, Edgar. Or at least bearable for a couple of weeks or so.”
Theclank-bump-thud-clanktold him that Edgar was following behind. “I don’t need much. A bed, a fireplace, and maybe some food.”
Edgar sighed loudly. “You’ll need a lot more than that, sir, if you’re planning on using Ashcombe Cottage as apied à terre.”
Lucas turned and shot him a quick glance. “What makes you think I’m going to be staying?”
“I may be a tad rusty on the outside, Mr Lucas. But the workings of my brain remain unimpaired. You, who swore on everything you held holy, that you’d never set foot in Arcvale again, let alone the Ashcombe residence, and held to that oath for nearly ten years... You have now broken that vow. So one would deduce that some dire financial crisis is looming, and in your opinion, you’re the only one who can fix it.”
“Astoundingly acute, Edgar. Almost frighteningly so.”
“Hmph.” The snort made Lucas grin. He’d loved this tickerkin for decades, and was delighted to find him the same irascible curmudgeon he’d left so long ago.
“I suppose that means you’ll be wanting food, then?”
“I will, but not to worry tonight. I had a meal of sorts on the ornithopter.” He sighed as they reached the end of the corridor. “I’m tired, Edgar. So tired I could sleep on a pile of bricks if I had to. Food isn’t the top priority right at this moment.”
“Well, I daresay we can find something, sir. And your bed is still in your room. I have been keeping everything as you left it, as much as I can.”
“For which I shall be ever grateful.” Lucas stopped and smiled at his tickerkin. “You’re the one thing I’m happy to see, Edgar. The only one.”
“In that case, would you mind showing your gratitude by oiling a couple of my joints?”
