“Go for her throat, Rollo!” bellowed Prunella, galloping along on her sea-horse. “Rip it out and ha’ done with it!”
Rollo gave Prunella a look of terror.
“I shan’t pay her any mind, of course,” he said earnestly to Mrs. Midsomer. “Dashed unpleasant way of carrying on. It don’t seem quite maidenly to be so bloodthirsty, does it? Is it a mortal thing, do you think, or are the modern females of Fairyland like that too? Leaving aside lamiae, of course. Not but what I have known some very agreeable lamiae in my time. There was a good sort of girl who used to live near my father’s cave, Delphyne her name was, I think—unless it was Daisy?”
“Robert,” said Mrs. Midsomer, “I am engaged in very important business at the moment, and if you have nothing better to say than to ask me whether I ever knew a lamia named Daisy...”
Rollo had been turning loops in the air, sunk in thought.
“Now I think of it, her name was Sybaris,” he exclaimed. “But she terrorised the town of Delphi, of course, which accounts for the confusion. Aunt Georgiana could never stick her.”
“Cousin Georgiana?” Mrs. Midsomer stiffened. The turbulence of the waves subsided. “Is she here?”
“Good God, no!” said Rollo, horrified. “I was only recollecting that she did not like Sybaris, which is as good a testimonial as anyone could desire. Though to be sure, Aunt Georgiana does not like you above half either—but never mind all that! What I meant to say, Lorrie, is that you ought not to be rampaging about like this. It ain’t goodton! We are not in Fairyland, you know, where everyone enjoys a good magical fisticuffs. In the mortal realm there are things like ships and fishermen and picnics to think about.”
“What have picnics to do with anything?” said Mrs. Midsomer.
“I am surprised at you, Lorrie,” said Rollo. “It stands to reason no one can have a picnic if it is raining cockatrices and dragons. A hugeous mermaid don’t improve the view, either.”
“Do you really mean to defend your friend’s villainy to me by such shifts?” roared Mrs. Midsomer. “That mortal murdered my Leofric!”
“But if you would only listen, I am sure Zacharias would be able to explain himself,” pleaded Rollo.
“What excuse could there be for such faithless conduct?”
“I am not altogether sure,” Rollo admitted. “But Zacharias is a vastly clever fellow, and I am sure he could explain everything to your satisfaction if you would only be so good as to allow him ten minutes—”
Rollo was not allowed to finish his own explanation, however, for Mrs. Midsomer, losing patience, swatted him away. With a piteous yelp, Rollo vanished into the clouds.
“Rollo!” shouted Damerell.
“Pray come out,” said Prunella’s voice through the storm, “for you are needed.”
The storm clouds heaped in the lowering sky merged together to form the shape of a man, large and powerful, and lying prone upon the horizon. He rose, opening eyes of yellow lightning, and said in a rumbling voice:
“If it isn’t that blasted girl again!”
“If you are annoyed to see me, that is all the more reason to doyour work quickly,” said Prunella. “I should be excessively obliged if you would kill this mermaid for us. Once that is done you may go back to being insensate clouds as soon as you wish.”
The thunder-monster gave Mrs. Midsomer an unimpressed look.
“It will require a tempest,” he said.
“Go to it!” said Prunella.
With Mrs. Midsomer’s attention distracted, Zacharias was freed from the necessity of defending himself. He was putting his liberty to good use, and constructing another spell, when a freezing hand gripped his arm.
It was Lord Burrow. Upon his wet countenance was an expression composed in equal parts of fear, fury and plain discomfort.
“Damn it, Wythe, these are conditions calculated to bring on an inflammation of the lungs if there ever were such,” he shouted. “Lady Frances will be in such a taking she will not be fit to live with. She has just nursed me through a fever, and found it so tedious she has strictly forbidden my contracting any further illness. Cannot you stop them?”
“That may be within my power,” said Zacharias. “I have a notion I know what will calm Mrs. Midsomer’s fury. Miss Gentleman will likely subdue her thunder-creature if Mrs. Midsomer can be persuaded to leave off trying to kill me. Though I have Damerell to deal with as well, of course, since Rollo Threlfall has got himself involved.”
Damerell was striding up and down the Cobb, chanting curses of such ancient, complex wickedness as to raise the hair of the assembled thaumaturges.
“Do what you can,” said Lord Burrow urgently. “I have organised the men in a chanting circle to drain that blasted mercreature of her power, but since this is her native environment, her power is replenished faster than we can draw it.”
“But stay!” said Zacharias thoughtfully. “The reason for all this disturbance is that Mrs. Midsomer has been so intemperate as to threaten my life. Does not that show a very creditable loyalty in myfriends? I am not sure, after all, that it would be wise to prevail upon them to stop.”
