Return of the Black King

By Dr S. Fern

Two and a half centuries ago a demonic tide unleashed by the mad sorcerer, Dakran El-Alamir overtook the Kingdom of the Eittendorfer, driving those who could reach it into exile in the great forest along its northern border. Today the same forest that once offered refuge, now offers little more than a troll-haunted grave. Over exploited, it cannot provide as rich game or forage as in years past; furthermore, bands of marauders, oath-bound to an ancient eldritch terror, are raiding with increasing frequency.

Far to the east an engineer-inventor and descendant of one of the last marshals of the Eittendorfer seeks to see his vision of a flying carriage become a reality. In pursuing this dream he embarks on a journey that will see his fate inexorably linked with that of his exiled kin.

Driven by desperation, the exiles are forced to accept that their current situation is untenable; if they wish to survive something must be done.

Kingmaker must be recovered.

The Black King must return.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dr S. Fern
• Release date: Sep 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393862888

Book preview

Prologue

Two and a half centuries ago King Wechtenstein of the Eittendorfer led the military might of his great kingdom against the forces of the mad sorcerer, Dakuran El-Alamir, in a desperate attempt to rescue his son and daughter-in-law. He failed and they were sacrificed in a dread ritual that unleashed a nameless evil from the depths of the Abyss. The chaotic tide flooded across his borders and drowned his lands in a hell of madness and death. He led the remnants of his people into exile in the Great Northern Forest where, for some unknown reason, the denizens of the Abyss refused to tread.

The forest was a harsh and unforgiving place to try and colonise – its dangers, trolls not least of all, were manifold – and many died in the first decade of exile. The king and his people were determined, however, and so they gradually carved out a new life for themselves: they built stockaded settlements; they cleared areas of forest for agricultural use; they organised communal hunts. At length they were able to recover something of the civilisation they had lost. Only a fraction of the Eittendorfer's population managed to reach the forest, however – only those living in the more northerly towns, villages and cities even had a chance. Their industrial might dwindled due to lack of suitable ores. Their famed black powder weapons fell silent for want of powder, the mines having been abandoned along with their kingdom. Furthermore, their links with the northern and southern Empires of the Sun were severed – they became a withdrawn and reclusive people.

As their third century in exile entered its fifth decade forage became harder to come by and hunting parties were having to go on longer, more dangerous, forays deeper into the forest in order to find enough to hunt to keep their communities fed.

Chapter One

The rocky, moss-covered slope led gently up from the river into the immensity of the forest beyond. Maples, birches, beaches and oaks, all grew thickly here beyond where most villagers dared to venture. Rhiga tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry, and try as he might he was unable to calm his pounding heart. He was the youngest member of the hunting party, and it was his first time in the forest proper. He'd been out foraging and collecting firewood along its fringes with his sisters and mother many times before – not that there was much to forage these days – but he had never ventured further. It had been Euric, his father, who had deemed him old enough and mature enough to join the party. He'd proven himself with a bow at the village butts and had spent two nights alone sleeping rough in the forest's fringes. Sure, he had had to prove himself in other ways too, but two memories in particular had stuck with him: the burn in his arm after his trials with a full-strength hunting bow, and the bladder-weakening terror of the two nights spent alone in the forest. He watched as his father climbed the slope ahead of him, Frada following after, a huge troll bow slung over her back.

'It's rude to stare, boy,' Gazlen said as he strode past Rhiga, his massive frame carrying him easily up the slope.

'I wasn't staring.'

'Huh,' Gazlen grunted, unconvinced.

In truth he had been staring, but it was hard not to: half of Frada's face and most of her left arm were a mess of scar tissue, and try as he might he hadn't been able to convince her to tell him the tale. 'Troll' was all she had said when he'd asked about it.

'Come on, boy, move with a purpose,' Arcus said, scrambling past him. That snapped his attention back to the present. He didn't like Arcus – he'd heard too many stories about the tall slim hunter, too many about his past and his parents, or rather who his parents might have been. He shivered despite the humidity and set to scrambling up the slope before Mecona limped past him; he did not want to end up bringing up the rear, not here, this deep in the forest – he'd heard too many stories about that too.

They'd been walking all day – even taking lunch on the move – before Ethene, the party's skeletally thin tracker, called a halt.

'I've seen no signs of anything worthwhile,' she said, wiping her brow with her left sleeve. Rhiga made a concerted effort not to stare at her: he wanted to know how she'd lost her right arm, but she'd been as tight-lipped as Frada. 'We could set some snares – we might get lucky and trap a deer, maybe even a pig.'

'That's not enough,' Tchorn replied, in his ever-calm tone.

'We do need to make camp for the night though.'

'That's true enough, but if we manage to trap something overnight, we can't return with just that – even if it is a pig – and we can't carry it with us for the rest of the trip,' Euric said.

'No – it'll be rotting before we get it back, not to mention what it might attract,' Gazlen added.

'So we camp here for the night and head out at dawn?' Mecona this time.

'That's as good a plan as any,' Tchorn said.

'It's always further,' Euric mumbled as he set his pack on the ground.

'Father?'

'We're having to venture further and further into the forest these days, before we pick up the tracks of anything worth hunting – it's no good.'

'It wasn't always like this then?'

'No,' Frada said, setting her troll bow down beside her pack. She moved over to Euric and began helping him build a fire. 'A few years back we wouldn't need to go more than half a day beyond the fringes before we could track something worthwhile.'

'Oh,' Rhiga replied as he feathered a branch for kindling.

'That's true enough.' Tchorn joined them, likewise setting his troll bow down before pulling a pack of cured meat from his pack and handing it round. 'And back then we wouldn't need to lug two of these round with us.' He nudged his troll bow with a booted foot.

Rhiga pulled a few strips of meat from the pack as it was passed round. He regarded the troll bows for a few moments. They weren't anything like the bows he used: they were huge crossbows – the kind that needed windlasses to load. He had never been allowed to shoot one. 'Are they heavy?' he asked Tchorn.

'Aye, boy, they weigh about as much as you, I'd wager,' he replied, receiving the pack of dried meat back and in turn handing round a pack of hard cheese.

'He's exaggerating,' Frada replied, 'they don't weight that much!'

Rhiga unconsciously ran a hand over his chest and midriff. Am I putting on weight?

'A ripple of laughter rose from the group and Rhiga's cheeks flushed.

'Don't worry, boy, you're still be prettiest of us!'

'Leave him alone, Arcus! You're just jealous!' Mecona interjected, flashing the briefest of smiles to Rhiga.

Rhiga looked first to Mecona and then to his father, his cheeks reddening further.

'Don't look to me, Son! You're a man now!' Everyone laughed and Rhiga, accepting the cheese from his father, paid special attention to carving off a chunk for himself, before passing it to Arcus.

Mercifully the group laid off teasing him after that. Perhaps they'd decided that enough was enough, or perhaps night's encroaching shadows had dampened their spirits. Either way their conversation turned to the morrow briefly before, one by one, they turned to their bedrolls.

The morning was cold and a heavy mist lay all about when the party rose. The jollity of the previous night was gone; morning greetings were muted and they broke their fast in silence. Without much more than a few words Ethene led the party deeper into the forest in search of something large enough to bring back for their families. As the morning wore on, the ground became softer underfoot until they were skirting pools of standing water at regular intervals. Ethene called a halt and they took the opportunity to have a drink from their water skins.

'I've brought us further north than we've been before. It seems the forest is becoming a swamp.'

As if to punctuate her remark Gazlen slipped on a damp root and swore as his right leg ended up calf-deep in a pool of water. 'I'm not sure we should carry on this way,' he grumbled.

'No, I agree – I don't like the feel of this place,' Arcus said.

'What do you mean?' Euric asked.

'Just that I don't like it, that's all.'

'All right, can you lead us round it, Ethene?' Mecona asked.

'Yes, of course. Follow me.'

An hour or so later Ethene called another halt.

'What now?' Frada asked.

'Smile, Frada – this time it's good news.'

'I'll smile when we're all back home safely, but go on.'

'Tracks, left by something big, see?' She pointed ahead of her. Even to Rhiga it was clear that something big had passed this way, though how recently he had no idea. Mecona, Rhiga, Euric and Arcus strung their bows and silently the party followed their tracker.

At length they came upon a clearing and Rhiga gasped. Rearing up on its hind legs and supporting itself with a stout tail was the largest beast he had ever seen. Covered in dark brown fur, and with claws the length of his arm, the grohthorn was at least fifteen feet tall and massively built. Rhiga watched entranced as it used its claws to pull down branches and strip them of their leaves. Frada, Tchorn and Gazlen, brandishing heavy, stout spears with lugs set behind the blades, slipped round the edge of the clearing.

'Be ready, Son,' Euric whispered, drawing an arrow from his quiver.

Rhiga nodded, his heart rang and his mouth dry, as he copied his father and notched an arrow.

Suddenly the grothorn stopped eating and tensed, its small ears twitching. Rhiga was about to ask his father what was happening when an ear-splitting roar accompanied by an explosion of vegetation shattered the serenity of the scene. Euric pulled his son into the undergrowth and clamped a hand over his mouth as a troll burst into the clearing, brandishing a tree trunk with a boulder bound to one end. With a deep, resonant growl the grothorn turned and lashed out with its clawed arms, catching the troll's makeshift club in one hand and tearing four deep gashes in its flank with the other. The troll howled in pain and staggered back a pace or two, snatching its club back from the grothorn's grasp as it did so. A long rope of saliva swung from the troll's maw as it swung its club into a two-handed grip. The grothorn backed away towards the tree line, the troll loping towards it, cautious now that it had lost the element of surprise. Rhiga looked on in a mix of amazement and fear as the deep gashes in the troll's flank stopped bleeding and began to close up. With another deafening roar the troll lurched at the grothorn, swinging its club in a slow, ponderous arc. The huge herbivore caught the blow on the arm, which broke with a sickening wet crack. Barking in pain the beast backed further into the trees, but found its path blocked by thick undergrowth and low lying branches. The troll swung again, this time crushing the grothorn's ribcage with a blow that could likely have felled a tree. With a pitiable howl of pain the grothorn collapsed. The troll cast its club aside and threw itself at its mortally wounded prey. Easily knocking aside a last attempt to hold it at bay the troll tore into the grothorn, consuming meat, bone and entrails indiscriminately.

Rhiga felt his stomach lurch as the wet sounds of the troll feeding reached him from across the clearing. His father motioned to him, and along with Mecona and Arcus, they slipped silently away.

'Damn,' Gazlen grumbled once the party had regrouped.

'I'd suggest we get going,' Ethene said.

Without a word, the party followed her deeper into the forest. A grothorn would have been a superb catch, but they still had nothing to take back to their families.

The next few days passed with little or no sign of anything worth tracking and steadily the mood in the party became despondent. They were about to give the expedition up as a lost cause when Ethene discovered some deer tracks, and by night fall they had stalked and killed a trio of small deer.

The following morning the party's mood was brighter than it had been, though they were all aware that a few small deer would not suffice.

'What're we to do?' Mecona asked, looking at the gutted and bound carcasses.

'We've got to get them back to the Ernstruck before they spoil,' Tchorn replied.

'True, but we can't return with so little,' Arcus added.

'The way I see it, we've got three choices: leave them and venture deeper into the wood; return directly with them to the village; or take a more circuitous route back to the Ernstruck and hope to find something else along the way,' Euric said.

'Well the first is out of the question, and the second isn't really an option, not if we don't want to see our families starve...' Gazlan's voice trailed off.

'I can lead us back indirectly – I'll get us back before the carcasses spoil,' Ethene said.

'It's the only option as far as I can see,' Frada said.

And so Ethene led the party indirectly back home.

'You've got a good arm, Rhiga,' Mecona said as they halted for their midday meal.

'Thank you,' Rhiga replied, smiling. It had been he who had taken the down the pig whose tracks Ethene had picked up a little after high sun. It wasn't all that large, but it was large enough. They could return without shame, having caught just enough to feed everyone.

'Would you like to share the last of my burgh?' Mecona asked, offering Rhiga a stale, slightly mouldy heel of hunter's bread.

'Thank you, but aren't you hungry?'

'There's enough for two,' she replied with a smile.

'Thank you.' Rhiga tore the remains of the loaf in two, handing the larger part back to Mecona.

'Go on.'

'What?'

'You can ask.'

'About what?'

'You were staring at my leg,'

'I'm sorry – I didn't even realise...'

'It's alright, really, it's alright. You like a good tale, don't you?'

'Yes, I do – have done ever since I was a cotling, according to my mother.'

'Well, if you'll share your water with me, I'll tell you how I got this,' she said, gesturing to her right leg, which stretched out at an awkward angle.

'Certainly,' he replied, passing her his water skin. 'No one seems to want to tell me their tales.'

'Thank you.' She took a drink. 'For most people, tales like that come with painful memories.'

'But yours doesn't?'

'It does, but I'll tell you anyway.' She smiled before continuing. 'It was about three years ago – I can't have been much older than you are now – and I was—'

Branches snapped and Rhiga's father shouted something.

Ethene flew through the air, slammed into the tree against which Rhiga and Mecona were sitting, fell, and did not get up.

'Troll!' Arcus bellowed as he staggered into view

Before Rhiga could react a huge troll loped into view with one of the party's deer in one hand and a tree trunk in the other.

'This way!' Mecona cried and dragged Rhiga behind the tree as the rest of the party began responding to Arcus' warning.

Gazlen was the first to reach them. He rushed over and planted himself between Rhiga and Mecona, and the troll, his heavy spear held in a two-handed grip. The troll roared and swung the deer carcass at Gazlen who, caught off guard by the unorthodox strike, was knocked flying into the undergrowth. Mecona screamed as the troll stepped towards them.

Rhiga snatched up his bow, notched an arrow and snapped off a quick shot. The troll paused, looked down, and pulled the arrow from its abdomen. Rhiga hastily notched another arrow and shot again, striking the troll in approximately the same place. The troll appeared confused as it pulled out Rhiga's second arrow. By now Frada and Tchorn had arrived and were furiously loading their troll bows. Rhiga was about to loose a third arrow when two thunks sounded and the troll arched its back and howled in pain. It swung round, away from Rhiga and Mecona, discarding its tree trunk as it scrabbled around trying to pull the two heavy bolts from its back.

Rhiga pulled Mecona from behind the tree and the two of them scrambled away, past Frada to where Euric and Arcus were loosing arrows into the troll. With a roar, still trying to remove the bolts from its back, it staggered away, back into the forest.

'Are you alright?' Rhiga asked Mecona.

'Er, yes, er, I think so,' the young woman replied, shaken.

Gazlen groaned as he extricated himself from a heavy patch of undergrowth. 'Yes, I'm alright, I'll have one hell of a bruise, but I'm alright,' he replied to a questioning look from Arcus.

'Rhiga?!' Euric asked, running his hands over his son, checking him for signs of injury.

'I'm fine, Father, honestly,' he replied, a little embarrassed at the attention being lavished on him.

'You've got some stones, boy, that's the truth,' Gazlen remarked as he hobbled over. 'Where's Tchorn? And Ethene?'

'Tchorn's over here,' Frada said. 'He was in the way when that bastard dropped the tree it was swinging around. He's broken a lot of ribs, but he'll be alright if we can get him back to Ernstruck soon.'

'Thought to catch a tree with your chest? Not one of your smartest decisions, Tchorn,' Arcus said as he reached the injured hunter.

'It's not... something I... decided to... do... it just... happened.' Tchorn was pale and blood lined his mouth.

'Alright, rest easy, we'll get you back and fixed up,' Frada said. 'Where's Ethene?'

'Over here,' Mecona replied quietly.

Rhiga reached her first. She was cradling their tracker's head in her lap and crying softly. His stomach lurched – Ethene's chest was crushed, her head hung at an unnatural angle from her shoulders and her legs were broken in multiple places.

'Oh...' Arcus remarked.

No one said anything for a long time.

Eventually Tchorn's groans brought them back to the pressing needs of their current situation.

'We need to get him back, and soon,' Frada announced.

'What about Ethene?' Mecona asked, still crying.

'We've still got two deer and Rhiga's pig,' Arcus said. 'It'll take all of us to get those as well as Tchorn back. I can't see how we can bring her too.'

'We have to, surely?' Mecona asked.

'We can't unless we leave something behind, and we've all got families that need feeding.'

'But—'

'And there's not time for grave digging, especially not one deep enough to keep a body secure from... well, you know.'

'How can you say that?' Mecona wailed.

'I'm sorry, but it's just the way it is.'

'He's right,' Frada added.

'I'd not leave her here, not if there was any way we could get her back, but there isn't,' Arcus added.

Gently Rhiga helped Mecona to her feet, wrapped an arm round her and led her away from the gruesome scene. The party made a crude litter for Tchorn and without saying much beyond what was absolutely necessary, broke camp and headed as directly as possible back to the Ernstruck.

Mercifully, they reached the fringes of the forest before nightfall of the following day.

'Do you think he'll be alright now?' Rhiga asked Frada as they reached the cultivated land that surrounded the village.

'Well he's still got a fever, but old Erta's the best healer I know.'

'But surely you've only—'

'What in all the lost kingdoms happened?' Frada cursed. A smoke haze hung over Ernstruck, and from where they were it was clear that several fires were still burning.

'Marauders, I'd say,' Arcus replied. 'Come on.'

The gate in the village's stockade had been smashed and a number of houses, along with the feast hall, had been torched. Euric and Rhiga dropped the pair of deer they had been carrying between them and ran to their house. To both father and son's relief it had not been burnt.

'Freglise! Heswine!'

Euric pushed past his son to find his wife lying on their bed, asleep with a bandage round her head and another round her leg. Heswine, his daughter, was tending her.

'What happened? Are you alright?' he asked.

'Mother!' Rhiga exclaimed as he entered the room.

'She's alright,' Heswine said. 'Erta's seen to her, but she needs to rest.'

'What happened?'

'Men came, Father, they broke through the gates and began burning and stealing. We lost the chickens and—'

'But you're alright?'

'Yes, Father. Some men tried to take me, but Mother stopped them, with the big knife I'm not allowed to use.'

Euric was about to say something, but instead looked around the room. 'Where's Hirma?'

Heswine's lip trembled.

'Where is she, Heswine?' Rhiga asked.

Heswine began to cry.

'Darling, where's your sister?' Euric asked, his voice thick with emotion.

'They took her,' the young girl managed between sobs.

'I've got to go and find Tharn,' Euric said, his eyes moist, but his tone dangerous. 'I'll be right back. Stay here with your mother.'

'Father?' Rhiga asked.

Euric grunted his assent.

They found Tharn, the village thegn, in conversation with Arcus. The two were standing over the body of a marauder. Its leather armour had been blackened by fire, but the graven image of what appeared to be an eye in the centre of a sun with many wavy arms could still be discerned on its chest.

'Euric, I'm glad to see you and your son have returned safely,' Tharn said as they approached. The thegn was tall and broad-chested, but a layer of fat told of his more active days being behind him.

'They took Hirma.'

'I heard. I'm sorry.'

'Sorry?! What are you going to do about it?'

'I've sent a delegation to Allenfeld asking for help. I'm not sure what they'll be able to do, but I can't think of anything else.' Defeat was written across the thegn's face, etched into every crease and fold.

'We've got to go after them – now!'

'We can't, Euric, there are still two hunting parties out, but perhaps when they're back...'

'But—'

'Euric, we haven't the man power to mount a rescue – we must wait until the delegation from Allenfeld returns,' Arcus said.

Many different emotions warred for supremacy within Euric as he looked from Arcus to Tham and then to his son. Eventually his shoulders slumped and he bowed his head. 'Is this the only one?' he asked, kicking the corpse, changing the subject.

'No – your wife took two, so I've heard, but this is the only one they didn't take with 'em. I can't say why they take 'em with 'em – after all a dead man's a dead man, right?'

'Right,' Euric agreed, his mind returning to Hirma.

'What's that emblem, Father?' Rhiga asked, pointing to the corpse's chest.

'I don't know.'

'Your son's got a good eye, Euric. It looks like a sun to me.'

'No, it's not,' Arcus said.

'How do you know?' Tharn asked.

'Because I've seen it before.'

'Where?'

'Oh, on another body in another place,' he replied.

'Your past interests me, Arcus,' Euric said.

'It seems to interest a number of people, but it's just that – my past.'

'Alright, but what can you tell us about that?' the thegn asked, nudging the corpse with his foot.

'It's the emblem of some king, or lord away north of here – not someone you want to cross if you believe the tales.'

'What tales?'

'Oh, just ghost stories – ones to tell round a fire at night. But what I do know is that he attracts all the shunned – well, those that survive long enough to find him that is.'

'Well whoever he is he's hit Ernstruck now – I've heard of more distant villages being raided, but not one so close to a town,' Tharn said.

'What do they want with those they take?' Rhiga asked

'I wouldn't pull at that thread,' Arcus replied.

'What do you know?' Euric growled.

'Honestly, nothing more than ghost stories, as I said; nothing that would be helpful or constructive right now.'

'That's hardly reassuring,' Tharn said before turning to Euric. 'Go and see to your wife; I'll send for you as soon as the delegation returns. I promise that I'll do everything in my power to see those who were taken returned to us.'

'If there's anything I or Rhiga can do, let us know.'

'I will. Thank you.'

As they were crossing the village Rhiga noticed Mecona wandering as if in a trance.

'Mecona, are you alright?' he asked.

'They're gone. It's gone.'

'Who? What?'

'Everyone, everything: Mother, Rista, Ada... They even torched my home. Everything's gone.' She'd been crying, that much was clear, but now she seemed numb, almost unresponsive.

'You'll stay with us. That's alright, isn't it, Father?'

Euric gave the slightest of nods to his son.

Gently, Rhiga put his arm round the traumatised young woman and led her back to his home where he hoped there was something to eat.

Chapter Two

Hirma woke with a start. It was just a nightmare. She reached out to pull her blanket back over her, but it wasn't there. Wasn't it? She reached out further and her hand touched cold stone. Opening her eyes, at first she saw nothing – it was still dark wherever she was. She looked about for anything familiar. Nothing, just cold, dark stone. A little light was coming in through a grate in a heavy wooden door set into a far wall. She rose to a crouch then froze and started to sweat, her skin goosebumping as her chest tightened. Suddenly she felt arms grasping her from behind and she screamed, lurching away.

'Please, it's alright. Hirma, it's me, Ilda – I'm one of your mother's friends.'

Hirma turned and peered into the gloom, her eyes straining. She couldn't make out the features of the woman who had just spoken to her. Her mind wouldn't focus. She shuffled away, then stopped, turned again, and peered into the pitch blackness that hung like a pall around the edges of the chamber. A soul-chilling terror gripped her and she shot back across the floor into the woman's arms.

'It... It...' Her breath caught in her throat.

'I don't know, but...' Something moved in the darkness, something smooth moving across stone.

'There's something in there...' a strange voice whispered from a little way off.

'Who's there?' Ilda asked.

'My name's Ertum, the – no! No! No!'

They both saw it, saw the darkness take form and reach out into the chamber.

Hirma felt Ilda's arms wrap protectively round her. 'It's going to be alright,' she stammered. Hirma's heart hammered in her chest. She tried to swallow, but couldn't. It's just a nightmare, please make it be a nightmare.

Chapter Three

'Release the geese!' Artur Kressen bellowed with one hand on his wide-brimmed hat, his frock coat flapping in the stiff breeze. Further up the hill one man pulled on a rope that was attached to a number of wooden cages atop a wagon, whilst a second pulled a pair of chocks out from in front of the wagon's front wheels. Slowly at first, the wagon began to roll down the hill towards the cliff edge.

Artur tugged at his short beard, at once both nervous and excited, surely it would work this time?

By the time the wagon reached him, at a sharp bend in the road, it was thundering along and its avian occupants were becoming more and more agitated, their honks and hinks becoming louder and more distraught. With a splintering crunch the wagon mounted the road's bank and flew off the cliff. Artur looked on, initially with a look of triumph on his face as the thirty-six geese shot skyward, the tethers fixing them to the wagon snapping taught. His look of triumph, however, was replaced with one that spoke of another tragic failure as gravity exerted its hold and pulled the wagon, geese and all, inexorably towards the surf and rocks far below. By the time he reached the cliff and peered over the edge, all that remained of his latest, desperate, attempt to create a flying carriage were a few broken timbers and a lot of grey-white feathers floating on the surf below.

***

The sun had long ago set by the time Artur returned to his workshop in Hozukuteän – the City of the Engineer's Guild – or colloquially, the Engineer's City. He unlocked the shop's side door, stepped inside, and lit a candle. As he made his way to the stairs that led up to his living quarters his gaze passed over the many discarded plans for his 'flying carriage'.

'Curse it all!' he snapped. Pinching out the candle he stormed out of his workshop, slammed the door behind him, locked it, and stamped down the street to Barnaby Stokes' pie shop.

Artur flicked rain from his hat as he entered the dimly lit shop and made for a corner table. He was pulling off his coat when Barnaby Stokes, the