Snake Eyes

“The flour’s almost gone. I was saving it for a special occasion.”

“If this drought goes on much longer there may not be any more occasions.”

Velvet turned back to her cooking and tutted at me. Her hair was long and dark and silky, but in the hot weather she wore it in a knot with a wooden spoon through it. I could see the sweat on the back of her neck and the press of her hips where they stuck to the faded blue cotton of her dress. That was another thing about the heat; thoughts of rutting made it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

“What is that awful pew?” asked Velvet.

“Oh, it’s what’s left of the milk. The demon’s presence turned it just like that. Killed all the cabbages in next door’s field too—the ones that weren’t already dead.”

“Those peewits. They do nothing but argue and jizjam each other’s wives.”

She picked up the fouled cup and washed it in water that was three days old. I felt a wave of pity for the two farmers and their families. They’d gained a demon and lost an entire crop.

“It’s the heat. Makes folk cantankerous and lecherous.”

“Nonsense, Delly. Those two’ve always been that way and you know it.”

As usual, Velvet was right. I opened my comprehensive almanac and turned to the section on adversarial minions. There was no mention of what to do in case of demonic fallout.

Mostly it was about how to recognise demons and how to ward them off. The whole thrust of the section related to avoiding contact in the first place. I took that to mean eating them wasn’t a good idea. The pictures were detailed and it seemed that we had acquired a relatively high level demon. Well, high in a lowdown kind of way.

From outside there came the sound of angry voices and at first I thought it was just Rickett and Wiggery having one of their customary disagreements. But the volume rose and the numbers of voices increased until it sounded like a riot was going on. I sighed, pushed my chair back and walked to the back door to take a look. In the field it looked as though a fight was about to break out. There was pushing and shoving and many fingers being pointed. In the midst of it Leopold Prattle was adeptly failing to maintain control.

“Give me strength,” I said.

“What is it now?”

“I’ll have to go out there again.”

“Don’t you be late for your lunch, Delly Duke, or I’ll paddle your bumcakes rosy.”

I turned back to see her smiling; as full of mischief as Mary the goat.

“I’ll make sure it’s stone cold before I return.”

Demonhood

In the field, merriment had turned to bitterness.

There was a very obvious split between two factions. In the smaller faction there was Blini Rickett and Puff Wiggery. In the other faction was the rest of the village. Between them, using only his body odour as a weapon, was Leopold Prattle. By the time I arrived at the scene, it looked as though a lynching might not be far away.

I asked one of the villagers, a barrel maker who lived near the church, what was going on.

“Those two fatherless muckits say the dragon belongs to them because it fell in their field. They’ve no right to it. No right, says I.”

But Jack Cooper, the one I’d asked, was wrong. I knew the law about property and ownership and it was clear. I ran to the front of the mob where things were starting to turn nasty. Puff Wiggery had bleeding scratches on his face where a woman’s nails had raked him. Even Prattle was beginning to look frightened in case they lumped him in with the other two.

I raised my hands. I’ve got a loud voice when I feel like using it and it’s a good thing otherwise events might have transpired very differently.

“ENOUGH OR I’LL SUMMON THE MILITIA.”

That caught the attention of a few of them and some of the fire went out of the mob. The shouting died down and people stopped pushing towards the two frightened farmers. I kept my hands in the air and after a few more moments the crowd was quiet enough that I could speak normally.

“Anyone who harms these men will hang. You all know it. The law says an animal found dead on your land belongs to you. And anyone who tries to take the demon away will be flogged.”

“It’s a dragon,” shouted one of the villagers. There were cries of hungry agreement from all around. Why anyone thought a dragon was more edible than a demon I couldn’t fathom.

“Whatever it turns out to be, the law says it’s theirs. Now who wants me to ring the bell for the militia?”

No one moved or spoke.

“Please, if you think you have the right to take away the lawful property of Farmer Rickett and Farmer Wiggery put your hand up and state your case. The militia can come and settle it.”

The silence expanded. No one wanted to go up against the law, especially not militia law. I turned to the two farmers who looked pleased with themselves. I think it was the first matter they’d ever agreed on.

“Now what are you two planning to do with this thing?”

“We’re going to cut it up and sell it,” said Rickett