The Curse of Salamander Street by G.P. Taylor Page A

Bragg feebly as he chewed a slither of liver and sipped the dregs of fine chianti that he had hoarded from the night before.
    â€˜What do they speak of?’ Raphah asked, unsure as to what he had done and why it should cause such a commotion.
    â€˜Vackan’s chair,’ said Barghast solemnly. ‘There is a legend that it is cursed. Whoever sits upon it meets an untimely death. Vackan was a villain of these parts, a cut-throat and a murderer. On the night that Ord Vackan was dragged from here and hanged, he cursed the chair on which he had been sat and said that whoever rested in it would come to an end worse than his.’
    â€˜A curse upon a chair? Should I be worried by that?’ Raphah laughed.
    â€˜Such a thing cannot be shaken from you by laughter. It is well known in these parts and has become more than legend. Too many coincidences have taken place and I am saddened that your fellow travellers should play such a trick,’ Barghast said.
    â€˜Brevity at breakfast, Mister Barghast,’ Bragg snorted as if pleased with himself. ‘I never thought for a moment he would take the seat.’
    â€˜Perhaps Raphah offended you in some way?’ Barghast asked of him.
    â€˜I am not easily offended – and was not Church and Statebuilt on the backs of the Ethio? Perhaps I would find it easier to share my vitals with pigs than the likes of him. But we live in a modern world and things have changed. One day we might find one as the Minster bishop – and hell shall freeze.’ He belched as he spoke, cow-cudding a mouthful of food and picking some pieces of liver from his teeth.
    â€˜I have a spell that will break the curse on you, lad,’ the shrew-man said above the babble of voices, and he held out his hand clutching a folded piece of linen. ‘Take it and it will stop the evil befalling you.’
    â€˜I need no magic to break the curse, for that was done for me in ages past – I fear not wooden chairs nor the curse of those who sat in them, nor what lies in a man’s heart.’ Raphah stood from the chair and brushed the dust for his breeches. ‘I will eat my vitals with those who are not afraid of my company and can understand I am a free man.’
    â€˜Then sit with me,’ said a soft voice in the darkened corner of the room by a far-off window. ‘I travel alone and have no concern for curses or Ord Vacken.’
    Raphah looked across the room to where the voice had heralded a welcome. In the shadows by the shuttered window, he saw the outline of a figure edged in a dark cloak, the hood shrouding about the head as if to keep the wearer from the draught.
    â€˜And I too,’ said Barghast as he snatched bread and meat from the table and followed Raphah across the room.
    Together they sat and in the half-light Raphah saw that his welcomer was a young woman of his own age. She smiled at him as he sat in a high-backed chair and then nodded politely as Barghast joined them.
    â€˜Do you travel together?’ she asked as Barghast offered Raphah some meat and then poured some beer from the table jug.
    â€˜As of last night, this fine fellow is my companion upon the road. Never a finer fellow to share a journey,’ Barghast boasted as he peered at the girl. ‘Are you going far?’ he continued, an eyebrow raised to top a smug smile.
    â€˜Does not everyone travel to Peveril and then to London?’ she asked as she looked at Raphah. ‘But such a journey will be a trifle to you. For what reason do you travel – friendship or skirmish?’
    â€˜Or just the joy of the wayfarer?’ interrupted Barghast. ‘We could ask the same of you and our enquiry could be unwelcome.’
    â€˜That you could, Mister Barghast, and it most probably would.’
    Raphah smiled as the candlelight flickered upon her face. ‘I travel to London with Beadle,’ he said quietly. ‘I search for some other friends who have gone ahead of