Emptorium.’
‘I saw it and thought of you,’ said Folly with the hint of a smile. ‘It might make things a little easier. I’ll help you put it on.’
Vincent forgot his irritation and pushed up his sleeve. Carefully he placed his mutilated arm into the conical metal shape and down into the glove-like hand. His surviving fingers fitted easily
into the thumb and forefinger and he decided not to detach them for the time being. Folly helped him with the web of straps and buckles. ‘It might take a bit of getting used to. Wenceslas
said that it had some special tricks.’
Vincent turned the hand this way and that. It was surprisingly light and flexible. The surface was rusty and dull, though nothing a good polish wouldn’t improve, and the joints creaked a
little, but the leather straps were soft and worn. There were three inset sliding switches and a small dial on the underside of the wrist. He pushed one of the switches forward but nothing
happened.
‘This is marvellous,’ he said with a grin. ‘I’ll be able to hold things again.’ He reached for a knife on the table, but before he was near enough to grasp it, the
knife slid rapidly towards him and attached itself to one of the metal fingers. ‘It’s magnetic! I think it was that switch.’ Vincent slid the switch back to its original position
and instantly the knife clattered to the ground. ‘Spletivus! This could be better than a real hand!’
He looked over at Folly, his eyes shining. This was the best he had felt since it had all happened. ‘Thanks for saving me, again,’ he said. ‘You know, to be honest, after what
I saw out there on the Tar Pit, I’m starting to believe you . . . about the Lurids.’
Folly laughed. ‘Starting? Better late than never, I suppose.’
‘It could have been the gases, you know, making me see things,’ he retorted. Then he softened his tone and smiled. ‘I’ve been thinking, maybe we can help each
other.’
‘We? I thought there was no “we”.’
‘Yes, I know what I said earlier. I wasn’t thinking straight – all those potions you gave me. But if you help me to get my smitelight back I’ll help you.’
Folly seemed to find the offer amusing. ‘But you don’t know what I want to do.’
‘Nothing I can’t handle, I’m sure,’ said Vincent chirpily, feeling a little more like his old self.
‘It’s in your interest, actually. I have to send the Lurid back to the Tar Pit.’
Vincent couldn’t help but look surprised. ‘Have to? Who says? And, anyway, how is what you do to that stinker in my interest?’
‘Because that “stinker” is coming after you.’
Vincent laughed, still flexing his metal hand. ‘You’re joking.’
But Folly was deadly serious. ‘Listen. Kamptulicon has taken advantage of the lunar apogee to free a Lurid. That paste he made binds you to the Lurid, and he wants it to take over your
body.’
Vincent grimaced, recalling the Lurid’s cold kiss. ‘What sort of maniac is this Kamptulicon? Why does he want a Lurid?’
Folly made a gesture of incomprehension with her hands. ‘Nany honourable reason, you can be sure,’ she said grimly. ‘But, as for dealing with the Lurid, I might just have
something to help us.’ There was an unmistakable twinkle in her eye as she dug into her pocket and pulled out a small black book.
Vincent’s mouth fell open.
‘A fair swap for my compass and map, don’t you think?’ Folly grinned. ‘I found it when you were asleep. Presumably it’s Kamptulicon’s, and one more reason
he’ll be looking for you.’
‘It’s only a book,’ said Vincent rather pettily. He was annoyed, and not just because he had been robbed. He was beginning to think that in Folly he might have met his
match.
‘A book that could be very useful for us, if I can interpret it.’
‘Oh, don’t you know Latin?’ asked Vincent in mock surprise. Then he muttered under his breath: ‘You seem to know everything else.’
‘It’s not Latin,
‘I saw it and thought of you,’ said Folly with the hint of a smile. ‘It might make things a little easier. I’ll help you put it on.’
Vincent forgot his irritation and pushed up his sleeve. Carefully he placed his mutilated arm into the conical metal shape and down into the glove-like hand. His surviving fingers fitted easily
into the thumb and forefinger and he decided not to detach them for the time being. Folly helped him with the web of straps and buckles. ‘It might take a bit of getting used to. Wenceslas
said that it had some special tricks.’
Vincent turned the hand this way and that. It was surprisingly light and flexible. The surface was rusty and dull, though nothing a good polish wouldn’t improve, and the joints creaked a
little, but the leather straps were soft and worn. There were three inset sliding switches and a small dial on the underside of the wrist. He pushed one of the switches forward but nothing
happened.
‘This is marvellous,’ he said with a grin. ‘I’ll be able to hold things again.’ He reached for a knife on the table, but before he was near enough to grasp it, the
knife slid rapidly towards him and attached itself to one of the metal fingers. ‘It’s magnetic! I think it was that switch.’ Vincent slid the switch back to its original position
and instantly the knife clattered to the ground. ‘Spletivus! This could be better than a real hand!’
He looked over at Folly, his eyes shining. This was the best he had felt since it had all happened. ‘Thanks for saving me, again,’ he said. ‘You know, to be honest, after what
I saw out there on the Tar Pit, I’m starting to believe you . . . about the Lurids.’
Folly laughed. ‘Starting? Better late than never, I suppose.’
‘It could have been the gases, you know, making me see things,’ he retorted. Then he softened his tone and smiled. ‘I’ve been thinking, maybe we can help each
other.’
‘We? I thought there was no “we”.’
‘Yes, I know what I said earlier. I wasn’t thinking straight – all those potions you gave me. But if you help me to get my smitelight back I’ll help you.’
Folly seemed to find the offer amusing. ‘But you don’t know what I want to do.’
‘Nothing I can’t handle, I’m sure,’ said Vincent chirpily, feeling a little more like his old self.
‘It’s in your interest, actually. I have to send the Lurid back to the Tar Pit.’
Vincent couldn’t help but look surprised. ‘Have to? Who says? And, anyway, how is what you do to that stinker in my interest?’
‘Because that “stinker” is coming after you.’
Vincent laughed, still flexing his metal hand. ‘You’re joking.’
But Folly was deadly serious. ‘Listen. Kamptulicon has taken advantage of the lunar apogee to free a Lurid. That paste he made binds you to the Lurid, and he wants it to take over your
body.’
Vincent grimaced, recalling the Lurid’s cold kiss. ‘What sort of maniac is this Kamptulicon? Why does he want a Lurid?’
Folly made a gesture of incomprehension with her hands. ‘Nany honourable reason, you can be sure,’ she said grimly. ‘But, as for dealing with the Lurid, I might just have
something to help us.’ There was an unmistakable twinkle in her eye as she dug into her pocket and pulled out a small black book.
Vincent’s mouth fell open.
‘A fair swap for my compass and map, don’t you think?’ Folly grinned. ‘I found it when you were asleep. Presumably it’s Kamptulicon’s, and one more reason
he’ll be looking for you.’
‘It’s only a book,’ said Vincent rather pettily. He was annoyed, and not just because he had been robbed. He was beginning to think that in Folly he might have met his
match.
‘A book that could be very useful for us, if I can interpret it.’
‘Oh, don’t you know Latin?’ asked Vincent in mock surprise. Then he muttered under his breath: ‘You seem to know everything else.’
‘It’s not Latin,
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