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669721172 - Sprawdź kto dzwonił z tego numeru

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Numer 669721172

Dodał: kasia
Kiedy dzwoniono? 2017-03-14
Dodane: 2017/03/15 - 14:08:54
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Nie wiem kto do mnie dzwonił z tego numeru. Proszę o pomoc.

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??????????? ???????, 2024/12/18 - 13:29:37

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Ed Macy, 2024/12/18 - 13:13:57

I flicked a glance at the digital clock top right on my control panel.Shit. The Paras had been on the ground for almost thirty minutes now, and I was starting to sweat. The longer we stayed in one place, the more time it gave the Taliban to put together an attack. Maintaining the same gentle pressure on the cyclic stick, I continued our broad right banking turn into the sun. I felt its warmth on my face through the cockpit?s Perspex window. It was going to be another scorching day. Two thousand feet below us, the Paras were about to finish sweeping the first field. It was twice the size of a football pitch. They had another one as big to do next. Half of them had fanned out across the length of it, weapons at the ready; the rest provided cover from the bushes and undergrowth along the southern edge. The company commander and his signaller followed closely behind the line, moving from west to east. A crop had been planted, but not long ago. For once, it wasn?t opium. Much of the field?s surface was bare, dark earth, making the search easier, but the Paras still had to move painfully slowly, looking for the slightest clue as to the whereabouts of the two missing SBS men. Anything could help ? a strip of clothing, spent ammunition shells, dried blood. We?d seen no sign of the KIA or MIA since our arrival. It didn?t bode well. Our flight had been scrambled at dawn to relieve the pair of Apaches up at Sangin before us. They ? the Incident Response Team (IRT) ? had been scrambled three hours previously. It had been a long night. We?d been given a quick update on the ground as we were firing up the aircraft. In complete secrecy, a small SBS team had lifted four Taliban organisers from a village near the northern Helmand town at 3am. The team were from Force 84, the British contingent of the Joint Special Forces command. They hadn?t notified the local Para garrison in Sangin?s District Centre about the mission ? the usual SF drill to ensure total operational security. They were no different when I used to fly them around the Balkans during the 1990s. The arrest had gone without a hitch. But on the way home the snatch squad was ambushed by a large and very angry Taliban force who wanted their people back. The team?s lead Land Rover was destroyed by the first enemy RPG, kicking off a massive fire-fight and a desperate chase through the fields. The elite SBS team had been pursued by at least seventy Taliban. They only got out of there three hours later, thanks to a platoon of determined Gurkhas, who fought their way through the Talib lines twice, and close air support from two Apaches, an A10 jet and two Harrier GR7s. The Apaches stuck a Hellfire missile down the throat of their abandoned Land Rover to deny it to the enemy. In the chaos, the SBS team lost a couple of their prisoners. More importantly, two team members were separated from the main group: SBS Sergeant Paul Bartlett and Captain David Patten, attached from the Special Reconnaissance Regiment. Though their whereabouts were unknown, Patten was seen going down hard while sprinting across a field, and was already presumed Killed in Action. The battle over, our task was to escort a company of paratroopers carried by two Chinooks into the area and help them locate the KIA and MIA. Somehow we had been given a reasonably precise grid reference for the search. I was flying, and Simon, my Royal Navy co-pilot and gunner, was in the seat six feet in front of me. While the Paras combed the ground, we scanned the immediate landscape for enemy or hidden IEDs. Simon stared into his Target Acquisition and Designation Sight, constantly probing the treelines, bushes and shadows ahead of the Paras with the 127-times-magnification daytime TV camera lens. An Apache crew always worked as a team, so while Simon controlled the telescopic view I maintained the overall perspective from the back seat. That meant covering the Paras? rear as well as keeping one eye on the second Apache in our flight. They were responsible for the outer security cordon, keeping their eyes peeled for any new threat coming into the area. Anything already inside the lads? two square kilometre radius was ours. I had slaved the 30-mm cannon to my right eye. Its rounds would now zero in on any target in the crosshairs of the monocle over my right eye. All I needed to do was look at the target and squeeze the weapons release trigger on the cyclic with my right index finger. It left Simon free to scan. He?d be quick to pull his own trigger too if he spotted anything in the TADS? crosshairs. We were in close to the Paras on this one, directly overhead. We wanted anyone in the area to know that we were ready to engage in an instant if the Taliban wanted to start something again. It was normally enough to put them off, but not always. They?d stood and fought here once already this morning. That?s why I was keen to speed things up. ?The boys are about to cross into the second field. You sure that irrigation ditch is clear?? ?From what I can see it is.? ?Nothing else of note?? ?No, nothing.? ?Okay. I?m just watching the clock a bit, you know?? ?Sure.? Simon paused. ?I?m going deep into the treeline on the far eastern end of the second field now. It?s the only place I haven?t yet been in detail.? It wasn?t just here. I never felt comfortable anywhere inside the Green Zone. Nobody did, not for a single minute. It should have been called the Red Zone. It was where the Taliban were, and we weren?t ? a thin strip of well-irrigated land, no more than ten kilometres wide at its broadest point, oneach side of the Helmand River. The great waterway snaked its way down the entire length of the province, through vegetation dense enough to make it a guerrilla fighter?s paradise. We preferred the desert which covered the rest of Helmand. There was nowhere to hide there, which was why the Taliban fought the battle in here instead. British forces had first entered Helmand and its Green Zone two months earlier. Only now though were we beginning to realise what a massive tough battle it was going to be. ?I?ve got something,? Simon said quietly. I eased the cyclic back a centimetre or so, to reduce our airspeed. That would make it easier for him to hold the image he wanted on the TADS. ?I think I?ve got a body.? ?Where, buddy?? ?North-east corner of the second field. Just under the trees. No thermal off it, but it?s definitely a body. Lasering now for the grid reference.? I radioed the company commander on the ground, passed on the grid reference and gave him verbal directions as well. It would save them valuable time. A minute later, Simon spoke again.?There?s something to the north of it.? I knew what was coming. ?I think I?ve got a second. Ten metres to the north of the first. Tucked under the trees this time; in a ditch, in the shade. No thermals off this one either.? My heart sank. Unless the second body was a dead Taliban fighter, one KIA and one MIA now sounded very much like two KIAs. We were too late to do anything for either of them. I radioed the Paras? commander again. They had begun to protect the area around the first corpse, but one of his men seemed to have spotted the second body already and was moving towards it. A second crosshair on my monocle told me exactly where Simon was focusing his TADS. He was on the second body, and he hadn?t moved for a good thirty seconds. We couldn?t afford to concentrate on them; we still needed to look out for the boys. The dead weren?t going to be any threat. The threat was elsewhere. I gave Simon another ten seconds. He still hadn?t pulled out. Now I was seriously twitchy. A body might be the perfect come-on for another ambush, but we were never going to spot anyone like that. He needed to scan beyond the treeline now. ?Si, pull out. You?ve been on the bodies far too long, mate. Look out for the boys.? ?There?s something wrong.? ?There?s a lot fucking wrong, mate ? they?re dead. Just pull out.? ?No Ed, you don?t understand. There?s something wrong with the bodies.? I looked down my TADS screen above my right knee for the first time. It replicated Simon?s vision completely. It was hard to make out a huge amount of detail from the black and white TV image, but it was immediately obvious that there was no tonal difference on either of the guys? body surfaces. It could only mean one thing. They?d been stripped. ?It?s not just their clothes. Look at the way they?re lying. Does that look right to you?? Both men were flat out, arms down by their sides. You don?t fall like that if you?ve been hit in combat. As we continued to circle, Simon?s view improved. He zoomed in closer. He was right; there was something wrong with the bodies. A lot wrong. I didn?t want to look any more. ?You? fucking?wankers?? Simon breathed. A few seconds later, the Paras? commander made it official. ?Wildman Five One, Widow Seven Four. That?s two KIA confirmed. We?re bagging them up now.? The Taliban would have been monitoring their every move, so the Paras made a swift withdrawal to the helicopter landing site with the bodies and the Chinooks came back in to pick them up; again, under our watchful eye. On the flight back to Camp Bastion, Simon and I tried to figure out what the hell had gone wrong. If only someone had known about the raid. I understood the procedure, but right now it was incredibly frustrating ? a real double-edged sword. Within thirty minutes of the shout coming in, we could have had a couple of Apaches giving them some cover. We might even have kept the two guys alive. A silence fell between us. I knew what Simon was wondering, because I was wondering it too. Was Patten or Bartlett still alive by the time the Taliban got their hands on them? For their sake, I prayed they weren?t. If they were, the awful terror they must have experienced in the last desperate minutes of their lives was too unbearable to contemplate. ?You know what, Ed?? Simon said eventually. ?If it was me, I know what I?d do. I wouldn?t give those bastards the satisfaction.? I?d been having exactly the same thought. That flight back to Camp Bastion was the first time I really understood why aircrew were no longer issued with gold sovereigns. You couldn?t buy your way out of trouble in this place. These people weren?t interested in our money. Of course, none of us thought the deployment was going to be a walk in the park. We all knew what the Mujahideen had done to the Soviet helicopter gunship pilots they captured; we?d all heard the horror stories. Yes, our Apaches were as mean and powerful as they looked, but that didn?t mean we were untouchable. Our intelligence briefs reminded us daily how determined the Taliban were to take out one of our helicopters. And it was the Apaches they hated the most. ?Praise be to Allah, I want you to bring down a Mosquito,? the Taliban commanders could be overheard in radio intercepts regaling their rank and file. That was their word for us: ?Mosquitoes?. They called the Chinooks ?Cows?. But up until that day, we?d all kidded ourselves that being the good guys would save us. We were on a reconstruction and security mission, not an invasion. If we were shot down, we presumed that we would just somehow get away with it. A bit of a slapping, maybe, like the Tornado boys got from Saddam in the first Gulf War; a few months in a dingy jail, then a traditional prisoner exchange at Checkpoint Charlie. Now we knew the truth. Reality had bitten. Our enemy in southern Afghanistan couldn?t give a stuff what mandate we?d come under. If they got their hands on us, a quick death would be the very best we could hope for. I gripped the cyclic resolutely as, then and there, I also decided there was no way those evil bastards were going to get me alive. If I was shot down, I?d keep on running until my heart gave out. If I couldn?t run, I?d fight until my second to last bullet was gone. Then I?d use the last one on myself. We talked for hours back in the crew tents that night as word spread about what had happened. Every pilot came to the same conclusion. I?d be surprised if all the paratroopers out in the district bases hadn?t followed suit. We only found out exactly what had happened to the two SBS guys some days later. Patten had been hit in the chest, the bullet exiting from the side of his neck. A rescue attempt for him was out of the question; the sky was raining lead. Now the SBS team was split in two, most in front of Patten and a few ? including Bartlett ? behind him. Bartlett was with another SBS lad who?d taken a bullet in the arm. Bartlett stayed with him and found a hiding place in an irrigation ditch. With Taliban all around them, he then went forward alone, crawling through thick undergrowth to recce a route to safety through the enemy?s positions. It was the last anyone saw of him. Bartlett was a very brave guy and he didn?t deserve to die like that. Neither of them did. That wasn?t the worst part. The two men?s colleagues back in Force 84?s secure Ops Room at Kandahar Airfield were forced to sit and watch the whole ghastly show play out as it happened. Patten and Bartlett?s last moments were piped through in real time on a live TV feed from a Predator circling above them. That?s why they had been able to tell us exactly where to look. [????????: i_010.jpg] 1. DÉJ? VU 7 November 2006 14.35 ?Two minutes, fellah?? I?d been dozing. The Chinook?s loadie woke me with a gentle kick. He had to shout the standard warning to be heard over the deafening din of the helicopter?s giant rotor blades. We were his only passengers on the fifty-minute flight from Kandahar. The rest of the cabin was stuffed full to waist level with every conceivable shape of box and bag you could imagine: cardboard ration packs, steel ammunition boxes, big sealed packages of office equipment, crates of dark oil-like liquid and half a dozen fully packed mailbags. There was nowhere to put our feet, so I?d stretched out on the red canvas seats, slid my helmet underneath my head, and drifted off to a chorus of rhythms and vibrations. Billy and the Boss were sprawled across the seats along the other side of the Chinook when I came to. Billy had been kipping as well, but he was now sitting up. The Boss was still staring avidly out of a glassless porthole window, his short brown hair flickering in the wind. He?d been doing that when I closed my eyes, fascinated by everything below us. Unlike Billy and me, it was his first time. I sat up and strapped on my helmet as the sound of the rotor blades changed. Our tactical descent into Camp Bastion had begun. The Helmand Task Force?s HQ ? meaning the brigadier and his staff ? was in the province?s capital, Lashkar Gah. But Camp Bastion was its accommodation and logistics hub ? its beating heart. It was home to the vast majority of the 7,800 British soldiers stationed in Helmand, and it was to be our home too. Billy grinned at me. I shook my head and raised my eyes to the heavens, and that made him laugh. He was really enjoying this moment, the twat. I couldn?t believe I was back. I shouldn?t even have been in the army. Civilian life for me was due to have started two months earlier, at the end of 656 Squadron?s first three-and-a-half-month tour of southern Afghanistan. After twenty-two years serving Queen and Country, I was getting out. I had been really looking forward to signing off too. I?d told Billy as much on our ride out of Bastion, precisely eighty-three days ago. ?Bad luck buddy.? I?d given him a patronising nudge. ?I?ll raise a Guinness to you from the bar of my local the day you fly back to this shit hole, eh?? That?s why he was grinning at me now. I was half expecting him to start raising an imaginary pint at me. My dreams of Civvy Street had been postponed for six months, thanks to the army?s shortage of Weapons Officers. Apaches were a brand new business and there had only been time to train up a few of us. Every squadron that deployed had to have one. We were in charge of everything to do with the aircraft?s offensive capabilities. The other Weapons Officers were all posted, leaving the Army Air Corps (AAC) a shortlist of one. After a fair bit of arm twisting, and no small amount of emotional blackmail, I had agreed to do one more tour. Newness was also why the whole squadron was coming back so soon. The Westland WAH64 Apache helicopter gunship had only entered operational service with HM Armed Forces in May that year. It was renamed the Apache AH Mk1. The first Apache unit ? 656 Squadron ? was only passed fully combat ready six days after we deployed in May. By the summer 664 Squadron had come online. They?d relieved us in August and as the only other available squadron we were now relieving them. The Boss, Billy and I had come out to start the handover. We heaved our Bergens (army slang for rucksack) over our shoulders just after the aircraft hit the ground. On the loadmaster?s thumbs up, the gunner lowered the tail ramp and we clambered out onto the metal runway, flinching as the heat from the Chinook?s twin turboshaft engines stung the back of our necks. Waiting for us fifty metres away was one of the saddest looking army vehicles I had ever seen: a battered old four tonner with the windscreen, canopy, frame and tailgate all entirely missing. A sand-ripped cabin and an empty flatbed was all that was left. It looked like something out ofMad Max Beyond Thunderdome. Standing in front of it, his hands clasped together in excitement, was John ? 664 Squadron?s Second in Command. He was grinning, too, but for a different reason to Billy. John shook all three of us very firmly by the hand. ?It?s great to see you guys ? it really is.? It was obvious he meant it too. Our arrival signalled the green light for his team to start packing their bags. ?Never mind the bullshit, John. What the fuck do you call that?? I pointed my rifle at his Mad Max-mobile. ?It?s the missile truck.? ?I know it?s the missile truck. But when we left it with you, it actuallylooked like the missile truck. It was in good order. You?ve totally trashed it.? John chuckled. He was an old mate of mine. We had been warrant officers together before he?d taken his commission. ?Yeah. We?ve been a little busy. There?s a war on ? not that you work-shy slackers would have known much about it when you were here.? It was the normal banter that rival incoming and outgoing units exchanged. We were actually quietly impressed with the state of the missile truck, but we didn?t want to let on to John. I jumped up on the flatbed and let the warm sun dry the sweat on my brow. Late autumn for Helmand province meant bright sunshine and the temperature in the mid-twenties. It was a great relief after the furnace heat of the previous summer, when we slowly boiled in our own blood. One afternoon the thermometer had hit 54 degrees celsius. Thankfully, sitting at an altitude of 885 metres above sea level, Camp Bastion was always a lot cooler at night. There was nothing in the surrounding desert to trap the day?s heat. It meant we could sleep ? or try to anyway ? in between outgoing salvoes of artillery fire and emergency call-outs. ?I?ll ride in the back with you, Mr Macy,? the Boss said, refusing Billy?s offer of the front seat. ?I want to get a proper look at this extraordinary place.? The Boss was the squadron?s new Officer Commanding, Major Christopher James. Chris had the biggest hands I have ever seen. His fingers were like cows? udders. He was built like a prop forward, but his blue eyes, chiselled jaw and swept-back hair were pure Dan Dare. His enthusiasm was infectious, and unlike some OCs he was always keen to muck in with the practical jokes. Taking over a battle-hardened unit like ours without any combat experience in an Apache was a tough task, but if anyone was up to it, he was. His jumbo pinkies hadn?t stopped him from being one of the best shots in the Corps. He was also the first British pilot ever to fly the new American Apache model, the AH64D, as the first candidate on the US Army?s initial Longbow Conversion Course. While he was in Arizona he?d won the Top Gun shooting prize, beating all the US Apache pilots. That had really pissed off the Americans, but it must have cheered up the Queen ? she gave him an MBE. A very bright man from a long-standing army family, he always talkedwith everyone under his command rather thanat them ? whether you were the best pilot or the most junior rocket loader. It had taken him only a few weeks to become hugely popular with everyone. His job title nickname was always said with affection. The Boss marvelled at Camp Bastion as we bumped the 500 metres along a churned up sand track from the flight line to our digs. I wasn?t surprised ? I?d done the same in May. It was a military camp like none of us had ever seen: two square kilometres of khaki tents, mess halls and vehicle parks in the middle of absolutely nowhere. It wasn?t on any maps, because it had been too dangerous to survey Helmand for decades. But you could find it thirty miles north of Lashkar Gah and two miles south off the A01 highway that links the two ancient Afghan cities of Kandahar, 100 miles to the east of us, and Herat, 300 miles to our north-west. Surrounding the camp was one of the most inhospitable landscapes in Afghanistan. It was as flat as a billiard table, without so much as a shrub in sight. Only on clear days would the thin outline of the far-off mountain range to the north break up the monotone horizon. The locals called it the Dasht-e-Margo ? the Desert of Death. Hairy-arsed veterans frightened first timers at Bastion by telling them about the three different lethal spiders that inhabited the Dasht-e-Margo, including the Black Widow. There were also nocturnal flesh-eating scorpions that injected an anaesthetic into human skin and then munched away to their heart?s content without their victim noticing. And tiny sand flies laid their eggs in any soft tissue within easy reach ? that brought on leishmaniasis, a disease that resembled leprosy. Apart from the cheap real estate, there were good strategic reasons to be in the middle of nowhere. You could see and hear anyone coming for twenty miles, which meant the camp was very hard to attack. That was no bad thing, since the nearest sizeable Coalition garrison was twelve hours? drive away, at Kandahar Airfield. Bastion was the biggest and most ambitious project the Royal Engineers had attempted since World War Two. Every last spanner and tent pole had had to be driven overland from the Pakistani port of Karachi ? a 1,000-mile, three-week journey. Hercules transport planes and Chinooks were too busy flying troops around, and there was no runway for them at that point. The sappers had also had to build a self-generating electricity plant and bore wells for their own water and a waste-disposal system bigenough to serve a small town ? which was pretty much what it was. I was struck by how much it had changed in our absence: more tents, more fences, and proper, flattened track roads. The army was clearly planning to be here for some time. The jalopy pulled up. We were back in the same eight man accommodation tent, a few hundred metres from the Joint Helicopter Force?s forward HQ. ?Jammy bugger,? said Billy, after we?d bundled through the zip door and I beat him to the best dark green army camping cot in the far corner. It was the one I?d had on the first tour. The three boxes of bottled water I?d used as a bedside table were still there too. It was like I?d never been away. Billy was the squadron?s most senior pilot. His official title was the Qualified Helicopter Instructor; unofficially, the Sky Police. Like me he was a WO1, and the only other pilot in the squadron ? apart from the Boss and me ? qualified to fly in both Apache seats: the gunner?s front and the pilot?s back. With his dark, swept-back hair, neat physique and good looks, Billy wouldn?t have looked out of place in a Cary Grant movie. A northern lad, he?d come a long way since starting out as a driver in the Royal Corps of Transport. Billy had flown more Apache hours than anyone, training initially on the original US model, the AH64A. He really loved his flying, and being anApache pilot meant a huge amount to him. His standards were high and he didn?t tolerate sloppiness, but he was fair with it. The other thing that really stood out about Billy was his dress sense, and ? war or no war ? he was never too far from a splash of aftershave. Whether in combats or a pin-striped suit, his rig was never less than perfect. Every unit badge was Velcroed in exactly the right place; his light blue Army Air Corps beret was always perched immaculately on his bonce. All in all, Billy was the natural candidate to guide visiting dignitaries around the squadron?s base, and he loved nothing more than to oblige. In his time with the squadron, he?d toured the Chief of the General Staff, the Chief of Defence Staff, the Prime Minister and Prince Charles ? not a bad haul. Billy and I went back a long way and he took my regular abuse rather well. He enjoyed giving it back in spades even more. We began to settle in. Each bed space measured two metres by three, and came with a portable white canvas cupboard with five small alcoves where you stuck your T-shirts, underwear and spare uniform. That was it for furniture, unless you fancied buying your own camping chair from the NAAFI. We were in part of a network of ten identical tents, five on each side of a covered corridor. The squadron had a couple of these pods: REME and attached personnel in one, aircrew and ground-crew in the other. The first tent on the right was a recreational room with a TV and a table covered in sun bleached newspapers and old dog-eared paperbacks. On the left was the ablutions block for the network?s fifty or so inhabitants. It contained six showers, six sinks and six toilets ? all stainless steel. You were guaranteed the most uncomfortable crap in the world there, and not just because they didn?t have any seats. In the winter, the rims were ice cold, and in the summer they were so hot they scalded your arse. Hovering the Apache was a doddle compared to hovering over the tin rim. There were around a hundred identical pods in Bastion in total, arranged in long rows. A latticework of walkways lined with black mesh grilles connected them, and roads with irrigation ditches to their sides, all walled with identical Hesco Bastion bollards. Losing your bearings and walking into fifteen different tents before you found your own was all too common ? and made you feel like a real tit. But you quickly learned to recognise tiny landmarks, like a flagpole, a regiment?s insignia or a different coloured Portaloo. ?John looks knackered, doesn?t he,? Billy said as we unpacked. It was true. John had developed a manic stare, skin stretched over his cheekbones and huge bags under his eyes. We knew that look all too well; three months ago we?d seen it every time we?d stood in front of the shaving mirror. We?d never have conceded it to anyone in our sister squadron, but the sitreps we?d got back at 9 Regiment?s North Yorkshire HQ proved they had been just as busy as we were on our first tour. Perhaps more so. The Helmand Task Force?s first six months had been a true baptism of fire. British forces had first been deployed in April 2006 as part of a dramatic expansion of NATO?s role in Afghanistan, to establish a secure environment for reconstruction, development and government. We?d had troops in Kabul since the fall of the Taliban regime in November 2001. But while the capital and its northern surroundings had, as a result, remained relatively secure, the rest ofthe country had dramatically deteriorated. In many areas, President Hamid Karzai?s government existed only in name ? hence his derogatory nickname, the ?Mayor of Kabul?. Warlords and, increasingly, rich opium barons held the real reins of power. With nobody to stop it, the heroin business boomed. The opium poppy crop doubled or tripled every year. Every local officialwho mattered, even slightly, was in the traffickers? back pockets. Nowhere was the spiralling anarchy worse than in the south. Huge swathes of the four southern provinces ? Helmand, Kandahar, Uruzgan and Nimruz ? were run by the drugs tsars as their own lawless fiefdoms. With attention drifting away from Iraq, Tony Blair and George Bush were adamant that what they had started five years earlier in Afghanistan should be properly concluded. At their insistence, NATO?s International Security Assistance Force?s remit was widened to take on the mountainous eastern provinces, then the western flatlands, and finally the barren deserts of the south. The Dutch deployed to sparsely populated Uruzgan and Nimruz, and the Canadians to Kandahar. The British government volunteered to take on Helmand ? the hardest nut of all to crack. It was the biggest province, and produced a staggering 42 per cent of Afghanistan?s total raw opium. In the 1980s, the Soviet Army had failed to control Helmand with a whole motorised rifle division of 12,000 fighting soldiers. Twenty years later, we were going to try it with less than a third of that number. And of the 3,300 the British government initially sent, less than a quarter were fighting troops. The British Army has always relished a challenge. This one was called Operation Herrick. Not even the most cynical military planners dared to imagine the viciousness and intensity with which the resurgent Taliban would oppose our arrival. Forming an unholy alliance with the drugs lords, the Taliban threw everything they had at the Paras of 16 Air Assault Brigade. Its small infantry force was spread out across five thinly manned and remote outpost bases across the north of the province ? known as platoon houses or district centres. A never-ending supply of holy warriors swarmed over the Pakistan border to fight alongside local guns for hire and launch wave after wave of attacks on the DCs at Sangin, Kajaki, Musa Qa?leh, Gereshk and Now Zad. Day and night, each was pounded with small arms, RPGs, rockets and mortars. Each turned into a mini Alamo. The army had not seen fighting as sustained and desperate since Korea. It was as bad as anything thrown at either American or British troops during the occupation of Iraq; and, a lot of the time, it was worse. NATO?s intelligence about enemy strengths before we arrived was poor. They estimated 1,000 Taliban fighters spread across both the Helmand and Kandahar provinces. By August, the estimate for Helmand alone was upped to 10,000. One of the greatest problems the Task Force faced was the distance it had to cover. At 275 miles long and 100 wide (a total of 23,000 square miles), Helmand is not much smaller than the Republic of Ireland. Ensuring every DC had enough ammunition, food and water was a logistical nightmare. At times some of the guys ran dangerously low; down to their last few hundred rounds and the emergency rations they carried in their webbing. In September, the brigade reluctantly abandoned the most distant DC at Musa Qa?leh, more than fifty miles from Camp Bastion. It was too dangerous to land Chinooks anywhere near it, and a ground resupply couldn?t break through the besieging Taliban?s lines without a full on battalion-strength attack. The guys holding the other four DCs just stuck it out with sheer grit and the odd Apache gunship in support. As the RSM of 3 Para declared with relish,?We?re paratroopers ? we?resupposed to be surrounded.? It was a hell of a feat, especially as so many of the lads were on their first operational tour. It was all a bit of a far cry from the public aspirations of the man who signed the deployment paperwork, Defence Secretary John Reid. He told the House of Commons that he hoped the troops would come home having?not fired a single bullet?. He?d also somewhat optimistically termed the mission ?nation building?. Actually, between June and October 2006, the Paras and their supporting cap badges ended up firing a total of 450,000 bullets, 10,000 artillery shells and 6,500 mortar rounds. In addition, and between May and August 2006 alone, the sixteen Apache pilots of 656 Squadron put down 7,305 cannon rounds, 68 rockets and 11 Hellfire missiles. I don?t think it was quite what John Reid had in mind. Our defiance came at a heavy price. A total of thirty-five servicemen were killed in that first six months: sixteen in combat, fourteen when a Nimrod MR2 spy plane crashed, four in accidents ? and one committed suicide. A further 140 were wounded in action, forty-three of them seriously or very seriously. It all meant we didn?t have much time for nation building. And there lay the real problem. It wasn?t just kinetic ? we were also fighting a war of minds. We could carry on killing Taliban forever. But it wasn?t going to win over the local Afghan people in whose name we had come. We had to deliver them a better life, and soon. All we?d achieved so far was to turn their streets, orchardsand fields into lethal battle grounds. Most Helmandis were still perched on the fence, waiting in the time-honoured Afghan way to see which side looked like winning. British soldiers were welcomed wherever they went; there was little love for the Taliban. Yet if our presence made things worse, they?d cosy up to the other side soon enough. The Taliban knew that too. They understood that reconstruction was pretty bloody hard with a war going on. There?s an old Afghan phrase their mullah leaders loved to quote: ?They have the watches, we have the time.? They didn?t need a spectacular knockout blow ? just a constant, paralysing war of attrition. The squadron?s first foray into Helmand had been quite something. I sat on my cot and wondered what this tour would bring. The Taliban were becoming more successful at killing us as time moved on. They learned lessons quickly from each contact and adapted immediately. By sheer luck we hadn?t yet lost a helicopter but it was only a matter of time. They?d been getting better whilst I?d been planning my retirement. I?d be the one playing catch up, not them. I needed to be lucky every second I was in the air; they only needed to be lucky once. There were no two ways about it ? for the first timein my whole military career, I was genuinely concerned that I might not come home alive. ?You know what Billy? I?ve got butterflies.? ?Yeah, right. Probably that Gurkha curry in the Kandahar cookhouse.? Billy was not in a sympathetic mood. He was too busy hanging up his impossibly well-pressed uniforms. There was no point letting it gnaw away at me; however I played it, what was for me wouldn?t pass me. I couldn?t wait to climb back into the cockpit and get stuck in again. I?d always loved being on operations, ever since my first Northern Ireland tour as a young Para. [????????: i_010.jpg] 2. RIDING THE DRAGON The sixteen pilots in 656 Squadron could not have come from more diverse backgrounds. My route to the Apache cockpit had been one of the longest of all. I was born and grew up in a seaside town in the North-East. It was a holiday resort for miners until package holidays were invented and the miners stopped coming. After that, most folk worked for the local steel factory and chemical works. Dad was an engineering fitter at the chemical works, and Mum brought us up. My brother Greg was only thirteen months younger than me. We did everything together; we were known as the terrible twins. Other kids? parents banned us from playing with them. No surprise really; we nicked our first milk float when we were three and four. My parents? unhappy marriage finally fell apart when I was eleven, and Mum wouldn?t let us live with Dad. Without a father?s firm hand, my teenage years descended into chaos. Greg and I ran riot. We always stuck up for each other, no matter what the consequences. One day when I was fourteen, Greg burstinto my science class bawling his eyes out. ?Ed, I smacked the RE teacher in the face,? he tried to explain. ?It wasn?t on purpose. He was taking the Mickey out of me?? My science teacher, Mr Hastings, didn?t take kindly to his own class being interrupted in this fashion and leaped down the classroom to intervene. There were a few seconds of confusion as Greg clung onto my desk while Mr Hastings tried to heave him to the door. Greg wasn?t budging, so Mr Hastings hit Greg?s arm with the bottom of his fist to dislodge him. I flipped. I jumped up and launched myself into Mr Hastings?s midriff with both arms out-stretched. The teacher went head over heels across another desk, sending children, books and chairs flying. They all landed in a heap on the floor, but Greg and I didn?t look back, and sprinted all the way home. It was the final straw. Both of us were expelled and sent to different schools. We were split up for the first time in our lives. I missed my brother terribly. My new school was a rough one and when I was goaded I fought back. I spent most of my time there fighting all comers ? alone. Six months into it, I started missing lessons. In my last year I rarely went at all. Mum was too busy running a pub so I wasn?t missed at home. I?d often spend weeks away, sleeping wherever I liked. The woods were my favourite place, and I lived by stealing food and poaching fish to sell to local pubs. I was turning wild. On my sixteenth birthday, I was old enough to choose who I lived with, and Dad was waiting with a big smile on his face. He straightened me out, forced me to use a knife and fork again, to keep myself clean, and eventually got me a metalworker?s apprenticeship. I enjoyed training to be an engineer and wanted to be like Dad, but I hated the job. I was trapped indoors in a routine life I didn?t want. At night, I?d drink and fight. Dad remarried and got the person he always deserved; I got three new brothers as part of the deal. They were great lads and all of them joined the army. I?d found my way out. Two months after my eighteenth birthday, I enlisted in the Parachute Regiment. I didn?t particularly want to be a soldier, and I only asked for the airborne becauseThe Paras was on TV at the time. It looked like a good challenge. ?You?ll never pass, son. You haven?t got what it takes,? my dad said. It was a textbook case of reverse psychology, but I didn?t recognise it as such at the time. It gave me all the determination I needed to pass P Company. I was posted to 2 Para. I got one hell of a kicking as a crow ? military slang for a junior paratrooper ? but everybody did in those days. It was the 1980s, and the battalion was full of hard men with droopy moustaches who?d fought at Goose Green during the Falklands War. Once my bust nose, dislocated jaw, three broken ribs and split testicle had healed, I fell in love with life as a paratrooper ? surprising everyone, myself the most. After a couple of years and a six-month combat tour to Enniskillen fighting the IRA, I won promotion to lance corporal. But I was still an angry young man, and getting into too many fights. I never started them, but I always had to be the one to finish them. The red mist would descend and I could never back down. I even once flattened an RMP sergeant who wound me up on a train, and had to do fourteen days in the regimental nick. After promotion to full corporal and with the promise of sergeant?s stripes if I could keep out of trouble, I began to take my military career a little more seriously. I wanted to challenge myself at the highest level, so I began to prepare for SAS selection. Months of hard, self-imposed training followed, but my ambitions came to a sudden end one night in Aldershot during a gruelling bicycle ride in the pouring rain. I?d let half the air out of the tyres to make the pedalling twice as hard. A Volvo clipped my handlebars on a main road, sending me careering across the road and under the wheels of an old man?s oncoming car. My head hit the bumper and my feet peeled round and went through the windscreen, beforethe bloke drove over my right arm and shoulder. My heart stopped in the ambulance on the way to hospital. In the days that followed, I learned the true meaning of pain. During one operation I was handcuffed to a bed and a vice-like clamp was strapped around my haemorrhaging kidneys for half an hour to squeeze the blood out of them. It was six months before I put on a uniform again and nine before I could run. I was no use to the Paras any more; my bust shoulder, spine, hips, knees and ankles could no longer bear any real weight. My front-line fighting career was at an end, and I was devastated. I had lost my purpose in life and was forced to abandon all my dreams of SAS selection. My gloom deepened as I contemplated my lack of a future ? until a mate suggested the Army Air Corps. If I couldn?t fight on the front line, perhaps I could fly people to it instead. Perhaps I could even fly for the SAS. Then came a stroke of luck ? my doctor lost all my medical records. Suddenly, and against all expectations, I stood a chance of passing the Army Air Corps? stringent medical with my battered body. I was accepted, and came top of my class at flying school. I had to ? it was my last chance. I loved flying and the freedom it gave me and I relished playing my part in battle formations. But I hated flying routine ass and trash flights, so whenever anything interesting came up, I went for it. It was always about the next challenge ? it always has been. I got a place on a reconnaissance squadron, flying Gazelles. Five years later, I began to fly for the SAS, hunting down war criminals in the Balkans. The work was amazing, the most exciting I?d ever done. Something else happened in Bosnia. In late 2002, I met Emily. She was a nursing officer in the RAF. After a night out in the local town, I hitched a lift back to base in the back of the same Land Rover. In thick fog, the vehicle left the road, flipped and rolled down a bank into a muddy irrigation ditch. Emily was trapped in the back, under four feet of water. I pulled her out. I went to see her in hospital the next day. I was single again ? I was the proud father of two children by two previous relationships, but neither had worked out. Emily was a pretty blonde Scot, and as sharp as she was funny. She was way out of my league and we both knew it. By the end of the week, I?d decided I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. But Emily wasn?t convinced. At least she was honest with me. ?Listen Ed, I don?t date full stop. If I did date, I certainly wouldn?t date a Pongo. And If I did date a Pongo you can bet your life I wouldn?t date aflyboy Pongo. So why don?t you quit with your pride intact?? ?Aha ? so that?s not a no?? It took some time, but eventually we became an item and have been together ever since. Emily?s forces background was both a good and a bad thing. It meant she knew the pressures of military life, and to expect long periods of separation. It also meant she knew the real risks of military flying, and the chances of me not coming home. The British Army?s much hyped attack helicopter programme had been in the pipeline for years. In 2002, it finally came online. Of course I had to be on it. It was the closest I could ever get to being in the front line again. I bent every rule in the book to make sure I was posted onto the very first Apache conversion course and Emily didn?t try to stop me. Before I got there, I read up everything I could about the amazing new machine. The Apache AH64A was initially designed by Boeing for the US government in the 1980s for the giant battlefields of the Cold War. The Pentagon wanted something to take out Soviet armour the moment it rolled across the West German border. Following the US military tradition of new aircraft honouring Indian tribes, the Apache was not just the next generation attack helicopter. It was the hunter-killer supreme for all future wars. Its surveillance capabilities far outstripped anything its predecessor the Bell AH1?Huey? Cobra had, and its destructive capability was without precedent. It looked very different to any previous attack helicopter too. The smooth aerodynamic curves and contours of the Sixties and Seventies were replaced with the hard angles and mean edges of the very first anti-radar ? or stealth ? technology. It was also larger: 49 ft 1 in. from the tip of its nose to the back of its tail, with its rotor blades reaching a further 8 ft. It stood 17 ft 6 in. tall and 16 ft 4 in. wide, and weighed 23,000 lb fully laden ? 10.4 tonnes, or 140 fully grown men. Its angular shape wasn?t the Apache?s only stealth quality. It had four rotor blades rather than two, allowing it to turn at half the speed ? five revolutions per second ? and thus with half the noise to generate the same lift as the traditional two-bladed helicopters like the great thumping Hueys of the Vietnam War. Each blade?s high-tech design made the aircraft quieter still. Instead of hammering the air like the Chinook, Apache blades sliced through it, giving the gunship its trademark low-pitched growl. It also gave off the lowest heat signature of any helicopter built. Though the engine burned fuel at 800 degrees celsius, a powerful cooling system meant you wouldn?t even burn your hand if you pressed it against the exhaust. That seriously hindered a heat-seeking missile?s ability to track it. To mask more heat, its skin was coated with special paint that reflected less light too. When incoming fire did hit the Apache, its ingenious design meant it could withstand a remarkable amount of it ? including a 23-mm high explosive round. A US Apache in Iraq even once took a direct hit from a shoulder-fired surface-to-air missile, shredding its starboard engine and wing and leaving its rotor blades in tatters. It still managed to return fire, kill its attackers and make it back to base. What went on inside the aircraft was cleverer still. Thirteen kilometres of electric wiring linked the avionics, engines, visual aids and weapons systems run by a myriad of on-board computers which monitored every tiny electronic pulse. Most impressive of all the Apache?s cutting edge technology was how it found its prey. Its Target Acquisition and Designation Sight system was made up of an array of cameras housed in a double-headed nose cone that looked like a pair of giant insect eyes. Its 127-times-magnification day TV camera could read a car number plate 4.2 kilometres away. At night, the thermal camera was so powerful it could identify a human form from a distance of four kilometres, and spots of blood on the ground from a kilometre up. Then there was the Apache?s punch. The aircraft?s three weapons systems struck with varying degrees of power, speed and precision, depending on the desired target. The 30-mm M230 cannon under the Apache?s belly was best for individual targets, firing ten High Explosive Dual Purpose rounds a second to an accuracy of within three metres. Their armour-piercing tips made light work of Armoured Personnel Carriers, vehicles and buildings. Their bodies fragmented on impact just like a large grenade, throwing out hundreds of sharp red-hot pieces of metal. But duality came from the incendiary charge; once it had penetrated or fragged the target, it set it alight. The helicopter?s magazine packed up to 1,160 of them, fired in bursts of 10, 20, 50, 100 ? or all at once. Rockets were its optimum area weapon for hitting infantry, dismounted or in vehicles. A maximum of seventy-six could be loaded into up to four CRV7 rocket pods on the weapons pylons, hung from the stubby wings either side of the aircraft. There were two types of rockets: the Flechette, an anti-personnel / vehicle weapon, containing eighty five-inch-long Tungsten darts; and the HEISAP for buildings, vehicles or ships. Its kinetic penetrating head drove through up to half an inch of steel, and the body of the projectile contained an explosive zirconium incendiary that stuck to light alloys and combustibles, torching them. Finally, thick-walled buildings and fast moving armour were taken out with our main anti-tank weapon, the Semi-Active Laser Hellfire II air-to-ground missile. Each Apache could carry up to sixteen of them, mounted on four rails under the wings. Laser guided from the cockpit for pinpoint accuracy, its 20-lb high explosive and dual shaped charge warhead packed a 5 million-lb-per-square-inch punch on impact ? defeating all known armour. The gunship first saw active service with the US Army during Operation Just Cause, the 1989 invasion of Panama, but it was during the first Gulf War that it really won its spurs. At 2:38am Baghdad time on 17 January 1991, eight AH64s fired the opening salvoes of the conflict. They destroyed an Iraqi radar site near the Iraqi?Saudi Arabian border. The devastation they then wrought at Mutla Ridge reset the height of the bar. A fleet of Apaches ? backed up by A10s ? destroyed hundreds of Iraqi military vehicles fleeing Kuwait on the Basra road. The endless line of twisted and smouldering metal was nicknamed the Highway of Death. Their final tally for the war was 278 tanks, 180 artillery pieces and 500 Armoured Personnel Carriers. In 1998, the AH64D came into service. It was even deadlier; 400 per cent more lethal (hitting more targets) and 720 per cent more survivable than its predecessor. The most significant addition was the state of the art Longbow Radar which could operate in all weathers, day or night, simultaneously detect 1,024 potential targets, moving or static, up to eight kilometres away, classify the top 256 and display the sixteen most threatening for destruction ? all in three seconds. Twenty-five seconds later, every one of those targets could be destroyed by a single Apache?s Hellfires. A squadron of eight AH64Ds working in unison could terminate 128 tanks in twenty-eight seconds ? just by raising one Apache Longbow Radar above the tree or ridgeline for a few seconds. They christened it ?Fire and Forget?. Gradually, the US allowed its closest allies to purchase the Apache. Israel were the first, followed by the Netherlands, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, Egypt, Greece, Japan, Kuwait and the United Arab Emirates. In the late 1990s, the British government finally decided it needed them too. As a nation, we didn?t have an attack helicopter capability, just a few Lynx squadrons armed with a couple of TOW anti-tank missiles strapped onto the side of each craft. Despite its cutting edge design and astonishingly powerful Longbow, the AH64D still had a few ongoing shortcomings. They couldn?t operate off ships, and they weren?t powerful enough to carry a significant amount of ammunition and fuel at the same time. To fly them at low level meant heavy anti-aircraft fire could still bring them down. Our generals approached the government with an ambitious plan. Why didn?t we buy Boeing?s Apache shell, keep the good bits and make the rest even better ourselves? The boffins at Westland Helicopters went to work. The most important change was two Rolls Royce RTM 322 engines. Each churned out more than twice the brake horsepower of a Formula One racing car, giving our model 30 per cent more power than the American AH64D. It allowed us to fly further, higher and fight with more weapons. The Brits also scoured the globe for the best countermeasures and built them into the world?s most sophisticated defensive aide suite. It allowed pilots to take the aircraft above small arms range, which downed 95 per cent of all military helicopters, and into the previously lethal SAM belt ? because the British Apache could now defeat surface-to-air missiles. They also added a folding blade mechanism so we could operate off aircraft carriers in confined space; an automatic de-icer built into the blades so we could fight in the Arctic; Saturn radios so highly encrypted that their transmissions couldn?t be decoded by any intercept; new motors for the CRV7 rockets, making them faster and more accurate; and a unique health monitoring system which enabled the aircraft to automatically diagnose any problems through dozens of microscopic sensors. The UK bought sixty-seven of Westland?s finished article for a cool ?46 million each ? making the Apache AH Mk1 the second most expensive British aircraft ever made, behind the ?62-million Eurofighter Typhoon. The whole Apache project set the MoD back ?4.13 billion. On paper, the British Apache was the most expensive ? and best ? attack helicopter in aviation history. For once, even the Americans were jealous. All the army needed to do now was find the pilots to fly their new creation. And that was the most challenging part of all. As the most technically advanced helicopter in the world, the Apache AH Mk1 was also the hardest to fly. Selection for the eighteen-month conversion course was even more competitive than Special Forces Selection. Of the Army Air Corps? 800 pilots, only twenty-four could make it into the Corps? elite, the six serving Apache squadrons, every year ? the top 3 per cent of all British Army pilots. There was no shortage of candidates; the instructors would have passed twice as many if they could have. But the bar couldn?t belowered, or pilots would start to hit the deck. To train each Apache pilot from scratch cost?3 million (each custom-made helmet alone had a price tag of ?22,915). It took six months just to learn how to fly the machine, another six to know how to fight in it, and a final six to be passed combat ready. And that was if you were already a fully qualified, combat-trained army helicopter pilot. If you weren?t, you?d have to add four months for ground school and learning to fly fixed wing at RAF Barkston Heath, six months learning to fly helicopters at RAF Shawbury, half a year at the School of Army Aviation learning to fly tactically, and a final sixteen-week course in Survival, Evasion and Resistance to Interrogation, courtesy of the Intelligence Corps? most vigorous training staff. Three years in total. ?I bet it?s not as tough as you and the Yanks make out,? I said to Billy on Day One. He smiled. It was the hardest thing I have ever done, or will ever do. Some of the best pilots I?ve known fell by the wayside during Apache conversion training. Cranchy was an instructor for twelve years. He failed. Paul was the chief instructor for an entire regiment, and he failed. Mac was a display pilot with the Blue Eagles and got an MBE for it. He failed too. Why was the aircraft so hard to master? In a nutshell: because of the unimaginably demanding need to multi-task. Taking an Apache into battle was like playing an Xbox, a PlayStation and a chess Grand Master simultaneously ? whilst riding Disneyworld?s biggest roller coaster. US studies found that only a very small percentage of human brains could do everything required simultaneously to operate the aircraft. Information overload was a major issue. At least ten different new facts had to be registered, processed and acted on every few seconds in the cockpit. We were constantly bombarded with new information ? from the flight instruments, four different radio frequencies chattering at the same time, the internal intercom, the weapons computers? targeting, the defensive aid suite?s threats and the Longbow Radar. Then there were the challenges outside the cockpit too. We had to know the position of our wingmen, the whereabouts of other allied jets and helicopters, spot for small arms fire flashes on the ground, remember friendly ground forces? positions and keep a visual lookout for the target. All this not just for a minute or two, but for three hours without a break. Miss one vital element, and you would kill yourself and your co-pilot in an instant. US pilots called flying an Apache?Riding the dragon?. If you got something wrong or irritated the machine, it turned around and bit you. A cool temperament was even more important than a good pair of eyes and ears ? the ability not to panic no matter what was being demanded of you. The second great challenge was physical coordination. Flying an Apache almost always meant both hands and feet doing four different things at once. Even our eyes had to learn how to work independently of each other. A monocle sat permanently over our right iris. A dozen different instrument readings from around the cockpit were projected into it. At the flick of a button, a range of other images could also be superimposed underneath the green glow of the instrument symbology, replicating the TADS? or PNVS? camera images and the Longbow Radars? targets. The monocle left the pilot?s left eye free to look outside the cockpit, saving him the few seconds that it took to look down at the instruments then up again; seconds that could mean the difference between our death and our enemy?s. New pilots suffered terrible headaches as the left and right eye competed for dominance. They started within minutes, long before take-off. If you admitted to them, the instructor grounded you immediately ? so none of us ever did. Instead, you had to ?man up? and get on with it. As the eyes adjusted over the following weeks and months the headaches took longer to set in. It was a year before mine disappeared altogether. A few weeks out of the cockpit though, and they?d be back again on a high concentration sortie ? low level, large formation, poor weather, under pylons, hunting and being hunted by the enemy. It took me two years to learn how to?see? properly ? how to see in Apache World. I once filmed my face during a sortie with a video camera as an experiment. My eyes whirled independently of each other throughout, like a man possessed. ?That?s disgusting,? Emily said when I showed her the tape. ?But does it mean you can read two books at once?? I tried it. I could. Being a member of the world?s most exclusive aviators? club had its personal price. It was also very tough on Emily, the other wives and girlfriends and especially our children. When we started, our American counterparts warned us about AIDS ? Apache Induced Divorce Syndrome. Marriage and the Apache didn?t sit well together. To master the machine, we had to eat, sleep and breathe it. It was an obsession, and it had to be. There was never time to stop and relax in the cockpit, the simulator or the classroom. If there was, you were forgetting to do something.?You can sleep when you?re dead,? the instructors loved to say. It was the same on the squadron once we?d all qualified. Apache pilots were at work for fourteen hours a day, every day, just to keep on track. You had to stay one step ahead of the aircraft at all times. If you didn?t, it would turn and bite you. Unlike any other army units, there were very few?sirs? used among the aircrew in our squadron. Officers called each other by their first names, and the other ranks did the same with each other. We?d gone through so much together, proved ourselves so many times, the ceremony of official title felt redundant. We were all close friends ? and it felt odd to call a good mate ?sir?. Above all, we didn?t have the time. There was one more quality you needed to be an Apache pilot. The best attack pilots had the soul of an infantryman. Army Air Corps personnel had always been known as flying soldiers rather than pilots. It?s why we preferred to wear combat fatigues and not flying suits ? with the exception of Billy, of course. The founding ethos of the Corps, since the first time soldiers took to the air to artillery spot from their nineteenth-century balloons, was to help the blokes on the ground win the fight ? and that wouldn?t ever change. ?We?re going through the wood,? the ground commander might have said to us as we provided top cover in a Gazelle or a Lynx. ?Roger,? we?d reply. ?Move slowly and we?ll cover the treeline and the high ground.? You could teach a monkey how to fly; Soviet scientists proved that during the Cold War by attaching electrodes to a cyclic stick. But you couldn?t teach a monkey how to fix a bayonet and charge. To fight an Apache, it wasn?t enough to be a gifted pilot and a geeky tech-head. That would only get you to where you needed to be at the right time. The real challenge was what happened next. In the months before we were first sent to Afghanistan, some of the top brass were quite sensitive about classifying the Apache as a killing machine. They didn?t really like us to talk about it, despite the fact we were walking around with a big fuck-off attack helicopter badge on our arms. God knew what they thought we were going to do when we got there. To me it was breathtakingly simple. Attack pilots didn?t deliver soup. We didn?t help old ladies across the road, and we didn?t shoot out lollipops. Our main battle function was to close with the enemy and kill them. Snipers and Apache pilots were the only two combatants to get a detailed look at the face of the man they were about to kill. Nine times out of ten, we?d watch them in close-up on a five-inch-square screen before we pulled the trigger. It was no different to a sniper fixing his quarry in the sights of his bolt action rifle until the optimum moment to engage. We shared the same mindset: the mindset of a professional assassin. The first sixteen of us qualified in October 2004, allowing 656 Squadron to be declared an Initial Operating Capability ? a viable strike force, but unable to sustain prolonged operations. On 5 May 2006, the squadron deployed to Afghanistan, and we were finally declared ready to fight as a battlegroup ? six daysinto the deployment. The Apache force arrived a month after the rest of the brigade, and none of the ground commanders really knew what to do with us at first. Years late and way over budget, the Apache programme had been derided as a white elephant by everyone in the military ? an overpriced Cold War glamour machine of little practical worth in a twenty-first-century close combat counter-insurgency. They sent us out on missions anyway, because we were there. Then we were called to our first firefight ? and we showed what we could do. Within a few weeks, they were converted. So much so that 3 Para?s Commanding Officer often refused to allow his men out of their platoon houses unless they had an Apache above them. We proved the aircraft was phenomenally good at close ? sometimes very close ? air support, swiftly overtaking the Harrier as the troops? aircraft of choice. We were the Paras? big brother; we turned up and immediately turned the tables on the bullies picking on them. Soon, the lads on the ground began to refer to us as ?the muscle?. ?Things were looking pretty shitty until the muscle turned up,? was a regular refrain in the cookhouse. For us, the mad summer was one constant rush between one under fire platoon house to another besieged district centre. At times, the job felt like playing the Whack-A-Mole game at the fair; the one where you never know which of the multiple holes the little bugger will pop out of first. You have to thump it quick with a mallet, but as soon as you have, another pops up from another hole. If you don?t keep on smashing them hard, you lose. On a few occasions we almost did lose. I was on the phone home when we got the Broken Arrow call from Now Zad. Broken Arrow is an emergency call for assistance from any available aircraft. It meant the platoon house was in the process of being overrun. We got up there to find the company of Royal Fusiliers in a grenade fight with the Taliban at their walls. Our major weakness was a limited play time. Our fuel and weapons load would always run out eventually, and then we had to go back to base or get relieved by another Apache pair. Sometimes all we had to do was turn up. The enemy had learned to fear us.?When the Mosquitoes come, stay underground,? Taliban commanders were overheard telling their men. But most of the time they fought on regardless. I must have been in twenty different battles on that first tour; some a few minutes long, others lasting for hours. Yet despite all of that, there I was, sitting on my cot at the start of the second tour pondering my destiny. It wasn?t that I was afraid of dying. After twenty-two and a half years of close scrapes all over the world, I?d come close to rolling a number seven several times ? not least in Aldershot. And I?d believed for a long time that if your number was up, it was up ? there was no point in fussing about it. What I was really bothered about was dyingnow. I?d got away with the first tour, and that was supposed to be it for me. I just couldn?t help thinking that it would be a crying shame if I checked out now, minutes before I was about to leave. I?d been a bad boy in my past, and got away with all of that too. Maybe it was my turn next: fate, karma, Sod?s Law, Murphy?s Law;

Agatha Christie, 2024/12/18 - 12:58:42

The Mystery of the Spanish Chest may be described as a Hercule Poirot Special. It is a case in which he considers he was at his best! Miss Marple, in her turn, has always been pleased with her perspicuity in Greenshaw's Folly. The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding is an indulgence of my own, since it recalls to me, very pleasurably, the Christmases of my youth. After my father's death, my mother and I always spent Christmas with my brother-in-law's family in the north of England? and what superb Christmases they were for a child to remember! Abney Hall had everything! The garden boasted a waterfall, a stream, and a tunnel under the drive! The Christmas fare was of gargantuan proportions. I was a skinny child, appearing delicate, but actually of robust health and perpetually hungry! The boys of the family and I used to vie with each other as to who could eat most on Christmas Day. Oyster Soup and Turbot went down without undue zest, but then came Roast Turkey, Boiled Turkey and an enormous Sirloin of Beef. The boys and I had two helpings of all three! We then had Plum Pudding, Mince-pies, Trifle and every kind of dessert. During the afternoon we ate chocolates solidly. We neither felt, nor were, sick! How lovely to be eleven years old and greedy! What a day of delight from?Stockings? in bed in the morning, Church and all the Christmas hymns, Christmas dinner, Presents, and the final Lighting of the Christmas Tree! And how deep my gratitude to the kind and hospitable hostess who must have worked so hard to make Christmas Day a wonderful memory to me still in my old age. So let me dedicate this book to the memory of Abney Hall? its kindness and its hospitality. And a happy Christmas to all who read this book. Agatha Christie The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding ?I regret exceedingly ?? said M. Hercule Poirot. He was interrupted. Not rudely interrupted. The interruption was suave, dexterous, persuasive rather than contradictory. ?Please don't refuse offhand, M. Poirot. There are grave issues of State. Your co-operation will be appreciated in the highest quarters.? ?You are too kind,? Hercule Poirot waved a hand, ?but I really cannot undertake to do as you ask. At this season of the year ?? Again Mr Jesmond interrupted.?Christmas time,? he said, persuasively. ?An old-fashioned Christmas in the English countryside.? Hercule Poirot shivered. The thought of the English countryside at this season of the year did not attract him. ?A good old-fashioned Christmas!? Mr Jesmond stressed it. ?Me? I am not an Englishman,? said Hercule Poirot. ?In my country, Christmas, it is for the children. The New Year, that is what we celebrate.? ?Ah,? said Mr Jesmond, ?but Christmas in England is a great institution and I assure you at Kings Lacey you would see it at its best. It's a wonderful old house, you know. Why, one wing of it dates from the fourteenth century.? Again Poirot shivered. The thought of a fourteenth-century English manor house filled him with apprehension. He had suffered too often in the historic country houses of England. He looked round appreciatively at his comfortable modern flat with its radiators and the latest patent devices for excluding any kind of draught. ?In the winter,? he said firmly, ?I do not leave London.? ?I don't think you quite appreciate, Mr Poirot, what a very serious matter this is.? Mr Jesmond glanced at his companion and then back at Poirot. Poirot's second visitor had up to now said nothing but a polite and formal?How do you do.? He sat now, gazing down at his well-polished shoes, with an air of the utmost dejection on his coffee-coloured face. He was a young man, not more than twenty-three, and he was clearly in a state of complete misery. ?Yes, yes,? said Hercule Poirot. ?Of course the matter is serious. I do appreciate that. His Highness has my heartfelt sympathy.? ?The position is one of the utmost delicacy,? said Mr Jesmond. Poirot transferred his gaze from the young man to his older companion. If one wanted to sum up Mr Jesmond in a word, the word would have been discretion. Everything about Mr Jesmond was discreet. His well-cut but inconspicuous clothes, his pleasant, well-bred voice which rarely soared out of an agreeable monotone, his light-brown hair just thinning a little at the temples, his pale serious face. It seemed to Hercule Poirot that he had known not one Mr Jesmond but a dozen Mr Jesmonds in his time, all using sooner or later the same phrase? ?a position of the utmost delicacy.? ?The police,? said Hercule Poirot, ?can be very discreet, you know.? Mr Jesmond shook his head firmly. ?Not the police,? he said. ?To recover the ? er ? what we want to recover will almost inevitably involve taking proceedings in the law courts and we know so little. Wesuspect, but we do notknow.? ?You have my sympathy,? said Hercule Poirot again. If he imagined that his sympathy was going to mean anything to his two visitors, he was wrong. They did not want sympathy, they wanted practical help. Mr Jesmond began once more to talk about the delights of an English Christmas. ?It's dying out, you know,? he said, ?the real old-fashioned type of Christmas. People spend it at hotels nowadays. But an English Christmas with all the family gathered round, the children and their stockings, the Christmas tree, the turkey and plum pudding, the crackers. The snowman outsidethe window ?? In the interests of exactitude, Hercule Poirot intervened. ?To make a snowman one has to have the snow,? he remarked severely. ?And one cannot have snow to order, even for an English Christmas.? ?I was talking to a friend of mine in the meteorological office only today,? said Mr Jesmond, ?and he tells me that it is highly probable therewill be snow this Christmas.? It was the wrong thing to have said. Hercule Poirot shuddered more forcefully than ever. ?Snow in the country!? he said. ?That would be still more abominable. A large, cold, stone manor house.? ?Not at all,? said Mr Jesmond. ?Things have changed very much in the last ten years or so. Oil-fired central heating.? ?They have oil-fired central heating at Kings Lacey?? asked Poirot. For the first time he seemed to waver. Mr Jesmond seized his opportunity.?Yes, indeed,? he said, ?and a splendid hot water system. Radiators in every bedroom. I assure you, my dear M. Poirot, Kings Lacey is comfort itself in the winter time. You might even find the house too warm.? ?That is most unlikely,? said Hercule Poirot. With practised dexterity Mr Jesmond shifted his ground a little. ?You can appreciate the terrible dilemma we are in,? he said, in a confidential manner. Hercule Poirot nodded. The problem was, indeed, not a happy one. A young potentate-to-be, the only son of the ruler of a rich and important native State had arrived in London a few weeks ago. His country had been passing through a period of restlessness and discontent. Though loyal to the father whose way of life had remained persistently Eastern, popular opinion was somewhat dubious of the younger generation. His follies had been Western ones and as such looked upon with disapproval. Recently, however, his betrothal had been announced. He was to marry a cousin of the same blood, a young woman who, though educated at Cambridge, was careful to display no Western influences in her own country. The wedding day was announced and the young prince had made a journey to England, bringing with him some of the famous jewels of his house to be reset in appropriate modern settings by Cartier. These had included a very famous ruby which had been removed from its cumbersome old-fashioned necklace and had been given a new look by the famous jewellers. So far so good, but after this came the snag. It was not to be supposed that a young man possessed of much wealth and convivial tastes, should not commit a few follies of the pleasanter type. As to that there would have been no censure. Young princes were supposed to amuse themselves in this fashion. For the prince to take the girl friend of the moment for a walk down Bond Street and bestow upon her an emerald bracelet or a diamond clip as a reward for the pleasure she had afforded him would have been regarded as quite natural and suitable, corresponding in fact to the Cadillac cars which his father invariably presented to his favourite dancing girl of the moment. But the prince had been far more indiscreet than that. Flattered by the lady's interest, he had displayed to her the famous ruby in its new setting, and had finally been so unwise as to accede to her request to be allowed to wear it just for one evening! The sequel was short and sad. The lady had retired from their supper table to powder her nose. Time passed. She did not return. She had left the establishment by another door and since then had disappeared into space. The important and distressing thing was that the ruby in its new setting had disappeared with her. These were the facts that could not possibly be made public without the most dire consequences. The ruby was something more than a ruby, it was a historical possession of great significance, and the circumstances of its disappearance were such that any undue publicity about them might result in the most serious political consequences. Mr Jesmond was not the man to put these facts into simple language. He wrapped them up, as it were, in a great deal of verbiage. Who exactly Mr Jesmond was, Hercule Poirot did not know. He had met other Mr Jesmonds in the course of his career. Whether he was connected with the Home Office, the Foreign Office or some other discreet branch of public service was not specified. He was acting in the interests of the Commonwealth. The ruby must be recovered. M. Poirot, so Mr Jesmond delicately insisted, was the man to recover it. ?Perhaps ? yes,? Hercule Poirot admitted, ?but you can tell me so little. Suggestion ? suspicion ? all that is not very much to go upon.? ?Come now, Monsieur Poirot, surely it is not beyond your powers. Ah, come now.? ?I do not always succeed.? But this was mock modesty. It was clear enough from Poirot's tone that for him to undertake a mission was almost synonymous with succeeding in it. ?His Highness is very young,? Mr Jesmond said. ?It will be sad if his whole life is to be blighted for a mere youthful indiscretion.? Poirot looked kindly at the downcast young man.?It is the time for follies, when one is young,? he said encouragingly, ?and for the ordinary young man it does not matter so much. The good papa, he pays up; the family lawyer, he helps to disentangle the inconvenience; the young man, he learns by experience and all ends for the best. In a position such as yours, it is hard indeed. Your approaching marriage ?? ?That is it. That is it exactly.? For the first time words poured from the young man. ?You see she is very, very serious. She takes life very seriously. She has acquired at Cambridge many very serious ideas. There is to be education in my country. There are to be schools. There are to be manythings. All in the name of progress, you understand, of democracy. It will not be, she says, like it was in my father's time. Naturally she knows that I will have diversions in London, but not the scandal. No! It is the scandal that matters. You see it is very, very famous, this ruby. There is a long trail behind it, a history. Much bloodshed ? many deaths!? ?Deaths,? said Hercule Poirot thoughtfully. He looked at Mr Jesmond. ?One hopes,? he said, ?it will not come to that?? Mr Jesmond made a peculiar noise rather like a hen who has decided to lay an egg and then thought better of it. ?No, no, indeed,? he said, sounding rather prim. ?There is no question, I am sure, of anything ofthat kind.? ?You cannot be sure,? said Hercule Poirot. ?Whoever has the ruby now, there may be others who want to gain possession of it, and who will not stick at a trifle, my friend.? ?I really don't think,? said Mr Jesmond, sounding more prim than ever, ?that we need enter into speculations of that kind. Quite unprofitable.? ?Me,? said Hercule Poirot, suddenly becoming very foreign, ?me, I explore all the avenues, like the politicians.? Mr Jesmond looked at him doubtfully. Pulling himself together, he said,?Well, I can take it that is settled, M. Poirot? You will go to Kings Lacey?? ?And how do I explain myself there?? asked Hercule Poirot. Mr Jesmond smiled with confidence. ?That, I think, can be arranged very easily,? he said. ?I can assure you that it will all seem quite natural. You will find the Laceys most charming. Delightful people.? ?And you do not deceive me about the oil-fired central heating?? ?No, no, indeed.? Mr Jones sounded quite pained. ?I assure you you will find every comfort.? ?Tout confort moderne,? murmured Poirot to himself, reminiscently. ?Eh bien,? he said, ?I accept.?II The temperature in the long drawing-room at Kings Lacey was a comfortable sixty-eight as Hercule Poirot sat talking to Mrs Lacey by one of the big mullioned windows. Mrs Lacey was engaged in needlework. She was not doingpetit point or embroidering flowers upon silk. Instead, she appeared to be engaged in the prosaic task of hemming dishcloths. As she sewed she talked in a soft reflective voice that Poirot found very charming. ?I hope you will enjoy our Christmas party here, M. Poirot. It's only the family, you know. My granddaughter and a grandson and a friend of his and Bridget who's my great-niece, and Diana who's a cousin and David Welwyn who is a very old friend. Just a family party. But Edwina Morecombe said thatthat's what you really wanted to see. An old-fashioned Christmas. Nothing could be more old-fashioned than we are! My husband, you know, absolutely lives in the past. He likes everything to be just as it was when he was a boy of twelve years old, and used to come here for his holidays.? She smiled to herself. ?All the same old things, the Christmas tree and the stockings hung up and the oyster soup and the turkey ? two turkeys, one boiled and one roast ? and the plum pudding with the ring and the bachelor's button and all the rest of it in it. One can't have sixpences nowadays becausethey're not pure silver any more. But all the old desserts, the Elvas plums and Carlsbad plums and almonds and raisins, and crystallized fruit and ginger. Dear me, I sound like a catalogue from Fortnum and Mason!? ?You arouse my gastronomic juices, Madame.? ?I expect we'll all have frightful indigestion by tomorrow evening,? said Mrs Lacey. ?One isn't used to eating so much nowadays, is one?? She was interrupted by some loud shouts and whoops of laughter outside the window. She glanced out. ?I don't know what they're doing out there. Playing some game or other, I suppose. I've always been so afraid, you know, that these young people would be bored by our Christmas here. But not at all, it's just the opposite. Now my own son and daughter and their friends, they used to be rather sophisticated about Christmas. Say it was all nonsense and too much fuss and it would be far better to go out to a hotel somewhere and dance. But the younger generation seem to find all this terribly attractive. Besides,? added Mrs Lacey practically, ?schoolboys and schoolgirls are always hungry, aren't they? I think they must starve them at these schools. After all, one does know children of that age each eat about as much as three strong men.? Poirot laughed and said,?It is most kind of you and your husband, Madame, to include me in this way in your family party.? ?Oh, we're both delighted, I'm sure,? said Mrs Lacey. ?And if you find Horace a little gruff,? she continued, ?pay no attention. It's just his manner, you know.? What her husband, Colonel Lacey, had actually said was:?Can't think why you want one of these damned foreigners here cluttering up Christmas? Why can't we have him some other time? Can't stick foreigners! All right, all right, so Edwina Morecombe wished him on us. What's it got to do withher, I should like to know? Why doesn'tshe have him for Christmas?? ?Because you know very well,? Mrs Lacey had said, ?that Edwina always goes to Claridge's.? Her husband had looked at her piercingly and said,?Not up to something, are you, Em?? ?Up to something?? said Em, opening very blue eyes. ?Of course not. Why should I be?? Old Colonel Lacey laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh.?I wouldn't put it past you, Em,? he said. ?When you look your most innocent is when youare up to something.? Revolving these things in her mind, Mrs Lacey went on:?Edwina said she thought perhaps you might help us? I'm sure I don't know quite how, but she said that friends of yours had once found you very helpful in ? in a case something like ours. I ? well, perhaps you don't know what I'm talking about?? Poirot looked at her encouragingly. Mrs Lacey was close on seventy, as upright as a ramrod, with snow-white hair, pink cheeks, blue eyes, a ridiculous nose and a determined chin. ?If there is anything I can do I shall only be too happy to do it,? said Poirot. ?It is, I understand, a rather unfortunate matter of a young girl's infatuation.? Mrs Lacey nodded.?Yes. It seems extraordinary that I should ? well, want to talk to you about it. After all, youare a perfect stranger?? ?And a foreigner,? said Poirot, in an understanding manner. ?Yes,? said Mrs Lacey, ?but perhaps that makes it easier, in a way. Anyhow, Edwina seemed to think that you might perhaps know something ? how shall I put it ? something useful about this young Desmond Lee-Wortley.? Poirot paused a moment to admire the ingenuity of Mr Jesmond and the ease with which he had made use of Lady Morecombe to further his own purposes. ?He has not, I understand, a very good reputation, this young man?? he began delicately. ?No, indeed, he hasn't! A very bad reputation! But that's no help so far as Sarah is concerned. It's never any good, is it, telling young girls that men have a bad reputation? It ? it just spurs them on!? ?You are so very right,? said Poirot. ?In my young day,? went on Mrs Lacey. (?Oh dear, that's a very long time ago!) We used to be warned, you know, against certain young men, and of course itdid heighten one's interest in them, and if one could possibly manage to dance with them, or to be alone with them in a dark conservatory?? she laughed. ?That's why I wouldn't let Horace do any of the things he wanted to do.? ?Tell me,? said Poirot, ?exactly what it is that troubles you?? ?Our son was killed in the war,? said Mrs Lacey. ?My daughter-in-law died when Sarah was born so that she has always been with us, and we've brought her up. Perhaps we've brought her up unwisely ? I don't know. But we thought we ought always to leave her as free as possible.? ?That is desirable, I think,? said Poirot. ?One cannot go against the spirit of the times.? ?No,? said Mrs Lacey, ?that's just what I felt about it. And, of course, girls nowadays do these sort of things.? Poirot looked at her inquiringly. ?I think the way one expresses it,? said Mrs Lacey, ?is that Sarah has got in with what they call the coffee-bar set. She won't go to dances or come out properly or be a deb or anything of that kind. Instead she has two rather unpleasant rooms in Chelsea down by the river and wears these funny clothes that they like to wear, and black stockings or bright green ones. Very thick stockings. (So prickly, I always think!) And she goes about without washing or combing her hair.? ?Ça, c'est tout ? fait naturelle,? said Poirot. ?It is the fashion of the moment. They grow out of it.? ?Yes, I know,? said Mrs Lacey. ?I wouldn't worry aboutthat sort of thing. But you see she's taken up with this Desmond Lee-Wortley and he really has avery unsavoury reputation. He lives more or less on well-to-do girls. They seem to go quite mad about him. He very nearly married the Hope girl, but her people got her made a ward in court or something. And of course that's what Horace wants to do. He says he must do it for her protection. But I don't think it's really a good idea, M. Poirot. I mean, they'll just run away together and go to Scotland or Ireland or the Argentine or somewhere and either get married or else live together without getting married. And although it may be contempt of court and all that? well, it isn't really an answer, is it, in the end? Especially if a baby's coming. One has to give in then, and let them get married. And then, nearly always, it seems to me, after a year or two there's a divorce. And then the girl comes home and usually after a year or two she marries someone so nice he's almost dull and settles down. But it's particularly sad, it seems to me, if there is a child, because it's not the same thing, being brought up by a stepfather, however nice. No, I think it's much better if we did as we did in my young days. I mean the first young man one fell in love with wasalways someone undesirable. I remember I had a horrible passion for a young man called? now what was his name now? ? how strange it is, I can't remember his Christian name at all! Tibbitt, that was his surname. Young Tibbitt. Of course, my father more or less forbade him the house, but he used to get asked to the same dances, and we used to dance together. And sometimes we'd escape and sit out together and occasionally friends would arrange picnics to which we both went. Of course, it was all very exciting and forbidden and one enjoyed it enormously. But one didn't go to the ? well, to thelengths that girls go nowadays. And so, after a while, the Mr Tibbitts faded out. And do you know, when I saw him four years later I was surprised what I couldever have seen in him! He seemed to be such adull young man. Flashy, you know. No interesting conversation.? ?One always thinks the days of one's own youth are best,? said Poirot, somewhat sententiously. ?I know,? said Mrs Lacey. ?It's tiresome, isn't it? I mustn't be tiresome. But all the same Idon't want Sarah, who's a dear girl really, to marry Desmond Lee-Wortley. She and David Welwyn, who is staying here, were always such friends and so fond of each other, and we did hope, Horace and I, that they would grow up and marry. But of course she just finds him dull now, and she's absolutely infatuated with Desmond.? ?I do not quite understand, Madame,? said Poirot. ?You have him here now, staying in the house, this Desmond Lee-Wortley?? ?That'smy doing,? said Mrs Lacey. ?Horace was all for forbidding her to see him and all that. Of course, in Horace's day, the father or guardian would have called round at the young man's lodgings with a horse whip! Horace was all for forbidding the fellow the house, and forbidding the girl to see him. I told him that was quite the wrong attitude to take. ?No,? I said. ?Ask him down here. We'll have him down for Christmas with the family party.? Of course, my husband said I was mad! But I said, ?At any rate, dear, let'stry it. Let her see him inour atmosphere andour house and we'll be very nice to him and very polite, and perhaps then he'll seem less interesting to her?!? ?I think, as they say, youhave something there, Madame,? said Poirot. ?I think your point of view is very wise. Wiser than your husband's.? ?Well, I hope it is,? said Mrs Lacey doubtfully. ?It doesn't seem to be working much yet. But of course he's only been here a couple of days.? A sudden dimple showed in her wrinkled cheek. ?I'll confess something to you, M. Poirot. I myself can't help liking him. I don't mean Ireally like him, with mymind, but I can feel the charm all right. Oh yes, I can see what Sarah sees in him. But I'm an old enough woman and have enough experience to know that he's absolutely no good. Even if Ido enjoy his company. Though I do think,? added Mrs Lacey, rather wistfully, ?he hassome good points. He asked if he might bring his sister here, you know. She's had an operation and was in hospital. He said it was so sad for her being in a nursing home over Christmas and he wondered if it would be too much trouble if he could bring her with him. He said he'd take all her meals up to her and all that. Well now, I do think thatwas rather nice of him, don't you, M. Poirot?? ?It shows a consideration,? said Poirot, thoughtfully, ?which seems almost out of character.? ?Oh, I don't know. You can have family affections at the same time as wishing to prey on a rich young girl. Sarah will bevery rich, you know, not only with what we leave her? and of course that won't be very much because most of the money goes with the place to Colin, my grandson. But her mother was a very rich woman and Sarah will inherit all her money when she's twenty-one. She's only twenty now. No, I do think it was nice of Desmond to mind about his sister. And he didn't pretend she was anything very wonderful or that. She's a shorthand typist, I gather ? does secretarial work in London. And he's been as good as his word and does carry up trays to her. Not all the time, of course, but quite often. So I think he has some nice points. But all the same,? said Mrs Lacey with great decision, ?I don't want Sarah to marry him.? ?From all I have heard and been told,? said Poirot, ?that would indeed be a disaster.? ?Do you think it would be possible for you to help us in any way?? asked Mrs Lacey. ?I think it is possible, yes,? said Hercule Poirot, ?but I do not wish to promise too much. For the Mr Desmond Lee-Wortleys of this world are clever, Madame. But do not despair. One can, perhaps, do a little something. I shall at any rate, put forth my best endeavours, if only in gratitude for your kindness in asking me here for this Christmas festivity.? He looked round him. ?And it cannot be so easy these days to have Christmas festivities.? ?No, indeed,? Mrs Lacey sighed. She leaned forward. ?Do you know, M. Poirot, what I really dream of ? what I would love to have?? ?But tell me, Madame.? ?I simply long to have a small, modern bungalow. No, perhaps not a bungalow exactly, but a small, modern, easy to run house built somewhere in the park here, and live in it with an absolutely up-to-date kitchen and no long passages. Everything easy and simple.? ?It is a very practical idea, Madame.? ?It's not practical for me,? said Mrs Lacey. ?My husbandadores this place. Heloves living here. He doesn't mind being slightly uncomfortable, he doesn't mind the inconveniences and he would hate, simplyhate, to live in a small modern house in the park!? ?So you sacrifice yourself to his wishes?? Mrs Lacey drew herself up.?I do not consider it a sacrifice, M. Poirot,? she said. ?I married my husband with the wish to make him happy. He has been a good husband to me and made me very happy all these years, and I wish to give happiness to him.? ?So you will continue to live here,? said Poirot. ?It's not really too uncomfortable,? said Mrs Lacey. ?No, no,? said Poirot, hastily. ?On the contrary, it is most comfortable. Your central heating and your bath water are perfection.? ?We spend a lot of money in making the house comfortable to live in,? said Mrs Lacey. ?We were able to sell some land. Ripe for development, I think they call it. Fortunately right out of sight of the house on the other side of the park. Really rather an ugly bit of ground with no nice view, but we got a very good price for it. So that we have been able to have as many improvements as possible.? ?But the service, Madame?? ?Oh, well, that presents less difficulty than you might think. Of course, one cannot expect to be looked after and waited upon as one used to be. Different people come in from the village. Two women in the morning, another two to cook lunch and wash it up, and different ones again in the evening.There are plenty of people who want to come and work for a few hours a day. Of course for Christmas we are very lucky. My dear Mrs Ross always comes in every Christmas. She is a wonderful cook, really first-class. She retired about ten years ago, but she comes in to help us in any emergency. Then there is dear Peverell.? ?Your butler?? ?Yes. He is pensioned off and lives in the little house near the lodge, but he is so devoted, and he insists on coming to wait on us at Christmas. Really, I'm terrified, M. Poirot, because he's so old and so shaky that I feel certain that if he carries anything heavy he will drop it. It's really an agony to watch him. And his heart is not good and I'm afraid of his doing too much. But it would hurt his feelings dreadfully if I did not let him come. He hems and hahs and makes disapproving noises when he sees the state our silver is in and within three days of being here, it is all wonderful again. Yes. He is a dear faithful friend.? She smiled at Poirot. ?So you see, we are all set for a happy Christmas. A white Christmas, too,? she added as she looked out of the window. ?See? It is beginning to snow. Ah, the children are coming in. You must meet them, M. Poirot.? Poirot was introduced with due ceremony. First, to Colin and Michael, the schoolboy grandson and his friend, nice polite lads of fifteen, one dark, one fair. Then to their cousin, Bridget, a black-haired girl of about the same age with enormous vitality. ?And this is my granddaughter, Sarah,? said Mrs Lacey. Poirot looked with some interest at Sarah, an attractive girl with a mop of red hair; her manner seemed to him nervy and a trifle defiant, but she showed real affection for her grandmother. ?And this is Mr Lee-Wortley.? Mr Lee-Wortley wore a fisherman's jersey and tight black jeans; his hair was rather long and it seemed doubtful whether he had shaved that morning. In contrast to him was a young man introduced as David Welwyn, who was solid and quiet, with a pleasant smile, and rather obviously addicted to soap and water. There was one other member of the party, a handsome, rather intense-looking girl who was introduced as Diana Middleton. Tea was brought in. A hearty meal of scones, crumpets, sandwiches and three kinds of cake. The younger members of the party appreciated the tea. Colonel Lacey came in last, remarking in a noncommittal voice: ?Hey, tea? Oh yes, tea.? He received his cup of tea from his wife's hand, helped himself to two scones, cast a look of aversion at Desmond Lee-Wortley and sat down as far away from him as he could. He was a big man with bushy eyebrows and a red, weather-beaten face. He might have been taken for a farmer rather than the lord of the manor. ?Started to snow,? he said. ?It's going to be a white Christmas all right.? After tea the party dispersed. ?I expect they'll go and play with their tape recorders now,? said Mrs Lacey to Poirot. She looked indulgently after her grandson as he left the room. Her tone was that of one who says ?The children are going to play with their toy soldiers.? ?They're frightfully technical, of course,? she said, ?and very grand about it all.? The boys and Bridget, however, decided to go along to the lake and see if the ice on it was likely to make skating possible. ?I thought we could have skated on it this morning,? said Colin. ?But old Hodgkins said no. He's always so terribly careful.? ?Come for a walk, David,? said Diana Middleton, softly. David hesitated for half a moment, his eyes on Sarah's red head. She was standing by Desmond Lee-Wortley, her hand on his arm, looking up into his face. ?All right,? said David Welwyn, ?yes, let's.? Diana slipped a quick hand through his arm and they turned towards the door into the garden. Sarah said: ?Shall we go, too, Desmond? It's fearfully stuffy in the house.? ?Who wants to walk?? said Desmond. ?I'll get my car out. We'll go along to the Speckled Boar and have a drink.? Sarah hesitated for a moment before saying: ?Let's go to Market Ledbury to the White Hart. It's much more fun.? Though for all the world she would not have put it into words, Sarah had an instinctive revulsion from going down to the local pub with Desmond. It was, somehow, not in the tradition of Kings Lacey. The women of Kings Lacey had never frequented the bar of the Speckled Boar. She had an obscure feeling that to go there would be to let old Colonel Lacey and his wife down. And why not? Desmond Lee-Wortley would have said. For a moment of exasperation Sarah felt that he ought to know why not! One didn't upset such old darlings as Grandfather and dear old Em unless it was necessary. They'd been very sweet, really, letting her lead her own life, not understanding in the least why she wanted to live in Chelsea in the way she did, but accepting it. That was due to Em of course. Grandfather would have kicked up no end of a row. Sarah had no illusions about her grandfather's attitude. It was not his doing that Desmond had been asked to stay at Kings Lacey. That was Em, and Em was a darling and always had been. When Desmond had gone to fetch his car, Sarah popped her head into the drawing-room again. ?We're going over to Market Ledbury,? she said. ?We thought we'd have a drink there at the White Hart.? There was a slight amount of defiance in her voice, but Mrs Lacey did not seem to notice it. ?Well, dear,? she said, ?I'm sure that will be very nice. David and Diana have gone for a walk, I see. I'm so glad. I really think it was a brainwave on my part to ask Diana here. So sad being left a widow so young ? only twenty-two ? I do hope she marries againsoon.? Sarah looked at her sharply.?What are you up to, Em?? ?It's my little plan,? said Mrs Lacey gleefully. ?I think she's just right for David. Of course I know he was terribly in love withyou, Sarah dear, but you'd no use for him and I realize that he isn't your type. But I don't want him to go on being unhappy, and I think Diana will really suit him.? ?What a matchmaker you are, Em,? said Sarah. ?I know,? said Mrs Lacey. ?Old women always are. Diana's quite keen on him already, I think. Don't you think she'd be just right for him?? ?I shouldn't say so,? said Sarah. ?I think Diana's far too ? well, too intense, too serious. I should think David would find it terribly boring being married to her.? ?Well, we'll see,? said Mrs Lacey. ?Anyway,you don't want him, do you, dear?? ?No, indeed,? said Sarah, very quickly. She added, in a sudden rush, ?Youdo like Desmond, don't you, Em?? ?I'm sure he's very nice indeed,? said Mrs Lacey. ?Grandfather doesn't like him,? said Sarah. ?Well, you could hardly expect him to, could you?? said Mrs Lacey reasonably, ?but I dare say he'll come round when he gets used to the idea. You mustn't rush him, Sarah dear. Old people are very slow to change their minds and your grandfatheris rather obstinate.? ?I don't care what Grandfather thinks or says,? said Sarah. ?I shall get married to Desmond whenever I like!? ?I know, dear, I know. But do try and be realistic about it. Your grandfather could cause a lot of trouble, you know. You're not of age yet. In another year you can do as you please. I expect Horace will have come round long before that.? ?You're on my side aren't you, darling?? said Sarah. She flung her arms round her grandmother's neck and gave her an affectionate kiss. ?I want you to be happy,? said Mrs Lacey. ?Ah! there's your young man bringing his car round. You know, I like these very tight trousers these young men wear nowadays. They look so smart ? only, of course, it does accentuate knock knees.? Yes, Sarah thought, Desmondhad got knock knees, she had never noticed it before? ?Go on, dear, enjoy yourself,? said Mrs Lacey. She watched her go out to the car, then, remembering her foreign guest, she went along to the library. Looking in, however, she saw that Hercule Poirot was taking a pleasant little nap, and smiling to herself, she went across the hall and out into the kitchen to have a conference with Mrs Ross. ?Come on, beautiful,? said Desmond. ?Your family cutting up rough because you're coming out to a pub? Years behind the times here, aren't they?? ?Of course they're not making a fuss,? said Sarah, sharply as she got into the car. ?What's the idea of having that foreign fellow down? He's a detective, isn't he? What needs detecting here?? ?Oh, he's not here professionally,? said Sarah. ?Edwina Morecombe, my godmother, asked us to have him. I think he's retired from professional work long ago.? ?Sounds like a broken-down old cab horse,? said Desmond. ?He wanted to see an old-fashioned English Christmas, I believe,? said Sarah vaguely. Desmond laughed scornfully.?Such a lot of tripe, that sort of thing,? he said. ?How you can stand it I don't know.? Sarah's red hair was tossed back and her aggressive chin shot up. ?I enjoy it!? she said defiantly. ?You can't, baby. Let's cut the whole thing tomorrow. Go over to Scarborough or somewhere.? ?I couldn't possibly do that.? ?Why not?? ?Oh, it would hurt their feelings.? ?Oh, bilge! You know you don't enjoy this childish sentimental bosh.? ?Well, not really perhaps, but ?? Sarah broke off. She realized with a feeling of guilt that she was looking forward a good deal to the Christmas celebration. She enjoyed the whole thing, but she was ashamed to admit that to Desmond. It was not the thing to enjoy Christmas and family life. Just for a moment she wished that Desmond had not come down here at Christmas time. In fact, she almost wished that Desmond had not come down here at all. It was much more fun seeing Desmond in London than here at home. In the meantime the boys and Bridget were walking back from the lake, still discussing earnestly the problems of skating. Flecks of snow had been falling, and looking up at the sky it could be prophesied that before long there was going to be a heavy snowfall. ?It's going to snow all night,? said Colin. ?Bet you by Christmas morning we have a couple of feet of snow.? The prospect was a pleasurable one. ?Let's make a snowman,? said Michael. ?Good lord,? said Colin. ?I haven't made a snowman since ? well, since I was about four years old.? ?I don't believe it's a bit easy to do,? said Bridget. ?I mean, you have to know how.? ?We might make an effigy of M. Poirot,? said Colin. ?Give it a big black moustache. There is one in the dressing-up box.? ?I don't see, you know,? said Michael thoughtfully, ?how M. Poirot could ever have been a detective. I don't see how he'd ever be able to disguise himself.? ?I know,? said Bridget, ?and one can't imagine him running about with a microscope and looking for clues or measuring footprints.? ?I've got an idea,? said Colin. ?Let's put on a show for him!? ?What do you mean, a show?? asked Bridget. ?Well, arrange a murder for him.? ?What a gorgeous idea,? said Bridget. ?Do you mean a body in the snow ? that sort of thing?? ?Yes. It would make him feel at home, wouldn't it?? Bridget giggled. ?I don't know that I'd go as far as that.? ?If it snows,? said Colin, ?we'll have the perfect setting. A body and footprints ? we'll have to think that out rather carefully and pinch one of Grandfather's daggers and make some blood.? They came to a halt and oblivious to the rapidly falling snow, entered into an excited discussion. ?There's a paintbox in the old schoolroom. We could mix up some blood ? crimson-lake, I should think.? ?Crimson-lake's a bit too pink,I think,? said Bridget. ?It ought to be a bit browner.? ?Who's going to be the body?? asked Michael. ?I'll be the body,? said Bridget quickly. ?Oh, look here,? said Colin, ?I thought of it.? ?Oh, no, no,? said Bridget, ?it must be me. It's got to be a girl. It's more exciting. Beautiful girl lying lifeless in the snow.? ?Beautiful girl! Ah-ha,? said Michael in derision. ?I've got black hair, too,? said Bridget. ?What's that got to do with it?? ?Well, it'll show up so well on the snow and I shall wear my red pyjamas.? ?If you wear red pyjamas, they won't show the bloodstains,? said Michael in a practical manner. ?But they'd look so effective against the snow,? said Bridget, ?and they've got white facings, you know, so the blood could be on that. Oh, won't it be gorgeous? Do you think he will really be taken in?? ?He will if we do it well enough,? said Michael. ?We'll have just your footprints in the snow and one other person's going to the body and coming away from it ? a man's, of course. He won't want to disturb them, so he won't know that you're not really dead. You don't think,? Michael stopped, struck by a sudden idea. The others looked at him. ?You don't think he'll beannoyed about it?? ?Oh, I shouldn't think so,? said Bridget, with facile optimism. ?I'm sure he'll understand that we've just done it to entertain him. A sort of Christmas treat.? ?I don't think we ought to do it on Christmas Day,? said Colin reflectively. ?I don't think Grandfather would like that very much.? ?Boxing Day then,? said Bridget. ?Boxing Day would be just right,? said Michael. ?And it'll give us more time, too,? pursued Bridget. ?After all, there are a lot of things to arrange. Let's go and have a look at all the props.? They hurried into the house.III The evening was a busy one. Holly and mistletoe had been brought in in large quantities and a Christmas tree had been set up at one end of the dining-room. Everyone helped to decorate it, to put up the branches of holly behind pictures and to hang mistletoe in a convenient position in the hall. ?I had no idea anything so archaic still went on,? murmured Desmond to Sarah with a sneer. ?We've always done it,? said Sarah, defensively. ?What a reason!? ?Oh, don't be tiresome, Desmond.I think it's fun.? ?Sarah my sweet, youcan't!? ?Well, not ? not really perhaps but ? I do in a way.? ?Who's going to brave the snow and go to midnight mass?? asked Mrs Lacey at twenty minutes to twelve. ?Not me,? said Desmond. ?Come on, Sarah.? With a hand on her arm he guided her into the library and went over to the record case. ?There are limits, darling,? said Desmond. ?Midnight mass!? ?Yes,? said Sarah. ?Oh yes.? With a good deal of laughter, donning of coats and stamping of feet, most of the others got off. The two boys, Bridget, David and Diana set out for the ten minutes' walk to the church through the falling snow. Their laughter died away in the distance. ?Midnight mass!? said Colonel Lacey, snorting. ?Never went to midnight mass in my young days.Mass, indeed! Popish, that is! Oh, I beg your pardon, M. Poirot.? Poirot waved a hand.?It is quite all right. Do not mind me.? ?Matins is good enough for anybody, I should say,? said the colonel. ?Proper Sunday morning service. ?Hark the herald angels sing,? and all the good old Christmas hymns. And then back to Christmas dinner. That's right, isn't it, Em?? ?Yes, dear,? said Mrs Lacey. ?That's whatwe do. But the young ones enjoy the midnight service. And it's nice, really, that theywant to go.? ?Sarah and that fellow don't want to go.? ?Well, there dear, I think you're wrong,? said Mrs Lacey. ?Sarah, you know,did want to go, but she didn't like to say so.? ?Beats me why she cares what that fellow's opinion is.? ?She's very young, really,? said Mrs Lacey placidly. ?Are you going to bed, M. Poirot? Good night. I hope you'll sleep well.? ?And you, Madame? Are you not going to bed yet?? ?Not just yet,? said Mrs Lacey. ?I've got the stockings to fill, you see. Oh, I know they're all practically grown up, but they dolike their stockings. One puts jokes in them! Silly little things. But it all makes for a lot of fun.? ?You work very hard to make this a happy house at Christmas time,? said Poirot. ?I honour you.? He raised her hand to his lips in a courtly fashion. ?Hm,? grunted Colonel Lacey, as Poirot departed. ?Flowery sort of fellow. Still ? he appreciates you.? Mrs Lacey dimpled up at him.?Have you noticed, Horace, that I'm standing under the mistletoe?? she asked with the demureness of a girl of nineteen. Hercule Poirot entered his bedroom. It was a large room well provided with radiators. As he went over towards the big four-poster bed he noticed an envelope lying on his pillow. He opened it and drew out a piece of paper. On it was a shakily printed message in capital letters. ?DON'T EAT NONE OF THE PLUM PUDDING. ONE AS WISHES YOU WELL.? Hercule Poirot stared at it. His eyebrows rose.?Cryptic,? he murmured, ?and most unexpected.?IV Christmas dinner took place at 2 p.m. and was a feast indeed. Enormous logs crackled merrily in the wide fireplace and above their crackling rose the babel of many tongues talking together. Oyster soup had been consumed, two enormous turkeys had come and gone, mere carcasses of their former selves. Now, the supreme moment, the Christmas pudding was brought in, in state! Old Peverell, his hands and his knees shaking with the weakness of eighty years, permitted no one but himself to bear it in. Mrs Lacey sat, her hands pressed together in nervous apprehension. One Christmas, she felt sure, Peverell would fall down dead. Having either to take the risk of letting him fall down dead or of hurting his feelings to such an extent that he would probably prefer to be dead than alive, she had so far chosen the former alternative. On a silver dish the Christmas pudding reposed in its glory. A large football of a pudding, a piece of holly stuck in it like a triumphant flag and glorious flames of blue and red rising round it. There was a cheer and cries of?Ooh-ah.? One thing Mrs Lacey had done: prevailed upon Peverell to place the pudding in front of her so that she could help it rather than hand it in turn round the table. She breathed a sigh of relief as it was deposited safely in front of her. Rapidly the plates were passed round, flames still licking the portions. ?Wish, M. Poirot,? cried Bridget. ?Wish before the flame goes. Quick, Gran darling, quick.? Mrs Lacey leant back with a sigh of satisfaction. Operation Pudding had been a success. In front of everyone was a helping with flames still licking it. There was a momentary silence all round the table as everyone wished hard. There was nobody to notice the rather curious expression on the face of M. Poirot as he surveyed the portion of pudding on his plate.?Don't eat none of the plum pudding.? What on earth did that sinister warning mean? There could be nothing different about his portion of plum pudding from that of everyone else! Sighing as he admitted himself baffled ? and Hercule Poirot never liked to admit himself baffled ? he picked up his spoon and fork. ?Hard sauce, M. Poirot?? Poirot helped himself appreciatively to hard sauce. ?Swiped my best brandy again, eh, Em?? said the colonel good-humouredly from the other end of the table. Mrs Lacey twinkled at him. ?Mrs Ross insists on having the best brandy, dear,? she said. ?She says it makes all the difference.? ?Well, well,? said Colonel Lacey, ?Christmas comes but once a year and Mrs Ross is a great woman. A great woman and a great cook.? ?She is indeed,? said Colin. ?Smashing plum pudding, this. Mmmm.? He filled an appreciative mouth. Gently, almost gingerly, Hercule Poirot attacked his portion of pudding. He ate a mouthful. It was delicious! He ate another. Something tinkled faintly on his plate. He investigated with a fork. Bridget, on his left, came to his aid. ?You've got something, M. Poirot,? she said. ?I wonder what it is.? Poirot detached a little silver object from the surrounding raisins that clung to it. ?Oooh,? said Bridget, ?it's the bachelor's button! M. Poirot's got the bachelor's button!? Hercule Poirot dipped the small silver button into the finger-glass of water that stood by his plate, and washed it clear of pudding crumbs. ?It is very pretty,? he observed. ?That means you're going to be a bachelor, M. Poirot,? explained Colin helpfully. ?That is to be expected,? said Poirot gravely. ?I have been a bachelor for many long years and it is unlikely that I shall change that status now.? ?Oh, never say die,? said Michael. ?I saw in the paper that someone of ninety-five married a girl of twenty-two the other day.? ?You encourage me,? said Hercule Poirot. Colonel Lacey uttered a sudden exclamation. His face became purple and his hand went to his mouth. ?Confound it, Emmeline,? he roared, ?why on earth do you let the cook put glass in the pudding?? ?Glass!? cried Mrs Lacey, astonished. Colonel Lacey withdrew the offending substance from his mouth.?Might have broken a tooth,? he grumbled. ?Or swallowed the damn' thing and had appendicitis.? He dropped the piece of glass into the finger-bowl, rinsed it and held it up. ?God bless my soul,? he ejaculated, ?It's a red stone out of one of the cracker brooches.? He held it aloft. ?You permit?? Very deftly M. Poirot stretched across his neighbour, took it from Colonel Lacey's fingers and examined it attentively. As the squire had said, it was an enormous red stone the colour of a ruby. The light gleamed from its facets as he turned it about. Somewhere around the table a chair was pushed sharply back and then drawn in again. ?Phew!? cried Michael. ?How wizard it would be if it wasreal.? ?Perhaps it is real,? said Bridget hopefully. ?Oh, don't be an ass, Bridget. Why a ruby of that size would be worth thousands and thousands of pounds. Wouldn't it, M. Poirot?? ?It would indeed,? said Poirot. ?But whatI can't understand,? said Mrs Lacey, ?is how it got into the pudding.? ?Oooh,? said Colin, diverted by his last mouthful, ?I've got the pig. It isn't fair.? Bridget chanted immediately,?Colin's got the pig! Colin's got the pig! Colin is the greedy guzzlingpig!? ?I've got the ring,? said Diana in a clear, high voice. ?Good for you, Diana. You'll be married first, of us all.? ?I've got the thimble,? wailed Bridget. ?Bridget's going to be an old maid,? chanted the two boys. ?Yah, Bridget's going to be an old maid.? ?Who's got the money?? demanded David. ?There's a real ten shilling piece, gold, in this pudding. I know. Mrs Ross told me so.? ?I think I'm the lucky one,? said Desmond Lee-Wortley. Colonel Lacey's two next door neighbours heard him mutter,?Yes, you would be.? ?I've got a ring, too,? said David. He looked across at Diana. ?Quite a coincidence, isn't it?? The laughter went on. Nobody noticed that M. Poirot carelessly, as though thinking of something else, had dropped the red stone into his pocket. Mince-pies and Christmas dessert followed the pudding. The older members of the party then retired for a welcome siesta before the tea-time ceremony of the lighting of the Christmas tree. Hercule Poirot, however, did not take a siesta. Instead, he made his way to the enormous old-fashioned kitchen. ?It is permitted,? he asked, looking round and beaming, ?that I congratulate the cook on this marvellous meal that I have just eaten?? There was a moment's pause and then Mrs Ross came forward in a stately manner to meet him. She was a large woman, nobly built with all the dignity of a stage duchess. Two lean grey-haired women were beyond in the scullery washing up and a tow-haired girl was moving to and fro between the scullery and the kitchen. But these were obviously mere myrmidons. Mrs Ross was the queen of the kitchen quarters. ?I am glad to hear you enjoyed it, sir,? she said graciously. ?Enjoyed it!? cried Hercule Poirot. With an extravagant foreign gesture he raised his hand to his lips, kissed it, and wafted the kiss to the ceiling. ?But you are a genius, Mrs Ross! A genius!Never have I tasted such a wonderful meal. The oyster soup?? he made an expressive noise with his lips ?? and the stuffing. The chestnut stuffing in the turkey, that was quite unique in my experience.? ?Well, it's funny that you should say that, sir,? said Mrs Ross graciously. ?It's a very special recipe, that stuffing. It was given me by an Austrian chef that I worked with many years ago. But all the rest,? she added, ?is just good, plain English cooking.? ?And is there anything better?? demanded Hercule Poirot. ?Well, it's nice of you to say so, sir. Of course, you being a foreign gentleman might have preferred the continental style. Not but what I can't manage continental dishes too.? ?I am sure, Mrs Ross, you could manage anything! But you must know that English cooking ?good English cooking, not the cooking one gets in the second-class hotels or the restaurants? is much appreciated bygourmets on the continent, and I believe I am correct in saying that a special expedition was made to London in the early eighteen hundreds, and a report sent back to France of the wonders of the English puddings.?We have nothing like that in France,? they wrote. ?It is worth making a journey to London just to taste the varieties and excellencies of the English puddings.? And above all puddings,? continued Poirot, well launched now on a kind of rhapsody, ?is the Christmas plum pudding, such as we have eaten today. That was a homemade pudding, was it not? Not a bought one?? ?Yes, indeed, sir. Of my own making and my own recipe such as I've made for many, many years. When I came here Mrs Lacey said that she'd ordered a pudding from a London store to save me the trouble. But no, Madam, I said, that may be kind of you but no bought pudding from a store can equal a homemade Christmas one. Mind you,? said Mrs Ross, warming to her subject like the artist she was, ?it was made too soon before the day. A good Christmas pudding should be made some weeks before and allowed to wait. The longer they're kept, within reason, the better they are. I mind now that when I was a child and we went to church every Sunday, we'd start listening for the collect that begins ?Stir up O Lord we beseech thee? because that collect was the signal, as it were, that the puddings should be made that week. And so they always were. We had the collect on the Sunday, and that week sure enough my mother would make the Christmas puddings. And so it should have been here this year. As it was, that pudding was only made three days ago, the day before you arrived, sir. However, I kept to the old custom. Everyone in the house had to come out into the kitchen and have a stir and makea wish. That's an old custom, sir, and I've always held to it.? ?Most interesting,? said Hercule Poirot. ?Most interesting. And so everyone came out into the kitchen?? ?Yes, sir. The young gentlemen, Miss Bridget and the London gentleman who's staying here, and his sister and Mr David and Miss Diana ? Mrs Middleton, I should say ? All had a stir, they did.? ?How many puddings did you make? Is this the only one?? ?No, sir, I made four. Two large ones and two smaller ones. The other large one I planned to serve on New Year's Day and the smaller ones were for Colonel and Mrs Lacey when they're alone like and not so many in the family.? ?I see, I see,? said Poirot. ?As a matter of fact, sir,? said Mrs Lacey, ?it was the wrong pudding you had for lunch today.? ?The wrong pudding?? Poirot frowned. ?How is that?? ?Well, sir, we have a big Christmas mould. A china mould with a pattern of holly and mistletoe on top and we always have the Christmas Day pudding boiled in that. But there was a most unfortunate accident. This morning, when Annie was getting it down from the shelf in the larder, she slipped and dropped it and it broke. Well, sir, naturally I couldn't serve that, could I? There might have been splinters in it. So we had to use the other one ? the New Year's Day one, which was in a plain bowl. It makes a nice round but it's not so decorative as the Christmas mould. Really, where we'll get another mould like that I don't know. They don't make things in that size nowadays. All tiddly bits of things. Why, you can't even buy a breakfast dish that'll take a proper eight to ten eggs and bacon. Ah, things aren't what they were.? ?No, indeed,? said Poirot. ?But today that is not so. This Christmas Day has been like the Christmas Days of old, is that not true?? Mrs Ross sighed.?Well, I'm glad you say so, sir, but of course I haven't thehelp now that I used to have. Not skilled help, that is. The girls nowadays?? she lowered her voice slightly,?? they mean very well and they're very willing but they've not beentrained, sir, if you understand what I mean.? ?Times change, yes,? said Hercule Poirot. ?I too find it sad sometimes.? ?This house, sir,? said Mrs Ross, ?it's too large, you know, for the mistress and the colonel. The mistress, she knows that. Living in a corner of it as they do, it's not the same thing at all. It only comes alive, as you might say, at Christmas time when all the family come.? ?It is the first time, I think, that Mr Lee-Wortley and his sister have been here?? ?Yes, sir.? A note of slight reserve crept into Mrs Ross's voice. ?A very nice gentleman he is but, well ? it seems a funny friend for Miss Sarah to have, according to our ideas. But there ? London ways are different! It's sad that his sister's so poorly. Had an operation, she had. She seemed all right the first day she was here, but that very day, after we'd been stirring the puddings, she was took bad again and she's been in bed ever since. Got up too soon after her operation, I expect. Ah, doctors nowadays, they have you out of hospital before you can hardly stand on your feet. Why, my very own nephew's wife?? And Mrs Ross went into a long and spirited tale of hospital treatment as accorded to her relations, comparing it unfavourably with the consideration that had been lavished upon them in older times. Poirot duly commiserated with her.?It remains,? he said, ?to thank you for this exquisite and sumptuous meal. You permit a little acknowledgement of my appreciation?? A crisp five pound note passed from his hand into that of Mrs Ross who said perfunctorily: ?You really shouldn't dothat, sir.? ?I insist. I insist.? ?Well, it's very kind of you indeed, sir.? Mrs Ross accepted the tribute as no more than her due. ?And I wish you, sir, a very happy Christmas and a prosperous New Year.?V The end of Christmas Day was like the end of most Christmas Days. The tree was lighted, a splendid Christmas cake came in for tea, was greeted with approval but was partaken of only moderately. There was cold supper. Both Poirot and his host and hostess went to bed early. ?Good night, M. Poirot,? said Mrs Lacey. ?I hope you've enjoyed yourself.? ?It has been a wonderful day, Madame, wonderful.? ?You're looking very thoughtful,? said Mrs Lacey. ?It is the English pudding that I consider.? ?You found it a little heavy, perhaps?? asked Mrs Lacey delicately. ?No, no, I do not speak gastronomically. I consider its significance.? ?It's traditional, of course,? said Mrs Lacey. ?Well, good night, M. Poirot, and don't dream too much of Christmas puddings and mince-pies.? ?Yes,? murmured Poirot to himself as he undressed. ?It is a problem certainly, that Christmas plum pudding. There is here something that I do not understand at all.? He shook his head in a vexed manner. ?Well ? we shall see.? After making certain preparations, Poirot went to bed, but not to sleep. It was some two hours later that his patience was rewarded. The door of his bedroom opened very gently. He smiled to himself. It was as he had thought it would be. His mind went back fleetingly to the cup of coffee so politely handed him by Desmond Lee-Wortley. A little later, when Desmond's back was turned, he had laid the cup down for a few moments on a table. He had then apparently picked it up again and Desmond had had the satisfaction, if satisfaction it was, of seeing him drink the coffee to the last drop. But a little smile lifted Poirot's moustache as he reflected that it was not he but someone else who was sleeping a good sound sleep tonight.?That pleasant young David,? said Poirot to himself, ?he is worried, unhappy. It will do him no harm to have a night's really sound sleep. And now, let us see what will happen?? He lay quite still, breathing in an even manner with occasionally a suggestion, but the very faintest suggestion, of a snore. Someone came up to the bed and bent over him. Then, satisfied, that someone turned away and went to the dressing-table. By the light of a tiny torch the visitor was examining Poirot's belongings neatly arranged on top of the dressing-table. Fingers explored the wallet, gently pulled open the drawers of the dressing-table, then extended the search to the pockets of Poirot's clothes. Finally the visitor approached the bed and with great caution slid his hand under the pillow. Withdrawing his hand, he stood for a moment or two as though uncertain what to do next. He walked round the room looking inside ornaments, went into the adjoining bathroom from whence he presently returned. Then, with a faint exclamation of disgust, he went out of the room. ?Ah,? said Poirot, under his breath. ?You have disappointment. Yes, yes, a serious disappointment. Bah! To imagine, even, that Hercule Poirot would hide something where you could find it!? Then, turning over on his other side, he went peacefully to sleep. He was aroused next morning by an urgent soft tapping on his door. ?Qui est l?? Come in, come in.? The door opened. Breathless, red-faced, Colin stood upon the threshold. Behind him stood Michael. ?Monsieur Poirot, Monsieur Poirot.? ?But yes?? Poirot sat up in bed. ?It is the early tea? But no. It is you, Colin. What has occurred?? Colin was, for a moment, speechless. He seemed to be under the grip of some strong emotion. In actual fact it was the sight of the nightcap that Hercule Poirot wore that affected for the moment his organs of speech. Presently he controlled himself and spoke. ?I think ? M. Poirot, could you help us? Something rather awful has happened.? ?Something has happened? But what?? ?It's ? it's Bridget. She's out there in the snow. I think ? she doesn't move or speak and ? oh, you'd better come and look for yourself. I'm terribly afraid ? she may bedead.? ?What?? Poirot cast aside his bed covers. ?Mademoiselle Bridget ? dead!? ?I think ? I think somebody's killed her. There's ? there's blood and ? oh do come!? ?But certainly. But certainly. I come on the instant.? With great practicality Poirot inserted his feet into his outdoor shoes and pulled a fur-lined overcoat over his pyjamas. ?I come,? he said. ?I come on the moment. You have aroused the house?? ?No. No, so far I haven't told anyone but you. I thought it would be better. Grandfather and Gran aren't up yet. They're laying breakfast downstairs, but I didn't say anything to Peverell. She ? Bridget ? she's round the other side of the house, near the terrace and the library window.? ?I see. Lead the way. I will follow.? Turning away to hide his delighted grin, Colin led the way downstairs. They went out through the side door. It was a clear morning with the sun not yet high over the horizon. It was not snowing now, but it had snowed heavily during the night and everywhere around was an unbroken carpet of thick snow. The world looked very pure and white and beautiful. ?There!? said Colin breathlessly. ?I ? it's ?there!? He pointed dramatically. The scene was indeed dramatic enough. A few yards away Bridget lay in the snow. She was wearing scarlet pyjamas and a white wool wrap thrown round her shoulders. The white wool wrap was stained with crimson. Her head was turned aside and hidden by the mass of her outspread black hair. One arm was under her body, the other lay flung out, the fingers clenched, and standing up in the centre of the crimson stain was the hilt of a large curved Kurdish knife which Colonel Lacey had shown to his guests only the evening before. ?Mon Dieu!? ejaculated M. Poirot. ?It is like something on the stage!? There was a faint choking noise from Michael. Colin thrust himself quickly into the breach. ?I know,? he said. ?It ? it doesn't seemreal somehow, does it? Do you see those footprints? I suppose we mustn't disturb them?? ?Ah yes, the footprints. No, we must be careful not to disturb those footprints.? ?That's what I thought,? said Colin. ?That's why I wouldn't let anyone go near her until we got you. I thought you'd know what to do.? ?All the same,? said Hercule Poirot briskly, ?first, we must see if she is still alive? Is not that so?? ?Well ? yes ? of course,? said Michael, a little doubtfully, ?but you see, we thought, I mean, we didn't like ?? ?Ah, you have the prudence! You have read the detective stories. It is most important that nothing should be touched and that the body should be left as it is. But we cannot be sure as yet if itis a body, can we? After all, though prudence is admirable, common humanity comes first. We must think of the doctor, must we not, before we think of the police?? ?Oh yes. Of

Edward Marston, 2024/12/18 - 12:49:48

Edward Marston The Elephants of Norwich Prologue ?Elephants?? she said in astonishment. ?You brought elephants back to England?? ?Yes, my lady. Two of them.? ?Where did you find them?? ?That?s a secret,? said the other with a quiet smile. ?But I thought that you were visiting your estates in Normandy.? ?My search took me further afield.? ?Search?? ?For the two elephants,? he explained. ?When I set my heart on something, I?ll move heaven and earth until I possess it. That?s why I hunted them down with such patience. You?ll not see two such beasts in the entire kingdom. Those elephants will make a perfect wedding gift to my bride.? Richard de Fontenel gave a confident grin. He was a big man in his forties with the build and rugged features of a soldier. Time had thickened his waist, thinned his hair and lent him a florid complexion but he could still be accounted a moderately handsome man. Ten years younger, the lady Adelaide had retained the beauty and poise that made her such a desirable prospect as a wife. The great wealth she had inherited from her late husband only served to intensify desire. ?Nothing has been agreed, my lord,? she reminded him. ?Until today.? ?I?m in no rush to make a decision.? ?Wait until you see the elephants.? ?Why should they make any difference?? ?Because I got them for you, Adelaide.? ?It?s a curious way to court a lady,? she teased. ?Tracking down two monsters in the hope that they may further your suit. To be honest, my lord, I had grave doubts that such things as elephants even existed. I?ve heard the tales, naturally, but I never met anyone who had actually laid eyes on the creatures. Since you have brought two of them to Norfolk, I shall be interested to see them, but I cannot promise that they?ll win me over.? ?Why not?? ?Elephants are, by report, large and dangerous. I?m more likely to be frightened by them than enamoured.? His grin widened.?There?s no chance of that.? ?How can you be so sure?? ?Because I would never dream of doing anything to upset you,? he said with rough courtesy. ?I seek only to delight your senses. That?s why I went to such trouble to secure the elephants for you.? He moved to the door. ?I?ll have them brought in at once.? ?Here?? she gasped, suddenly afraid. ?Are they not tethered and penned?? ?No, my lady. They are tame enough to handle.? Richard de Fontenel opened the door of the parlour and barked an order. When he turned round, he saw that his guest had withdrawn for safety to a corner of the room. Torn between curiosity and apprehension, the lady Adelaide waited in silence. Her host ran covetous eyes over the shapely body beneath the long blue gown. She looked even more entrancing than when he had taken ship for Normandy. Absence had increased his fondness for her and, he suspected, melted away some of her reservations about him. She was finally within his reach. The wedding gift would remove any lingering doubts she might have. There was a tap on the door, then Hermer, the steward, came in with a wooden platter in his hands. Silken cloth covered some objects on the dish. A short, stout individual in his thirties, Hermer had the cautious look of a man who walked in fear of his master. He stood beside de Fontenel. The guest was mystified.?Where are the elephants?? she asked. ?Waiting for you,? said her host, indicating the platter. ?Is this some kind of jest, my lord?? ?Far from it. Lift the cloth and see for yourself.? ?I expected two vast animals.? ?These are not live elephants, my lady.? ?But you led me to believe that they were.? ?I did nothing of the kind,? he said, beckoning her over with a crooked finger. ?I would never offer a fragrant lady like you such foulsmelling pets as a pair of elephants. These creatures are designed to excite and allure.? The lady Adelaide crossed slowly towards him and looked down at the platter. Taking the edge of the cloth between thumb and forefinger, she pulled it tentatively away to reveal two objects that made her gape in wonderment. They were miniature elephants, made from solid gold and standing four inches in height. Affixed to the top of each head was a small crucifix. Richard de Fontenel picked one of the gleaming animals up and handed it to her. She was entranced. Its sheer weight gave her some idea of its value but it was the craftsmanship that really appealed to her and she ran her fingers gently over the smooth contours. Never having seen an elephant in the flesh, she could not tell how accurate a representation the miniature was, but the large head, long trunk and curved tusks held a thrilling novelty for her. And she was not just being offered a piece of treasure. The crucifix gave each object a religious significance. It was impossible not to be touched. She looked up at de Fontenel. ?You brought these back for me, my lord?? she said with gratitude. He gave a nod, took the elephant from her and put it back on the platter. When the two animals were covered once more with the cloth, Hermer went out of the room, but not before he shot a sly glance of admiration at the lady Adelaide. She was sad to see the miniature animals go. The tips of her fingers were still tingling from the touch of the gold. The very sight of the objects had stirred something akin to lust in her, but possession came at a price. ?Well?? said de Fontenel, searching her eyes. ?They?re exquisite, my lord.? ?An exquisite gift for an exquisite lady.? ?That remains to be seen.? ?Did you not like them?? ?I adored them,? she confessed, ?but then you knew that I would.? ?I?m well aware of your tastes,? he said softly. ?I?ve studied them long enough. I seek to please you in every way, Adelaide. Precious as they are, those elephants are only a means to an end that is far more precious to me. I?ve offered you my hand already but I do so again now,? he continued, extending a palm towards her. ?I think that I?m entitled to an answer from you.? ?You?ll get one, my lord,? she said, politely ignoring his hand. ?When?? ?In due course.? ?You?ve been saying that for months.? ?Marriage is not something into which I?ll enter lightly.? ?You were swift enough to wed Geoffrey Molyneux.? ?That was different,? she said with a note of reprimand in her voice. ?I was young and inexperienced in the ways of the world. I was also very much in love with my husband. I still grieve over Geoffrey?s untimely death.? ?So do I, Adelaide,? he assured her. ?So do I.? ?Were he still alive, you could not buy me with a hundred gold elephants.? He feigned indignation.?There is no sense of purchase here, I swear it. No amount of money could attract such a wife. I offer you love and devotion, not riches and finery. You already have those in abundance. What you don?t have ? and what you need ? is a husband who will cherish you.? ?The lord Mauger said the selfsame words.? ?Mauger is a fool!? he retorted. ?He offers me everything that you do, my lord.? ?Including two gold elephants?? ?No,? she conceded. ?He lacks the imagination to find such a gift.? ?That?s not all that he lacks,? said the other, still bristling. ?Let?s put Mauger aside for the moment. He has no place in this discussion. Unless, that is,? he added, arching an inquisitive eyebrow, ?some promise was given during my absence?? ?Not by me, my lord.? ?Mauger has been rejected?? ?Neither rejected nor accepted. I?ve still to make up my mind.? ?Does my wedding gift carry no weight at all?? ?Considerable weight.? ?Then why do you hesitate?? ?Because it?s my privilege to do so.? Bestowing a warm smile on him, she turned away and moved across to gaze out of the window. She pondered. Richard de Fontenel had much to recommend him as a husband. He had wealth, position and power. His manor house was one of the largest in the county, his estates scattered across Norfolk, Suffolk, Lincoln and Essex. In Normandy, too, he had substantial holdings. The lady Adelaide was tempted by his proposal but two things held her back. The first was the fact that her beloved husband, Geoffrey, had been killed in a hunting accident while riding out with de Fontenel and that memory still festered. The second obstacle concerned her host?s relationship with his two previous wives. One had died in childbirth and the other had been carried off by a fever, but it was rumoured that he treated both with a harshness unbecoming in a devoted husband. Richard de Fontenel was a hard man in a world that punished softness. He was ruthless, ambitious and acquisitive. The lady Adelaide?s fear was that she would be one more prize to be added to his collection. Though he was wooing her gently now, his manner might change sharply once she had succumbed. There was the additional problem of providing an heir for a childless husband. That phase of her life, she hoped, was over. Having already brought two children into the world, she did not wish to go through the ordeal again. Her hesitation shaded into reluctance. Watching her carefully, he moved across to stand behind her shoulder.?What are you thinking?? ?How fine your garden is,? she said, pointing at the avenue of trees. ?Fine enough to make you yearn to share it with me?? ?Perhaps, my lord.? ?And perhaps not?? She turned to face him.?It?s not an easy decision.? ?What?s making it so difficult?? ?Memories,? she whispered. ?And the presence of a rival.? ?Mauger is no rival,? he snarled. ?He?s a grasping rogue. While I was away on my travels, he had the temerity to claim land that is rightfully mine. Fortunately, when they compiled their returns for this county, the commissioners did not believe him. Even as we speak, a second team of commissioners is on its way to Norfolk to settle the dispute between us.? He became earnest. ?Settle the more important dispute between us, Adelaide. Mauger is no fit husband for you. Discard him and choose me.? ?Why must I accept either of you?? ?Because it?s my destiny!? There was anger as well as exasperation in his voice. The lady Adelaide was too composed to let her feelings show but he sensed her disapproval. Making an effort to control his temper, he showered her with apologies, then conducted her to a chair. ?You must do as you wish, Adelaide,? he said. ?I intend to, my lord.? ?All I ask is that you hear me out.? ?That?s the least you deserve.? Her smile encouraged him to show his hand more clearly. Richard de Fontenel had admired her from afar for years. He spoke of his continuing affection and of the deep sympathy he felt for her at the tragic death of her husband. Honest about his faults, he was profuse in his vows. The lady Adelaide listened attentively, enjoying the flattery without being taken in by it and making an occasional mention of her other suitor in order to prick him into a response. Courtship was preferable to marriage. While she had two suitors paying their attentions to her, she could play them off against each other in order to secure advantages for herself. Eventually, however, the game would have to end. Richard do Fontenel was persuasive. As the time slipped past, he slowly began to gain ground. He talked so fondly about his previous wives that she disregarded all the rumours she had heard. She even forgot some of the dire warnings her husband had given her about the man who was now bidding to replace him. The lady Adelaide was tempted afresh. When he pleaded with her to marry him, she gave the matter serious thought. ?Let me see them again,? she said at length. ?See what?? ?The two elephants, of course.? His hopes rose.?Then you accept my proposal?? ?Allow me a little more time.? Concealing his disappointment, he gave a nod, then escorted her out of the room. They went down a passageway until they reached a door at the far end. He unhooked the keys from his belt and inserted one into the lock. ?This door is solid oak,? he boasted. ?I like to protect my property.? She was almost flirtatious.?Is this where you would lock me up as well?? ?No, Adelaide. I?d never let you out of my sight.? He opened the door and they stepped into a small room that smelled of damp. Light came in through the cracks in the shutters but the iron bar that held them in place made it impossible to open them from outside. Three large wooden chests took up most of the floor space. Her companion went to a smaller chest that stood on the table. Made of elm, the chest was reinforced with iron bands. He chose a key and offered it to her. ?You open it,? he suggested. ?Shall I?? ?The elephants are yours.? She took the key and pushed it into the lock before giving it a sharp twist. Lifting back the lid, she expected to feast her eyes on the two gold miniatures, but a rude shock awaited her. The chest was completely empty. ?Where are they, my lord?? she asked. ?My steward should have put them back.? ?Who else has a key?? ?Nobody apart from Hermer and myself.? He stepped back into the passageway and roared at the top of his voice. ?Hermer! Hermer, where are you, man!? When repeated yells failed to elicit a response, he went charging off in a fury. The lady Adelaide could hear him calling for his steward and howling at his servants. It was minutes before he appeared. Richard de Fontenel?s face was puce with rage. ?He?s not here,? he said, biting his lip. ?Hermer has gone.? His guest heaved a sigh and looked down at the empty box. ?So have the elephants,? she said. Chapter One Love had finally won the battle against caution. Protracted absences from home made Gervase Bret miss his young wife so much that he eventually decided to take her with him when he next ventured out of Winchester on royal business. Hitherto, he had always persuaded himself that Alys was too delicate to undertake a long journey and that it was wrong to expose her to the potential dangers of travelling through open country. Gervase was also concerned that his wife?s presence would be a distraction, taking his attention away from the important judicial work that he and the other commissioners had to complete in each designated county. Long nights in a lonely bed made such arguments less convincing. Setting aside his reservations, therefore, he invited Alysto join him on the trip to Norfolk and was delighted at the alacrity of her response. Early fears were soon confounded. Though small and slight, she had an innate strength that kept fatigue at bay. No additional periods of rest were necessary on her account. Alys proved herself a competent horsewoman and revelled in the opportunity of leaving her native Hampshire and seeing something of the rest of the country. What was an onerous assignment for her husband was a wonderful adventure to her. After only one day, Gervase realised that he did not, after all, have to watch over her so anxiously. Alys was well able to take care of herself and she was an ideal companion for Ralph Delchard?s wife, Golde, a seasoned traveller with the commissioners. They might come from different backgrounds but the beautiful young Norman lady and the Saxon thegn?s daughter showed a sisterly affection for each other. Gervase was able to relax. The decision to bring his wife was already yielding up more than one bonus. Her value to the expedition had not gone unnoticed by Brother Daniel. ?You are a fortunate man to possess such a wife,? he observed, fondly. ?I know,? said Gervase. ?Anyone can see that you bring each other great joy. Your good lady also helps to cleanse the minds and mouths of the company.? ?In what way, Brother Daniel?? ?Soldiers can be very coarse when they?re alone together. Yet I?ve not heard an offensive word from them since we left Winchester almost a week ago. They?ve been becalmed by our two charming female companions.? ?I?m glad of that.? ?So am I. Obscenity offends me.? ?I?d hate it if Alys were forced to listen to warm words from our escort.? ?She?s subdued them, Master Bret,? said the other with a grin. ?And given them something far more interesting than my tonsure to stare at as we move along.? Gervase was riding beside the Benedictine monk and directly behind Alys and Golde. He was finding Brother Daniel a talkative companion. Brother Simon, their usual scribe, had many virtues but his undisguised fear of the female sex and his hatred of soldierly banter ensured that every journey with the commissioners was an extended ordeal for him. Brother Daniel, by contrast, was a much more worldly man with a twinkle in his eye that suggested he was not unacquainted with physical pleasure before he took the cowl. Devout and learned he might be, but the lean, wiry, sharp-featured monk with the greying circle of hair was a red-blooded human being as well. His gaze was fixed admiringly on the two women in front of him. ?I hope that I?ll not let you down,? he said. ?There?s no question of that, Brother Daniel,? replied Gervase. ?You come with the highest recommendation. I?m sorry that Brother Simon is indisposed but you?ll be an able deputy, I?m sure.? ?Simon instructed me with meticulous care.? ?Did he tell you what to expect?? ?Yes,? said Daniel, turning to him with amusement. ?But I?ve so far encountered none of the things I was warned about. Simon spoke well of you, Master Bret, though he was less complimentary about the lord Ralph.? ?Only because Ralph enjoyed poking fun at him.? ?I take such teasing in my stride. It?s always good-humoured.? ?What else did Brother Simon say?? Daniel was discreet.?Enough to show that he didn?t appreciate the privilege he was being given. I do appreciate it, Master Bret. Very much.? ?Let?s see if you still feel that way at the end of our visit.? ?I?ve no doubts at all on that score.? He returned to his contemplation of the two graceful figures in front of him. They were eighteen in number, wending their way at a steady trot through the Norfolk countryside. Six knights from Ralph Delchard?s own retinue provided half of the escort, the remainder belonging to the new commissioner, Eustace Coureton. Like their men, Ralph and Coureton wore helm and hauberk and carried weapons. Gervase, too, though wearing the attire of a Chancery clerk, had a sword in his scabbard and a dagger at hisbelt. Such a show of force was necessary on a journey that took them through six separate counties. Outlaws would think twice about trying to ambush such a well-defended group of travellers. Alert and disciplined, the soldiers rode in pairs. Sumpter horses followed on lead reins at the rear of the column. Leading the cavalcade were Ralph Delchard and Eustace Coureton. Ralph had been pleased when his habitual colleague, Canon Hubert, was replaced by a veteran soldier, but Coureton was not turning out to be the hardy warrior he had anticipated. A solid man of medium height, the newcomer had a vigour that was surprising in someone who was approaching his sixtieth year. He also had a scholarly turn of mind. Instead of wanting to discuss the finer points of military strategy or past battles in which he had fought, Coureton preferred to enthuse about Greek and Roman authors whose work he was reading in their original language. Ralph liked him immensely but was quite unable to follow his colleague through the thickets of Classical literature. ?My favourite author is Horace,? Coureton observed. ?Who?? ?Quintus Horatius Flaccus.? ?Another noble Roman?? said Ralph without enthusiasm. ?A poet and a satirist.? ?The only Romans I know are soldiers.? ?Oh, Horace did his share of fighting,? explained the other. ?When Julius Caesar was assassinated, Brutus fled to Greece. Horace joined his army and fought at the battle of Philippi. Unfortunately, he chose the losing side. Horace had to obtain a pardon before he was allowed to return to Rome.? ?I?ve never been on the losing side,? said Ralph, proudly. ?Then you?re too young to have borne arms when King William was merely the Duke of Normandy. They were desperate days, my lord. Feuds broke out from time to time in every part of the duchy. Unlicensed castles were built all over the place. Fighting never ceased. None of us won all the skirmishes in which we were forced to take part.? He gave a shrug. ?Perhaps it?s just as well.? ?What do you mean?? ?Too much success can lead an overweening arrogance. Failure in battle tempers a man?s character. It did so in my case. I learned the value of humility.? Ralph laughed.?Humility is only fit for monks.? ?Monks and beaten armies.? ?Victory sharpens the edge of ambition.? ?That?s why I came to distrust it.? ?Would you rather we had lost at Hastings?? ?Of course not.? ?Then why not enjoy the spoils of war?? ?Because war is not always something that we should enjoy.? They argued happily for a couple of miles. Ralph then lifted an arm to call a halt so that they could have a rest, water the horses and see to the wants of nature. The place he had chosen met all three needs. A fallen tree offered seating to the women while verdant grass welcomed the rest of them. Water rippled invitingly in a twisting stream and the nearby copse supplied enough privacy for those wishing to relieve themselves. Everyone was grateful for the break in the journey. It was a warm day and the sun kept peeping through a veil of wispy white cloud to test its strength on them. Soldiers in heavy mail shirts were eager to dismount and find some shade. Horses whinnied in approval. Ralph helped his wife down from her palfrey and escorted her across to the fallen tree. Gervase was equally attentive to Alys, taking her by the waist to swing her gently to the ground. She gave him a dazzling smile of thanks. ?I?m enjoying this so much, Gervase,? she said. ?You?re not bored, my love?? ?How can I be when there is so much to see and so many things to talk about with Golde? She really is the perfect travelling companion.? He pretended to be hurt.?What about me?? ?You?re perfect in other ways.? ?I?m relieved to hear it.? ?Where are we?? she asked, moving across to sit beside Golde. ?I?m not sure,? he replied. ?But it can?t be more than ten miles to Norwich.? ?That?s my reckoning as well,? agreed Ralph. ?What sort of a town is it?? ?Who knows, Gervase? I?ve never been there. And if it were left to me, I?d not be going anywhere near the place now. Norwich holds no appeal for me.? ?It will, my lord,? promised Coureton. ?You?ve visited the place?? ?Once or twice. I was impressed and saddened at the same time.? ?Saddened?? ?War has been unkind to it.? Ralph was wary.?Are you going to lecture me again about the defects of victory?? ?Only if you?re prepared to listen,? said Coureton with a chuckle. ?Removing his helm, he settled down on the grass and explained his remark about Norwich. Though it was ten years since he last visited the city, it remained a vivid memory. He talked with affection and regret, holding their interest and sparking off a flurry of questions. The two women wanted to know about the castle where they would be staying, Brother Daniel enquired about the spiritual life of the community and Gervase asked about the trade in the area. Ralph?s attention soon wandered. It was not from lack of curiosity. He was as eager as any of them to learn something of the city, butanother development took priority. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement in the bushes and let a hand drift at once to his sword. Having drunk their fill in the stream, the horses had been tethered nearby. To give the animals a rest, packs and leather satchels had been removed from the backs of the sumpters who now grazed contentedly. What alerted Ralph was the sight of a hand reaching out slowly from behind a bush to grab one of the satchels and drag it away. Hauling himself up, Ralph drew his sword and gave a signal to his men. Three of them immediately leaped to their feet to support him as he strode quickly towards the bushes. The rest of the escort also got up and drew their weapons. Coureton broke off his narrative and Gervase, fearing an attack, got up to stand protectively in front of the two women. There was, however, no danger. When Ralph and his men plunged into the undergrowth, they met with no opposition. All they saw was a bedraggled figure limping off into the copse with the satchel under his arm. Even in their hauberks, the soldiers had no difficulty in overhauling the man. He was old, grizzled and close to exhaustion. Tripping over the exposed roots of a tree, he fell full length and let out a cry of pain. Ralph turned him over with a foot and held a swordpoint at his throat. ?Where do you think you?re going?? he demanded. ?Spare me, my lord!? pleaded the other. ?Why should I spare a thief?? ?I was only after food.? ?You and who else?? said Ralph, eyes combing the trees around them. ?Nobody else, my lord.? ?Are you sure?? ?I swear it.? Ralph nodded to his men and they fanned out to search the copse. Eustace Coureton joined Ralph to see what quarry he had run down. The man at their feet was a pitiful sight, cadaverous, hollow-eyed and caked in filth. His tunic was badly torn, his gartered trousers ripped in several places to expose skeletal legs. He was trembling violently, fearing for his life and wondering how a Norman lord could speak his language so fluently. Coureton looked down with sympathy at the bearded captive. ?Is this all you found?? he said. ?He stole one of our satchels,? explained Ralph, reclaiming it from the ground. ?The rogue claims that he was only searching for food.? ?Then I?d say he was telling the truth, my lord. I?d also suggest that you take your weapon from his neck or he?ll die of fright. Let him be. He?s hardly likely to outrun mounted pursuit, and he?s not armed.? Ralph relented and sheathed his sword. The remainder of the escort was now picking its way through the copse, searching in vain for any confederates. The old man was patently alone. Golde had instructed her husband well. His mastery of the Saxon tongue enabled him to speak to the captive on his own terms. ?What?s your name?? he said. ?Alstan, my lord.? ?Where are you from?? ?Taverham hundred.? ?What are you doing here?? ?I was driven out,? whimpered the other. ?When King Edward sat on the throne, I was a villein and happy to work the land for my master. Times have changed. Under the new king, I became a mere bordar, then my master treated me as a slave. When I tried to protest, he had me whipped and driven out.? ?Whipped?? ?Yes, my lord. I still bear the scars.? Alstan struggled up into a kneeling position so that he could peel off his tunic. When he turned his bare back to them, they saw the livid wounds across the pale torso. It was surprising that the old man had survived the punishment. Coureton was shocked and Ralph felt a surge of sympathy. ?We?ll give you food, then you can tell us the full story.? ?Thank you, my lord,? said Alstan, weeping with gratitude. ?That doesn?t mean I condone theft,? warned Ralph. ?On the other hand, I don?t condone savage punishment such as you?ve endured. Taverham hundred, you say?? ?Yes, my lord.? ?Who is this cruel master of yours?? ?The lord Richard.? ?Richard de Fontenel?? ?He drove me out to starve in the wilderness.? ?For what offence?? ?Old age.? ?Do something!? insisted Richard de Fontenel. ?Summon your men and do something!? ?My deputy is already looking into the matter.? ?I don?t want a mere deputy. I want the sheriff himself in charge of the case.? ?I have more important things to do than to go searching for missing trinkets.? ?Trinkets!? ?And you?ll not endear yourself to my deputy by insulting him. Why not calm down, Richard? Nothing will be gained by trying to browbeat me.? De Fontenel held back a tart rejoinder. Roger Bigot, sheriff of Norfolk, was not a man to be intimidated by a loud voice and a threatening manner. While his visitor ranted at him, he remained icily calm. Bigot was a power in the land, a man who had the King?s trust and a place at his Council table. Constable of the castle, he had recently been elevated to the shrievalty of Norfolk and of its southern neighbour, Suffolk, two large counties with a healthy respect for the name and reputation of Roger Bigot. He was a tall, slim man of middle years witha sagacity and imperturbability rare in a soldier. When de Fontenel came riding angrily into the castle to harangue him, he was given short shrift. ?Return home,? advised Bigot. ?Let justice take its course.? ?How can it when you stand idle here, my lord sheriff?? ?I?m never idle, Richard. In addition to affairs of state that require my attention, I have to welcome the commissioners who?ll soon arrive in Norwich.? ?Not before time!? grumbled the other. ?They can oust Mauger from my land.? Bigot was amused.?Mauger is hoping that they?ll shift you from what he claims is his property. Don?t expect too much from the commissioners. They?ll be quite impartial.? ?In that case, I?m bound to win.? ?Mauger feels the same.? ?I don?t care what he feels. Mauger is a sly rogue. An unscrupulous cheat.? They were standing in the bailey of the castle, a timber fortress that had been erected soon after the Conquest to attest Norman supremacy and to act as a bulwark against any Danish incursions along the eastern seaboard. The conversation between the two men could be clearly heard by the guards on the battlements. Richard de Fontenel was not a man to lower his voice in a public arena. ?I?d not put it past him to be involved here,? he declared. ?Mauger?? ?The crime has his mark upon it.? ?You told me that the gold elephants were stolen by your steward.? ?They were. Hermer made off with them.? ?Then how does Mauger come into it?? ?Hermer was acting at his behest,? decided the other. ?He must have been. My steward gave me very loyal service for years. Only someone like Mauger could corrupt him and turn him against me.? ?Are you quite sure that your steward was the thief?? ?Completely, my lord sheriff.? ?How can you be so certain?? ?Apart from myself, he was the only person with a key to the chest in which they were locked. Nobody else could even have got into the room where my valuables are stored. Or, indeed, into my house. Besides, the man has vanished into thin air. The facts are irrefutable. It has to be Hermer.? ?I doubt very much that he was in league with the lord Mauger.? ?Why?? ?What motive could he have to instigate the theft of those elephants?? ?Spite, my lord sheriff.? ?Concerning this property dispute?? ?And property of a different nature.? ?Ah,? said Bigot with a knowing smile. ?I begin to understand.? ?The gold elephants were to be a wedding gift.? ?The lady Adelaide has accepted you, then?? ?Unhappily, no. But she will,? added de Fontenel, defensively. ?The lady Adelaide was enchanted by my gift. Once those elephants are back in my possession, she?ll not be able to refuse me. That?s why they must be found immediately.? ?My deputy will do his best, Richard.? ?Order him to arrest Mauger.? ?On what evidence?? ?Search his house. I?ll wager that you find the stolen property there.? ?A foolish wager,? argued Bigot. ?Even if those gold elephants were taken on Mauger?s instructions ? and I refuse to countenance that notion ? he would never be stupid enough to conceal them in his own home where they might be found by a search. As you know better than anyone, Mauger isas cunning as a fox. My advice is to forget him altogether, Richard. He has no place at all in this investigation.? ?But he has. He?s trying to lure the lady Adelaide away from me.? ?That?s a personal matter between the two of you. What concerns me is the crime that?s been committed. If your steward is responsible for the theft, you should be looking at yourself rather than at the lord Mauger.? ?At myself?? ?Yes.? ?Why?? ?You said a moment ago that Hermer was very loyal to you.? ?He was, my lord sheriff. Unswervingly so.? ?Then what happened to undermine that loyalty?? ?Nothing at all.? ?Nothing?? said Bigot levelly. ?Be honest with yourself, Richard. You?re a hard man with a rough edge to your tongue. You like your own way and you make sure that you get it, no matter how many toes you may have to trample on in the process. What did you do or say to upset your steward?? He looked his visitor in the eye. ?Has it never occurred to you that you may actually have provoked this crime?? The last few miles began to tell on the travellers. Weary from so much time in the saddle, they were finding the heat more oppressive and the terrain less diverting. When their destination finally came within sight, they heaved a collective sigh of relief. Gervase Bret was riding beside his wife, who was bearing up bravely. ?Take heart, Alys,? he said. ?We?re almost there.? ?Good.? ?I?m sorry that the journey has been so tiring.? ?I was enjoying the ride until we met that poor man. He was all skin and bone.? ?At least we were able to give him one good meal today.? ?It was distressing to see someone in that terrible state,? she said. ?Did I hear Ralph tell you that he?d been turned out to fend for himself?? ?Yes, my love.? ?What kind of master could be so cruel?? Gervase did not answer. The name of Richard de Fontenel was already known to him because the man was involved in one of the property disputes they had come to settle. Alys was upset enough already. Her husband did not wish to alarm her by telling her that he would soon be locking horns with the very Norman lord who had treated the old man so callously. Gervase had promised himself to keep his work and his domestic life rigidly apart. His wife would hear nothing of his deliberations with his colleagues. He glanced across at her and was disturbed by what he saw.?Are you unwell?? he said with concern. ?No, Gervase.? ?But you look pale.? ?This heat is bothering me.? ?Do you wish to stop for another rest?? ?I can hold out until we reach the castle.? ?It?s not very far to go.? ?I long for a cool drink and a place in the shade.? Gervase reached out a consoling hand.?You?ll have both very soon.? ?Thank you.? ?I hope that you don?t regret coming with us.? ?No,? she said, rallying slightly. ?For the most part, it?s been very exciting. I am simply in need of a long rest now. I shall sleep very soundly tonight.? ?So will we all.? The closer they got to Norwich, the more able they were to appreciate its size and character. It was the principal town in one of the most populous counties in the entire kingdom. The soil was rich, the harvest plentiful and the rivers stocked with fish. Larger boats ventured out to sea in search of even bigger catches. Extensive deposits of salt supported a flourishing trade and there were dozens of other occupations in what was the fourth largest county in England. Much of the country was plagued with drought that summer, but Norfolk seemed to have suffered less from its effects than some of the other areas through which they had travelled. Sheep and cows grazed in the fields. Pigs could be heard in patches of woodland. There was an abiding sense of contentment. It disappeared the moment they rode into Norwich. Eustace Coureton?s description of the place was accurate. It bore the scars of war as blatantly as Alstan bore the mementoes of his whipping. Almost ninety buildings had been destroyed to make way for the castle, creating a huge hole in the fabric of the city. Of those that remained, the best part of two hundredhouses were unoccupied, abandoned by owners who had fled for a variety of reasons. The streets were full and the market was busy, but there was no zest about Norwich. Its indigenous population had yet fully to accept that it was now under Norman control. When Ralph Delchard led his party towards the castle, they gathered the usual mixture of hostile stares and muttered resentment. Riding beside her husband, Golde was grateful for their safe arrival.?The journey didn?t take as long as I?d feared,? she said. Ralph grimaced.?The best road in Norfolk is the one that takes us out of it.? ?Aren?t you looking forward to our stay here?? ?No, Golde. I?d rather be at home with my lovely wife.? ?Travel adds body to a marriage.? ?You sound like the brewer you once were,? he remarked with a grin. ?What did you add to your ale to give it some sparkle?? ?That?s a closely guarded secret.? ?Even from your loving husband?? ?Especially from you, Ralph,? she pointed out. ?When you were in Hereford, you refused to touch my ale. You?re a true Norman. Wine is all that you?ll drink.? ?I?m glad you mention Hereford, my love.? ?Why is that?? ?Do you recall your ill-fated earl?? ?Of course.? ?Well, this is where he sacrificed his earldom,? said Ralph, pointing to the castle ahead of them. ?My namesake, Ralph Guader, was earl of Norfolk, a man of mixed parentage and uncertain temper. He decided to marry Emma, sister of Roger, earl of Hereford.? ?You don?t need to remind me of that. It was the talk of the town. We could not understand why the wedding was not held in Hereford cathedral. Had the ceremony occurred there, I might have been engaged to provide ale for the table. Not all the guests were as fond of wine as you are.? ?It was not only drink that flowed at the wedding, Golde. Blood was up and passions ran high. The noble earl of Hereford conspired with Ralph Guader and with Waltheof, earl of Northumberland, to overthrow the King with the help of Danish invaders. A doomed enterprise from the start,? he said with contempt. ?It robbed Waltheof of his life and both Norfolk and Herefordshire of an earldom. This is where the plot was first hatched. Norwich has much to answer for.? ?That was well over ten years ago, Ralph.? ?You still see the effects, my love. Look around you. Much of the destruction here came as a result of Earl Ralph?s forfeitures. His supporters quit the city in fear. Houses that were not burned to the ground still stand empty.? Golde gazed around her.?I?d certainly prefer to live in Hereford.? ?Are you not happy in our home?? ?On the few occasions when we actually spend time there,? she said with a teasing smile. ?But at this moment, after a long day in the saddle, I have to confess that I am delighted to be here in Norwich.? ?So am I.? ?What kind of welcome may we expect?? ?A cordial one, I hope.? No sooner had he spoken than a man came riding out of the castle at a reckless speed, heedless of what lay ahead and jabbing his spurs hard into his horse?s flanks. Richard de Fontenel was in no mood to bid the commissioners welcome. Face dark and teeth gritted, he rode straight at the cavalcade, scattering it uncaringly as he headed for the city gate. Ralph had grabbed the reins of Golde?s palfrey to pull it out of the way of the galloping stranger who missed others in the party by a matter of inches and went hurtling on to send the townspeople scurrying for safety. There was great commotion in his wake. Everyone turned to look in bewilderment after the furious rider. It was left to Ralph Delchard to put their thoughts into words. ?Who the devil was that! ? he exclaimed. Chapter Two Mauger Livarot arrived at her manor house with an escort of six knights. When he was admitted to the parlour, the lady Adelaide could not resist teasing him. ?Have you come to arrest me, my lord?? she said, feigning apprehension. ?In a manner of speaking.? ?Does it take seven men to overpower one woman?? ?We?ve been hunting,? he explained, indicating the mounted riders who could be seen through the open shutters. ?Since our way home led directly past your house, I felt it only courteous to call on you.? ?You are always welcome here.? ?More welcome than Richard de Fontenel?? Her smile was calculated.?Both of you are equally welcome.? ?How long will you keep us on the same footing?? ?Only time will tell.? ?You?re as evasive as ever, my lady.? ?Would you be interested in a woman who submitted without any delay?? Livarot grinned.?There?s only one woman who excites my interest.? She waved him to a seat, then lowered herself on to an oak bench with her back straight and her hands folded in her lap. His gaze never left her. A tall, thin, angular man with a long face that tapered down to a pointed chin, he was now in his late forties, the once attractive features ravaged by a life of excess. The lady Adelaide would never have chosen him as a husband on the strength of his appearance. It was his other assets that appealed to her. Livarot was a wealthy man with estates in England and Normandy. He was also a skilful politician, employed by the King on occasional diplomatic missions abroad and, it was rumoured, destined for high office in the fullness of time. His bride might find that she had wed a future sheriff. ?I hear that the lord Richard is having domestic problems,? he said, complacently. ?You have keen ears, my lord.? ?Little that happens in Norwich escapes me.? ?Then you?ll know the circumstances in which the robbery took place.? ?I can guess at them.? ?Go on.? ?Richard de Fontenel acquired some costly gifts in the hope that they might make you look more favourably upon his ugly visage. Exactly what they were I don?t know, but they seem to have disappeared.? Another grin surfaced. ?I must confess that I regard the theft as an act of God.? ?Can crime ever be providential?? ?This one is.? ?Evil can surely never come out of good.? ?To steal from such a confirmed thief as the lord Richard is not exactly an evil act. He?s spent the last twenty years grabbing land at will from those too weak to defend themselves. The loss of a little gold is small retribution for his misappropriations.? ?They were elephants, my lord.? ?Elephants?? ?Fashioned out of gold. Objects of great beauty.? ?He?ll need more than two elephants to plead his case.? ?They were powerful advocates,? she admitted. ?I coveted them.? ?Then I?ll have something similar made for you.? ?Why bother when the originals may soon be recovered?? ?Whatever he offers you,? said Livarot, jealousy flickering, ?I?ll match. Remember that, my lady. There?s no gift that the lord Richard can dangle in front of you that I?ll not give you as well. Simply name it and it?s yours.? ?There?s nothing I want.? ?You wanted those gold elephants.? ?I was tempted by them,? she corrected, ?but the animals did not, alas, come alone. They bore the lord Richard on their backs. His gift was conditional upon my accepting his hand in marriage.? ?That would be a disaster for you.? ?Not necessarily.? ?Look at his reputation,? he urged, leaning forward to gesticulate. The man is a household tyrant. He?s already buried two wives and their deaths were a blessed release from a bullying husband. Do you wish to be his third victim?? ?You?ve been married yourself,? she noted, bluntly, ?and that union was scarcely an example of wedded bliss.? Livarot was stung.?My wife and I were reasonably happy together.? ?Reasonably?? ?We had no more unhappiness than most marriages.? ?Then why did she try to flee back to Normandy?? ?She didn?t, my lady,? he retorted, smarting at the accusation. ?That was a wicked lie put about by the lord Richard. Judith was a good wife to me and bore two fine sons. But she could never settle in England. Judith missed her parents sorely. That was why she longed to return to Normandy.? He sat back with a sigh. ?Her death came as a great shock to me. I mourn her still.? ?I didn?t mean to offend you,? she said, adopting a more conciliatory tone. ?Only those involved in a marriage know its true nature. But I must warn you that you?ll not win my hand by speaking ill of the lord Richard. He is just as harsh in his judgement of you and it does him no good. Ifyou must woo me, do so by telling me about your own virtues and not about the supposed vices of others.? ?The lord Richard?s vices are established fact.? ?I?m already aware of them.? Mauger Livarot pursed his lips to hold in any further comment. Taking a deep breath, he spread his hands in a gesture of apology. The lady Adelaide was right. He would make more headway by emphasising the positive aspects of his own character than by listing the negative attributes of his rival. Long before his wife died, the marriage had crumbled, not least because of his repeated infidelity and his long absences abroad. Though there were mercenary instincts involved as well, he saw a union with the lady Adelaide as a means of atoning for the mistakes of his first marriage. She would be altogether more outspoken and self-possessed than her predecessor. As he now reminded himself once again, she was also considerably more beautiful and gracious. Infidelity would no longer be a factor. ?I offer everything that I have, my lady,? he said. ?And everything that I am.? She was direct.?I?d look for more honesty than you?ve so far shown.? ?Honesty?? ?Yes, my lord,? she continued, pointing towards the window. ?You claim that you?re on your way home from a day?s hunting yet none of your men have any carcasses with them. You travel empty-handed. Was it such a poor day in the forest or am I the only prey you seek?? ?You?re no prey,? he assured her. ?Then why invent this tale about hunting?? ?It was no invention. The truth is that we hunted this morning. I thought it a pretty excuse to gain admission to your home. Forgive me, Adelaide. It was a small deception.? ?Small deceptions hold the seeds of larger ones.? ?You?ll have no cause to doubt my honesty.? ?None at all?? ?You have my word on it,? he said, rising to his feet. ?Put me to the test.? ?I will,? she replied, watching him closely. ?When you first arrived, you said that you?d heard about the theft from the lord Richard?s house but you didn?t know exactly what was taken. A little later, you mentioned that gold had been stolen and, when I told you about the elephants, youknew that they were two in number. How?? Mauger Livarot weighed his words carefully before replying.?If you want a straight answer, my lady, you shall have one.? ?I?d appreciate that.? ?My steward?s name is Drogo,? he said airily. ?He?s a resourceful man who acts as my eyes and ears. Drogo has a friend who?s employed in the household of Richard de Fontenel. By that means, I get to know almost everything that occurs under his roof. In short,? he added with a smirk, ?I follow the rules of combat.? ?Combat?? ?I keep a spy in the enemy camp.? ?Oh,? she said with astonishment. ?I see.? ?You did ask for honesty.? Ralph Delchard was impressed with the way that they were received. Everything was in readiness. As soon as they entered the castle, the sheriff himself greeted them. Servants were on hand to conduct the guests to their respective apartments while their escort was taken to lodgings in the bailey by one of the guards. When his wife was safely bestowed in their chamber, Ralph went off to speak at more length to their host. Gervase Bret joined the two men in the hall. ?A fine castle,? observed Ralph. ?Well-sited and heavily fortified.? ?Yes,? replied Bigot. ?Of necessity we keep our defences in good repair. Raiding parties have a habit of sailing up the River Yare. In time, of course, we?ll replace the timber with stone and make Norwich Castle into an even more impregnable fortress.? ?There?s safety enough inside your walls, my lord sheriff,? said Gervase. ?The danger we encountered was on your threshold.? ?Danger?? ?Some madman tried to run us down with his horse.? ?Yes,? Ralph affirmed. ?Had we not moved out of the way, we?d have been knocked from our saddles. He came riding hell-for-leather out of the castle as if the hounds of Hades were on his tail. I?ll tell you this, my lord sheriff. But for the fact that I had ladies to protect, I?d have been on his tail as well. And I wouldn?t have stopped until I?d caught up with the rogue and taught him some manners.? ?That lesson would have been long overdue,? said Bigot, ruefully. ?Who was the fellow?? ?Richard de Fontenel.? ?No wonder he didn?t wait to be introduced.? ?What do you mean?? ?We had already heard about his lack of courtesy,? said Ralph, hands on hips. ?On our way here, we met an old man who?d been a bordar on one of the lord Richard?s estates in Taverham hundred. When he was reduced to the status of a slave, the old man made the mistake of complaining to his master. The lord Richard not only turned him out of house and home, he had the poor devil whipped until he was half dead.? Bigot rolled his eyes.?That sounds like Richard de Fontenel.? ?We offered to bring the man to Norwich,? explained Gervase, ?so that we could intercede on his behalf. But he was too terrified to come anywhere near the lord Richard. So we gave him food and directed him to a church we?d passed earlier. The priest will take him in and show him a kindness he never got from his master.? ?Kindness is not one of the lord Richard?s virtues.? ?Does he have any virtues?? wondered Ralph. ?You might well ask.? ?I will, my lord sheriff. He?s due to come before us in a property dispute. I?ll tax him with his rudeness and beat an apology out of him. He had no cause to scatter us all over the street like that.? ?The lord Richard will claim that he did,? said Bigot, wearily. ?What?s more, he?ll point an accusing finger at me.? ?At you?? ?Yes, my lord. A robbery occurred at his home. Something of great value was taken. When the crime was reported, I ordered my deputy to investigate but that only served to enrage the lord Richard. He accosted me here and demanded that I abandon all my other commitments to take charge of the inquiry myself. When I refused, my angry visitor leaped on his horse and galloped out of here. I?m sorry that you met him at such a bad time.? ?I?m sorry that we met him at all,? said Ralph. ?What was stolen from his house?? asked Gervase. ?Two elephants.? ?Elephants? Here in Norwich?? ?They were not live animals, Master Bret, but gold miniatures.? He gave them a full account of the crime and explained its significance. Ralph had no sympathy for the victim, hoping that the theft would at least rescue the lady Adelaide from the fate of marrying him. Gervase?s ears pricked up at the mention of another person. ?The lord Mauger is a suspect?? ?Not in my estimation,? said the sheriff. ?But he and the lord Richard are arch-enemies so he takes the blame for everything that upsets his rival. The truth of the matter is that each man is as bad as the other.? ?Which one will the lady Adelaide choose as a husband?? said Ralph. ?Neither, if she has any sense.? ?And does she?? ?Oh, yes. She?s a redoubtable woman.? ?Then why does she let them court her?? ?You?ll have to ask her that, my lord,? said Bigot with a note of sadness. ?Geoffrey Molyneux was her first husband, as decent and upright a man as you could wish to meet. Compared with him, her two suitors are arrant rogues.? ?Rich ones, however,? commented Gervase. ?I went through the returns for this county with great interest. The names of Richard de Fontenel and Mauger Livarot crop up time and again. They have substantial holdings.? Talk turned to the work that had brought the commissioners to Norwich. Roger Bigot could not have been more helpful. He gave them friendly advice and told them of arrangements he had already made on their behalf. Ralph and Gervase were grateful. Other sheriffs had been more grudging in their hospitality, trying to hurry their guests on their way and resenting what they saw as interference. Bigot seemed genuinely interested in the disputes that had come to light during the visit of the earlier commissioners. Unlike most people, he did not view the Great Survey as an odious imposition. ?It helps to clarify the situation,? he decided. Ralph chuckled.?That?s a polite way to describe it, my lord sheriff,? he said. ?Most people call it the Domesday Book, for it represents a Day of Judgement. Our job is to lift stones so that the truth can crawl out into the sunlight. I?m afraid that there?ll be a lot of stones to lift in the county ofNorfolk. And I?m not only referring to men like Richard de Fontenel and Mauger Livarot.? ?No,? said Gervase, taking a signal from Ralph. ?The Church?s hands are not entirely clean in this county. Bishop Alymer set a bad example. When he succeeded his brother, Stigand, he seized manors such as Thornage, Hindringham, Hindolveston, North Elmham and Helmington in addition to outliers like Colkirk and Egmere. Other prelates followed suit with a vengeance.? Gervase rattled off a score of misappropriations and left the sheriff gaping in admiration at his mastery of detail. He had already been struck by Ralph?s air of authority. It was the lawyer?s turn to impress him now. Bigot could see that the two men would make a formidable team when they sat in judgement. ?What manner of man is your colleague?? he asked. ?Eustace Coureton will make a fine commissioner,? said Ralph. ?He?s a shrewd man who?ll show neither fear nor favour. All we have to do is to ensure that he?s not allowed to quote Greek and Latin authors at us.? ?Is he a scholar, then?? ?His only fault.? ?I see it more as a strength,? argued Gervase. ?You would.? ?A Classical education is a source of joy.? ?Not for the person on the receiving end of it, Gervase. For several miles, I had Eustace riding beside me. It was purgatory. How would you like to have someone called Horace poured relentlessly into your ears?? ?I?d love it, Ralph.? ?Well, it gave me a headache.? ? Vos exemplaria Graeca, nocturna versate manu, versate diurna. ? ?Now you?re doing it!? wailed Ralph. ?Horace gives sage counsel.? ?What?s the translation?? asked Bigot. ?My Latin is a trifle rusty.? ?Our colleague, Eustace Coureton, has been doing what Horace urges. ?For your own good, turn to the pages of your Greek exemplars by night and by day.? Do you hear that, Ralph?? ?I hear it and I ignore it,? said the other. ?Keep your Greeks and your Romans. I?ll do my duty by day and turn to my wife at night.? ?We must agree to differ. Concordia discors. ? Ralph waved an arm in protest.?He?s at it again!? ?Even I can translate that,? said Bigot. ?It means ?harmony in discord?. Correct?? Gervase nodded.?Yes, my lord sheriff.? ?You provide the harmony and the lord Ralph supplies the discord.? All three of them shared a laugh. The commissioners warmed to their host. He treated them as welcome guests rather than interlopers. It boded well for their stay. Roger Bigot became serious.?Will you hear the cases in strict order?? ?Yes,? said Ralph. ?Gervase has devised the plan. Minor cases will be dealt with first before we move on to more complicated disputes like the one involving that surly horseman, Richard de Fontenel.? ?Couldn?t you deal with him and the lord Mauger first?? ?For what reason?? ?It would get him off our back while we investigate this robbery. My deputy will be able to work more effectively if the lord Richard is entombed in the shire hall with you for a few days.? Ralph pondered.?We?ll consider that possibility,? he said at length. ?Thank you. Meanwhile, you might consider something else.? ?What?s that?? ?An invitation to the banquet we?re giving in your honour this evening.? ?That?s very kind of you, my lord sheriff,? said Gervase. Ralph was circumspect.?I take it that the lord Richard will not be there?? ?No, my lord.? ?Then we accept with gratitude.? When Golde called to see her in her chamber, Alys was just waking up from a short sleep. She rubbed her eyes with a white knuckle. Her visitor was contrite.?Did I wake you, Alys? I?m so sorry.? ?I didn?t mean to doze off.? ?The long ride tired us all. To be honest, I had a nap myself.? ?Gervase left me alone in here so that I could rest,? said Alys. ?The bed was too tempting to resist. I only intended to lie on it for a while.? ?It looks to me as if you needed the sleep,? said Golde, studying her friend?s puckered features. ?You?re pale and drawn, Alys. Do you feel unwell?? ?No, no. I?m in good health.? ?Perhaps you?d like a longer sleep?? ?Not at all,? said the other, detaining Golde with an outstretched hand when the latter moved to the door. ?Don?t leave me. I?d value some company.? ?You?ll have plenty of that this evening.? ?Will I?? ?Gervase hasn?t told you, obviously.? ?Told me what?? ?We?re bidden to a feast. The lord sheriff and his wife have prepared a banquet for us and invited a number of guests they wish us to meet. Ralph is delighted. We?ve not always had such warm hospitality on our travels.? ?That?s what Gervase told me.? ?You chose the right part of the country to visit.? Alys forced a smile.?So it seems.? ?Put the rigours of the journey behind you,? advised Golde. ?We?ll not have to take refreshment in open country any more. You?ll be going to a banquet on your husband?s arm this evening.? ?I look forward to it.? ?You don?t sound very excited at the prospect.? ?Oh, I am, Golde,? said the other, trying to inject more interest into her voice. ?When I?ve woken up properly, I?ll be as excited as you clearly are. It?s a wonderful surprise. I?ve never feasted in such august company before.? ?Nor had I until I met and married Ralph. The life I lead now is a far cry from working as a brewer in Hereford.? ?Do you have any regrets?? ?None at all, Alys.? ?I?m sure that Ralph would say the same.? ?What about you?? ?I couldn?t be happier.? ?Gervase is thrilled to have you at his side. He?s a changed man.? ?I just hope that I don?t let him down.? ?What a strange thought!? ?This is all so new to me, Golde.? ?You?ll have nothing to worry about, I promise you. Gervase will be even more proud of his lovely wife than he already is. Be yourself, Alys. That?s all you must do.? ?I?ll try.? Alys crossed to the window. The room was at the top of the keep, a timber structure that was perched on a huge mound of earth to make it easier to defend. Down below in the bailey, there was considerable activity. Soldiers were exercising, the guard was being changed and the armourer was busy in his forge, hammering on the blade of a new sword and producing a rhythmical noise that could be heard throughout the entire castle. Horses were being groomed. Servants ran to and fro. An elderly priest ambled towards the chapel. An unseen dog barked a slow lament. Alys was fascinated. ?I?ve never stayed in a castle before,? she confessed. ?What is it like?? ?Very draughty in the winter,? said Golde, crossing to stand beside her. ?These places are built for safety rather than comfort. We?re lucky to be here in the summer, Alys. We?ll be able to spend less time around a fire.? ?What will we do all day?? ?See something of Norwich, for a start.? ?I?d like that.? ?We may even do some shopping in the market.? ?What will we buy?? ?Things that we?re unlikely to see in Winchester,? said Golde. ?Norwich does a thriving trade with other countries. Goods are brought upriver from Yarmouth. We may well find silks and cloths that catch our eye, not to mention small items of jewellery.? ?Gervase doesn?t like me to wear anything too gaudy.? Golde gave a subversive smile.?Please yourself, not your husband.? ?I?m not sure that I?d dare. Doesn?t Ralph tell you what to buy?? ?Of course, but I usually ignore him.? Alys laughed.?You?re so bold.? ?I lived alone for some time after my first husband died. That taught me to stand on my own feet. And to follow my own instincts when I went to the market.? ?Then I?ll do the same,? said the other, conspiratorially. ?There?s one way to ensure that Gervase doesn?t criticise what you buy.? ?Is there?? ?Yes, Alys. Get something for him as well.? The younger woman laughed again and turned to face her companion. It was Golde?s presence on the expedition that had convinced her to join it. Eager as she was to be with her husband, Alys would never have left Winchester if she had been the only woman in the party, yet that hitherto had been Golde?s position. She marvelled afresh at her friend?s courage and independence. To be with her husband, Golde had ridden to places as far apart as Chester, York, Canterbury and Exeter. Bad weather and uncomfortable accommodation had been endured without complaint. It made Alys resolve to make light of any problems she encountered. The slight queasiness had passed off now. She would soon be able to respond to the notion of a banquet with real enthusiasm. Golde sensed that something was troubling her and stepped in closer. ?What ails you?? she asked. ?Nothing.? ?The life seems to have drained out of you.? ?It will come back.? ?Are you not in a mood for celebration this evening?? ?Yes, yes,? Alys lied. ?Something?s on your mind, Alys. What is it?? Alys gave a shrug and moved back to the middle of the room to give herself a moment to collect her thoughts. She looked at Golde again.?It was that old man,? she said. ?The one we met on our way here.? ?Poor wretch. I felt so sorry for him.? ?How could anyone treat a human being like that? Ralph wouldn?t beat a dog the way that that old man was beaten. It was painful to look at him.? ?I know. But his is not an isolated case, I fear.? ?What do you mean?? ?Perhaps we should break off this conversation,? suggested Golde tactfully. ?I don?t want to say anything out of place.? ?How could you possibly do that?? ?I?m from Saxon stock and you?re not, Alys. You were born in Winchester, I know, but your father came from Normandy and fought at Hastings. That sets the two of us apart. I belong to the conquered and you to the conquerors.? ?What does that have to do with the old man we met?? ?I?ve seen him before a hundred times,? explained Golde. ?Sometimes he?s old, something young, sometimes neither. But he?s always badly treated by his master. He?s always a reminder that a Saxon peasant lives at the mercy of his Norman overlord. Not that all members of your nation areharsh,? she added, quickly, ?because they?re most certainly not. Some are much kinder than the thegns they replaced. But I can?t change what I am, Alys. Though I married a Norman soldier and love him to distraction, I never forget where my roots lie. That old man we saw today was a symbol to me.? ?Of what?? ?You?ll understand in time,? Golde brightened. ?But enough of such thoughts! A banquet is being prepared for us. That should raise our spirits.? ?Are we all invited?? ?Oh, yes. Including Brother Daniel.? ?Is a monk allowed to eat rich food?? asked Alys, innocently. ?You wouldn?t pose that question if you?d ever seen Canon Hubert at table. He has the appetite of half a dozen men. My guess is that Brother Daniel will not restrict himself to bread and water either,? said Golde cheerfully. ?He?s not just a scribe to the commissioners. He?s a Benedictine who?s been released for a while from his abbey.? ?So?? ?He?s here to enjoy himself, Alys.? Brother Daniel was brimming with energy and filled with curiosity about his new abode. After he had been shown to the tiny room where he was to sleep, he found his way to the chapel and knelt down to offer up a prayer of thanks for their safe arrival. He then befriended the ancient chaplain, pumped him for information about the castle, and went out into the town to take stock of his surroundings. A paradox confronted him. Though there were plenty of people about, Norwich seemed curiously empty. In a city of almost five thousand souls, the monk felt oddly alone, as if the crowds that were drifting away from the market were mere assemblies of ghosts. Daniel was puzzled. It was not so much a question of what he could see as what he felt. He sensed bitterness, neglect and a resignation that bordered on despair. The castle was casting a long shadow. As he walked down one of the side streets close to the fortress, he saw evidence of a destructive past. During the ill-fated revolt of the earl and his confederates, the castle had been besieged for three months. Many of the nearby dwellings were razed to the ground or simply abandoned by their panic-stricken owners. Those that remained were grim reminders of those troubled times. Daniel glanced into a few of them. The first was barely standing and the second boarded up with pieces of rough timber. Through the cracks in the shutters, he saw a small room with a sunken floor that was littered with rubbish. Something was crawling ab

Kitt Selena, 2024/12/18 - 12:34:37

I?d seen a few Playboys and Hustlers and stuff like that?but I?d never seen anything like what Erica showed me in a box under her father?s bed. It was really hardcore stuff, and it showed everything, all the minute details of flesh, up close and personal. I found myself utterly enthralled, in spite of my embarrassment with Erica right there. I couldn?t seem to help my body?s response. We sat on the floor in silence, sifting through the slick, glossy pile of pages, flipping through each of them on our own, our breathing becoming faster and more shallow in the silence. Once in a while, she would nudge me and show me something of interest, and I would do the same, when the picture we were staring at was so intense it absolutely required sharing. And then he came home early, and we scrambled to shove everything back in and under before running back to her room. Breathless and flushed, we both jumped when he opened the door and asked if we wanted pizza. ?Can Leah stay?? Erica asked and he smiled?Mr. Nolan had the best smile?and looked over at me where I was lying on my belly on the floor, flipping through aTeen Beat and swinging my feet, still in the knee-high stockings that our Catholic school uniform required. I hated them-the whole outfit, really, the way it made me feel twelve instead of eighteen was just humiliating. I usually changed the minute I got home, but Erica had convinced me to come straight to her place. Mr. Nolan met my eyes and winked.?Sure, as long as her mom says it?s okay.? Not much problem there. My mom thought Mr. Nolan was the best-a widowed father, raising Erica all by himself, and Catholic, too! She always started conversations about him with,?If it weren?t for your father?? which I always cut off with a disgusted exclamation of, ?Mom!? Little did she know about all the ungodly pornography residing under his bed. Of course, until today, I hadn?t known either. I found myself looking at the crotch of his trousers and wondered what he looked like when he jerked off to all the pictures in those magazines. The thought made my body respond immediately-my pussy, already wet from looking at all those pictures, pulsed between my thighs. Mom said I could stay for pizza, and when Erica asked Mr. Nolan if I could sleep over because we had to work on our senior group project, he readily agreed. Of course it was just an excuse, and we were up until well after midnight, doing more giggling than working. I still couldn?t believe some of the images I had seen that afternoon. They were burned into my memory and I?d thought of little else since. ?So how long have you known about your dad?s collection?? I pulled one of Erica?s t-shirts over my head to sleep in as we were getting ready for bed. She grinned at me, rolling over onto her belly on the bed.?A long time.? I raised my eyebrows. ?Really?? ?Yup.? Waggling her eyebrows, she shoved her books off the end of her bed and yawned. ?Doesn?t it make you??? ?Horny as hell?? she laughed. ?Yeah. Duh! I usually take my vibrator with me? either that, or call Bobby afterward so he can come over and go down on me.? I stared at her.?So tell me the truth, then? have you and Bobby?you know?? ?No!? She made a face. ?I?m still a virgin. Sheesh.? I slipped into the sleeping bag that Mr. Nolan had retrieved for me out of the hall closet, trying to reconcile Erica?s belief that she was still a virgin with the fact that she and Bobby had clearly done far more than just kiss, which was, admittedly, about all that I had done. I just lived vicariously through Erica. She turned off the light.?So which one was your favorite?? The darkness made me feel bolder. ?There was that one I showed you with the two girls and the one guy?? ?Ohhh yeah,? she murmured. ?Where he?s on his back, licking one of them, and the other one is riding his cock?? I flushed, even in the darkness, hearing her say the words.?Yeah?? ?I like the ones with two guys and a girl, too,? she said. ?Seeing her suck on a guy while she?s getting fucked? I?d love to know what that?s like.? I bit my lip, slipping my hand down over my panties in the darkness and cupping my mound. My pussy was aching, and it felt better whenI touched it. ?I love seeing a girl get licked,? she went on, her voice lower. ?It just makes me remember? god, it feels soooo good?? ?Does it?? The crotch of my panties was damp and I rubbed my finger over my clit through the material, teasing. I couldn?t imagine a soft, warm tongue between my legs. The thought both stunned and intrigued me. ?Oh my god, Leah,? she purred. ?You have no idea. I wish I had Bobby?s tongue right now? right here on my clit?? My breath caught, and in the darkness I could hear a faint wet sound.?Are you? Erica, are you??? ?Go ahead,? she whispered, and I heard that little wet sound speeding up. ?You know you want to.? I did want to. Encouraged by the darkness, I slipped my hand under the elastic band of my panties, past the soft, dark hair, seeking the moist heat between my lips. Everything there was swollen and slick and my fingers moved easily, making the same faint, wet sound that I could hear coming from Erica?s bed. ?Mmmmm yeah,? she whispered. ?God that?s good? lick my pussy, baby.? I knew she was imagining it, and I imagined it, too, remembering the pictures-a blonde girl spreading herself open wide, his tongue poised right at her clit. Would it feel as good as my fingers? I wondered, as I rubbedmyself in little circles. My nipples grew hard under the t-shirt, and the sleeping bag soon became too warm. ?Doesn?t it feel good?? Erica asked, and I made a little noise, not answering her, but pulling the sleeping bag down a little, all flushed and hot. ?Doesn?t it make you want a big, hard cock right now? Ohhh I want to know what it feels like to be fucked?? I moaned softly, hearing the wet noises grow louder from Erica?s bed, and I couldn?t help sliding my hand up under my t-shirt to play with my nipples. The sensation went straight down between my legs, moving my fingers faster over the hard bud of my clit. ?Ohhhh yeah, fuck me hard,? she whispered, and all I could see when I closed my eyes was the close-up picture of a slick, fat cock poised at a soft, pink hole, waiting to be filled. I slid my fingers down and plunged them into me, listening to Erica moaning on the bed and the soft squeak of the mattress and boxspring. My thighs were so taut they were trembling and I rocked in the darkness, my breath coming as fast as hers, my hand working hard between my legs, aching for release. ?Oh, oh, oh!? she cried, short little squeaks, and then a fast, whispered, ?I?m coming, I?m coming!? I heard her shuddering breath, the soft cries of her pleasure, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out as I came, too, my body quivering with my climax in the darkness. We didn?t talk as our breathing began to return to normal and our hearts stopped beating a mile a minute. I felt embarrassed, and I wondered if she did, too. My trembling thighs finally relaxed. Eventually, I could hear that she was sleeping. Years of sleepovers made me familiar with the sound. Yet, I couldn?t seem to drift off, and instead I rolled around in the sleeping bag, trying to get comfortable on the floor. Finally, I got up to go pee. The hall was dark, but I could see a faint light coming from underneath Erica?s dad?s door. The bathroom was next to his room and actually had two doors, one that you could access from the hallway, and another directly across that led to Mr. Nolan?s room. I guess it was the builder?s version of a semi-private bath. I always felt funny peeing in that bathroom at night, knowing that Mr. Nolan was right on the other side of the door, but I never locked them, because they were the push-button kind of locks that made so much noise when you pressed them. I never even turned on the light. I guess I hated the thought of waking him up more than I feared getting walked in on. Although it looked like he was still up-there was a faint glow from under the bathroom door, and as I stood there listening, I heard soft noises. The TV, of course. He probably fell asleep with it on. I lifted my t-shirt a little and pulled my panties down to my knees when I heard his voice, low but clear as could be:?Fuck her hard, yeahhhh!? My eyes wide, I turned back toward the door, where that light flickered underneath. Did he have someone in there? Then I remembered the television, and something Erica had mentioned this afternoon about his video collection. We hadn?t gotten into any of that before he came home, but I knew then that he must be watching something pornographic. And masturbating.The thought made me tingle. My hand went to the bathroom doorknob, the silver handle cool against my flesh. ?Yeah, baby, that?s it,? he growled, making me press my ear to the doorjamb. I couldn?t see anything at all through the crack in the door, but I was desperate to see. ?Fuck that hot little cunt!? His words made my knees weak and my mouth dry. As carefully as I could, I began to turn the handle. I knew the layout of his room almost as well as I knew my own-Erica and I had been best friends since first grade and I?d spent countless hours at her house. I knew that directly on the other side of the door was a little alcove with a closet, and that the alcove opened up into the larger space of his room, where his bed was kitty-corner from the bathroom. I could see him. The door slipped open almost soundlessly, the latch only making the barest scraping noise, the hinges not squeaking at all. I could see part of the bed, and across from that, the television sitting on the dresser. Mr. Nolan was facing away from me, stretched out naked. I couldn?t see his face, but I could see his hand moving between his legs as he watched the scene on the television. It was the television that drew my eyes first-two women, the dark-haired one on her back, the blonde between her legs with her fingers pistoning in and out of the other girl?s pussy as she licked her. The camera was close up, showing her pink wetness, completely smooth. I stared, my fingers brushing the softness between my legs, wondering what it would feel like without hair. Then the camera panned back to reveal a man behind the blonde, his cock pounding into her from behind. He was gripping her hips, squeezing and pulling them as he fucked her, driving into her and making her moan against the other woman?s pussy. The sounds alone were enough to make me wet, if I hadn?t been already-the slick slap of their bodies, the moans of the women, the grunts of the guy behind them. A sound from Mr. Nolan drew my attention to him again, and I saw that the hand between his legs had stopped, and he was squeezing his cock head hard in his fist. I bit my lip, watching him slowly pull the skin down tight as he moved his hand toward the base, staring at the length of him. He wasn?t as big as the guy on the screen-but almost! I was fascinated with the way he touched it, now pressing it up against his belly and rubbing it up toward his navel as he watched the threesome on the screen. ?Oooooh yeah,? he moaned, taking it into his fist again as, on the TV, the three of them were rearranging themselves, the blonde lying on the bed, and the dark-haired woman lying on top of her, both of them on their back. The guy knelt between their legs, fucking first the girl on top, then thegirl on the bottom, switching back and forth. Mr. Nolan?s hand was pumping again, his hips bucking a little. My fingers moved over the soft, wet hairs of my pussy, and in spite of the fact that I?d just recently had an orgasm, I started to rub my clit again, spreading my legs, my panties still caught at my knees as I pressed my eye to the crack in the door to see better. I?d forgotten all about having to pee-in fact, the pressure to go just increased the pleasure as I worked my clit infast little circles. The girls on the screen were kissing, their tongues meshing, as the guy between their legs fucked first one, then the other. Seeing his cock, so slick and wet as it came out, the head of it bright red as he slipped it up and down before sliding it back in again, was almost as good as watching Mr. Nolan?s hand shuttling up and down the length of his shaft. I couldn?t decide where to look, and my pussy was so wet I could feel it spreading to my thighs. ?Fuck me, fuck me!? the girls on screen begged. ?No, me? me!? They were fighting over who got to feel his cock inside of them, and I wondered what it would be like to be fucked, to be pressed into, filled with that steady, rhythmic pounding of my flesh. I looked at Mr. Nolan, who was pumping very fast now, the movement of his hand a flash up and down in the ghostly light from the TV. His soft moans sent shivers through me, making me rub my clit a little faster, matching his intensity. I couldn?t help pulling my t-shirt up over my breasts and pressing my nipples against the door. ?I?m gonna come!? It was the guy on screen, pulling his cock out of the blonde on the bottom and aiming it toward the dark-haired girl?s shaved pussy. She was spreading it open for him as he began to come, grunting and moaning and shoving his hips forward as huge, white-hot jets of fluid began spilling onto her mound. I almost groaned out loud when Mr. Nolan grabbed the remote next to him, hitting the rewind button-I wanted to see the rest! Back the tape went, back to when they all first started rearranging themselves again. My fingers were slick with my juices now, and I wanted to shove two of them inside me, but I was afraid he might hear the noise, even with the TV on, so I just focused on my clit, the hot, wet sensation between my legs growing with every moment. Mr. Nolan?s hand was moving even faster, and I could hear his breath, the sound of it filling the room, panting with his effort. I looked from the screen to him and back again, the intensity of the experience pushing forward, upward, making me rub myself off even faster, my forehead pressed against the door frame, my nipples brushing there, too, hard and throbbing. ?Fuck, oh fuck, yeah, yeah,? he moaned, his hand a blinding streak up and down his cock, his hips bucking on the bed, and I could hear the bedsprings, just like I had with Erica. On the screen, the guy was pumping hard into the blonde, growling and bucking, too, and I heard him say it again like some hot, delicious deja-vu: ?I?m gonna come!? ?Fuck yeah!? Mr. Nolan groaned, his hips really pressing up hard now, his hand pumping. My pussy was on fire, and my fingers were taking me with him, so close, my breath matching his. ?I?m gonna come all over that pussy, baby!? It all happened at once-the guy coming on the screen again, the dark-haired girl spreading her smooth, shaved lips so he could aim his cock right there, right against her clit, shooting hot streams of white fluid onto her pussy. There was so much of it, wave after wave, dribbling over her fingers spreading her open, down the pink folds of her flesh. And Mr. Nolan was coming, too, his cock erupting over his hand again and again, a geyser of hot, white cum spilling down his fist and onto his belly. I couldn?t take it-my swollen clit was throbbing, aching for relief, and I came, too, watching him thrust and grunt and spill even more cum as it slid down the length of his shaft, my pussy contracting so hard I wanted to scream, but I had to bite my lip to keep from making any sound at all as I shuddered and bucked against the doorframe. My ears were ringing and my breath was coming so fast I could barely control it. Mr. Nolan was rubbing his softening cock against his belly and on screen, the blonde had wiggled out from under and was licking the cum off the dark-haired girl?s pussy. Feeling guilty now, I shut the door as quietly as I could, making sure the latch didn?t make that tell-tale ?click? as it closed. I sat on the toilet, breathless, my panties still at my knees, and peed, releasing a torrent over my swollen, throbbing pussy, and that felt good, too. The glow from under the bathroom door was still there, but the sound was gone, and I knew he must have muted the TV. It was quiet in his room. Suddenly it occurred to me that he would probably be coming to the bathroom to clean up! I quickly grabbed some toilet paper to wipe myself, half standing, reaching around to flush, when the door opened and he came in. We froze in the flickering blue glow of the television, both of us exposed. He was completely naked, and I might as well have been, with my panties down and my shirt pulled up. ?I?m sorry,? he apologized, and I saw his eyes on me, moving over me. ?I didn?t know you were in here!? ?I should have locked it,? I apologized to the closing door. ?I?m sorry, Mr. Nolan.? He was quiet and I wondered if he knew, or suspected, that I had been standing there watching him.?It?s my fault, I should have knocked.? I flushed the toilet, quickly pulling my panties up and my t-shirt down and washing my hands fast at the sink before announcing, ?I?m done!? ?Good night, Leah,? he said as I opened the other bathroom door and stepped into the hallway. ?Good night, Mr. Nolan.? I swallowed hard as I made my way back to Erica?s room. She was still sleeping, her breathing deep and even. I pressed my hot, red face into the cool, forgiving material of my pillow. Every time I closed my eyes, I remembered, and something in my belly tightened another notch. I heard the toilet flush and the sound of the bathroom door closing again and knew he was back in his room. I felt so guilty, squeezing my thighs together and feeling that ache while I was thinking about my best friend?s dad. I couldn?t help it though, and I slid my hand down again, under my belly, cupping my swollen mound in the darkness and rocking, remembering. I couldn?t stop thinking about him, and I wondered if he was thinking about me, too. CHAPTER TWO I took a shower before the sun even came up, intent on going home as soon as possible, preferably before anyone woke up. I couldn?t face them, I decided, as I got dressed in the bathroom. I had to wear my uniform, since I hadn?t walked home to get a change of clothes the night before, but my panties were still damp, so I just shoved them into my skirt pocket and went without. I could have borrowed some of Erica?s but Ididn?t want to wake her up. I crept downstairs, going into the kitchen to get my backpack, and noticed the light over the stove was on. There was my backpack, on the floor by the door, right next to Mr. Nolan?s briefcase. ?Where are you going, Leah?? I jumped and squealed, my heart racing as I turned to find Mr. Nolan sitting at the kitchen table. He was in shadow, but his face appeared in the light as he leaned forward and smiled at me. ?I? couldn?t sleep.? I put my backpack down and felt the burn in my cheeks. He knew what I looked like naked-and I?d seen him masturbating. Could it get any more embarrassing than this moment? ?Want some breakfast?? He waved me toward a chair. ?We?ve got lots of cereal. Just don?t eat the last of the Cocoa Puffs, or Erica will have your head.? Pulling a chair out, I sat, looking at him in the dimness. He was acting like nothing had happened, but I could feel something betweenus that hadn?t been there before. I noticed he was dressed in a suit and tie.?Where are you going so early?? ?Work, unfortunately.? He took a bite of a bagel and cream cheese that I hadn?t noticed until that moment. ?I?d rather not, but duty calls.? ?That looks good,? I remarked, and my stomach growled. I wasn?t used to being up so early. ?Work on a Saturday?? ?Tax season,? he explained. ?Accountants always work weekends in April.? ?Well, that sucks.? I watched him take another bite of bagel. He chuckled, wiping cream cheese off the corner of his mouth with a napkin.?Yes. It sucks. To say the least. Do you want some of this?? I shrugged, my stomach growling again. ?Maybe just a bite? I don?t have cooties.? ?Here.? He held it out to me, watching as I tore off a piece with my teeth and licked cream cheese off my lips. I felt self-conscious around him, like I wanted to check my hair or smooth my skirt, and I had never felt that way around Mr. Nolan before. His smile was warm and he took another bite, saying through a mouthful, ?I?m not worried about catching cooties.? ?So how?d your project go last night?? he asked. I flushed at the mention of the night before and was glad that the kitchen wasn?t well-lit. ?Okay.? I shrugged, and took another bite of the bagel when he offered it to me and hugged my knee up to rest my chin on it. I did it without even thinking, before I remembered that I wasn?t wearing panties. When I saw where his eyes were, my face filled immediately with heat. ?You were up late,? he said, his voice a little lower, his eyes not moving. I was paralyzed, frozen in place, and the look on his face, caught somewhere between uneasiness and lust, made it even worse. ?So were you,? I replied softly and I didn?t look away when his eyes lifted to meet mine. He cleared his throat and reached over and touched the corner of my mouth with a napkin, where I was stretching to reach with my tongue, to get a bit of cream cheese.?Sounded like a lot of giggling going on in there and not a lot of working.? I smiled, slowly lowering my leg and smoothing my green and blue plaid skirt. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that he was watching me.?Yeah, well? you know how we are.? ?Yep.? He nodded, popping the last of the bagel into his mouth. ?As a matter of fact, I do.? The kitchen was lighter now-the sun was coming up. Behind us, Erica stumbled in, her short blonde hair a frazzled cloud around her face as she rubbed at her eyes and frowned. ?What are you two doing up at this ungodly hour?? she mumbled, groping along the counter toward the coffeemaker and flipping it on. My mother would have killed me before letting me drink coffee, but Mr. Nolan wasn?t like that. ?I?m going to work, darlin?.? He stood, taking his plate to the sink and kissing her cheek on the way by. ?You two be good. Don?t trash the house. And no boys.? He said this last in a mock-stern voice, only he wasn?t really kidding. ?We?ll be good,? I piped up, seeing Erica roll her eyes and stick her tongue out at his back. He smiled at me and his eyes smiled, too. For a moment, just a brief second, they flickered down to the hem of my skirt and my whole body felt filled with heat. ?Bye, Mr. Nolan!? I called as he grabbed his briefcase. Erica made a face at me as she heard the door close behind him.?Be good?!? ?We?re always good.? I smiled, watching her pour Cocoa Puffs. She snorted, grabbing the milk out of the fridge.?Well, then, let?s go upstairs and get up to some good.? ?Erica!? I laughed. ?More like ?no good.?? She took a bite of cereal and crunched noisily.?Don?t you want to see the videos?? I blushed, remembering catching Mr. Nolan watching one of those videos last night, but of course, I couldn?t tell her that. ?Ahhhh sugar and caffeine!? She pulled a mug out of the cupboard. ?Breakfast of champions-are you hungry?? ?No,? I replied, not telling her about the bagel I?d shared with her father, either. ?Well, let?s go then.? She grabbed her Cocoa Puffs and her coffee and headed out of the kitchen. ?I want to show you something.? ?Another something?? I followed her up the stairs to her room. She put her coffee on the night table and curled up on the bed, finishing her cereal as she directed me.?Open my underwear drawer.? I opened the top drawer of her dresser, and it reminded me that I wasn?t wearing any panties. I grabbed a plain white pair. ?Hey, can I borrow these?? ?Sure.? She drank the now-chocolate milk out of her bowl. ?Look at the back of the drawer for a leopard print.? I tugged the panties on and then straightened my skirt, looking at the back of her drawer for something that looked like a leopard print, finding it under a bunch of her bras. I grabbed it, surprised by the sudden weight in my hand-this wasn?t underwear! ?What in the heck?? I felt something long and hard under the material. ?My vibrator.? She grinned, drinking her coffee in huge gulps. ?Ahhhh god, I love caffeine.? ?Should I even ask where you got it?? I sat on the bed and handed it over to her. ?Present from Bobby.? She opened the pouch and pulled out a bright pink phallic-shaped thing. ?Feel.? She pressed it to the inside of my elbow. It was cold, but made of some soft, gel-like material. ?Now? imagine this?? Her eyes met mine as she turned a knob on the bottom, bringing the whole thing to life and it began to vibrate. ?Right against your clit?? I pulled my arm away like I?d been burned, still looking at it. ?What? what does it feel like?? ?Wanna go find out?? She grinned, turning it off and hopping off the bed. ?Come on, let?s go check out those videos.? We went through the bathroom into Mr. Nolan?s room, and it reminded me of the night before. I stood in the doorway, my whole body tingling with the memory, staring at the bed where I?d watched him stroke his cock. Erica was pulling another box out from under the bed that resided next to the one full of magazines that we had sifted through the day before. ?This one?s my favorite,? she said, going over to the VCR. ?Hey, there?s something in here?? I edged toward the bed where she had tossed the hot pink vibrator, watching her eject the tape. I knew what was in there-I?d seen part of it the night before. ?Looks like Daddy was getting busy last night!? She snorted, putting the tape aside and sliding the other one in. ?Remind me to put that back when we?re done.? ?Done??? I inquired, sitting on the edge of the bed. I was in the very spot that Mr. Nolan had been last night. ?Don?t you want to play?? Erica pouted at me as the FBI warning flashed on the TV screen. The movie was starting. I shrugged, swallowing and glancing at the television. There was a girl lying on a bed reading a magazine as a young man came into her bedroom and started talking to her. ?Ugh, I hate the dialogue!? Erica groaned, grabbing the remote and fast forwarding. ?Let?s get to the good stuff.? She sat on the bed next to me, pulling her t-shirt over her knees. ?Here we go?? I felt shy and embarrassed, watching the couple kiss and take each other?s clothes off on the screen. Still, I couldn?t stop watching. The girl was tiny and dark-haired, like me, slim hips and long legs, but full-breasted, her nipples the same light brown as mine. She was shaved between her legs, though, like the other girl in the movie. ?Mmmmmm isn?t that hot?? Erica murmured, watching as the dark-haired girl knelt in front of the guy and took his cock into her mouth. ?I love doing that.? I tore my eyes away from the screen to look at her. ?You do that?? She nodded. ?Bobby absolutely loves it-he begs me to do it!? I watched, fascinated, as the girl took more and more of his thick length into her mouth, her eyes turned up to him. She really looked like she was enjoying it. ?Don?t you choke?? I felt that gentle pulse beginning between my legs. Erica smiled.?Guys kind of like that. Makes them believe their cocks are huge. Here, let me show you.? She grabbed the vibrator, holding it up in front of her.?Like this? see how she played with it first? ran her tongue around the head?? I watched her demonstration, her tongue flicking around the pink tip. ?Then you take it into your mouth?? Half of the shaft disappeared between her lips and I gasped. ?Well, you can?t do that your first try,? she admitted, wiping it off on her shirt and giving me a glimpse of her panties. ?Here, you do it?? ?No,? I said, embarrassed, putting it back on the bed. She sighed.?You don?t have to be shy. We?re both girls.? The girl on the screen was still working the guy?s cock between her lips, but now she was cupping his balls, rolling them in her hands, and he was moaning like he really liked it a lot. The sound of his pleasure made my pussy throb with a sweet, dull ache. ?Tell you what.? Erica hopped off the bed. ?I?m going to take a shower. You stay here and?do whatever you want.? I ignored her wink, but as soon as the bathroom door closed, I settled back onto the pillow to watch. The girl still had the guy?s cock in her mouth, but he was sitting now, reaching down to cup her breast and pull at her nipple. She was using her hand, I noticed, at the base, so her mouth only went down on him about halfway. Reaching for the vibrator, I held it up, tilting it back and forth. It was bigger than Mr. Nolan?s cock, I decided, and I found myself wondering how much of it I could take into my mouth. I touched it to my lips, making my mouth an ?O? like the girl on the screen and sliding it slowly in. The gel it was made of tasted funny, but I pushed it as far in as I could before I felt like I was going to gag, marking the spot with my finger and pulling it back out. Halfway. Not too bad. On the tape, the girl was on the bed now, her knees spread wide and pulled back so he could lay between them and lick her. Now I knew why it was Erica?s favorite. He was pushing his fingers deep inside of her while he licked, the camera getting a close-up view of his tongue moving back and forth over her clit. My pussy ached as I listened to her moan and I wanted to touch myself. I could hear the shower still running and I pulled my skirt up and my panties aside, heading straight for my clit. I was surprised at how wet I was already-I had felt more apprehensive than aroused with Erica here, or at least, I thought I had. My body had different ideas. My pussy was swollen and slick and my fingers moved in easy circles around my clit. ?Lick it, yeah, faster!? the girl on screen moaned, playing with her own nipples as his tongue moved back and forth between her lips. I wondered again what that would feel like, someone?s mouth between my legs. The girl panted and moaned and rocked and really made it look like it felt incredible and I found myself imagining Mr. Nolan down there between my legs and flushed at the thought. I couldn?t help remembering him laying right here, in this very spot, doing this very thing-masturbating while he watched those girls being fucked on TV. The memory of him rewinding to just the right spot and timing his coming with the guy on the screen made me feel warm and tingly all over, and I found myself wanting to see that scene again. That?s the scene I wanted to come to. I hopped off the bed, stopping the tape and putting in the one Mr. Nolan had been watching last night. It was cued up to right after that scene, and I realized he must have turned it off at that point. Using the remote, I rewound it, finding that scene again-the two women lying on their backs, stacked one on top of the other, the guy between their legs like a kid in a candy store, trying to decide which pussy to fuck first. It wasn?t really the scene-although it was exciting, seeing the girls spread open for him, watching his slick cock pull out and press in again-it was knowing that, for some reason, this was the scene that Mr. Nolan found exciting, this was the scene that pushed him over that edge. Knowing that was what pushed me over. I wanted to come at that same point, to some way relive the night before. I could hear the shower still running, but I knew she wouldn?t be much longer. My fingers rubbed faster, watching the guy on the screen, his cock slipping up and down between their lips, first one, then the other. They were begging him again, ?Fuck me? no, me!? fighting over that hard cock. The vibrator was resting against my hip and I glanced down at it, curious. Would it get me there faster? I wondered. Already the guy on screen was pumping hard into the blonde on the bottom and the girls were kissing, sucking each other?s tongues. I heard the shower go off and I grabbed the vibrator, turning the knob on the bottom and making it hum. Pulling my panties aside, I pressed the head of it against my clit. It was so intense that I pulled it away immediately, gasping out loud. My whole body buzzed with the sensation and, unable to resist, I nudged my panties aside again and found my clit with the vibrating pink head. ?Oh god,? I whispered, watching the scene on the TV through half-closed eyes, being carried away by the glorious sensation between my thighs. I?d never felt anything so good. My nipples hardened the minute I touched the vibrator to my pussy and I used my other hand to rub them through my blouse, moaning softly as the feeling between my legs increased even more. On the screen, the guy was thrusting hard into the blonde, grunting and straining with the effort, and all I could think about was Mr. Nolan stroking his cock right here in this very spot, his body wracked with pleasure as he rewound this scene, right to this very moment. There it was-the guy pulled his cock out, groaning,?I?m gonna come!? and aimed it right for the dark-haired girl?s smooth lips. ?Oh me, too,? I moaned, the tingle between my legs full to bursting as I watched him shoot his cum between her spread-open lips. I closed my eyes, then, the image of Mr. Nolan shooting his cum filling my head, and then changing, morphing into the fantasy of him kneeling between my legs, pressing the head of his cock to my clit, just where I was rubbing the vibrator. ?Come all over me, Mr. Nolan,? I whispered, imagining his cum, thick and creamy, streaming hot, rhythmic blasts right against my pussy. I couldn?t hold back anymore, and the vibrator buzzing between my legs pressed me over the edge. Moaning and rocking, my whole body went with the sensation, the delicious tightening and release happening again and again as I rubbed myself with the head of the cock. ?Mmmmm, I bet that felt good.? Erica?s voice was right next to my ear and I gasped, flinging the vibrator onto the bed and pulling my skirt down. She was kneeling next to me, wrapped in a towel, her hair wet. How long had she been there? I wondered. Had she heard what I said!? I couldn?t tell-her eyes were veiled, but she looked different, somehow, and was definitely looking at me in a way I?d never seen before. ?You changed the tape, huh?? she remarked, walking over and ejecting it, putting the other one back in. ?I? just?? Still breathless, I struggled to find words, feeling hot and flushed with both excitement and embarrassment. ?Didn?t want you to forget to put that one? back in?? ?Ohhhhh yeah,? Erica breathed as she hit ?play? and moved toward the bed. It was still at the scene where the guy was licking the little dark-haired girl?s pussy. ?This is my favorite part.? She picked up the vibrator, still buzzing and wet with my juices, and lifted it to her mouth. I stared as she licked the head that had been pressed against my clit just moments ago. ?Have you ever tasted your own pussy?? she asked, crawling up next to me on the bed. I shook my head as she stretched out next to me on a pillow and opened her legs, the towel parting to reveal the soft blonde fuzz there. ?You should try it,? she whispered, moaning as she slid the head of the vibrator up and down between her lips. ?God, look at how good he does that? watch his tongue? back and forth like that? right on her clit?? I nodded, but I wasn?t looking at the screen, I was watching her, thetoy moving up and down her slit and then focusing right on her clit as she rubbed it, like his tongue, back and forth. Her eyes were on the TV and I could watch her without her really paying attention. She spread her legs wider, the towel opening up to her navel, and I could see her working the buzzing vibrator between her legs. ?Did you put it inside?? Erica asked, not looking towards me as she licked her lips, her eyes glued to the screen. I didn?t answer her, but I watched as she slid the pink head down between her lips and my whole body flushed as it started to disappear between them. She was putting it inside ofher! ?I bet a real cock would feel even better,? she whispered as she moved the shaft in and out of her pussy. I could see it pressing past the pink folds of her flesh and coming out wet with every stroke. ?God, I want to be fucked.? On the screen, the girl was up on her knees, reaching around to open herself up, waiting to be filled. The guy?s cock was straight-up hard as he rubbed it up and down her slit. ?Yeah, fuck me,? Erica murmured, and she was fucking herself deep and hard, the pink shaft disappearing almost to the hilt. I was fascinated, watching it disappear into her pussy, remembering how good that humming felt between my legs. My own pussy was responding again, tingling with feeling, and I slipped my hand under my skirt as I watched her, shoving my panties aside to get to my clit. ?Oh that?s so good,? she whispered, her hips rocking on the bed, the towel parting as she twisted and rolled, falling off completely. I?d seen Erica naked a hundred times, but not like this, never like this. Her pink nipples were pursed and hard, her breasts swaying as she thrust the dildo deep inside of her. She reached up to play with one, pinching and tugging and biting her lip, her eyes half-closing in her pleasure. My pussy was swollen and the pair of Erica?s panties that I had put on was soaked, and still I couldn?t stop touching myself, rubbing faster and faster as my eyes flicked from the screen to her, watching her fucking herself and imagining how good it must feel. She moaned louder, her hand moving between her legs, and she grabbed the remote off the bed, hitting the ?fast forward? button. ?Watch this part,? she whispered to me, not looking away from the TV as she hit the ?play? button a moment later. I glanced at the screen, where the guy was pounding the dark-haired girl from behind. The girl was moaning, matching Erica?s noises, and the guy was groaning, too, as he slammed into her again and again. I could hear a tightness in his voice, something tense and waiting to be let go. Erica had slipped the wet shaft out of her pussy and was rubbing the pink head over her clit, whimpering and moaning as she played with her nipples. I had an urge to lick one, and the thought made me feel faint, but I rubbed myself faster, my breath matching hers, both of us gasping and panting. The guy on the screen pulled out of the pussy that he was fucking so hard, grunting and groaning with pleasure as he started to come. ?Ohhhhhh I?m coming!? Erica cried, the bed shaking with her orgasm, her body trembling as she rubbed herself with the vibrator, her eyes never leaving the screen where the guy was pumping his cock in his fist, shooting his cum in long, hot jets up over the raised ass of the girl. It fell in thick strands, some pooling in her lower back, most of it beginning to drip down the crack of her ass toward her pussy. Seeing it dribble down her asshole, a slow river of cum beginning to part the pink folds of her pussy, was too much for me. I came, too, biting my lip to keep from crying out as my body trembled with my climax, jerking and bucking with it, my thigh brushing against the soft skin of Erica?s leg, the sensation making my orgasm even more intense. Erica had turned off the vibrator and was stroking her belly and thighs with her hands, her eyes still-half closed. I grabbed the remote and stopped the movie, the sight now almost a visual assault, too intense in the wake of my climax. ?You were right,? Erica murmured, looking at me. ?You told my dad we?d be good-but that wasn?t just good? it was fucking fantastic.? I stood up, pulling my skirt down. ?Listen, I should get home and change.? She frowned, leaning up on her elbows. ?You wanna hang out later?? ?Call me.? I turned so she didn?t see how red my face was getting as I headed toward the door. The images I?d seen over the last twenty-four hours?the magazines, the movies, Mr. Nolan masturbating, Erica playing with her vibrator?flashed through my head as I walked home. I knew that I could never unimagine them?and the scariest thing was that I found that I didn?t really want to. CHAPTER THREE ?Bless me father, for I have sinned?? Those were the words I was dreading. I couldn?t say them. Mass was extra long today, and every word sounded like a pronouncement that I was going to hell. The girls crowded around outside the confessional, talking in small groups and snapping their gum. We were supposed to be standing in a quiet line saying the Rosary, but Sister Abby had taken someone to see Mother Superior and we were momentarily without supervision. ?I can?t do this,? I whispered to Erica. She was sitting against the wall, her knees up, with a copy of one of theGossip Girls tucked into her geography book. I could see her panties-which wasn?t unusual, in an all-girls school where we were required to wear skirts, we often got careless-but it made me remember yesterday in the worst way. ?Do what?? She didn?t look up from her book. I nudged her hip with one of my Mary Jane?s, hissing: ?Confession!? She looked up then, puzzled. ?Why not? Swearing, lustful thoughts, self-flagellation, blah blah blah, thirty Hail Mary?s and ten Our Father?s later, and you?re all set. What?s the big deal?? I stared at her, blinking and speechless. ?Well fine.? She stood and brushed off the back of her skirt. ?Then let?s make like Casper.? ?Cutting class?? I groaned. ?Adding yet another sin to my growing list? Not helping!? ?Okay.? She shrugged. ?So you?re ready to go in there and tell Father Michael about our little porn-watching session yesterday?? ?Shhhh!? I put my hand over her mouth, looking over at the group of girls closest to us to see if they?d heard anything. ?You?re evil!? ?Perfect timing.? She glanced around. ?Sister Abby?s gone, and I know I?m not up for one of Sister Helen?s usual lectures on the Church?s revisionist history-I don?t care what they say. Jesus was clearly a Jew.? The confessional door opened behind us and I sighed as another girl went in. I couldn?t-I just couldn?t. It wasn?t just that we had looked at the magazines and watched the movies, or even that we?d masturbated together. That was bad enough, but sitting in the dark and telling Father Michael the thoughts I was having about Mr. Nolan!? No way? the prospect made me feel weak with dread. ?Okay,? I agreed, grabbing Erica?s arm. ?Let?s do it.? ?Leah!? It was Erica?s turn to sound shocked. ?Seriously?? I nodded, grabbing my backpack off the floor, saying loudly, ?Let?s go to the bathroom.? Erica snickered as we left the church proper and went into the breezeway. ?Good cover.? ?I?m no expert,? I agreed. ?So how do we get out without being seen, Houdini?? ?Follow me,? she said, and I did, down the corridor and through a door. ?Where are we?? ?Storage room.? She made her way through a maze of shelves with all sorts of vestments, candles and candle lighters, and statues. The whole nativity scene was stacked into a corner, the baby Jesus wrapped in a shroud in the manger. The oddest thing was the hundreds of boxes full of heavenly host. I stared at them as we passed, looked at the stamped sides:Cavanagh Communion Hosts 1 1/8?, marked either with?white? or ?wheat? flavor. Erica grinned back at me when she saw me looking at the boxes.?Do you think Christ was white or wheat?? ?You are so going to hell.? Still, I couldn?t help grinning, too. We were nearing a door at the back of the room and she pulled it open, heading down a dark flight of stairs. ?Where are we?? I felt my way down, holding onto the railing. ?Church basement, now.? She waited for me at the bottom. ?Bobby meets me here sometimes.? ?Oh my God!? I gasped, mentally adding my taking the Lord?s name in vain to my list of sins for the week. It was a small trespass, considering. ?He?d be shot on sight if they found him!? ?No one finds him,? she assured me as I followed her through the dark basement. There were small windows near the top of the concrete walls that let in a little, shadowy light. Around the corner, Erica pulled open another door and waved me through. ?What is this?? There were cots all along each side of the long, narrow walls of the room we stepped into. ?Old storm cellar-slash-bomb shelter, I think.? She started up the ladder to our left and pressing on the door above her head. ?Either that, or this is where they do all the experiments on thereally bad kids.? I snorted, following her up the ladder and waiting as she pressed at the door. We were in our uniforms, of course, and I could see right up her skirt from this angle and the flash of white panties made me remember yesterday. ?They leave this open?? I winced at the brightness as she finally heaved the door open with a little grunt of effort. ?Bobby broke the lock.? I shook my head, incredulous, as she gave me a hand up and swung the door shut again. We were standing just outside the brick wall that surrounded the entire school, making it like some prison fortress. The storm cellar was a slanted thing made of long planks and painted brown to blend in with the brick. ?And we?re home free.? She grabbed my hand and swung it. ?Let?s go to my house and do something we?ll have to confess later.? ?I?m boycotting confession.? I glanced over my shoulder as if someone might be watching us. ?Come on, there are yummy rewards for being bad.? She squeezed my fingers. ?We don?t even have to miss the first fifteen minutes of General Hospital today!? She had a point. We made good use of that last hour that we should have been in school, stopping by the corner store and picking up two Hershey?s, a bag of chips, and two Mountain Dews and then curled up on Erica?s sofa and pigged out while we watched the entire episode of GH without interruption. It was a real treat. Erica flipped the TV off and stretched, her blouse pulling out of the waistband of her skirt, revealing her tummy.?Whatcha wanna do now?? ?We should do homework,? I answered, my head filled with the memory of watching her play with her vibrator. I tried to push the thought away, but I couldn?t when she sat cross-legged in her skirt, her panties clearly visible underneath. ?Now, what kind of fun would that be?? She rolled her eyes. ?If you?re gonna skip school, you gotta make it worth it!? ?Well? you should show me more of your dad?s collection.? I couldn?t believe it was me who mentioned it first. I?d sworn I wasn?t going to eventhink about it, let alone ask about it. She grinned.?Now we?re talking. Come on.? We left our wrappers and empty bottles strewn all over the sofa and headed upstairs. My pussy was already pulsing in anticipation. ?What about your dad?? The clock on Mr. Nolan?s night table read 4:05 p.m. and the workday ended at five. ?Late night, tax season.? She reached under the bed and pulled out both boxes. ?Here we are, a veritable smorgasbord of porn for your viewing pleasure.? ?Where do you think he got all this?? I opened one of the boxes and sifted through magazines with names likePleasure, Private, Eros, andClub Seventeen.They were definitely not names I?d heard before, but the pictures were graphic and shocking-and unbelievably arousing. ?I think they?re all foreign.? Erica opened the video box. ?At least, the magazines are. He probably ordered them.? ?Do you get stuff in the mail in plain brown wrappers?? I opened up to a page to find a woman kneeling in front of a man, her lips wrapped around his cock. Just the sight of it made my pussy contract. ?Yep, all the time.? She pulled a tape out and popped it in, flopping down on the bed with the remote. ?Come on, I want you to see this one.? Abandoning the magazine, I crawled up next to her as she fast forwarded through the credits, settling myself on a pillow as the two girls on screen sat out in their backyard in bikinis and talked about their boyfriends and how unsatisfied they were with their sex lives. ?I thought you didn?t like the dialogue.? I glanced at Erica. ?It doesn?t last long,? she replied, and I noticed that she had her hand up under her skirt and my belly clenched, imagining what she was doing under there. I wanted to touch myself, too, but in the light of day, I just couldn?t seem to bring myself to do it. On the screen, the girls were sitting up, their knees touching, and I stared as one leaned forward and kissed the other. ?Oh my God,? I whispered, watching their tongues tangle together. The redhead reached out to slip her hand under the bikini top of the blonde as they kissed. ?Erica, what are they doing?? ?It gets better,? she murmured, her eyes on the screen. I could see her hand moving under her skirt and I squeezed my thighs together, feeling a hot throb between my legs. The girls on the screen were naked in no time, kissing and rubbing up against each other on one of the lounge chairs. The blonde was licking the redhead?s fat, pink nipples, making her moan and touch her own pussy. Glancing over at Erica and seeing that she wasn?t paying attention to me, I slid my hand down, moving my skirt aside so I could cup my mound-just to ease the ache a little bit. ?Watch,? Erica whispered, and the movement under her skirt was faster, now, as the television revealed a scene to me I never thought I?d believe was arousing-but it was. The blonde was between the redhead?s legs, spreading her pussy lips open with her fingers, and beginning to lick her there. She had a sparse triangle of red hair between her legs that glistened in the sun with her juices. ?Isn?t that hot?? Erica asked, and I watched as her other hand snuck up under her blouse, moving over her breast. I nodded, but didn?t say anything, feeling my pussy through my damp panties and aching to touch my clit. The redhead was moaning loudly, playing with her own nipples as the blonde licked and sucked at her pussy. I closed my eyes, feeling that hot tingle between my legs, but I couldn?t escape it-the wet sounds and moaning from the television were too compelling. ?Does it really feel that good?? I gulped, pushing my panties aside. I couldn?t help it, my pussy was so swollen and wet and aching to be touched. ?Oh, Leah, you have no idea.? Erica?s breath was coming faster, her skirt was pulled up, and I could see her hand working underneath her panties. ?I wish I had a tongue right now?? The redhead was moaning,?Don?t stop, don?t stop!? and the blonde licked faster, pumping her fingers in and out. Tentatively, I slid a finger into my pussy as I watched, rubbing my clit with my thumb. It felt so good I could barely stand it?but I couldn?t stop. The girl on screen was coming, her body shaking with it, her eyes closed and head thrown back. ?They take turns,? Erica whispered as she started pulling her panties down. She opened her knees wide as she touched herself, her fingers making wet noises, and I watched them dip down inside of her. Sure enough, on screen, the blonde was lying down now, and the redhead was between her legs. The hair between the blonde?s legs was like Erica?s, sparse and curly and light and her pussy was a deep, dark pink, her lips fat and swollen. ?Oh god, that feels so good,? Erica murmured, and I couldn?t help watching her rock with it, her eyes closing as she bit her lip. My hand moved even faster over my pussy, seeing her shirt riding up, her nipple peeking over where she had her bra pulled down. I had that urge again to lick it as I leaned up on my elbow and watched her, but this time I didn?t stop myself. Leaning in, I feathered a kiss on the tip and heard her gasp, her eyes flying open. ?I?m sorry,? I apologized, my belly clenching, seeing the shock on her face. She moaned.?Do it again?. oh, please?? The longing in her voice made me lean back in, this time with my tongue, licking her nipple. She moaned again, whispering,?Ohhh yes,? and arched her back. Her nipples were pink and hardened like little pebbles. I licked back and forth, around and around, watching the pleasure on her face. ?Oh Leah,? she gasped, her fingers making a wet squelch as she fucked her pussy with them. I latched onto her nipple, sucking it into my mouth, the ache between my legs growing like a fever, making me crazy. ?Oh make me come, I?m gonna come!? And she was, shuddering and trembling and arching, her hand shoved deep between her legs, my tongue working her nipple for all I was worth. I wanted to come, too, but didn?t, pressing my whole hand over my mound as she climaxed, just holding the feeling there between my thighs. Watching her orgasm was powerful, stunning, and knowing I had a part in it was even more exciting. ?Oh my god,? she murmured, her hand resting on her belly now, wet with her juices. ?That felt soooo good.? ?It looked like it,? I replied softly and she met my eyes, smiling. ?Want me to make you feel good, too?? She leaned up on her elbow and pressed me flat on the bed. ?It?s only fair we take turns.? I hesitated, shaking my head, but she was pulling my blouse up, my bra down, and had her mouth on my breast before I could say anything at all. Her tongue was like liquid fire over my nipple, and her hand sought the other one, too, rubbing it hard through my bra. ?Erica!? I gasped, looking down to see her mouth working as she sucked my nipple in deep. ?Oh, god!? I had to touch myself. I had to, I didn?t have a choice. The feeling between my legs was too great, too much to ignore. I struggled my panties down, and she helped me, too, tugging them past my knees and putting her hand on my thigh as I began to rub my clit in fast circles. Her tongue made the same pattern over my nipple, sending shockwaves through my body, right down between my legs. When I felt her fingers parting me, I gasped, my eyes flying open. I started to protest until she slid them inside, working them in and out as I rubbed myself. It felt too good for me to say no. I could hear the two girls on the TV, moaning and crying out, but I couldn?t open my eyes to watch. I was too distracted by Erica?s mouth and hand. ?Do you really want to know what a tongue feels like?? she whispered against my breast. I met her eyes, and saw how hungry she was and wondered if I looked that way, too, when I was watching her. ?I?ll do it to you? do you want me to?? I groaned, contemplating just what exactly was a mortal sin, as the heat between my thighs went from blazing to white-hot at the thought. I shook my head, but the word that came out of my mouth was,?Yes!? Before I knew what was happening, she was between my legs, and the sensation of her tongue moving between my lips was like nothing I had imagined. It was beyond pleasure, really. There weren?t words for how good it felt when her soft, eager tongue found my clit and started licking there. ?Oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph,? I moaned, my head going back, letting myself go completely, I knew I couldn?t stop it if I tried. Her fingers moved in and out of my wetness and she lapped and sucked at my clit, making soft wet sounds between my legs. She made an encouraging noise in her throat, reaching her other hand up under my blouse to tug at my nipple, increasing the sensation more than I thought was possible. ?Oh god, oh god, oh god!? I cried, arching and twisting against her. It felt so good, I never wanted it to end. My pussy was throbbing under her mouth, and I knew I couldn?t hold back, even as much as I wanted to. She was going to make me come, her tongue moving fast, back and forth over my clit, her fingers keeping the same rhythm, urging me on. ?Erica!? I gasped, wanting to somehow give her a warning, or to express to her how good it felt, how incredible it was, but all that I could manage was, ?Now!? My whole body shuddered and thrust against her as I came, and her tongue moved even faster, the vibration of her moaning against my pussy making my climax even more intense. It went on and on, my pussy contracting around her fingers, drawing them in deeper, my clit fluttering against her lapping tongue. When the tremors began to subside, she rested her cheek against my thigh, her hair tickling me there. I couldn?t open my eyes, too overwhelmed with feeling-and shame. How could I have let her do that? In the wake of the sensation, rational thought finally returned. She was moving up next to me, her breath warm against my cheek, and there was a musky kind of smell on her breath that I knew was from havingher face buried between my thighs. ?Didn?t it feel good?? She pressed the length of her body against mine. I nodded, not opening my eyes. Good wasn?t the word for it. I swallowed hard, still a little breathless, and that?s when I felt her lips touching mine. They were soft, warm, and wet. Her whole face was wet-her cheeks, her chin. My eyes flew open when her tongue touched mine, and the taste in her mouth was tangy and strange. ?You taste good,? she whispered, breaking the kiss and looking at me. Her eyes searched mine, hungry, pleading. ?Can it be my turn now?? I bit my lip, feeling something tighten in my belly. ?Please?? She rolled off me, pulling up her skirt and spreading her lips. Her pussy glistened, and her finger nudged her clit, showing me.?Just right here. Just lick it a little.? Shaky, I sat up and knelt between her legs, looking down at her. She looked almost shy, like she was afraid I would say no, and that decided me. I stretched out between her thighs, spreading them wider to make room for me, the skin there so soft it was shocking against my palms. ?Here,? she said again, her finger pointing to the small, hooded nub of flesh. I took a deep breath and touched my tongue to it, moving just the tip back and forth as she spread herself wide. The taste wasn?t much different from what I?d tasted in her mouth. The smell was kind of musky, and her curly blonde hairs tickled my nose a little. ?Oh Leah,? she moaned, arching, pressing up against my tongue. ?Yes, yes, like that!? The sounds she made were encouraging and I moved my tongue faster, sinking deeper into her flesh. She moaned louder, rolling her hips, encouraging me to do circles, and I licked her that way, my tongue flat, moving around and around. Her breath came faster, and she moved her hands up to her breasts, pulling on her nipples as I licked her. Her swollen pussy lips swallowed mine now that she wasn?t spreading herself open, and I had to really move in, now, to keep on her clit, my nose pressed against the soft hairs of her mound. Between my own saliva and her juices, I felt like I was drowning, and all I could do was swallow as I tried to keep up that same, fast rhythm against her clit. ?That?s it,? she whispered, looking down at me, her eyes just slits. ?You?re doing it? oh god, Leah, you?re gonna make me come again.? The power in those words was incredible and my own pussy contracted, aching, as she started to climax, and I could feel the quiver of her against mylapping tongue as she moaned and rocked against my mouth. Her hands pulled at me then, and I moved from between her legs, coming to lay next to her on the bed. ?Mmmmmm?? Her hands were moving over her thighs like they had after her orgasm the day before, just petting herself lightly. She looked over at me and smiled. ?Doesn?t it feel good to be bad?? I touched my lips, still wet with her juices, and nodded. I had to admit-it really did. CHAPTER FOUR Being bad was a slippery slope. I found myself slipping, and I couldn?t seem to stop it. I sat between my parents at mass on Sunday and tried not to listen. Instead I counted the word ?sin.? Forty-seven sins. Father Michael said the word ?sin? forty-seven times, and the one time he was practically yelling from the altar: ?How tender is our flesh! How hard our hearts! How much more aware are we of suffering than of sin!? and it made my heart leap to my throat. But there I was, skipping school again on a Friday, sitting in Erica?s room, listening to music and drinking one of the beers that Bobby had brought with him while I watched them slow dance. I was feeling just how tender my flesh really was, how vulnerable and aching. Just seeing their bodies touching, swaying together, made me long for something that I knew was a sin. And I just couldn?t deny it anymore. It was all I thought about, no matter what I was doing-standing in the shower, sitting in class, eating my mother?s pork chops-I couldn?t stop thinking about seeing Mr. Nolan lying on his bed with his hand wrapped around his cock. But it wasn?t just watching him that night that had me spinning, it was also the way he smiled at me the next day, the way he reached out and touched the corner of my mouth with the napkin when he shared his bagel, the dark look in his eyes when they fell between my legs that morning. Watching Erica and Bobby, the way they nuzzled each other and kissed, I had a startling revelation, and I knew then that I was really in trouble-I was falling for my best friend?s dad. I finished the last of my beer, seeing Bobby?s hand slip under Erica?s shirt, and stood, hanging onto the edge of the night table when the room tilted sideways and my head started buzzing. I?d only had two other beers in my whole life, and this afternoon, watching Erica and Bobby together, I?d had four. ?I?m gonna leave you two alone,? I murmured, seeing their tongues twining together, Erica?s leg wrapping around Bobby?s calf as he moved his hand under her shirt, the other edging her skirt up so high I could see her panties as he squeezed the flesh of her ass in his hand. ?Let you guyshave the bed.? They broke off kissing and Erica looked at me. ?Are you sure?? ?Yeah.? I inched past them toward the door. ?You don?t have to.? Bobby?s his eyes swept toward the hem of my skirt. ?Why don?t you stay? and play?? My eyes met Erica?s and I knew she?d told him about us, I just knew it from the way she bit her lip and looked away so fast. My face burned, my chest tightened, and I shook my head. ?Three?s a crowd,? I insisted, opening her door and not looking back at them as I shut it behind me. I stood in the hallway, leaning back against the wall because I was having that dizzy, buzzing feeling in my head, still. They were whispering, and I heard the bedsprings and knew they were making out. I don?t know how long I was there, but it was a while, standing and contemplating Mr. Nolan?s bedroom door. It wasn?t until I heard Erica moan and say, ?Oooh yeah, lick it!? that I made up my mind. I?d never been in his room all by myself. It felt like I was walking into a secret, and the anticipation in my tummy was tight and tingly. I laid down on his bed, telling myself that I was just a little drunk, dizzy still, but I turned on my belly and buried my face in his pillow, smelling his lingering scent and remembering him. There was nothing I could do but think about it-how his cock had swollen in his hand, how fast he pumped it, the words he used (?Fuck that hot little cunt!?) that made my face burn and my pussy wet. Sliding off the bed to the floor, I reached underneath and slid out the box. Inside there were hundreds, thousands of images, all graphic, colorful and compelling. Even just in the short time that we?d been exploring the collection under Mr. Nolan?s bed, I found myself less aroused by the photos than I did by the videos. It seemed like some sort of progression-the more I saw, the more I wanted. I looked longingly at the television, but I didn?t want to disturb Erica and Bobby or draw too much attention to myself, so I leaned back against the bed, pulling my skirt up and settling down with one of the magazines calledPrivate. The first couple pictures were girls together, licking and touching each other, and I couldn?t help but remember Erica?s tongue between my legs. Slipping my hand under my panties, I parted my lips, rubbing my finger over my clit. Erica was getting her pussy licked right now, I thought, and I wished I had a tongue, too. My hand felt good, moving back and forth in the wetness, but just one experience of feeling a mouth between my legs had made me a little unsatisfied with just my fingers. I balanced the magazine in my lap, flipping the pages and rubbing myself. There was a girl dressed in a plaid skirt and blouse that reminded me of our uniforms who was sitting at a desk, teasing her teacher by opening her legs and showing him that she didn?t have any panties. In the next picture, he was using his pointer to smack her bottom, and seeing her bent over the desk, her legs spread, and the way he squeezed his cock in his hand like that made me gasp and rub a little faster. It was too hard to turn the pages like this, I decided, and I stood, pulling my panties off and lying on my stomach on the bed with the magazine in front of me. I reached under my belly to find my clit, flipping pages with my other hand. Now she had his cock in her mouth, and it was clear that

Harry Potter, 2024/12/18 - 12:31:11

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer?s Stone For Jessica, who loves stories, For Anne, who loved them too; And for Di, who heard this one first. 1. THE BOY WHO LIVED Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you?d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn?t hold with such nonsense. Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere. The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn?t think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley?s sister, but they hadn?t met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn?t have a sister, because her sister and her good for nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn?t want Dudley mixing with a child like that. When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window. At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. ?Little tyke,? chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four?s drive. It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar?a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn?t realize what he had seen?then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn?t a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive?no,looking at the sign; cats couldn?t read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day. But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn?t help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn?t bear people who dressed in funny clothes?the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren?t young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt?these people were obviously collecting for something? yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills. Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn?t, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning.He didn?t see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he?d stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery. He?d forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker?s. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn?t know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn?t see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying. ?The Potters, that?s right, that?s what I heard?? ??yes, their son, Harry?? Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it. He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking? no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn?t such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn?t even sure his nephewwas called Harry. He?d never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn?t blame her?ifhe?d had a sister like that? but all the same, those people in cloaks? He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o?clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door. ?Sorry,? he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn?t seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, ?Don?t be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!? And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off. Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn?t approve of imagination. As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw?and it didn?t improve his mood?was the tabby cat he?d spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes. ?Shoo!? said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn?t move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife. Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door?s problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word (?Won?t!?). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news: ?And finally, bird watchers everywhere have reported that the nation?s owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.? The newscaster allowed himself a grin. ?Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?? ?Well, Ted,? said the weatherman, ?I don?t know about that, but it?s not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they?ve had a downpour of shootingstars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early?it?s not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight.? Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters? Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He?d have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. ?Er?Petunia, dear?you haven?t heard from your sister lately, have you?? As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn?t have a sister. ?No,? she said sharply. ?Why?? ?Funny stuff on the news,? Mr. Dursley mumbled. ?Owls? shooting stars? and there were a lot of funny looking people in town today?? ?So?? snapped Mrs. Dursley. ?Well, I just thought? maybe? it was something to do with? you know?her crowd.? Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he?d heard the name ?Potter.? He decided he didn?t dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, ?Their son?he?d be about Dudley?s age now, wouldn?t he?? ?I suppose so,? said Mrs. Dursley stiffly. ?What?s his name again? Howard, isn?t it?? ?Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me.? ?Oh, yes,? said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. ?Yes, I quite agree.? He didn?t say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something. Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did? if it got out that they were related to a pair of?well, he didn?t think he could bear it. The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potterswere involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind? He couldn?t see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on?he yawned and turned over?it couldn?t affectthem? How very wrong he was. Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn?t so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all. A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you?d have thought he?d just popped out of the ground. The cat?s tail twitched and its eyes narrowed. Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man?s name was Albus Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore didn?t seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, ?I should have known.? He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again?the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn?t be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn?t look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it. ?Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.? He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. ?How did you know it was me?? she asked. ?My dear Professor, I?ve never seen a cat sit so stiffly.? ?You?d be stiff if you?d been sitting on a brick wall all day,? said Professor McGonagall. ?All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here.? Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. ?Oh yes, everyone?s celebrating, all right,? she said impatiently. ?You?d think they?d be a bit more careful, but no?even the Muggles have noticed something?s going on. It was on their news.? She jerked her head back at the Dursleys? dark living room window. ?I heard it. Flocks of owls? shooting stars? Well, they?re not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent?I?ll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense.? ?You can?t blame them,? said Dumbledore gently. ?We?ve had precious little to celebrate for eleven years.? ?I know that,? said Professor McGonagall irritably. ?But that?s no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors.? She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn?t, so she went on. ?A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he reallyhas gone, Dumbledore?? ?It certainly seems so,? said Dumbledore. ?We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?? ?Awhat?? ?A lemon drop. They?re a kind of Muggle sweet I?m rather fond of.? ?No, thank you,? said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn?t think this was the moment for lemon drops. ?As I say, even if You-Know-Whohas gone?? ?My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this ?You-Know-Who? nonsense?for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name:Voldemort.? Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice.?It all gets so confusing if we keep saying ?You-Know-Who.? I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort?s name.? ?I know you haven?t?, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. ?But you?re different. Everyone knows you?re the only one You Know?oh, all right,Voldemort, was frightened of.? ?You flatter me,? said Dumbledore calmly. ?Voldemort had powers I will never have.? ?Only because you?re too?well?noble to use them.? ?It?s lucky it?s dark. I haven?t blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs.? Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said,?The owls are nothing next to therumors that are flying around. You know what everyone?s saying? About why he?s disappeared? About what finally stopped him?? It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever?everyone? was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer. ?What they?resaying,? she pressed on,?is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric?s Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are?are?that they?re?dead.? Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped. ?Lily and James? I can?t believe it? I didn?t want to believe it? Oh, Albus?? Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder.?I know? I know?? he said heavily. Professor McGonagall?s voice trembled as she went on. ?That?s not all. They?re saying he tried to kill the Potter?s son, Harry. But?he couldn?t. He couldn?t kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they?re saying that when he couldn?t kill Harry Potter, Voldemort?s power somehow broke?and that?s why he?s gone.? Dumbledore nodded glumly. ?It?s?it?strue?? faltered Professor McGonagall.?After all he?s done? all the people he?s killed? he couldn?t kill a little boy? It?s just astounding? of all the things to stop him? but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?? ?We can only guess,? said Dumbledore. ?We may never know.? Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said,?Hagrid?s late. I suppose it was he who told you I?d be here, by the way?? ?Yes,? said Professor McGonagall. ?And I don?t suppose you?re going to tell mewhy you?re here, of all places?? ?I?ve come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They?re the only family he has left now.? ?You don?t mean?youcan?t mean the people who livehere?? cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four.?Dumbledore?you can?t. I?ve been watching them all day. You couldn?t find two people who are less like us. And they?ve got this son?I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!? ?It?s the best place for him,? said Dumbledore firmly. ?His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he?s older. I?ve written them a letter.? ?A letter?? repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. ?Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He?ll be famous?a legend?I wouldn?t be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in thefuture?there will be books written about Harry?every child in our world will know his name!? ?Exactly,? said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half moon glasses. ?It would be enough to turn any boy?s head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won?t even remember! Can?t you see how much better off he?ll be, growing up away from all that until he?s ready to take it?? Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said,?Yes?yes, you?re right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?? She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it. ?Hagrid?s bringing him.? ?You think it?wise?to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?? ?I would trust Hagrid with my life,? said Dumbledore. ?I?m not saying his heart isn?t in the right place,? said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, ?but you can?t pretend he?s not careless. He does tend to?what was that?? A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky?and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them. If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and sowild?long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets. ?Hagrid,? said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. ?At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?? ?Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir,? said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. ?Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I?ve got him, sir.? ?No problems, were there?? ?No, sir?house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin? around. He fell asleep as we was flyin? over Bristol.? Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. ?Is that where??? whispered Professor McGonagall. ?Yes,? said Dumbledore. ?He?ll have that scar forever.? ?Couldn?t you do something about it, Dumbledore?? ?Even if I could, I wouldn?t. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well?give him here, Hagrid?we?d better get this over with.? Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys? house. ?Could I?could I say good bye to him, sir?? asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog. ?Shhh!? hissed Professor McGonagall, ?you?ll wake the Muggles!? ?S-s-sorry,? sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. ?But I c-c-can?t stand it?Lily an? James dead?an? poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles?? ?Yes, yes, it?s all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we?ll be found,? Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry?s blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid?s shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore?s eyes seemedto have gone out. ?Well,? said Dumbledore finally, ?that?s that. We?ve no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations.? ?Yeah,? said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, ?I?ll be takin? Sirius his bike back. G?night, Professor McGonagall?Professor Dumbledore, sir.? Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night. ?I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall,? said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply. Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four. ?Good luck, Harry,? he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone. A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours? time by Mrs. Dursley?s scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley? He couldn?t know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up theirglasses and saying in hushed voices: ?To Harry Potter?the boy who lived!? 2. THE VANISHING GLASS Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys? front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different colored bonnets?but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by hismother. The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too. Yet Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day. ?Up! Get up! Now!? Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again. ?Up!? she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. He had a funny feeling he?d had the same dream before. His aunt was back outside the door. ?Are you up yet?? she demanded. ?Nearly,? said Harry. ?Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don?t you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy?s birthday.? Harry groaned. ?What did you say?? his aunt snapped through the door. ?Nothing, nothing?? Dudley?s birthday?how could he have forgotten? Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept. When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley?s birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise?unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley?s favorite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn?t often catch him. Harry didn?t look it, but he was very fast. Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley?s, and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had had it as long as he could remember, and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten it. ?In the car crash when your parents died,? she had said. ?And don?t ask questions.? Don?t ask questions?that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon. ?Comb your hair!? he barked, by way of a morning greeting. About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way?all over the place. Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel?Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig. Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn?t much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell. ?Thirty six,? he said, looking up at his mother and father. ?That?s two less than last year.? ?Darling, you haven?t counted Auntie Marge?s present, see, it?s here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy.? ?All right, thirty seven then,? said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over. Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly,?And we?ll buy you anothertwo presents while we?re out today. How?s that, popkin?Two more presents. Is that all right?? Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly,?So I?ll have thirty? thirty?? ?Thirty nine, sweetums,? said Aunt Petunia. ?Oh.? Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. ?All right then.? Uncle Vernon chuckled.?Little tyke wants his money?s worth, just like his father. ?Atta boy, Dudley!? He ruffled Dudley?s hair. At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried. ?Bad news, Vernon,? she said. ?Mrs. Figg?s broken her leg. She can?t take him.? She jerked her head in Harry?s direction. Dudley?s mouth fell open in horror, but Harry?s heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley?s birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she?d ever owned. ?Now what?? said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he?d planned this. Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn?t easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again. ?We could phone Marge,? Uncle Vernon suggested. ?Don?t be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy.? The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn?t there?or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn?t understand them, like a slug. ?What about what?s her name, your friend?Yvonne?? ?On vacation in Majorca,? snapped Aunt Petunia. ?You could just leave me here,? Harry put in hopefully (he?d be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley?s computer). Aunt Petunia looked as though she?d just swallowed a lemon. ?And come back and find the house in ruins?? she snarled. ?I won?t blow up the house,? said Harry, but they weren?t listening. ?I suppose we could take him to the zoo,? said Aunt Petunia slowly, ??and leave him in the car?? ?That car?s new, he?s not sitting in it alone?? Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn?t really crying?it had been years since he?d really cried?but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted. ?Dinky Duddydums, don?t cry, Mummy won?t let him spoil your special day!? she cried, flinging her arms around him. ?I? don?t? want? him? t-t-to come!? Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. ?He always sp-spoils everything!? He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother?s arms. Just then, the doorbell rang??Oh, good Lord, they?re here!? said Aunt Petunia frantically?and a moment later, Dudley?s best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people?s arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once. Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn?t believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys? car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn?t been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they?d left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside. ?I?m warning you,? he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry?s, ?I?m warning you now, boy?any funny business, anything at all?and you?ll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas.? ?I?m not going to do anything,? said Harry, ?honestly?? But Uncle Vernon didn?t believe him. No one ever did. The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn?t make them happen. Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn?t been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left ?to hide that horrible scar.? Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that hecouldn?t explain how it had grown back so quickly. Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley?s (brown with orange puff balls)?The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn?t fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn?t punished. On the other hand, he?d gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley?s gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry?s surprise as anyone else?s, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry?s headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he?d tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump. But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn?t school, his cupboard, or Mrs. Figg?s cabbage smelling living room. While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank, and Harry were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles. ??roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums,? he said, as a motorcycle overtook them. ?I had a dream about a motorcycle,? said Harry, remembering suddenly. ?It was flying.? Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache:?MOTORCYCLES DON?T FLY!? Dudley and Piers sniggered. ?I know they don?t,? said Harry. ?It was only a dream.? But he wished he hadn?t said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn?t, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon?they seemed to think he might get dangerous ideas. It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn?t bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn?t blond. Harry had the best morning he?d had in a long time. He was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn?t fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting him. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn?t have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish the first. Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to last. After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon?s car and crushed it into a trash can?but at the moment it didn?t look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep. Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils. ?Make it move,? he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn?t budge. ?Do it again,? Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on. ?This is boring,? Dudley moaned. He shuffled away. Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn?t have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself?no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at leasthe got to visit the rest of the house. The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry?s. It winked. Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren?t. He looked back at the snake and winked, too. The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly: ?I get that all the time.? ?I know,? Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn?t sure the snake could hear him. ?It must be really annoying.? The snake nodded vigorously. ?Where do you come from, anyway?? Harry asked. The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it. Boa Constrictor, Brazil. ?Was it nice there?? The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on:This specimen was bred in the zoo.?Oh, I see?so you?ve never been to Brazil?? As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump. ?DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON?T BELIEVE WHAT IT?S DOING!? Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could. ?Out of the way, you,? he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened?one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror. Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor?s tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits. As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said,?Brazil, here I come? Thanksss, amigo.? The keeper of the reptile house was in shock. ?But the glass,? he kept saying, ?where did the glass go?? The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn?t done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon?s car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, ?Harry was talking to it, weren?t you, Harry?? Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say,?Go?cupboard?stay?no meals,? before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy. Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn?t know what time it was and he couldn?t be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn?t risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food. He?d lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as he could remember, ever since he?d been a baby and his parents had died in that car crash. He couldn?t remember being in the car when his parents had died. Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead. This, he supposed, was the crash, though he couldn?t imagine where all the green light came from. He couldn?t remember his parents at all. His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course he was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house. When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were his only family. Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry furiously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at him once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry tried to get a closer look. At school, Harry had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley?s gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley?s gang. 3. THE LETTERS FROM NO ONE The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest ever punishment. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches. Harry was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley?s gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley?s favorite sport: Harry Hunting. This was why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came he would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn?t be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon?s old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny. ?They stuff people?s heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall,? he told Harry. ?Want to come upstairs and practice?? ?No, thanks,? said Harry. ?The poor toilet?s never had anything as horrible as your head down it?it might be sick.? Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he?d said. One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg?s. Mrs. Figg wasn?t as bad as usual. It turned out she?d broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn?t seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Harry watch television and gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she?d had it for several years. That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand new uniform. Smeltings? boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren?t looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life. As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn?t believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown up. Harry didn?t trust himself to speak. He thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.* * * There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water. ?What?s this?? he asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question. ?Your new school uniform,? she said. Harry looked in the bowl again. ?Oh,? he said, ?I didn?t realize it had to be so wet.? ?Don?t be stupid,? snapped Aunt Petunia. ?I?m dyeing some of Dudley?s old things gray for you. It?ll look just like everyone else?s when I?ve finished.? Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. He sat down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look on his first day at Stonewall High?like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably. Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry?s new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table. They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat. ?Get the mail, Dudley,? said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper. ?Make Harry get it.? ?Get the mail, Harry.? ?Make Dudley get it.? ?Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley.? Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon?s sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and?a letter for Harry. Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives?he didn?t belong to the library, so he?d never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake: Mr. H. Potter The Cupboard under the Stairs 4 Privet Drive Little Whinging Surrey The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letterH. ?Hurry up, boy!? shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. ?What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?? He chuckled at his own joke. Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope. Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard. ?Marge?s ill,? he informed Aunt Petunia. ?Ate a funny whelk.? ?Dad!? said Dudley suddenly. ?Dad, Harry?s got something!? Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon. ?That?smine!? said Harry, trying to snatch it back. ?Who?d be writing to you?? sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn?t stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge. ?P-P-Petunia!? he gasped. Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise. ?Vernon! Oh my goodness?Vernon!? They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn?t used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick. ?I want to read that letter,? he said loudly. ?I want to read it,? said Harry furiously, ?as it?smine.? ?Get out, both of you,? croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope. Harry didn?t move. ?I WANT MY LETTER!? he shouted. ?Letme see it!? demanded Dudley. ?OUT!? roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor. ?Vernon,? Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, ?look at the address?how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don?t think they?re watching the house?? ?Watching?spying?might be following us,? muttered Uncle Vernon wildly. ?But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don?t want?? Harry could see Uncle Vernon?s shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen. ?No,? he said finally. ?No, we?ll ignore it. If they don?t get an answer? Yes, that?s best? we won?t do anything?? ?But?? ?I?m not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn?t we swear when we took him in we?d stamp out that dangerous nonsense?? That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he?d never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard. ?Where?s my letter?? said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. ?Who?s writing to me?? ?No one. It was addressed to you by mistake,? said Uncle Vernon shortly. ?I have burned it.? ?It wasnot a mistake,? said Harry angrily, ?it had my cupboard on it.? ?SILENCE!? yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful. ?Er?yes, Harry?about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking? you?re really getting a bit big for it? we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley?s second bedroom.? ?Why?? said Harry. ?Don?t ask questions!? snapped his uncle. ?Take this stuff upstairs, now.? The Dursleys? house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon?s sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn?t fit into his first bedroom. It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor?s dog; in the corner was Dudley?s first ever television set, which he?d put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they?d never been touched. From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother,?I don?twant him in there? Ineed that room? make him get out?? Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday he?d have given anything to be up here. Today he?d rather be back in his cupboard with that letter than up here without it. Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He?d screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn?t have his room back. Harry was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he?d opened the letter in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly. When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted,?There?s another one! ?Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive??? With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry?s letter clutched in his hand. ?Go to your cupboard?I mean, your bedroom,? he wheezed at Harry. ?Dudley?go?just go.? Harry walked round and round his new room. Someone knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn?t received his first letter. Surely that meant they?d try again? And this time he?d make sure they didn?t fail. He had a plan. The repaired alarm clock rang at six o?clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently. He mustn?t wake the Dursleys. He stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights. He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door? ?AAAAARRRGH!? Harry leapt into the air; he?d trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat?somethingalive! Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle?s face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry didn?t do exactly what he?d been trying to do. He shouted at Harry for about half an hour and then told him to go and make a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon?s lap. Harry could see three letters addressed in green ink. ?I want?? he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes. Uncle Vernon didnt go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot. ?See,? he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, ?if they can?tdeliver them they?ll just give up.? ?I?m not sure that?ll work, Vernon.? ?Oh, these people?s minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they?re not like you and me,? said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him. On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry. As they couldn?t go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom. Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed?Tiptoe Through the Tulips? as he worked, and jumped at small noises. On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty four letters to Harry found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor. ?Who on earth wants to talk toyou this badly?? Dudley asked Harry in amazement.* * * On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy. ?No post on Sundays,? he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, ?no damn letters today?? Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one? ?Out! OUT!? Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor. ?That does it,? said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. ?I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We?re going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!? He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag. They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn?t dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while. ?Shake ?em off? shake ?em off,? he would mutter whenever he did this. They didn?t stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He?d never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he?d missed five television programs he?d wanted to see, and he?d never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer. Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Harry stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering? They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table. ??Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about an ?undred of these at the front desk.? She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address: Mr. H. Potter Room 17 Railview Hotel Cokeworth Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way. The woman stared. ?I?ll take them,? said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.* * * ?Wouldn?t it be better just to go home, dear?? Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn?t seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage. ?Daddy?s gone mad, hasn?t he?? Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared. It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dud ley sniveled. ?It?s Monday,? he told his mother. ?The Great Humberto?s on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with atelevision.? Monday. This reminded Harry of something. If itwas Monday?and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days the week, because of television?then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry?s eleventh birthday. Of course, his birthdays were never exactly fun?last year, the Dursleys had given him a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon?s old socks. Still,you weren?t eleven every day. Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn?t answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he?d bought. ?Found the perfect place!? he said. ?Come on! Everyone out!? It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there. ?Storm forecast for tonight!? said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. ?And this gentleman?s kindly agreed to lend us his boat!? A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron gray water below them. ?I?ve already got us some rations,? said Uncle Vernon, ?so all aboard!? It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken down house. The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms. Uncle Vernon?s rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up. ?Could do with some of those letters now, eh?? he said cheerfully. He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry privately agreed, though the thought didn?t cheer him up at all. As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy window

Stephen Deas, 2024/12/18 - 12:27:27

Stephen Deas Warlock's Shadow The evil that men do lives after them. The good is oft interred with their bones.Julius Caesar, Act III PROLOGUETHE WARLOCK?S SHADOW Kasmin didn?t see the three men come into the tavern but he knew they were there almost at once. There was a subtle stutter in the mood of the place, a difference in tone, conversations falling quiet, tankards pausing for a moment as heads turned. Strangers. He didn?t get strangers very often. The press of dark narrow streets and alleys that was The Maze had made an unfriendly name for itself, one it mostly deserved. The inside of the Barrow of Beer was a safe enough place to be ? it was Kasmin?s place and he had a reputation to keep ? but the outside was a wholly different matter. He tried not to look but he couldn?t resist. Three men had come in together. He couldn?t make out much through the press of his regulars but they had an air to them, the sort that said they were used to trouble. They didn?t look like they were local, either. Not city folk. Most likely they were sailors up from the docks, although the Barrow of Beer was closer to the market side of the Maze and not many sailors made it this far. The taverns and the Moongrass dens and the brothels and the muggers and the press gangs saw to that. The three of them settled into a corner near the door, crowding tightly onto wooden stools around a tiny table. An unspoken accommodation was reached and the mood in the Barrow sighed and relaxed back to its usual loudness. Three men who were used to trouble, but they weren?t looking for it here and that was all that mattered. Kasmin finished what he was doing, wiping empty tankards and poured a couple more. Most of the men in here passed as friends, people who?d been coming to the Barrow for years. They were his family, his safe place. He took comfort from that.Strangers made him uneasy. He hadn?t always kept a tavern. That done, he did what was expected of him and wandered across the floor, easing himself between the knots of drinkers until he reached the three strangers by the door. ?Evening, gentlemen ?? His words froze in his mouth. He?d never seen two of them before, but the third ? the third he knew all right. It was a face ten years older than when he?d seen it last, but there was no mistake. If Kasmin had had a sword with him, there would have been a fight, right there and then, and one of them would have been dead. But he didn?t have a sword and the three men had knives. Long curved knives, a sort he knew all too well. They were looking at him blankly, wondering what was wrong with him. The man he wanted to kill didn?t remember him! ?Ale or wine?? he asked brusquely. The man he wanted to kill spat on the floor.?Wine.? The voice. He remembered that voice, too. Shouting out orders across the deck of a ship and swearing murder over a narrow gap of sea. Kasmin had sworn something back, something about revenge. ?Wine.? He gave them a curt nod and pushed his way back to the other end of the tavern, almost stumbling in his own house. There was a fury inside him now, a rage he hadn?t felt for ? how long had the Emperor sat on the throne of Varr? Eleven years now? That long and a couple of years more.A killing rage. His hands were shaking. Men who?d known him for years were looking at him, brows furrowed. ?You all right, Kas?? He shook them away and steadied himself, then took a bottle of wine and three cups from a shelf. He looked at the secret place where he kept his own long curved knife, exactly like the ones the three men had on their hips. He hadn?t used it, not in anger, not for the same number of years since he?d felt this fury, but he still knew how. Straight into the neck of one of them, into the face of the second ? And then the third man, the one with his back to the wall, the one sat in the corner with the table in front of him, the one Kasminreally wanted to kill, he?d be on his feet by then, blade drawn and ready for a fight. It wouldn?t take much to go wrong for Kasmin to be the one who came off worse from that. His eyes left the knife. He took a deep breath. There were other ways. Syannis? he?d have to tell Syannis.Then there would be blood, no two ways about it. Syannis would come like a hurricane and carve them into pieces. He wormed his way back to their table and put the cups and the bottle down in front of them.?Half a crown.? The man he wanted to kill tipped a handful of pennies out of his purse. Kasmin counted them. Too many. He left a couple behind. The man was watching him, peering at him, looking too hard for comfort. ?Better be good, this,? he grunted. ?Came here special, we did. You must be right friendly with that weird old fellow down by the river. Said this was the best place in the Maze for a drink. Don?t look it.? Kasmin shrugged. He took his pennies and backed away. So the witch-doctor had sent them here. Saffran Kuy, another refugee from a kingdom that didn?t exist any more. Syannis and Kuy, the thief-taker who hadn?t always been a thief-taker, the witch-doctor who hadn?t always been a witch-doctor. And him, the tavern-keeper who?d once been a soldier. They?d all come here because it was far, far away, because they had no home and nowhere was safe any more, and it was all thanks to one man. Radek of Kalda. And here, sitting in the corner of Kasmin?s tavern was the Headsman. One of Radek?s lieutenants. The one Kasmin hated the most. PART ONEA PRINCE?S GIFT 1KELM?S TEETH Deephaven! Great northern port of the Empire, young and vibrant and alive with a wild frantic energy! While cities like Varr slipped into decadence with a fatal resignation, Deephaven ran out to embrace it and offer up its heart. Here anything was possible, here north met south, all that was Aria collided with all that was not; it was a place where swords and lives and even kingdoms were bought and sold, a place always humming with anticipation of what the next moment would bring even as it revelled in the last. Berren sat slumped in the corner of a cold stone room, drumming his fingers on his knee. The world outside the sun-temple was rousing itself from the torpor of winter and sniffing the possibilities of spring. Barges from the City of Spires were riding the thaw down the river and the first boats from distant Varr wouldn?t be far behind. The world outside was waking up. The worldinside the temple, however, had largely gone to sleep. At the front of the class, Teacher Sterm was droning on about something that didn?t interest Berren in the least. Berren was daydreaming. If the little teaching cell had had a window, he?d have been staring out of it, counting the leaves on the trees. He could hear the hiss of rain, slithering in through the half-closed door. After a bit he started to count the drips falling off the lintel instead. Anything. Whatever it took to make the seconds hurry on past. After all, it wasn?t every day you got to meet a prince. A stinging blow on his cheek summoned his thoughts back. Sterm had a cane and in the month since he?d first counted Berren among his students, he?d had a lot of practice using it. He was getting quite good with it, but Berren thought he?d best not tell him. Not yet. He was saving that. ?Your master pays me money to teach you, boy,? snapped the priest. ?It?s no bother to me if you sleep through everything I have to say, but I imagine he will have a different view when I tell him. Get up.? Berren wasn?t so sure about that. Master Sy was a more religious man than some, but he generally had enough reasons to be annoyed at Berren without anything Teacher Sterm might have to say. With a sigh, he got up. It was going to be one of those make-an-example-of-Berren afternoons. There were a lot of those with Sterm. He weathered them with an indifference that only made Sterm even angrier. In another month, he?d move on to a different teacher. They all knew him by now. None of them liked him. That was fine ? he didn?t like them either. He didn?t like priests, he didn?t like temples, he didn?t like gods, didn?t like any of it. They were all just something he had to put up with to get what he wanted. What he wanted was Master Sy, teaching him to use a sword. ?Come to the front, boy.? Berren shuffled forward. He was here because nearly two years ago, Master Sy had promised to teach him swords on the day he mastered his letters; now, even despite his complete apathy, he could read and write. He was slow, he was clumsy, but he could do it. ?Right.? Sterm?s voice was clipped and sharp. The cell smelled of damp but as Berren walked to the front, he picked out a whiff of sugarleaf on Sterm?s breath. ?Berren will now tell us everything he knows about Saint Kelm.? Sterm smiled, stepped back and stared at Berren. Around him, a dozen novices looked up. They all hated Berren too. They were envious, he thought. Envious because they had to stay at the temple every evening and every night with nothing to look forward to except more of the same for the rest of their lives, while he, Berren, was apprenticed to the best thief-taker in the city.He spent his evenings in taverns and markets and walking the twilight streets. He sighed. Envious or not, when it came to letters and words and the histories of pointless saints that no one else cared about, they all knew a lot more than he did. He had no idea at all what Sterm had been talking about. Something about some priest who?d done something incredibly dull, most likely. Probably in some part of the world that didn?t exist any more, and all so long ago that no one apart from Sterm even remembered it. ?We?re waiting, Berren.? Sterm the Worm, Berren called him behind his back. Master Sy had tried to tell him off the first few times. He?d also been trying not to laugh, so it hadn?t really worked. Here, though, the other novices all gasped and tutted. Such insolence! Such disrespect! Sucha bunch of boring ? ?Kelm, boy!? One of the novices at the front grinned and bared his teeth. ?Teeth!? blurted Berren. ?He had teeth!?Kelm?s Teeth! He heard someone utter that curse almost every day. ?Yes, boy. And horses have teeth and so do little rats and weasels and sleepy little sloths who doze in the corner of my class. Sit down!? The priest slapped his cane across Berren?s arm, more out of a bored sense of duty than anything else. Berren ignored the sting. He got much worse from Master Sy when they sparred. The wasters, the wooden practice swords they used, were about the same length as Sterm?s cane. They were heavier and harder and Master Sy didn?t pull hisblows. ?Kelm.? Teacher Sterm grimaced and started to pace. ?The greatest saint in the illustrious history of the sun. Berren tells us he had teeth. I imagine we can do a bit better.? Somewhere outside, one of the temple bells started to ring, warning them all that it was an hour until sunset. Timefor novices to ready themselves for their prayers; time for Berren to run through the city streets to the Watchman?s Arms and finally see a prince. He could barely stop his toes from wriggling. None of the other novices seemed to be in the least impressed but surely they were just pretending; underneath they had to be green with envy. A prince! How many people ever got to meet a prince? How many poor orphans from Shipwrights? ?? The cane caught him round the ear and this time Sterm didn?t hold back. Berren gulped down a squeal of pain. ?For the love of all that?s bright, will you keepstill, boy!? Sterm?s knuckles were white. ?Kelm! You will devote your evening to study and you will learn about Kelm.? He gave Berren a withering look. ?You may wish to use the temple library. You may wish to learn from the wisdom of your forebears. You may wish to read their words and their histories. Unless you are Berren, of course, who believes he will attract knowledge like a lodestone; that it will appear out of the very air and force itself in through his ears despite his every effort to the contrary. Or is there some other explanation for your lack of attention, boy?? For a moment the priest looked pleased with himself. His eyes scanned the class. ?We will have visitors in the temple soon. The Autarch himself is coming from Torpreah. He plans a great summer tour of the empire. He will bring many priests and many holy artefacts with him and he has chosen Deephaven as the placewhere he will begin. In a few days his dragon-monks will be coming here.? He looked at Berren now and smiled. ?Whatever elsesome of you may have heard, the Autarch?s dragon-monks are the best swordsmen in the world. They are his personal guard and a score of them will be coming to make sure our temple is safe. Each monk will be given a novice to assist them in their duties.? Sterm?s eyes stayed on Berren. ?Those novices who are most gracious and penitent and have best applied themselves to their studies. For the rest of you ?? His smile turned sickly. ?The rest of you will still have me. And since our numbers will be so few, you will have the opportunity for some very personal teaching. You may go. Tomorrow you will tell me what you know of Kelm.? On other days Berren might have patiently taken his place in the line of novices that filed slowly towards the door, heads bowed, mumbling prayers to themselves as they crossed the threshold into the open yard outside. Today he couldn?t get out fast enough. He barged through the line, dashed outside into the rain and the smell of the sea blowing in from the harbour and ran for the temple gates. The soldiers who stood guard there in their bright yellow sunburst shirts threw him a half-hearted glare. Heavy grey clouds pressed down against grey streets. The cobbles were slick with water but Berren was far too busy to be worrying about that. He skittered and slid across Deephaven Square, splashing through puddles, paying no heed to the angry shouts that followed him. Down the sprawling Avenue of the Sun and into the city?s second great square, the square of the Four Winds. Here men and women scurried back and forth, heads bowed against the weather. A steady line of carts trudged from one side to the other. They came up the Godsway from the river docks, then went down the Avenue of Emperors to the harbour and the sea. They were the city?s blood, the flow that never stopped, up and down from river to sea and back again, filling the coffers of rich men with gold. Habit made him stop at the top of the Avenue of Emperors. Rain hissed into steam from the braziers pressed against the walls, smells of hot fat and butter and onions and spices mingling with the smell of the damp street and the ox-carts and the ever-present whiff of rotting fish. The noise was a cacophony of shouting, offers of everything from fried dough-balls to strips of pickled fish to spiced ratsticks and baked weevils, all hurled and battered against one another by the whirl of the wind. Berren hardly noticed it. He came here every day, and every day here was the same, rain or shine. You see those ships, boy? On the day the thief-taker had bought Berren from Master Hatchet and his gang of dung-collectors, they?d come here too. Before he?d even taken Berren home, he?d turned Berren around and pointed him down the Avenue of Emperors to the jumble of ships and masts anchored out in Deephaven Bay.When I?m done with you, you?ll come here every day and you?ll look at the flags. You?ll tell me if you see four white ships on a red field. If ever you do, there?s an emperor in it for you. Back then an emperor had seemed like a fortune big enough to buy the world. He knew better now but it was still a lot, still worth a pause and a quick look every day. You couldn?t make out the flags themselves from so far away, but the top of the Avenue of Emperors was as good a place as any to see if there were new ships in the harbour, to see whether it was worth a closer look. Habit made him pause, but it was raining. The harbour vanished into a murky grey haze. If any ships had weighed anchor since yesterday, they?d still be there tomorrow. Berren?s prince, on the other hand, might not. Stopping to look at the ships wasn?t the only old habit that refused to die. He snatched a hot dough-ball while no one was looking and ate it, laughing, as he ran on. 2PENNIES AND PRINCES IN A POOL By the time he reached the Watchman?s Arms he was soaked. His shirt and breeches stuck to him like a second skin. He ran straight through the commoners room up the stairs to the rooms above, dived through a door, slammed it closed and had already pulled his shirt half off when he realised that he wasn?t alone. ?Hello, Berren.? ?Master Mardan.? Berren paused. On the one hand, Mardan was a thief-taker like Syannis, his own master. Whenever he went with Master Sy to the Eight Pillars of Smoke, the tavern behind the city Courthouse where the thief-takers gathered, Mardan was always there. He and Master Sy were old friends. On the other hand, as far as Berren knew, Mardan wasn?t supposed to be here. He finished taking off his shirt and then stood, tense, holding it, idly twirling it. A wet shirt all twisted up tight made a fine enough weapon in a pinch. At least it did when you had nothing else. ?Syannis is down below.? Mardan was watching the shirt too closely not to have realised what Berren was doing. He chuckled and looked down at the floor. There were three mattresses where this morning there had been two. ?The justicar still isn?t happy that His Highness has enough of us around him. Me, I try telling him ? the more people you put here, the more chance one of them has itchy pockets. I try telling him he should keep Syannis here and send everyone else away, but he just doesn?t listen.? Mardan gave an exaggerated shrug. ?Or maybe Kol sent me here for my wit and charm. I hear His Highness finds Syannis a tad dismal and dull. Who?d have thought, eh?? He shrugged. ?Trouble is, doesn?t matter how many thief-takers and so forth you pack together, it doesn?t change how many rooms they have.? Berren dropped his shirt. Still wary, he dried himself and dressed in his best clothes, the one set he had that didn?t make him look like what he was ? an orphan boy from Shipwrights? who happened to fall out the right side of the ship. A white shirt with frills around the bottom and dark blue breeches with a bright strip of yellow down either side. Master Sy had gone on and on about how hard it had been getting the colours right. Picking ones that wouldn?tmean something. Apparently that was extraordinarily difficult around this particular prince. ?Have you ? Have you met him?? ?Syannis? Yes, he?s down ?? Berren shook his head.?The Prince, Master Mardan.? Mardan laughed.?His Highness, I think you mean. No, not me. Syannis gets the special treatment because he knows his manners. The rest of us, we guard the doors and frisk the commoners.? He shook his head. ?Besides, from what I hear His Highness was up for most of the night. I imagine he?s nursing a crippling hangover. I think he might have a couple of ladies from up on Reeper Hill helping him to get his strength back too.? Mardan smirked. ?Mind, from what I?veseen, I reckon I?m going to enjoy frisking some of the commoners here.? He wiggled his fingers suggestively. ?Come on, lad. Let?s see if we can?t find your master down below. And if we can?t, let?s see if we can?t find us a bedwarmer or two, eh?? Berren shrugged. Truth was, he didn?t much like Master Mardan. He didn?t much like the justicar or Teacher Sterm either, but Mardan was different. Mardan was creepy. The rest of them treated him like he was still a child. Mardan did that too, but he kept acting like he was trying to be friends as well. ?Are you ready?? When Berren nodded, Master Mardan bounded to the door and flung it open. ?Then I?ll show you the way. Come on, lad! Let?s find your master.? Berren muttered something rude under his breath. He followed Mardan across the landing outside and up to a door guarded by a pair of stiff soldiers, ramrod straight. They wore heavy sleeved brigandine armour, with metal greaves and vambraces protecting their lower legs and arms. Over the armour they wore pale moonlight-silver cloth and on their chests was a black triangle. Within the triangle, the tips of its wings and its claws poking out, was the design of a flaming red eagle. Red, black and silver, the colours of the Imperial Throne, of House Falandawn, raised for the first time over the palace of Varr by Khrozus the Butcher not long before Berren had been born. Probably. Everyone? Berren included ? simply assumed that Berren was one of Khrozus? Boys, the unwanted bastards that Khrozus? army had left behind after the siege of Deephaven. If that was true, then Berren was fifteen years old, give or take, and by any reckoning almost a man. The two imperial soldiers held naked steel in their hands. It wasn?t any ordinary steel either. The swords glowed faintly in the gloom and sometimes seemed to flash with colour, a slight shimmer of gold or a deep red, depending how they caught the torchlight. Sunsteel, forged by the priests of Torpreah, a holy metal if Teacher Sterm was to be believed. It mighteven have been enchanted. Master Sy had a light mail shirt made of the stuff and swore it would turn anything. The soldiers hadn?t moved. They were looking at Berren. Mardan frowned. ?It?s not like you don?t know who both of us are,? he grumbled. One of the soldiers growled and tried to look fierce. He might have done a better job of it if he hadn?t been sweating so much under all that armour that he was bright red in the face. Berren thought he looked a bit like a lobster. They were the prince?s soldiers from Varr, where winter locked everything in snow for months on end. No one who?d lived here through a Deephaven summer would ever think of dressing like that. The other one sniffed.?Ser Syannis? squire ? does he know how to behave, Ser Mardan? His Highness is present.? ?Er ? Yes.? Mardan beamed brightly. ?Yes he does. He knows exactly how to behave. Master Syannis is the best teacher in the city when it comes to behaving.? Berren nodded.That was certainly true. Most days it seemed like Master Sy spent more time teaching him how to hold his cutlery than teaching him how to hold his sword. The soldiers moved aside.?Ser Syannis is in there,? grunted the sniffy one. ?He?s in one of his moods.? Berren nodded. He walked on behind Mardan, past the soldiers and down some stairs into a part of the Watchman?s Arms he hadn?t seen before. It was a lot nicer here; it reminded him a bit of the Captain?s Rest down the end of the Avenue of Emperors near the sea-docks.That was supposed to be the richest tavern in town. Odd that a prince would stay here instead. The stairs led them out into another hall. It was empty except for a pair of soldiers by an arch into an open courtyard. There were voices, several, wafting in from outside, and laughter, the too-loud braying of drunk people. The soldiers stood aside and then Berren was through, into the fresh damp air. He looked about. He couldn?t see Master Sy but then it was hard to tear his eyes away from the centre of the yard. A shallow circle of water sat there, enclosed by a wide stone wall about as high as Berren?s knees and engraved with the phases of the moon. A moonpool. Throwing a penny into the reflection of the moon, even in a puddle on the street, was supposed to bring good luck, and there were hundreds of pools like this one dotted around the city. Penny collectors from those who could afford to throw pennies away. Most temples had them, priests claimed they were holy places, but as far as Berren was concerned they were free money. Apparently what got thrown into this one was people rather than pennies. A man sat in the water, stripped to the waist with a bottle of wine in one hand and the other up the dress of some expensive ground-floor girl from the brothels of Reeper Hill. There were two other women in the pool with him, all of them laughing and splashing and wearing flimsy white cotton that was soaking wet and left next to nothing to the imagination. As Berren stared, the man in the water pulled the closest of the woman down beside him and tipped his wine over her neck, lapping it up as it ran down her skin. Mardan leaned over and whispered.?Your luck?s in, Berren. There he is. The prince. His Imperial Highness Prince Sharda. Second in line to the throne. From what I?ve heard this looks like it?s one of his better days.? Berren stared. The women in the water were mesmerising. He hadn?t seen anyone look this gorgeous since ? since Lilissa. Best not to think abouther. Her and her fishmonger?s son. He shivered. ?Berren, lad.? ?Master Mardan?? ?You?re gawping.? ?Huh?? ?Mouth, lad. Close it.? Someone landed him a heavy cuff round the back of the head. Berren staggered and spun around and there was Master Sy. They were almost the same height now, neither of them particularly tall for men of Deephaven. Master Sy came from some land far across the sea where they were probably all short, but it sometimes made Berren wonder who his own father was. Most likely he?d been some soldier in the army of General Kyra, a soldier who?d sired him in exchange for a crust of mouldy bread during the siege. The sad truth was that he was never going to know. ?Eyes to the floor,? hissed Master Sy through clenched teeth. ?And bow your head. You are in the company of a prince.? Berren did as he was told. He saw Master Sy kick Master Mardan in the ankle. There were some angry whispers but Berren wasn?t paying attention. He was still peering through his eyelashes at the women in the water. He understood now what Master Mardan had meant about the frisking. The prince swivelled his head and gave Berren and the two thief-takers a languid look. He sat up straight. For a moment he might have been about to say something; then, with a great splash, he toppled over backwards. Everyone stood in shocked silence; Master Sy took a step forward, but then the prince reared out of the water, shaking his hair and laughing fit to burst. He pulled himself to his feet, staggered sideways and leaned heavily on two of his ladies. He cocked his head and screwed up his eyes and looked vaguely around the yard.?What I would like to see is ? They say the ? whoever they are. The ones who come across the sea in the sharp ships. With the ?? He frowned and growled something to himself. ?Anyway, whoever they are, I hear they make black powder rockets that fill the sky with coloured stars. Someone told me that. I want to seethem. If they could do that? They had them for Ashahn and Arianne. I missed it.? He slipped then and nearly fell over. Beside Berren, Master Sy was almost rigid, fists clenched. The prince and his women stumbled out of the pool and walked away, lurching from side to side. Berren stared after them, transfixed. Even after they vanished through a door on the other side of the yard, he still couldn?t move. Master Sy stayed where he was, head bowed until the prince was out of sight. Then he took a deep breath and sighed and slowly began to relax. ?Oh. My. Gods,? moaned Master Mardan. ?Now was that a sight or was that a sight?? He grunted as Master Sy elbowed him in the ribs. Then the thief-taker had Berren?s ear between his fingers, practically tearing it off as he dragged Berren away. ?Ow!? ?Sit down, boy.? Master Sy pushed him back onto an ornate carved stone bench. Around the yard were at least a dozen soldiers, most of them standing stiffly to attention and acting as though they hadn?t seen anything, although Berren thought he heard a snicker or two. There was no way to know whether they were snickering at him or at the departed prince. ?Sorry, master.? Berren bowed his head. That was always the best way to start. Arguing with Master Sy only made him even more angry. Looking penitent always seemed to catch him off-guard. ?Boy, do you know who that was? That was His Imperial Highness Prince Sharda of Varr. So: What do you think?? 3THE SCENT GARDEN Berren kept quiet. Saying that yes, thanks, he?d already guessed it was the prince probably wasn?t going to take the conversation anywhere useful. Instead he stared at the flagstones on the floor. The rain had stopped but it had left puddles. The stones were carved in some faded motif, worn down by countless booted feet. The thief-taker looked him up and down, frowning fiercely, straightening a fold in his clothes here, brushing away a fleck of dirt there. ?He?s dangerous, that one. Unpredictable. A drunk. Prone to be morose and violent. You don?t want to catch his eye, boy. He?ll rip you to pieces.? Unpredictable? Prone to be morose and violent? Sounds familiar, that does. Berren wasn?t surewhat he?d been expecting, but certainly it hadn?t been a drunkard, stripped to the waist like some dock-worker, someone only a few years older than him, full of swagger and yet with enough chips on his shoulder to start a fire. Not someone who had staggered off almost too drunk to stand with three of the prettiest ladies of Reeper Hill. Impressed? Disappointment and envy in roughly equal measure, that was more like it. He shrugged. ?I didn?t ?? Master Sy?s glare shut him up. ?Look and listen but say nothing. Everyone here has wealth and power far more than us. You see those soldiers?? He pointed to the men by the door, sweating under their armour. ?You think they?re nothing more than snuffers?? Berren shook his head. Snuffers were mostly relics of the war, the remnants of Khrozus? army who?d never gone home after the siege. Men who?d stolen swords and maybe a bit of mail from the corpses of their comrades and now hired themselves out to whoever would pay. The ones that had lasted were the brutal ones, the savage, the murderous. No, Justicar Kol would never hire a snuffer for something that actually mattered. Snuffers served whoever held the biggest bag of gold and that was that, not like a thief-taker. ?These are the Imperial Guard, boy. To be in the Imperial Guard you have to be the son or daughter of land and a title. Every one of them has sat in the imperial court. These will be lords and ladies of the empire one day. Now imagine having all that power and having to stand here all day as though you?re one of that prince?s pet monkeys. So mind your tongue. Watch the way they act, the way they dress. Listen to the way they talk. Learn from that but do it silently and with your head bowed. You understand me?? Berren nodded, secretly rolling his eyes. He?d come from the temple to the Watchman?s Arms full of excitement; now it was starting to look as though he might as well never have left.Silently with your head bowed? If he closed his eyes, he could hear those exact words coming out of Teacher Sterm?s mouth. ?And for the love of the sun, don?t steal anything!? ?Master!? Berren made a good show of looking shocked and hurt. Old habitsdid die hard, but as far as Master Sy knew, he hadn?t stolen anything for more than a year. Ever since ? He glanced wistfully back at the archway where the prince and his three ground-floor girls had gone. Ever since Lilissa had gone and married her fishmonger?s son. He?d hated her for that. Hated the fishmonger?s son, too. Dorrm. Dorrm the dumb, Berren called him, quietly when no one was listening. Dorrm was four years older than Berren, probably about twice his bulk, dim as a plank and disgustingly amiable. If he?d been anyone else, Berren would probably have liked him. Things being as they were, he quietly hated Dorrm and wished he?d die. Or get grabbed by the voracious press-gangs that festered down by the sea-docks these days. Yeah, and after Lilissa had chosen Dorrm instead of him, he?d started stealing again and buying her presents that Dorrm could never afford. When that didn?t work, he got to showing off, trying to goad Dorrm into a fight. Stupid, now he looked back on it. Embarrassing. Humiliating. Worst of all, Dorrm had never made anything of it.That had made Berren hate him even more. Master Sy had taken him away across the river, into the maze of mud-islands and channels and creeks and swamps where no one lived except the most desperately wanted men with nowhere else to hide and the thief-takers sent to catch them. They were away for a month. When they came back, Lilissa and Dorrm were married. She was living with him in his father?s shop somewhere on the eastern edge of The Maze. As far as Berren knew, she still was. Master Sy wouldn?t tell him where and he?d somehow never found the time to go and look. And that was the end of that. Yes, as far as Master Sy knew, Berren had stopped stealing. ?Come on, lad. I?ll show you around.? There were arches leading away from the yard in all four walls. One led back to the rooms where Berren and the other thief-takers were staying. One led to the prince?s wing. Master Sy picked the nearest of the other two, where another pair of imperial soldiers stood on guard. Beyond the arch lay a second square yard. Here, instead of open space, everywhere was overgrown. Tiny paths wound through leaves and flowers, punctuated by little marble benches like the ones in the yard before. ?Look familiar?? Berren blinked.?Yes!? Yes, suddenly it did. ?It?s like the Captain?s Rest.? Master Sy half-smiled and nodded.?Yes. Built and owned by the same guild-master.? He started to wander the paths. ?I?ve heard there are gardens like this in Varr too but much bigger. Scent gardens, they call them. Use your nose. I imagine they?ll be at their best about a month from now.? Berren looked around. Scented and flowering bushes and even two small trees grew up from the ground, masking the usual city-smell of bad fish. Variegated ivies competed for domination of the walls. There were no birds here, though. The Captain?s Rest, he remembered, had had birds. ?You have to be a sea captain or one of their ilk to make your business in the Captain?s Rest. Everyone else comes here. Or they did, until His Highness took over the place.? He pointed back the way they?d come, through the archway to the yard and on through to the other side. ?Those are the rooms and lodgings for the Imperial Guard. We don?t go there.? He gestured up at the windows overlooking the scent gardens. ?Up there is where the prince sleeps. We don?t gothere either.? He walked closer until they were on a path right underneath the windows, one so crowded by greenery that it brushed Berren?s legs as he walked. Berren stopped. One of the windows was open. He could hear a gentle moaning and soft throaty laughter wafting out of it. Master Sy pursed his lips. ?That?s where he has his rooms. There are baths in there and, well, the usual other diversions.? By which Master Sy meant women. Berren grinned to himself. Master Sy was deadly deft and agile about everything else, but when it came to women he was as clumsy as a coconut. Berren, on the other hand, had grown up two doors away from a cheap whorehouse. He?d already seen about as much as there was to be seen before he even knew what it was all for; and while he was waiting for Dorrm the Dumb to trip over and impale himself on a swordfish, he was quietly working his way through the various houses on Reeper Hill whenever he could slip away for an evening and had enough crowns in his purse to pay for it. Yes. Another thing Master Sy wasn?t supposed to know. The thief-taker held up his hand.?Stop for a moment.? They were right under the prince?s window, about ten feet above them. The noises coming down from there didn?t leave much to the imagination. Berren puffed his cheeks, trying to ignore them. ?Look around you.? Plants and paths and walls covered in ivy. If he peered a bit, he could see the archway and the moonpool yard and the soldiers standing there. ?Do you think anyone can see us?? Berren shrugged.?I suppose. If they look hard enough.? ?Go over to the archway. Tell me if you can see me.? Berren trotted off as he was told. When he looked back, he was surprised to see that Master Sy was almost invisible between the leaves of the bushes and the trees. Easy enough to see him if you knew he was there to be seen in the first place, but even then he had to peer a bit to be sure. He trotted back. Master Sy glanced up at the window and the ivy-covered wall below it. ?How long would it take you to climb up there?? ?There?? Berren laughed. ?Easy! I?d be up in a flash.? ?Yes. That?s what I thought.? Master Sy nodded. ?Right. Well. Off to bed with you then.? ?What?!? Berren looked up at the sky. The sun might have set but the sky was still light and they hadn?t even reached the spring festival. ?There?s half the day left!? The thief-taker gave him his best baleful look. It was the look he put on every time Berren forgot that he was a worthless apprentice who should be grateful to even exist.?We are here to perform a duty, boy. I will take my turn on watch here until the small hours. Thenyou will takeyour watch. At dawn, you will leave here and go to the temple for your daily lessons. Master Mardan or Master Fennis will relieve you.? ?But ?!? ?Boy, you will do as you?re told. We are taking the justicar?s gold to protect the life of His Highness. Whatever you may think of him.? Berren closed his eyes. He could see the future, clear as the sun.This was how it would be.Forever, probably. After all, if you were the prince, with women like that to take to your bed and soldiers and thief-takers to fawn at your feet, why would you ever leave??You were going to show me how to fight with short steel. Before spring! You promised!? The thief-taker growled.?In good time, boy. The festival of the equinox is weeks away. Now do as you?re told!? They glowered at each other but that was a fight that only one of them was ever going to win. Berren walked away, saving his storming and stomping until he was out of Master Sy?s sight. The thief-taker had promised to teach him to fight with steel more than a year ago and still all they ever did was fight with sticks. He?d promised again for midsummer, spent a week showing Berren how to hold a real sword properly and then promptly gone back to sticks again. Then he?d promised for midwinter and just forgotten all about it. Berren reached the room where he and Mardan and Master Sy would all sleep together. Thank the sun, Master Mardan wasn?t there. Berren threw himself down on the mattress. He wasnever going to learn swords. Master Sy just didn?t want to teach him, that was it. Trouble was, neither would anyone else. Not for the meagre purse that Berren could muster. Sword-masters were paid in gold. 4SECRETS BY MOONLIGHT Most evenings, before this drunkard prince had come to Deephaven, Berren came back from the temple and had his supper with Master Sy. Then they?d go off about their errands, the sort that were best run after dark. They?d wander down into the night market to make a nuisance of themselves among the wagoners, or else they?d amble down to the taverns near the docks and listen in on who was selling what and who wanted to buy it. Sometimes they went as far as Reeper Hill or wandered the streets around The Peak. The thief-taker would talk to the snuffers, the ones who still had a vestige of decency to them. Once or twice every month they?d dodge the press gangs and head into The Maze, to the Barrow of Beer and Master Sy?s friend Kasmin from the old days that he never liked to talk about. Sometimes they didn?t go any further than the yard outside Master Sy?s little house, the thief-taker clucking and shaking his head while Berren tried to cut and lunge with his waster until the light failed. That was before. It seemed he?d only just managed to fall asleep when Master Sy was shaking him awake again to sit for hours in the dark of the scent garden, bleary and cold, listening to people snore. And then, as everyone else was getting up and thinking about breakfast, there was Master Fennis, chasing him on his way withnothing but a crust of yesterday?s bread in his pocket, back up the hill to Deephaven Square and the temple in time to catch a lash of Teacher Sterm?s cane for being late. Andthat was when he realised that he hadn?t asked Master Sy about Kelm, whoever he was, and sure enough, Sterm had him straight up to the front first to share his ignorance. That was the way his days became? woken up in the middle of the night, cold and thankless hours sitting in the dark of the garden, more cold and thankless hours of sitting in the gloom at the temple, snatching leftovers to eat whenever he had a spare moment, always rushing from one misery to the next. His head was full of things he wanted, of princes and their women, swordplay and blade-dancing, and he was getting none of it, no swords, no thief-taking, nothing. He barely even saw the prince he was supposed to be guarding. In the temple, the other novices only jeered at him when he tried to tell them how important he was.The solar priests, it turned out, didn?t much care for Prince Sharda of Varr. If they?d known half the truth, they?d probably have rolled on the floor and wept with laughter. The novices to serve the monks from Torpreah were chosen? not Berren of course. They might have been the most gracious and the most penitent but that didn?t stop them strutting like peacocks when none of the priests were looking, and for once Berren envied them. Monks of the fire-dragonwere the best fighters in the world, even Master Sy said so, and now he?d probably never even see them. His misery was complete. ?Here.? Master Velgian beckoned Berren over one evening when the Watchman?s Arms was busier than usual. Velgian had replaced Master Mardan, who had apparently said something he shouldn?t and been thrown out. Velgian fancied himself a poet and always carried the same battered old book of verses from Caladir and Brons with him wherever he went. On quiet evenings in The Eight, he sometimes read to the other thief-takers whether they wanted him to or not. There were more soldiers than Berren was used to tonight; there were other faces too, men and women he hadn?t seen before, wandering in and out through the yard around the moonpool. They were dressed in the silks and satins of rich city lords from The Peak, laced with gold and silver and decked with jewels. They looked agitated. Berren shrugged. It wasn?t as if he had anything better to do. As best he could tell, the prince was somewhere off and about, most likely up on Reeper Hill again. He?d taken Master Sy with him too. ?Get a torch, lad.? Velgian was sitting beside the archway to the scent garden with a square piece of metal on the ground in front of him. Berren got a torch and sat down beside him. ?Keep that away for a moment.? Velgian had a waxed paper pouch in his hand. He tipped it over the metal plate, shook out a little pile of black powder then shuffled back a little. ?Go on. Touch the torch to that then.? Berren poked the torch at the metal plate. There was a whoosh, a flash of orange light, a puff of smoke and a wave of heat. Berren reeled away. The smoke stung his eyes and the air stank of bad eggs. ?What wasthat?? He stared in awe at the black stain on the metal plate. Master Velgian shrugged.?I don?t know what they call it. Comes from Caladir. Black powder but with something else as well.? ?Does the witch-doctor make it?? The witch-doctor, Master Sy?s old friend from across the sea who lived in an old warehouse by the river, was the only person Berren knew who dealt in potions and powders. Velgian, for some reason, looked petrified. ?That devil?? He shuddered. ?I know Syannis speaks with him sometimes, but take it from me, Saffran Kuy is evil and nothing good comes from any who deal with him.? He glanced up into the sky and leaned closer. ?You know how everyone who goes to see him leaves a basket of fish outside whenthey leave? That?s because he has a pact with the cats and the gulls who live there. They?re his spies. He rides inside them, seeing the world through their eyes, listening to what people say with their ears!? He shuddered again and then sat back. ?No, this is what the Taiytakei use to makethings that fly up into the air and make pretty lights. A ship came in with some kegs of it a few weeks back, a present ready for the Emperor?s spring festival in Varr. Turns out one or two fell off the back of a wagon on the way and ended up in the night market. Fancy, eh?? He rolled his eyes and then shrugged again. ?Bought a pouch of it. Too much money from standing watch over this prick of a prince. Bloody waste. Here, come look at this though.? Master Velgian led Berren across the moonpool yard and back inside the Arms, into a wide hall that Berren hadn?t seen before. A delicious smell of food laced the air. Paintings and hangings lined the walls here, faces of men from Aria?s history that Berren had had beaten into him by Teacher Sterm, and other faces that he didn?t know. Uniformed servants hurried around them, speaking in whispers. Berren watched them. ?What?s happening?? ?The feast of the last moon before the spring, that?s what,? whispered Master Velgian. ?His Highness has guests too. They came into the Arms in the middle of the day. Apparently they?ve been looking for His Highness for a while.? Velgian spat. ?Can?t have been looking all that hard,that?s all I can say. They?re going to take him back with them though and they might take you and your master too if you?re lucky.? Then he smirked. ?If they can find him, of course. Sneaky bastard actually managed to slip out of here without anyone noticing, probably with a bit of help from Syannis. Glad it wasn?t on my watch. So now they?re going to have their big Feast of the Last Moon and some great announcement, and the person who should be the centre of it all isn?t even here.? He snorted in disgust. ?I was going to show off that black powder. Syannis said to bring some if I could. Meant for a prince it was, and instead I?m left with you.? He nodded towards a large man with wild blond hair, leaning against the wall just inside the door. The man had an impatient look to him. His expression had something of resignation in it too, as though he was used to this sort of thing. ?That?s Ser Elmarc Borolan. Story goes that he and the prince were up in the mountains a year back. Lost a lot of friends. No one says how or why. Be on your guard tonight. Right.? He patted Berren on the back. ?Go and get some rest.? ?What?? Berren gaped at the table and then looked at Master Velgian, imploring. Velgian shrugged. ?This isn?t for the likes of us, young Berren. We get to stay outside with the dogs and the riff-raff.? ?But!? ?Would youwant to stay? Forced to stand still as a statue and silent as a shadow for hours on end while the lords and ladies of the city stuff themselves with every conceivable delicacy and ignore you completely, all the while complaining bitterly about how the whole feast is a complete waste of time without His Highness? I?m sure Syannis is expecting you to sit your watch and continue with your instruction in the temple too. No, to bed, young man.? Master Velgian frowned. ?Isn?t it tomorrow that the monks of the fire-dragon arrive?? ?Tomorrow is Abyss-Day. The monks would never cross the threshold of a foreign temple on Abyss-Day.? The words came out by themselves, mechanical, exactly the sort of dull useless knowledge that Teacher Sterm drilled into him. He sighed. The food, wherever it was, smelled sogood. ?Sun-Day then.? ?They might not be here for another week. Teacher Sterm says they won?t arrive until the month of Storms is out.? He sighed. Master Velgian shrugged.?Then it must be some other group of monks of the fire-dragon who caused such a fuss in Bedlam?s Crossing yesterday.? Berren?s mouth fell open. ?Really? They?re in Bedlam?s Crossing already?? Bedlam?s Crossing was the last ferry across the river before the east bank turned into swamps and everglades. On a fast horse, that was less than a day?s ride away. ?Wait ? how do you know?? ?Every imperial messenger who comes into the city has to go to His Highness first. Some daft old law. Not that His Highness cares, but that?s the way of it. Anyone else who happens to be around, they get to hear too.? ?Then theywill arrive tomorrow!? Berren was hopping from one foot to the other, the feast completely forgotten in his excitement. ?No, you?re probably right about them waiting until Sun-Day before they enter the temple. Unless they comehere first.? Velgian chuckled. ?Here?? Berren squealed, which got him a few glances from some of the other soldiers and the feast guests in the hall. Velgian glared. ?Quiet, boy! No, probably not. There?s no love at all between the Sapphire Throne and the Autarch of Torpreah. I think letting dragon-monks and His Highness loose into the same city is quite enough cause for worry, never mind putting some of them in the same room. I very much doubt they?ll becoming here.? He chuckled and put an arm around Berren?s shoulder and walked him out of the hall. ?Khrozus? Blood, Berren, I remember you when you came up to my shoulder. You?re as tall as me already. Now go and sleep.? Berren went back to his room. He tossed and turned, trying to sleep before he was ready, and it was all the worse for having a head filled with fire-dragon monks. He?d never seen one, probably almost no one in Deephaven had, and he couldn?t help but wonder what they?d look like. Eight feet tall with sinewy arms and tree-trunk legs, with fierce and noble faces and wearing red silks, with long curving golden swords and maybe, just maybe, when you looked hard you might see a flicker of flame in their eyes ? He woke up to Master Sy, kneeling beside him with a candle, gently shaking him. Everywhere was suddenly black and silent. He yawned and stretched and rubbed his eyes and reluctantly sat up. ?Bloody prince gave me the slip,? murmured the thief-taker as they walked. ?He?s not here. Keep your eyes open in case, but I wouldn?t be surprised if he doesn?t come back at all tonight.? The stairs down into the inner halls were guarded as ever, as were the arches into the moonpool yard and the scent garden. Berren walked through and settled onto his usual bench. There were all sorts of places for sitting in the scent garden. Mostly he moved about to keep boredom at bay, looking for a place where he could comfortably hide from anyone who crept in and still keep a careful watch on the wall with the prince?s window. Not that anyone everwould come creeping in past all the other guards with their swords and their armour. Besides, anyone with any sense would come over the rooftops. That was the second rule. First thing a Shipwrights? boy learned were the three rules of not getting caught: Go somewhere narrow where big men will be slow. Go somewhere high where heavy men will fall. Go somewhere dark where you can?t be seen. He couldn?t do narrow and he couldn?t do high, not down here in the garden, but he could at least do dark. He sat on the bench closest to the windows he was watching. He?d grown used to listening to the snores or sometimes the other noises that filtered down. Sometimes he could count how many of the ladies from Reeper Hill the prince had with him. Master Sy left and then came back again a few minutes later carrying a wooden board piled up with food.?I hear the feast was a disaster.? He laughed and sat down beside Berren. ?Looks like the food was good enough though. Plenty left over at the end for the likes of us. It?s cold but it?s still the best food we?re likely see for the rest of the year. Enjoy! Velgian and Fennis are practically rolling on the floor, fat as pigs. There?s lots more where that came from if you?re still hungry. Probably doesn?t matter if you slip off for a bit. He?s got his cousin up in his room waiting for him anyway.? They sat and ate together in silence for a while. Berren picked at the food. It was rich; slabs of meat in heavy sauces and not the sort of thing he was used to at all. In the end, he scraped most of the sauces aside. Meat was a luxury, but what was the point if you ended up making yourself sick over it? When they were done, Master Sy patted Berren on the shoulder and stood up.?They?ll be gone in a few days. You?ll miss this.? Berren snorted.?Miss getting up in the middle of the night? Not likely.? ?Till the evening then.? Master Sy left. The scent garden fell still and silent and Berren was alone to count the long dull hours of the night, grain by grain. An hour had passed, maybe two, when sudden loud voices rang out of the tavern halls. Berren had been dozing. He jumped up and scurried to peer around the archway from the scent garden. The full moon was high overhead and it lit up the yard and the moonpool better than any lanterns could have done. The prince came out into the yard with a lady on each arm.?Good feast was it?? he called. The guards around the doors bowed and murmured something in reply, too quiet for Berren to hear. One of the ladies laughed. The other one was looking nervously about. Berren stayed hidden in his shadows where she couldn?t see. He?d assumed the women with the prince were just another pair of ladies from the houses on Reeper Hill but now he wasn?t sure. They were dressed too well, too properly. The prince marched on past, across the yard and into the rooms he called his own. Berren sighed. He went back to his place in the scent garden and began to pick at the last cold leftovers on his plate. From the prince?s window overhead, he heard the sound of a door opening and soft laugher. Another hour of moaning and groaning and gasping and sighing to keep him awake ? just what he needed! Another voice broke in, a man?s voice, one he hadn?t heard before. ?Hello Sharda! I see you?re having fun.? Berren froze. For a moment he wondered who the other voice could be and whether he should raise the alarm; then he remembered what Master Sy had said. The prince?s cousin was up there. Berren strained his ears. Whatever the prince said next was too quiet. ?I have news,? said the first voice. Another pause, maybe some footsteps.?Good news, I hope. How?s ?? ?I havenews.? The voice was laden with some heavy meaning that Berren couldn?t begin to guess. He heard more footsteps; the door opened again, there was another mumbled conversation, this time between the prince and his ladies and then more footsteps and the door closed. Now the prince?s voice changed. The lazy drunken rolling words suddenly were gone, turned sharp and brittle as ice. Berren was half up off his seat. He?d been about to watch the prince?s ladies as they left in case he caught sight of their faces again, but the prince?s tone froze him fast. He sat down again. The talk was too quiet at first, but then came the crash of someone stamping on the floor. ?Of course. What of it?? A bark of angry laughter and more words that Berren couldn?t hear. ?Leave? Why would I do that? They can all get along quite nicely without me. They?ve all made that perfectly clear and I don?t see why I should ?? The prince stopped. The other man?s voice dropped to almost a whisper. Berren stood up, moved closer, tilted his heard trying to hear. They were talking too quietly, though. Even when he stood up on his bench, each rustle of leaves smothered the whispered words. Something about the Emperor and an heir and the prince going back to Varr, that was all he could make out. The prince gave a heavy sigh. He walked to the window and suddenly he was right over Berren?s head. ?Why, Elmarc? Why do they wantme?? He laughed now. ?Me, of all people? I?ll be no good for her at all.? More words that Berren couldn?t hear and then there was a long pause. When the prince spoke again, his voice was choked and quiet and Berren couldn?t hear either of them any more. Finally there were more footsteps and the door opened. There was a snort. ?You never did anything wrong by me, cousin,? said the voice that wasn?t the prince. ?A good few other people maybe, but not by me. I?m all for gathering another band and going back up north and hunting that white-skinned bastard into his grave. Just let?s take a sorcerer of our own with us next time, eh?? Berren heard the door close. After a bit, he saw the tall figure of Ser Elmarc walk out into the yard and away into the bulk of the Watchman?s Arms. For the rest of the night, he heard the prince toss and turn and pace the floor and mutter to himself. At dawn, when Master Fennis came down to send Berren on his way, the prince was still awake. 5A BOWL OF PORRIDGE The dragon-monks didn?t come that day but the news spread like a fire through the temple once Berren let slip they were at Bedlam?s Crossing. Even the most demure novices struggled to keep their excitement in check. Berren had the unusual pleasure of sitting quietly at the front of Teacher Sterm?s class, watchingThe Worm?s cane flick out at other people for a change. ?They?re in the city,? Master Sy told him that evening as they sat in the scent garden. ?I imagine they?ll arrive at the temple gates exactly as they open. At dawn.? Which was when Berren was supposed to be there, except he was always late. This once, though, this once he?d be there when he was supposed to be and he?d see them! Full of himself, he started to tell Master Sy what he?d overheard the night before, all full of questions about what it might mean. He?d just passed the bit where the prince had sent his ladies away when Master Sy put a finger to hismouth and slowly shook his head. ?You didn?t hear anything, lad.? Berren stopped. He frowned, puzzled.?What?? ?You were dreaming, lad. Nodded off and imagined it.? He gave a pointed look back towards the arch into the moonpool yard. Two soldiers were still on guard. ?I?m sure if Ser Elmarc and His Highness were talking, they wouldn?t have been talking loudly enough for anyone to hear them.? ?But ?? Master Sy?s glare cut him off. ?Don?t make the same mistake, boy.? ?What? I don?t ?? ?Oh for the love of Khrozus!? The thief-taker rolled his eyes. His voice dropped. ?If anyone was standing by an open window having a conversation, they probably didn?t mean for anyone else to hear it. That mistake. Don?t makethat mistake, the one where you have a conversation you don?t want anyone to hear when you can?t see who?s actually listening! Emperor Ashahn has sat on the Sapphire Throne for twelve years. His first heir was born on the first day of this year. Heh!? For a moment, he grinned. ?Which reminds me: Kol owes me an emperor.? The grin vanished. ?There are those who don?t like the idea that he?s founding a dynasty but that has nothing to do with us. We?re little people, Berren. In the affairs of princes and kings, little people end up getting squashed.? He sounded bitter. ?Right.? Berren nodded. ?I didn?t hear anything then, right?? ?Right.? ?Right.? He?d been looking forward to telling Master Sy about what he?d heard for the whole day. He sighed. Master Sy, though, was looking pleased with himself. ?His Highness will be leaving in a few days, back to Varr for the spring festival. We?ll have the Emperor?s head in our purses again. I think we might take a day or two of leisure before we go and see what work Justicar Kol has to offer a pair of thief-takers. We?ll go down to the old lookout tower on Wrecking Point. You can tell me about everything you didn?t hear there.? They sat together in silence for a while longer and then the thief-taker nudged Berren. ?Get some rest, lad. You want to be fresh when your dragon-monks arrive don?t you? I?ll get Fennis to take over down here a bit earlier tomorrow.? Fresh? Not much chance of that, not unless he dozed in a corner of the scent garden though his watch, although he was beginning to wonder if he shouldn?t do just that. He?d been doing this stupid job for days and nothing had happened at all. No one had even come in to his little garden, not once, not if you didn?t count Master Sy and the other thief-takers. Kelm?s Bones! If they really thought someone was going to try and climb in throughthe prince?s window, they?d never had put him there in the first place! For all Master Sy?s fine words sometimes, he was still an apprentice and they all still treated him like a child. And he was still thinking that when Master Sy shook him awake in the middle of the night. He grumped and grumbled and got up, shaking off stupid dreams full of dragon-monks, and shuffled off down the stairs into the back of the Watchman?s Arms. A bowl of cold porridge was waiting for him, his breakfast. He sat down and tried to settle somewhere comfortable to doze, but he couldn?t stop his mind from wandering. Every now and then he looked up, sure he?d heard something. After a bit he shuffled over to a far corner, hidden behind some stupid bush that was supposed to smell of something nice but smelled to Berren of fish ? everything smelled of fish tonight, the city finally overwhelming the scents of the garden. It was a good place to hide though. He couldn?t see the yard but he could see the prince?s window and in the night shadows, he was invisible. Grumbling to himself, he poked his breakfast with his spoon. It was cold and congealed and his belly still hadn?t forgiven him for the night before. He wrinkled his nose and pushed it away. When he looked up again, there was a face at the arch. He blinked and the face became a whole person, slipping into the shadows around the edge of the scent garden. Someone small, his sort of size. It was too dark to make out anything more. He stayed very still, holding his breath, straining his ears, wondering for a moment if he was imagining things. The night was silent. He couldn?t hear the usual mumble of conversation from the guards in the yard. A chill ran through him. The soldiers would never have let someone come into the garden, not at this time of night. He couldn?t hear them because they weren?t there any more. Or because they were dead! Khrozus! No had ever told him what he was supposed to do if someone reallydid slip into the garden. He didn?t even have a weapon! Only his old purse-cutting knife Stealer and his practice sword, his waster. A glorified stick. Now what? He could run, he supposed. Run out into the yard shouting his head off, but what good would that be if there weren?t any soldiers out there? Then again, he couldn?t see whoever had slipped into the garden now. They?d vanished into the shadows by the arch. They could have crept anywhere. If he ran, he might not even get as far as the other yard. He could see himself, clear as if it was happening right in front of him, racing out of the bushes, opening his mouth to scream his head off and nothing coming out because a knife had whirred out of the shadows and skewered his throat. Or maybe hewas imagining it. But he couldn?t do nothing! Could he? One shadow detached itself from the others beneath the prince?s windows. Carefully and quickly, it started to climb. ?Hey!? The shout came out before Berren had much time to think about it. His hand closed around the bowl of porridge for want of anything else. He threw it as hard as he could, globs of porridge flying in all directions. He?d been aiming for the shadow?s head, but the bowl arced and thumpedinto the shadow?s shoulder instead. It bounced off and smashed straight into the prince?s window, shattering the brown glass. For a moment everything was still again. The climber froze. Berren didn?t move. Then a voice called out from inside the Watchman?s Arms. The climber jumped down. Berren bolted for the moonpool yard, legs pumping in panic, shouting his lungs out, but the climber was faster, cutting him off. In the moonlight, Berren still couldn?t see much. It was someone small with two crossed swords strapped across his back and a hood that cast his face into shadow. The man reached out behind him, drew one of the swords and swung at Berren, vicious and fast. Berren skittered away, drew out his waster. Not that it would stop a good strong blow from even a smallsword, but anything was better than nothing. His shouts for help grew stronger. The hooded man took another swing. Berren danced away, flicking his waster at the man?s face in desperation. He felt the tip of it connect, saw the man flinch and reel away, and then they were apart. Berren bolted for the arch again, out to the moonpool. As he ran, he caught a whiff of something mingling in with the stronger-than-usual city smell of bad fish. Something sharp and acrid. Over his shoulder he caught a glimpse of the swordsman, a silhouette against the sky on top of the far wall. Then he was gone. Two soldiers ran out of the Watchman?s Arms. They had their swords out. They ran past Berren into the centre of the yard and then stopped. ?What is it, boy?? Berren pointed to the scent garden.?Someone tried to get into the prince?s room!? A third soldier burst out behind him.

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Donec in placerat neque, nec gravida tellus. In ultricies at ex et blandit. Nullam lectus ex, pellentesque nec dui at, consequat eleifend erat. Mauris porttitor venenatis risus et elementum. Suspendisse vulputate tincidunt magna. Etiam vestibulum suscipit nunc vehicula lacinia. Nulla fringilla libero orci, id pulvinar diam volutpat non. Donec pulvinar neque diam, eget volutpat purus interdum vel. Vivamus hendrerit nisl erat, in porttitor nulla vestibulum et. Maecenas massa diam, venenatis in urna non, malesuada auctor risus. Phasellus mattis mi quis ex egestas, porta ullamcorper lacus rhoncus. Praesent pellentesque vulputate erat sit amet congue. Nullam accumsan leo augue. Donec nunc magna, mattis ut venenatis id, sagittis in neque. Nam efficitur fermentum orci, quis elementum est placerat sed. Donec ut massa sodales, feugiat ligula in, efficitur metus. Sed velit est, fermentum nec ullamcorper nec, interdum in est. Proin non sapien et nunc egestas pharetra id ut velit. Aliquam placerat, tortor a tristique tristique, justo ipsum gravida arcu, eget varius magna ligula et purus. Aliquam erat volutpat. Etiam convallis tristique auctor. Sed pretium metus in augue dictum, ac efficitur augue aliquam. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Fusce posuere congue neque, in cursus arcu ornare at. Fusce luctus magna ac cursus tristique. Cras rhoncus interdum odio ut egestas. Duis ac erat enim. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Nunc semper magna condimentum risus pulvinar, at condimentum ligula facilisis. Cras imperdiet ante nec nulla vulputate, id semper ipsum laoreet. Curabitur tempus suscipit enim a vulputate. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Nulla quis pulvinar urna. Quisque mattis ligula et nibh accumsan, venenatis auctor sem porttitor. Vivamus vel augue quis nulla consectetur auctor id eu nulla. Phasellus pharetra porta dolor quis aliquam. Integer posuere in lectus a mollis. Etiam ipsum tortor, tristique a tellus at, interdum dictum justo. Suspendisse et pellentesque tortor, a commodo metus. Integer scelerisque aliquet tortor non hendrerit. Cras blandit lorem ex, sed pulvinar justo rhoncus quis. In laoreet fringilla est et luctus. Aliquam nisi turpis, molestie non purus id, dignissim ullamcorper nibh. Praesent quis lorem aliquet, porttitor lectus lobortis, dapibus metus. Nullam ultrices nisl in fermentum dapibus. Morbi et ante quis enim suscipit imperdiet at non justo. Donec eget feugiat nunc, a ornare orci. Aenean scelerisque orci ac ultricies cursus. Aliquam nec orci tellus. Phasellus quis iaculis quam, at ultricies diam. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae; Aliquam erat volutpat. Donec sagittis ante nec nibh pulvinar semper. Praesent egestas dui eu felis tempor molestie eu ut felis. Vestibulum nec erat commodo, ultrices lacus sed, tincidunt dui. Quisque sagittis dui vitae nisl tempus mattis. Suspendisse vitae metus risus. Morbi ut lorem vel quam gravida aliquam. In condimentum nisi ac neque tempus, in tincidunt elit laoreet. Curabitur id cursus purus. Nulla facilisi. Cras diam libero, bibendum eget arcu sed, dignissim consequat neque. Phasellus volutpat eget sapien a venenatis. Donec metus velit, eleifend non magna vel, suscipit feugiat enim. Suspendisse vitae tempor massa. Sed mauris lacus, tempus eu consequat quis, laoreet non lorem. Suspendisse facilisis ultrices nulla et scelerisque. Phasellus malesuada bibendum facilisis. Nulla tempus est at orci rhoncus interdum. Donec vel venenatis neque. Aliquam risus diam, mattis a varius et, dapibus quis lectus. Sed eget purus a ex fringilla pretium. Quisque sagittis libero sed eros feugiat fermentum ultricies eget diam. Praesent ultrices felis non nisi bibendum fringilla. Nunc tortor est, lacinia nec arcu nec, ultricies luctus mauris. In et dui sed ex elementum aliquam. Curabitur pretium diam nibh, sit amet maximus dolor condimentum a. Aenean non leo eu nisl lacinia laoreet non quis lectus. Cras ac convallis justo, sit amet tincidunt erat. Nulla efficitur est id suscipit imperdiet. Suspendisse quis sagittis tortor, quis bibendum purus. Donec vulputate, quam eu feugiat congue, diam urna tristique lectus, sit amet gravida tortor lacus quis odio. Nunc vulputate non eros vitae scelerisque. Vivamus malesuada dolor et justo volutpat, id facilisis est commodo. Maecenas at nulla nulla. Vivamus a velit elit. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae; Donec dui urna, commodo non rutrum eu, pharetra sed mi. Vestibulum turpis purus, hendrerit tristique libero ut, aliquet finibus erat. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Aliquam euismod augue nunc, nec dapibus felis pharetra vel. Etiam id lectus vulputate, condimentum mauris nec, porttitor erat. Maecenas euismod lorem eu egestas condimentum. Donec feugiat lacus ut mi lacinia, id iaculis eros porta. Fusce lorem erat, iaculis nec scelerisque vitae, sagittis luctus leo. Quisque efficitur eros eget libero consequat, ac accumsan mi gravida. Vestibulum et egestas est. Ut aliquam, massa posuere finibus venenatis, ante justo tincidunt ex, ut consequat leo leo non quam. Proin quis ipsum sagittis, malesuada nulla vel, condimentum nibh. Pellentesque erat erat, accumsan vitae purus et, malesuada facilisis nisi. Aliquam bibendum cursus gravida. Proin porttitor velit vitae urna commodo, at condimentum ipsum varius. Donec malesuada eu nulla nec feugiat. Curabitur aliquet luctus commodo. Donec quis vulputate purus. Fusce tristique pharetra pellentesque. Praesent non ligula gravida, lacinia mi sed, blandit eros. Praesent scelerisque, tortor non pharetra pulvinar, nibh metus ultrices ante, fermentum ullamcorper dui nulla sit amet velit. Phasellus aliquam iaculis ligula, eget egestas arcu consequat eget. Nulla commodo ut est quis luctus. Vivamus sed rhoncus nulla. Integer tempor, leo ac auctor facilisis, dui sapien rhoncus neque, ac pharetra magna ligula non nulla. Maecenas lectus arcu, tincidunt non euismod in, congue sed dui. Vestibulum imperdiet, diam vitae aliquam facilisis, libero orci tincidunt nibh, sed facilisis nibh dui luctus tortor. Fusce lobortis tristique nunc, eget ullamcorper tortor consequat in. Vivamus id turpis nibh. In euismod mi sit amet nisl aliquet, vitae condimentum velit cursus. Maecenas urna orci, lobortis non risus vitae, tristique efficitur justo. Etiam quis nulla massa. Etiam a blandit dui. Mauris pretium ipsum ligula, nec blandit lectus imperdiet nec. Nullam aliquam gravida justo at consequat. Quisque id sem viverra, scelerisque tellus in, ornare erat. Mauris at tincidunt turpis. Praesent et quam vitae dui sagittis vulputate at nec elit. Duis venenatis sem a semper consequat. Nunc erat turpis, dapibus vehicula arcu lacinia, dapibus tempus urna. Duis suscipit bibendum magna, et gravida dolor accumsan ac. Aenean vehicula fermentum aliquet. Aliquam vel aliquet quam. Maecenas pellentesque tempor urna, vestibulum suscipit felis iaculis ultricies. In tempus tincidunt ante in sollicitudin. Proin consequat sem vitae lorem elementum, vitae convallis diam pulvinar. Quisque non arcu et diam condimentum lacinia. Vivamus fringilla neque quis tincidunt lobortis. Cras et lorem varius lectus tempor ornare nec eget diam. In pulvinar nisl ex, sit amet faucibus felis tristique a. Nullam in ipsum sit amet libero vulputate dignissim. Duis laoreet augue quis ligula varius tristique. Sed finibus erat ut eros finibus laoreet. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae; Duis facilisis mi in iaculis congue. Donec id hendrerit mauris. Sed et lectus eleifend, bibendum magna sed, fringilla felis. Quisque sapien nisl, dapibus at turpis nec, posuere tristique turpis. Pellentesque nisl nisl, pellentesque eu eleifend a, posuere non odio. Suspendisse aliquet metus sit amet felis volutpat rutrum. Nam convallis condimentum rhoncus. Praesent eget arcu sit amet diam porttitor sagittis consectetur non lectus. Curabitur at dapibus elit, ut fringilla velit. Vivamus iaculis iaculis tempus. Vivamus nec dictum velit. Fusce scelerisque at lorem eget malesuada. Cras mattis, metus eu facilisis auctor, mi leo hendrerit nibh, ut eleifend felis quam sed arcu. Suspendisse venenatis elit id velit finibus cursus. Curabitur id odio pellentesque, cursus diam sed, congue justo. Nunc vestibulum ornare vulputate. Quisque accumsan congue metus. Aliquam fermentum euismod porta. Donec placerat vitae ipsum a tempus. Nunc et convallis purus. Ut ac eros ac velit tempor varius. Quisque ex justo, eleifend sit amet metus et, egestas fringilla nisl. Quisque sollicitudin varius consequat. Ut velit nulla, efficitur nec tortor nec, tempus aliquet lorem. Nullam nec ultricies sapien. Morbi eleifend nulla et lorem gravida vestibulum. Aenean sit amet dignissim tortor. Nunc scelerisque turpis ut arcu molestie, vehicula vestibulum turpis ornare. Donec id leo rutrum erat pharetra cursus. Phasellus lacus urna, interdum nec egestas sit amet, ultrices sit amet metus. Ut mattis, massa ac feugiat feugiat, ante diam tristique quam, iaculis commodo mi lectus eget sem. Nullam sollicitudin vulputate consequat. Pellentesque placerat elementum urna consequat suscipit. Donec at augue a dolor viverra gravida id scelerisque turpis. Vestibulum vitae egestas nulla. Nam at mi in ante dapibus ultricies. Maecenas quis iaculis ante, quis pretium metus. Phasellus egestas urna id tortor accumsan, non pellentesque dui laoreet. Pellentesque aliquam suscipit ligula, gravida egestas risus tempus eu. Sed id ligula et lorem venenatis convallis. Vivamus sit amet metus ac nisl porttitor egestas. Phasellus sit amet eleifend nisi. Phasellus hendrerit velit et eros finibus, nec feugiat felis cursus. Mauris a dui volutpat dolor molestie cursus. Morbi sodales quam eu magna tristique, ac cursus libero rhoncus. Integer at risus eget enim semper porta non vel ligula. Suspendisse porttitor hendrerit tellus faucibus interdum. Aenean blandit dui libero, sollicitudin scelerisque orci accumsan id. Praesent scelerisque lectus sed tortor dapibus sollicitudin. Donec in libero magna. Quisque fermentum elit eu nisl lobortis, vitae ultrices eros tincidunt. Nunc vestibulum lorem a scelerisque vehicula. Maecenas et imperdiet dolor, ac cursus nulla. Sed id justo dui. Aenean quis dui malesuada diam interdum mattis. In eget sollicitudin odio. Fusce condimentum dolor a neque cursus, eget facilisis diam pretium. Vestibulum sed massa nec augue interdum imperdiet et a turpis. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Proin cursus justo lacus, at suscipit urna gravida sit amet. Integer viverra purus quis ipsum dapibus imperdiet. Fusce augue lacus, bibendum id nunc ac, pretium dignissim elit. Aenean ornare enim vel nunc eleifend iaculis. Nulla at molestie nisi, rhoncus fermentum sem. Quisque vel interdum leo. Sed ullamcorper dui sit amet leo volutpat malesuada. Aenean vehicula sollicitudin imperdiet. Etiam consequat quam et sem sodales, vel suscipit purus fermentum. Cras vitae fringilla magna, vitae posuere ligula. Cras quis massa ut nisi dapibus tempus nec id lacus. Proin aliquet accumsan odio ut feugiat. Quisque lorem quam, sollicitudin nec nibh sed, tincidunt consectetur leo. Quisque sollicitudin risus turpis, vitae aliquam sem condimentum sit amet. Etiam tempus maximus ultrices. Nam suscipit, velit eget tincidunt suscipit, ante nisl suscipit nisl, eget molestie nunc neque id eros. Mauris aliquam quam quis molestie congue. Nam in tellus dolor. Aenean urna est, hendrerit quis dapibus vel, ultrices ac felis. Integer efficitur nisl eu maximus hendrerit. Nunc sit amet odio vel orci egestas congue. Aliquam eu ipsum in nisi lobortis laoreet. Suspendisse laoreet maximus metus. Aenean sed dignissim elit. In nec lectus ac nulla viverra accumsan. Sed molestie diam nisi, quis pretium lectus euismod eget. Quisque sed arcu fermentum, sodales augue quis, placerat ligula. Sed at mauris ut eros pellentesque consectetur nec et est. Morbi scelerisque vehicula luctus. In pharetra urna at molestie sagittis. Nulla dignissim aliquam facilisis. Nam ipsum ipsum, faucibus sed venenatis quis, gravida a arcu. Fusce egestas non sapien ut gravida. Nulla et maximus ex, id varius leo. Phasellus viverra tincidunt elit vel tempor. Sed quis molestie felis. Proin at orci nulla. Etiam fringilla in sem nec iaculis. Integer interdum, lectus vel laoreet euismod, leo ligula varius odio, quis dignissim purus lorem in ex. Vestibulum lacinia non magna eget fermentum. Duis pharetra diam eu erat hendrerit, eu volutpat lacus lacinia. Integer sit amet metus at tellus mollis mattis pellentesque eu neque. Sed nec accumsan neque. Vivamus vitae dui in justo feugiat iaculis et at enim. Quisque tellus lectus, efficitur vitae purus in, aliquet imperdiet ipsum. Nullam pretium faucibus quam. Praesent pretium dolor urna. Etiam pellentesque dui vitae accumsan iaculis. Fusce ut ex accumsan, imperdiet velit nec, ultricies felis. Fusce id gravida nisi, nec mattis purus. Nullam ac sem tincidunt, sagittis purus at, imperdiet nulla. Vestibulum euismod eget tellus malesuada luctus. Ut id turpis tempus, venenatis leo id, tristique lectus. Nam dolor magna, rutrum fermentum felis at, ornare convallis lorem. Nunc consequat enim urna, et posuere libero ullamcorper scelerisque. Vestibulum porta fringilla felis, eget mollis erat fermentum sed. Etiam at lacus mi. Nunc sit amet nibh fringilla, dignissim felis ac, feugiat metus. Integer sed libero eget erat sagittis sagittis sit amet in tortor. Sed scelerisque, lacus in sodales lacinia, lorem ex interdum lorem, id porttitor neque sapien a neque. Fusce aliquet leo et nunc tincidunt, in aliquet lorem porttitor. Nullam tincidunt ornare nunc vel dapibus. Suspendisse diam orci, interdum ac faucibus a, dictum nec quam. Vestibulum sollicitudin libero imperdiet blandit hendrerit. Etiam magna enim, fringilla interdum maximus in, scelerisque lacinia velit. Nam eget eros vitae nunc dapibus aliquet. Fusce lobortis neque vel orci pulvinar lacinia. Nam nec lorem lobortis, tempus mauris et, ultrices nibh. Phasellus euismod, tellus eget imperdiet lacinia, ipsum felis gravida nulla, eu iaculis lacus justo id lacus. Sed tempus molestie risus vel sagittis. Phasellus fringilla hendrerit ipsum a rutrum. Fusce auctor suscipit justo fringilla lobortis. Donec eleifend enim in tortor posuere, a malesuada risus malesuada. Aliquam sapien massa, efficitur sit amet nibh sit amet, condimentum pharetra ligula. Etiam est quam, tristique sed ipsum ac, tristique blandit tortor. Duis laoreet vulputate justo, ac interdum est fringilla vitae. Maecenas porta purus vel vestibulum fermentum. Proin sem enim, mattis vitae porttitor ut, consectetur sed mauris. In molestie, mi convallis faucibus tempus, orci est pulvinar urna, at auctor nulla sapien in nisl. Cras volutpat tortor suscipit augue vestibulum dapibus et id nibh. Sed mi lacus, volutpat vel magna vel, rutrum dictum ligula. Mauris facilisis dui lacus, eu ullamcorper elit vestibulum vel. Mauris luctus consequat justo ut congue. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Nunc gravida imperdiet turpis non maximus. In id lectus non lacus posuere maximus. Proin at molestie mauris. Duis eu tincidunt ipsum, quis varius mauris. Cras aliquet orci quis accumsan varius. Nunc cursus rutrum ligula quis pretium. Aenean rutrum lectus et tempus volutpat. Aliquam fermentum in tellus a varius. Fusce ultricies a ligula quis ullamcorper. Suspendisse ornare dui sit amet ornare sodales. Aliquam viverra neque nec scelerisque hendrerit. Phasellus tellus arcu, mollis in felis a, iaculis faucibus dolor. Orci varius natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Phasellus facilisis nunc nisi, ac maximus odio cursus eget. Curabitur id congue augue. Proin faucibus efficitur nisi, eget imperdiet ligula scelerisque a. Etiam urna enim, porta pulvinar mauris a, interdum gravida diam. Nunc tincidunt rhoncus aliquam. Praesent convallis elit in nisl pharetra dapibus. Curabitur id nibh id libero gravida venenatis. Donec eu tellus odio. Nunc elementum id velit a sagittis. Vivamus malesuada purus in dapibus sollicitudin. Quisque sit amet massa in turpis convallis sagittis. In et tortor ipsum. Aenean sit amet laoreet sapien, sed porttitor neque. Nulla finibus eleifend metus fringilla dictum. Praesent at odio nulla. In eget nisl id felis efficitur elementum. Vestibulum fringilla nibh a nunc aliquam, eu accumsan mi facilisis. Suspendisse eget blandit turpis, vitae tempus felis. Nulla faucibus a tellus sit amet viverra. Etiam suscipit suscipit suscipit. Suspendisse vitae volutpat enim. Sed metus neque, elementum ac auctor non, molestie sit amet elit. Nunc lobortis leo nec mi maximus tempus. Quisque iaculis erat quam, vitae tempor purus vestibulum a. Proin ultricies posuere eleifend. Etiam vel aliquet nulla. Etiam ullamcorper turpis dui, ac tempor lacus aliquam eu. Nam efficitur pharetra erat, nec laoreet justo euismod ut. Proin orci diam, auctor sed magna a, ornare feugiat orci. Nulla placerat erat vel eros semper ullamcorper. Phasellus eget erat eu quam laoreet laoreet ut vitae neque. Quisque vitae justo id tortor molestie tempus at in ipsum. Phasellus magna ex, pretium quis nisi ac, dapibus sollicitudin nisi. Quisque ultrices efficitur rhoncus. Nam dui felis, sagittis quis augue vulputate, condimentum euismod odio. Maecenas ut tortor iaculis erat tempor luctus id id erat. Fusce nec ipsum in ex molestie vestibulum. Fusce mattis at orci in suscipit. Nulla tempor tincidunt ligula quis iaculis. Etiam suscipit nisl et tellus venenatis semper. Nulla tincidunt aliquet dignissim. Maecenas dignissim nisi ac tortor dignissim, at commodo lectus accumsan. Pellentesque condimentum augue fermentum enim tincidunt dapibus. Donec vestibulum nibh vel congue maximus. Aenean augue mi, semper convallis maximus a, consectetur vel eros. Proin nec nibh lectus. Integer nec eros consectetur nulla convallis venenatis at ac tellus. Donec ut accumsan erat. Orci varius natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Mauris maximus ipsum ligula, vitae maximus massa egestas eget. Maecenas laoreet suscipit gravida. Donec ornare risus convallis ultrices ullamcorper. Quisque a ex cursus, auctor velit at, ornare magna. Donec hendrerit libero a ligula tristique, a semper tortor dignissim. Pellentesque vulputate ultricies nibh, vitae rutrum ipsum. Phasellus metus nisl, sagittis nec laoreet ac, blandit eget eros. Suspendisse volutpat arcu a dictum imperdiet. Nulla ultrices arcu ac ante lobortis laoreet. Vivamus pharetra egestas dolor non lacinia. Sed purus neque, viverra a aliquam id, varius quis erat. Aenean quis metus non quam cursus fermentum. Pellentesque malesuada metus at nisi commodo hendrerit. Cras vitae laoreet ipsum. Nulla sit amet metus sed tellus euismod molestie non tincidunt purus. Praesent elementum tortor bibendum mi tempus condimentum. Donec nibh lacus, lobortis a suscipit quis, tempus sed justo. Sed venenatis pretium erat eu porta. Vivamus sed cursus nulla. Maecenas dignissim varius fringilla. Sed porta sit amet dui vitae tempus. Etiam laoreet, turpis id scelerisque placerat, quam metus accumsan orci, id pellentesque odio elit eget eros. Donec faucibus malesuada eros, in tincidunt augue tristique non. Fusce malesuada, mi nec malesuada mollis, enim leo imperdiet libero, in rhoncus metus turpis sed libero. Maecenas eget neque non dui lacinia pretium. Duis aliquam blandit turpis, a volutpat lorem accumsan non. Cras tellus tellus, pellentesque non velit laoreet, semper accumsan justo. Proin eleifend vitae erat in dignissim. Nullam commodo orci non ligula cursus porta. Phasellus sed sollicitudin neque. Pellentesque eleifend arcu id nibh laoreet, vitae mattis est consectetur. Sed eu nisi id nisl fermentum varius sit amet non tortor. Ut molestie odio lectus. Curabitur et imperdiet arcu. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Quisque molestie posuere velit, et efficitur mauris elementum et. Sed leo nulla, tempor a purus at, venenatis suscipit justo. Sed nulla dui, rutrum eget erat in, vulputate suscipit mi. Duis gravida, lacus id rhoncus posuere, ex magna sagittis arcu, sed gravida elit augue a lacus. Duis gravida mauris lectus, quis vehicula nisl auctor lacinia. Quisque at viverra arcu. Vestibulum nulla ante, maximus at neque eu, eleifend sollicitudin ex. In justo ex, gravida nec ligula a, lobortis suscipit est. Integer nec pellentesque neque. Morbi vitae consequat enim, eget finibus leo. Fusce ac sollicitudin libero, vel facilisis ex. Quisque luctus ex id metus lacinia, non tempus massa blandit. Quisque luctus risus sed dui tincidunt ullamcorper a in magna. Ut vel tristique sapien, vitae lacinia dui. Orci varius natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Duis viverra nulla non eleifend tristique. Nam lobortis blandit lorem eget consequat. Pellentesque purus lorem, tristique sit amet aliquam in, consectetur vitae dolor. Suspendisse potenti. Pellentesque porta arcu in sapien mattis, ut blandit leo eleifend. Sed sed ullamcorper odio. Ut id tellus vitae lorem feugiat congue. Morbi ligula lacus, consectetur ut molestie nec, blandit ac orci. Nam in dictum diam, non blandit tortor. Fusce molestie tellus eu auctor mollis. Quisque mollis luctus purus, in faucibus nulla vehicula non. Praesent ullamcorper velit id dictum eleifend. Vestibulum tincidunt ut lectus et vestibulum. Nunc id dolor nec metus euismod convallis. Quisque mattis massa vel diam elementum condimentum. Mauris vitae condimentum risus. In molestie quam augue, sed pharetra justo vulputate ut. Cras arcu purus, sodales eu dolor in, sagittis tristique neque. Suspendisse vehicula eros eget turpis mattis dignissim. Aliquam congue arcu nisl, non pharetra tortor interdum sit amet. Vestibulum at nisl tempor, commodo ex eu, porttitor mi. Vestibulum et nibh ut lorem imperdiet semper. Maecenas facilisis purus ut cursus varius. Maecenas non nisl vitae quam interdum cursus. Suspendisse elementum, erat et faucibus dapibus, massa lorem laoreet enim, porta hendrerit libero ante faucibus ante. Duis quam nunc, venenatis quis tortor at, aliquam varius elit. Vivamus sagittis lorem a vehicula laoreet. Nam tincidunt, eros et auctor placerat, ante tellus consequat libero, eget pulvinar nulla nisl vel nulla. Fusce faucibus turpis iaculis, accumsan velit quis, pharetra lorem. Nam ut libero eget purus elementum vulputate dignissim eget libero. Sed eget auctor lorem. Donec quis enim purus. Morbi dictum non risus eget posuere. Aenean auctor eros nec lorem fermentum tincidunt eu nec libero. Nunc lobortis dictum vehicula. Integer in interdum neque. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Fusce convallis semper tristique. Quisque eleifend fermentum enim, vitae condimentum diam malesuada nec. Phasellus eget risus sollicitudin, vulputate massa ut, accumsan enim. Nunc imperdiet egestas luctus. Ut nec aliquet velit. Sed mattis dui sollicitudin nibh efficitur aliquet. Aliquam sed eleifend mauris. In volutpat vitae sem sit amet pretium. Suspendisse fringilla nec nunc ac lacinia. Sed at risus velit. Sed interdum eleifend tortor non egestas. Sed vel maximus nulla, id iaculis augue. Vestibulum pretium vulputate sem. Nulla facilisi. Nulla nisi purus, pulvinar non purus lacinia, volutpat aliquam diam. Nunc orci turpis, porttitor vel porta non, vulputate eget ante. Curabitur euismod laoreet elit, nec volutpat lacus sodales nec. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Maecenas elementum ut metus sit amet tempus. Fusce vehicula sapien at lectus molestie, at molestie felis laoreet. In ac justo a est rhoncus iaculis. Phasellus eu tempus libero. Morbi tristique efficitur quam, vel laoreet justo. Mauris quis sem et purus sollicitudin dictum vitae eget risus. Etiam in nibh lorem. Donec velit elit, luctus in eros et, lobortis maximus odio. Aliquam ullamcorper convallis diam, vitae eleifend nisl tempor sed. Mauris ultricies convallis massa non fermentum. Maecenas at turpis molestie, sagittis erat non, hendrerit libero. Donec magna leo, vestibulum id ipsum ut, aliquet euismod ex. Ut quis nulla elit. Suspendisse iaculis et erat et viverra. Maecenas posuere velit sed ipsum efficitur, at feugiat ipsum lacinia. Cras varius nisi augue, quis tempus sem ullamcorper eu. Etiam faucibus mi enim, eu dapibus tortor tempor sit amet. Vivamus sem lorem, porta id metus a, porttitor varius nunc. In facilisis maximus luctus. Praesent sollicitudin nibh ipsum. Nullam rhoncus sollicitudin dui ut feugiat. Fusce consectetur dictum ante, vel dapibus tortor. Vivamus ornare urna quis lectus bibendum, cursus finibus lacus ornare. Nam consequat interdum porta. Proin vel nibh eu lorem tempor tincidunt. Quisque ultrices ligula sit amet sodales malesuada. Morbi risus leo, commodo eget massa ut, tincidunt lacinia ligula. Nulla congue efficitur mattis. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Nullam aliquet nisl vel elit posuere, eu consectetur sem fermentum. Curabitur a tempus nunc, vitae porttitor felis. Cras vel consequat est. Duis non malesuada tellus. Vivamus sit amet augue a turpis pulvinar finibus aliquam a erat. Vivamus dapibus porta semper. Cras ultrices erat rutrum metus egestas blandit. Proin elit enim, rutrum at erat et, finibus tempus sem. Pellentesque efficitur diam libero. Curabitur faucibus porta volutpat. Quisque egestas lectus ac massa varius pretium. Cras varius enim non mauris posuere tempus. Morbi vitae semper tellus. Maecenas vitae dictum leo. Nullam ultricies diam eu ligula vestibulum, quis varius justo semper. Praesent semper nisl a mollis congue. Sed rhoncus nulla interdum ante facilisis, sit amet eleifend mi faucibus. Sed varius erat id erat aliquam facilisis. Cras feugiat ligula nec ullamcorper facilisis. Cras tempor volutpat ante, in congue quam tristique id. Praesent nec tellus interdum, posuere lectus et, rhoncus nibh. Etiam vitae pharetra metus, ac bibendum orci. Donec cursus, nunc vel egestas ornare, odio nisl tincidunt lectus, quis congue mauris mi ut orci. Nam molestie metus arcu, eget congue enim venenatis quis. Aliquam sed enim non dolor sagittis varius id et urna. Mauris vestibulum congue lacus. Nulla finibus lectus eget ex consectetur mattis. Pellentesque pellentesque porttitor risus. Aliquam sollicitudin, lacus eget rutrum fermentum, enim arcu tristique ante, ut volutpat nisl neque eget urna. Integer vitae mauris quis magna faucibus congue. Mauris at risus pharetra ante scelerisque congue quis in quam. Cras lacinia arcu sit amet metus porta dapibus. Donec dignissim laoreet erat molestie viverra. In ullamcorper orci aliquet augue placerat iaculis. Sed at nisi quis felis ultricies blandit. Nunc in est et odio ultrices scelerisque vel vel lorem. Cras ut vulputate massa. Nulla in pellentesque nulla, a eleifend est. Nullam rhoncus massa id turpis lobortis fermentum. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Fusce erat turpis, lobortis id diam ut, consequat pretium tortor. Nam condimentum erat nunc. Vestibulum risus neque, ornare et libero sit amet, porttitor rutrum nisl. Pellentesque in massa ante. Donec sit amet fermentum urna. In rhoncus rutrum massa, ultricies ornare orci eleifend vel. Duis nec semper nulla. Etiam vitae justo tellus. Proin posuere euismod ante. Integer in tortor gravida, malesuada ligula quis, finibus diam. Fusce ullamcorper ipsum vel sapien volutpat maximus. In euismod lectus in urna aliquet, non porttitor diam fermentum. Vivamus ac gravida diam. Suspendisse molestie velit vel libero bibendum, nec suscipit odio sodales. Morbi eu hendrerit metus. Etiam quam risus, suscipit non sollicitudin congue, posuere non lectus. Donec aliquet lacinia eros, ut lobortis sapien. Fusce id elit sapien. Nulla lectus turpis, scelerisque at dapibus in, varius auctor diam. Donec fermentum, augue et ultrices feugiat, enim quam ultricies est, sit amet egestas purus est sit amet erat. Quisque mattis ut mi in gravida. Proin auctor tellus condimentum est congue, non congue nisi blandit. Suspendisse ullamcorper lacus tristique neque faucibus eleifend. Duis ipsum nunc, gravida quis tellus quis, sodales elementum ligula. Duis feugiat orci a rhoncus tempus. Donec suscipit lectus eget ligula commodo vulputate. Proin lobortis orci sed facilisis facilisis. Vivamus vehicula nunc sit amet lacinia lacinia. Praesent consequat lorem sit amet odio faucibus aliquam. Aenean tincidunt, metus bibendum ultrices pellentesque, purus arcu malesuada ipsum, id malesuada libero turpis ut dolor. Sed sed ipsum vitae dui lobortis pellentesque. Fusce efficitur lacus urna, ut bibendum diam mollis eu. Vestibulum ultricies mollis nisi. Pellentesque sollicitudin molestie nunc, a sollicitudin neque facilisis eu. Integer ac ipsum eget risus gravida eleifend sit amet et turpis. Duis diam mi, viverra sit amet ultricies eu, convallis id diam. Aliquam purus lacus, fringilla non vulputate id, fringilla eget mauris. Integer dui turpis, facilisis sit amet ex eu, aliquam porta felis. Ut ut mauris orci. Duis quis velit luctus, malesuada erat eu, rhoncus magna. Vivamus iaculis ullamcorper felis, a volutpat eros dignissim vel. Pellentesque id odio eget nulla tincidunt convallis. Integer eu interdum felis, id viverra elit. Etiam sed justo id nisi rhoncus cursus. Nulla risus nisi, dictum ut euismod a, posuere id risus. Donec quis mauris semper, convallis mi ac, dignissim mi. Ut elementum, urna eget dignissim consectetur, mi arcu lacinia tortor, at facilisis dolor libero vitae justo. Nam pellentesque, sem in tincidunt imperdiet, ante nunc tempor mi, pharetra tincidunt tellus massa ac neque. Sed rhoncus id arcu sit amet scelerisque. Nam at volutpat nibh. Cras tellus ligula, faucibus eu purus id, porta pellentesque neque. Etiam elementum et augue non imperdiet. Mauris vel mi sed augue tincidunt hendrerit. Pellentesque suscipit, metus nec molestie blandit, dui nisl tristique arcu, nec blandit nisl sapien vel est. Vestibulum eu nisl ex. Curabitur scelerisque arcu elit, semper fermentum felis dapibus et. Nunc elementum ante nulla, id scelerisque lorem auctor ut. Donec non nunc libero. Fusce fringilla ultrices eros quis mattis. Cras nec orci non velit convallis aliquam. Nulla convallis, enim rutrum commodo porttitor, eros libero interdum justo, sed egestas metus arcu sed felis. Nam varius risus vel ex hendrerit mattis. Curabitur et hendrerit eros. Mauris condimentum sodales dui, et cursus lectus ultricies id. Morbi fringilla vehicula nisi, eu consequat nunc bibendum in. Morbi interdum viverra massa vitae lobortis. Nunc sed commodo nisl. Vestibulum pulvinar nunc in lectus porttitor commodo. Integer faucibus eu risus ut consectetur. Duis tincidunt lorem ut tristique tristique. Donec ultricies malesuada nisl vel porttitor. Vivamus lobortis mi ligula, at sagittis nisi cursus quis. Pellentesque pharetra vulputate porta. Mauris ac gravida massa. In iaculis ante justo, ac cursus massa commodo efficitur. In nec leo in felis convallis sagittis nec et ex. Integer eget molestie lectus. Nunc mollis erat vel mi dignissim faucibus. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Aenean quis vestibulum orci. Cras ut velit sed augue euismod pharetra. Quisque et auctor orci. Maecenas fermentum porta felis. Morbi vel ultrices magna. Phasellus suscipit metus ac magna mollis, vel porta orci pretium. Fusce mattis elit quis mattis molestie. Donec sollicitudin, orci in ultricies vulputate, nulla mi scelerisque ante, at dignissim sapien ligula nec neque. Mauris id velit neque. Duis mauris metus, sagittis sit amet ultrices non, finibus quis lacus. Sed scelerisque, quam nec tincidunt aliquet, est metus interdum ipsum, id congue nisi quam ut lorem. Suspendisse sed mi maximus, molestie sem non, faucibus nibh. Vivamus convallis, mi nec fringilla ultrices, augue dui mattis justo, quis lobortis leo nibh non metus. Vestibulum a eros ac magna cursus finibus venenatis vel leo. Pellentesque accumsan posuere ipsum vel laoreet. Praesent tristique mi eu augue ullamcorper, non gravida nisi congue. Suspendisse sollicitudin magna orci, non dapibus mi volutpat id. Sed blandit rutrum nibh pharetra porta. Suspendisse pretium odio vitae libero pulvinar, eget efficitur lectus faucibus. Nullam eu lorem eu mi pharetra imperdiet non eget quam. Mauris vitae quam eget ex ultrices sodales vel ut tellus. Pellentesque ut scelerisque tortor. Donec venenatis et tortor a placerat. Nulla gravida velit eu nisi placerat convallis. Nullam volutpat risus non nisi laoreet, vitae auctor ante sagittis. Cras accumsan faucibus lectus, vitae interdum neque blandit ut. Etiam purus nisi, pulvinar nec consequat a, lobortis sed ex. Maecenas in orci magna. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Pellentesque ut massa tellus. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae; Etiam rutrum dolor ipsum, nec tristique dui tincidunt ac. Etiam id nunc malesuada, sodales arcu in, cursus dui. Mauris sit amet dolor quis justo feugiat cursus sit amet ut massa. Etiam et erat risus. Proin eu malesuada ligula. Aliquam dui massa, consectetur a porta ac, bibendum ac odio. Sed id volutpat erat. Donec porta facilisis felis a hendrerit. Aliquam sodales cursus est egestas mattis. Ut ut purus sed ante faucibus laoreet. Ut nec suscipit eros, blandit lobortis tortor. Integer quis viverra lorem. Pellentesque sem ante, consequat ac consectetur quis, molestie id risus. Donec metus felis, porta sed posuere quis, blandit tristique diam. Duis in condimentum tellus. Phasellus nec velit sem. Aliquam et tellus accumsan, auctor neque vel, tristique velit. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Maecenas rhoncus magna velit, non dapibus nisi sodales at. Etiam nec augue leo. Etiam tortor dolor, aliquet malesuada maximus fringilla, dapibus vel sem. Mauris non nunc metus. Ut sit amet suscipit libero. In sit amet bibendum tellus. Mauris pellentesque odio non aliquet vulputate. Morbi ac arcu nec turpis ultrices feugiat et ut ipsum. Donec justo ex, faucibus in malesuada vel, feugiat id arcu. Aenean et risus vitae sapien porta mollis vel eu quam. Quisque bibendum sapien ut eleifend tincidunt. Integer mollis fermentum molestie. Ut ut orci id orci elementum imperdiet eu in ex. Sed fermentum, nunc eu suscipit finibus, neque neque efficitur felis, in ullamcorper justo mi vitae massa. Donec consequat, ex at ultricies scelerisque, orci dolor tincidunt ipsum, vel molestie tellus purus in erat. Fusce pulvinar nunc ut tortor auctor, quis lacinia mauris luctus. Integer eget turpis fermentum, euismod urna ac, sodales arcu. Vestibulum interdum sodales ante vitae interdum. Aliquam malesuada augue vitae fermentum congue. Nulla venenatis maximus mi. Integer ut condimentum leo. Duis vel lobortis urna. Fusce vitae odio augue. Proin non est commodo nunc scelerisque aliquet non ac erat. Nam at felis id ipsum tincidunt tincidunt at hendrerit ipsum. Donec ac libero vel metus laoreet efficitur vel a diam. Ut consequat, est suscipit pretium condimentum, ligula nunc ultricies quam, et iaculis magna nibh non massa. Donec maximus ante nulla, ut rutrum risus rhoncus sagittis. Etiam lectus elit, lobortis ultricies facilisis lobortis, gravida eu nunc. Etiam posuere consectetur ex et porttitor. Sed vestibulum justo eu facilisis interdum. Vivamus vel pellentesque tellus, at gravida arcu. Quisque euismod ac nibh eu efficitur. Proin id venenatis lectus, non pharetra enim. Donec sed tempus nisl. Aenean vitae erat sit amet lectus tincidunt porttitor vel in odio. Donec molestie quam sit amet convallis tristique. Suspendisse sit amet quam efficitur tortor tristique suscipit et eu neque. Sed varius nunc ut massa fermentum sodales. Nullam sit amet nisl a ipsum lobortis accumsan. Mauris elementum id sapien id ullamcorper. Quisque nisi mi, dictum quis pretium at, fringilla malesuada est. Sed purus mi, interdum in urna vitae, tincidunt egestas sem. Vestibulum accumsan, nulla et interdum tristique, lectus odio condimentum est, in varius ex libero eget dui. Aliquam et augue sapien. Donec tristique est nec viverra iaculis. Donec non augue a sem euismod varius tempor et justo. Aliquam volutpat mi facilisis, semper nibh in, scelerisque nunc. Ut ut diam fermentum felis pharetra commodo sit amet in orci. Aenean scelerisque eu augue non vulputate. Nunc ut lacus feugiat, consequat odio et, tempus turpis. Morbi ultricies urna ante, at dictum dui ultricies vitae. Phasellus nec molestie quam. Vivamus sit amet dolor sed turpis ultricies rutrum quis at orci. In lobortis felis eu ante ultricies, id venenatis sapien tincidunt. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Duis et tristique orci. Quisque et suscipit elit. Donec mattis nulla at metus ultrices, vel lacinia risus aliquam. Sed congue lorem nec ante placerat porta. Phasellus purus augue, iaculis egestas accumsan in, sollicitudin id ipsum. Morbi ultrices, elit eu hendrerit dictum, tortor tellus lacinia nulla, et vehicula diam ligula et lacus. Quisque consectetur a turpis sed dapibus. Donec egestas, magna vitae luctus pellentesque, turpis sapien sagittis justo, in ultrices odio nisi non leo. Proin eleifend aliquam diam. Vivamus dignissim nisi venenatis, pellentesque erat sit amet, lobortis lacus. Phasellus arcu augue, tincidunt nec pharetra quis, blandit ut tortor. Nullam vitae bibendum nulla. Fusce quis lacus purus. Donec tortor turpis, laoreet non neque non, malesuada egestas metus. Quisque consectetur ultricies sapien vel mollis. Donec orci risus, auctor in tristique ac, vehicula non dolor. Maecenas luctus consequat ex, nec dignissim purus mattis a. Nullam eleifend, tellus vel condimentum dapibus, nisi risus sollicitudin purus, at volutpat quam velit eget metus. Mauris malesuada, magna vel luctus venenatis, erat odio eleifend ipsum, non malesuada nibh dui quis risus. Etiam eleifend purus ac justo porta tincidunt. Morbi condimentum augue rhoncus, hendrerit arcu a, pulvinar ligula. Morbi condimentum commodo urna eu dictum. Aliquam ut erat quam. Mauris facilisis, lacus eget viverra efficitur, nibh nisl aliquam purus, vitae laoreet ligula ex quis ligula. Sed aliquet consectetur elit at vehicula. Ut consectetur posuere eleifend. Donec convallis, ex ut interdum suscipit, velit erat sollicitudin velit, et feugiat lectus nisi vitae neque. Etiam sem sem, finibus eget dignissim sit amet, sagittis in tellus. Vivamus aliquet velit leo, in fermentum leo bibendum eu. Proin quis rhoncus ex. Phasellus aliquet nisl tincidunt elit condimentum condimentum. Maecenas dapibus augue ut ullamcorper tincidunt. Phasellus maximus lacinia sapien at laoreet. Cras a diam ut felis varius dignissim sit amet in erat. Aenean vehicula vitae eros eu laoreet. Donec convallis aliquam consequat. Nunc eleifend, elit vitae dignissim semper, odio tellus fringilla mauris, auctor finibus dui sapien in dui. Sed mi tellus, commodo at magna id, mollis sodales ex. Nulla at lacus nisi. Cras justo mauris, imperdiet non faucibus eget, vulputate id lectus. Donec ultricies posuere varius. Etiam fermentum lectus eu mollis porttitor. Mauris pretium id purus vel condimentum. Praesent feugiat turpis sit amet accumsan consequat. Nulla luctus dapibus est non elementum. Integer cursus tortor ut urna convallis convallis eu ut ante. Phasellus et tempor diam. Curabitur sagittis, erat id facilisis aliquet, lorem lacus venenatis ipsum, sit amet tincidunt nunc diam tristique augue. Donec maximus nunc et neque imperdiet, ut congue velit gravida. Nunc sit amet dui nec tortor dictum feugiat. Vivamus vitae fermentum augue. Suspendisse pharetra rhoncus enim euismod interdum. Nulla pellentesque neque at odio porta gravida. Fusce maximus consequat ante, vel pulvinar magna finibus eget. Mauris sit amet mollis turpis. Nunc molestie auctor iaculis. Cras in porttitor libero, eget elementum urna. Quisque tempus sollicitudin elementum. Suspendisse eu est sit amet purus luctus aliquam volutpat in velit. Pellentesque iaculis mauris tempus lacus eleifend, id ultricies libero consectetur. Praesent ac ultricies quam. Ut ac tortor vel libero faucibus bibendum. Sed accumsan faucibus mauris. Aliquam a pellentesque augue, eu vehicula tortor. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Mauris quis lorem maximus, pulvinar sapien sit amet, mollis sapien. Phasellus aliquam ac dui non ultrices. Donec at rutrum augue. Proin elementum porttitor diam in pretium. Vestibulum sapien orci, ornare sed accumsan quis, molestie sed sapien. Sed euismod gravida elementum. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Quisque at eleifend libero. Vestibulum lacinia hendrerit libero faucibus lobortis. Nam ut iaculis sapien. Maecenas a semper odio. Maecenas sagittis ut nibh vel condimentum. Nulla mollis mauris eu sapien sodales pulvinar. Suspendisse rutrum lectus sed scelerisque tincidunt. Mauris a lorem eu leo sollicitudin ornare. Curabitur at auctor augue. Mauris semper egestas rutrum. Donec tincidunt, ligula at pellentesque fermentum, tortor orci euismod ante, pharetra sollicitudin felis lectus quis arcu. Curabitur massa massa, suscipit vitae varius et, semper et libero. Nulla eget posuere magna, placerat posuere velit. Nam porta magna nunc, ut vehicula odio lobortis a. Morbi congue erat in velit accumsan interdum. Quisque ullamcorper rutrum pharetra. Maecenas a facilisis ipsum, vel mattis tortor. Maecenas rhoncus quis leo non rhoncus. Sed mollis magna dui, quis eleifend mauris tincidunt eget. Maecenas hendrerit, lorem vel rhoncus facilisis, felis mi pharetra eros, at porta eros est non libero. Vivamus accumsan justo ac maximus malesuada. Sed sit amet mi et ex tempus aliquam at eget dolor. Sed convallis congue arcu, eu scelerisque mi bibendum in. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Integer faucibus volutpat metus vel consectetur. Mauris volutpat est nibh, sit amet facilisis odio fermentum et. Aenean at ullamcorper lorem. Nunc in nibh ac nulla molestie vestibulum quis sed augue. Aliquam erat volutpat. Cras laoreet elit quis tincidunt suscipit. Quisque cursus lacus pretium, molestie tortor eu, molestie nisl. Quisque eu vehicula ex, eu aliquet metus. Duis eget bibendum tellus. Ut ultrices neque nisl, sit amet gravida sapien ornare consectetur. Sed risus dui, commodo a tempor et, iaculis a nulla. Integer a leo suscipit, porttitor justo eu, egestas lectus. In lorem dui, volutpat congue metus in, suscipit tempus lacus. Nulla facilisi. Proin quis eleifend urna. Pellentesque ut turpis ut lacus viverra congue ut in eros. Aenean nisi augue, placerat vel orci in, ultrices elementum sapien. Integer rutrum id tellus in malesuada. Fusce in dictum nulla. Aliquam porta metus sit amet volutpat convallis. Sed elementum sagittis massa, et maximus arcu aliquam sit amet. Donec in cursus tellus, sit amet pulvinar augue. Mauris malesuada facilisis urna eu ullamcorper. Aenean iaculis sagittis tortor, nec dapibus mi commodo nec. Mauris vel justo mi. Nam eros ex, eleifend sit amet tincidunt a, finibus sed dui. Suspendisse sed pulvinar ligula, ac tempor ante. Nam at interdum risus, eu rhoncus ipsum. Sed ante justo, iaculis ut laoreet ut, ultricies consectetur ex. Aenean et sagittis erat. Donec consectetur odio a lorem pellentesque, sit amet ornare turpis ultrices. Nulla quis fringilla felis. Praesent est urna, sollicitudin in ornare sit amet, finibus eu purus. Nam mollis molestie ex sit amet congue. Vestibulum vestibulum sagittis lacus dapibus venenatis. Integer lorem dui, rhoncus eget sapien vitae, rutrum suscipit erat. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Proin vel hendrerit dui, id efficitur urna. Curabitur gravida ullamcorper lectus. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Vivamus a euismod ipsum. Duis nec ultrices mi. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Sed aliquet porttitor quam, at placerat turpis. Proin ac sodales augue. Nulla fermentum arcu et feugiat viverra. Duis non elit ornare neque eleifend sodales. Duis a massa laoreet, lacinia felis vitae, iaculis ex. Mauris turpis lectus, gravida id ultrices vel, viverra quis lorem. Vivamus placerat sem ante, malesuada bibendum felis placerat ac. Quisque maximus sem nisi, eget finibus turpis vestibulum vitae. Sed tempus purus nec odio pharetra, id malesuada purus posuere. Donec iaculis turpis eu ipsum pretium lobortis. Phasellus id tellus vel sapien dictum fermentum. Pellentesque ut bibendum felis. Etiam pretium iaculis consectetur. Aenean in aliquam purus. Proin volutpat convallis dolor, sed porttitor felis egestas et. Proin augue mi, posuere ut massa et, interdum tempus urna. Vivamus finibus non nisi vitae consequat. Vestibulum accumsan posuere tortor eget vehicula. Morbi vitae risus sit amet augue semper euismod vitae vitae justo. Pellentesque dignissim auctor mauris, sit amet convallis dolor posuere quis. Nam in justo ligula. Vestibulum et libero ut arcu luctus convallis. Fusce interdum luctus ante vel dapibus. Curabitur tempus convallis consectetur. Vestibulum eros magna, viverra in dolor eu, fermentum ultrices mauris. Nulla id sagittis mauris. Nunc id aliquam lacus. Phasellus ullamcorper vestibulum imperdiet. In condimentum vulputate dapibus. Nullam dictum consequat nisi. Sed a nunc purus. Maecenas tempus magna finibus, vulputate lorem semper, luctus velit. Quisque id gravida tellus, ut accumsan dui. Praesent cursus sem sed quam ornare malesuada. Pellentesque ac ex ipsum. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Quisque quis condimentum dolor. Vestibulum vel erat at massa ultrices lobortis. Nam nec nulla odio. Maecenas porta purus at orci fringilla sodales. Mauris vitae dui leo. Curabitur quis lorem a libero vehicula ullamcorper eget ac nibh. In ut tempus leo. Etiam mollis tortor non erat malesuada ullamcorper. Vestibulum sit amet lacus tempor, tincidunt massa non, volutpat lacus. Morbi justo elit, elementum at interdum sit amet, hendrerit vel felis. In nec turpis scelerisque lacus accumsan cursus eu eu orci. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Duis pretium ultricies tincidunt. Maecenas ac nibh lacus. Morbi a est turpis. Ut dignissim mi quis arcu dignissim, porta vehicula mauris blandit. Pellentesque ut velit dui. Curabitur quis sollicitudin nulla, et semper erat. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Integer quis ex tellus. Duis vehicula, massa vitae porta lobortis, sapien dui tincidunt enim, sed egestas odio enim at arcu. Proin eget tellus porta, mollis nisl at, mollis libero. Vestibulum sodales lacinia tempus. Aliquam a mi est. Nulla facilisi. Proin eu nisl ut massa rhoncus porttitor. Mauris aliquam odio eu ligula sollicitudin rutrum. Nunc sit amet euismod urna. Cras fringilla condimentum mauris vitae blandit. Maecenas at ornare neque. Morbi ullamcorper, eros sit amet malesuada rhoncus, ipsum arcu scelerisque risus, eu aliquam ante libero ac dolor. Nunc pharetra erat gravida nulla blandit, nec gravida turpis facilisis. Nulla tortor lorem, volutpat non vehicula a, commodo at diam. Mauris egestas, quam id sollicitudin ullamcorper, metus lacus scelerisque magna, scelerisque volutpat odio sapien eget nisl. Pellentesque nec ante cursus, dictum nunc et, luctus lorem. Pellentesque posuere nisl vel porta volutpat. Sed mattis mi sollicitudin, interdum est varius, lobortis nibh. Nulla venenatis lorem quis sollicitudin aliquet. Maecenas quam neque, condimentum eu felis ac, placerat dignissim lectus. Etiam id nisi a ipsum varius placerat ut vel ante. Maecenas tortor neque, varius nec congue vitae, egestas ut metus. Quisque vulputate, arcu sed pharetra commodo, ante erat accumsan justo, a rhoncus ipsum tortor vel leo. Nam gravida sapien lectus, ut vulputate dui mattis vitae. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Fusce commodo ex id diam dictum efficitur. Quisque non odio vitae diam imperdiet imperdiet. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae; Sed at sapien lacus. Donec cursus lectus sed laoreet commodo. In euismod magna fermentum, auctor turpis et, euismod risus. Suspendisse ut nisi quam. Praesent a mauris nec est facilisis egestas eget vel sapien. Maecenas placerat mauris erat, ut tincidunt libero vestibulum nec. Praesent semper urna in vehicula sodales. Morbi pellentesque posuere elementum. Donec ac ligula sit amet mi porta sodales. Sed efficitur sapien eget mi blandit rutrum. Nunc semper est sed neque posuere, ac rutrum diam congue. Donec dapibus ante id felis tincidunt cursus. Morbi dignissim sodales fermentum. Fusce at maximus quam. Vestibulum egestas placerat sagittis. Morbi tempor porttitor urna, non viverra metus tincidunt sit amet. Nam sollicitudin mi ac leo tincidunt, in porta diam vehicula. Morbi iaculis dictum felis nec tempor. Mauris dignissim, mi eu ultricies interdum, eros urna suscipit augue, laoreet mattis ante quam at lacus. Cras eget augue pretium, luctus lectus et, interdum ipsum. Maecenas euismod mauris arcu. Integer nulla est, malesuada id urna quis, interdum commodo justo. Vivamus ornare, leo id pulvinar lacinia, sapien nulla tincidunt leo, sed rhoncus nisi odio non mi. Integer justo justo, cursus non euismod vel, ultrices sed tellus. Pellentesque eget ligula ut lacus dignissim vestibulum quis ac mauris. Fusce venenatis eu velit ut sodales. Phasellus elementum libero a nisi volutpat mollis. Quisque et sapien quis tellus convallis lacinia. Vivamus vitae convallis justo. Proin in turpis sem. Maecenas ac dui aliquam orci porttitor dapibus ut in diam. Phasellus quis imperdiet sem. Quisque pellentesque vitae massa et aliquam. Sed congue turpis non risus scelerisque vulputate. Donec facilisis accumsan lorem non tincidunt. Nam sodales, est id ornare consectetur, tortor ex dictum sapien, non malesuada arcu sapien eget augue. Duis ac purus magna. Proin et libero sed est vulputate pretium. In quis egestas libero. Aenean posuere elit nec dolor gravida sodales. Fusce pellentesque hendrerit lectus, in pulvinar velit ornare et. Quisque ut viverra arcu, eget rutrum sapien. Etiam iaculis justo leo, vitae tempor orci varius a. Cras risus tellus, lacinia ac scelerisque in, tincidunt sed risus. Pellentesque tincidunt non leo malesuada accumsan. Pellentesque interdum justo vitae ex fringilla suscipit. Aliquam eu sagittis est. Integer pretium felis sed consequat scelerisque. Proin vitae ex pellentesque enim commodo porta sed eget ex. Quisque tempus condimentum diam egestas pharetra. In vehicula augue non ipsum maximus, sed semper mi pharetra. Fusce tempus pretium diam, eu laoreet massa tempus quis. Praesent vitae faucibus augue. In laoreet dui non faucibus pharetra. Duis imperdiet suscipit nisi quis iaculis. Donec purus nibh, interdum non dignissim nec, tempus ut diam. Nulla tincidunt ullamcorper enim, non interdum risus elementum vel. Vivamus tempus sapien non mollis lacinia. Duis euismod neque convallis nisi sodales commodo. Maecenas ligula ipsum, consectetur sed eleifend sed, consequat in tortor. Quisque malesuada pulvinar augue, porttitor vulputate dolor ullamcorper non. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Aenean nec tellus sit amet mi hendrerit rhoncus. Vivamus dui odio, pellentesque quis turpis sit amet, laoreet lobortis leo. Sed interdum, lacus tincidunt ultrices vulputate, diam dui vehicula massa, sed egestas purus ligula sit amet felis. In porta libero a ligula bibendum cursus. Nunc sollicitudin metus vel tristique pulvinar. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Nullam ut velit vitae nunc faucibus tempus ut sit amet purus. Aenean maximus quam non enim dignissim feugiat. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Vivamus tristique tempor enim pulvinar dictum. Nunc luctus justo at arcu vestibulum, sit amet bibendum est gravida. Fusce id lorem ultrices, efficitur odio ac, lacinia purus. Nullam quis ipsum in sapien cursus efficitur. In posuere odio vitae nisi lobortis, in aliquet turpis venenatis. Nulla ornare neque sit amet viverra accumsan. Nam venenatis sed enim sit amet pulvinar. Maecenas viverra, orci nec rhoncus tempus, est felis pulvinar ipsum, fringilla rhoncus ex dolor vitae nibh. Etiam euismod fermentum velit, blandit luctus tortor feugiat faucibus. Nunc id nulla sed magna viverra dictum eget eu mi. Nulla pretium egestas augue in blandit. Quisque posuere nibh vel sollicitudin cursus. Pellentesque congue orci et est blandit aliquam. Maecenas neque nisl, tincidunt id nisi nec, auctor pellentesque enim. Fusce in justo vel urna ullamcorper laoreet at et orci. Donec sagittis mauris et lacus lobortis, vel mollis erat suscipit. Phasellus tincidunt dui quis eros laoreet, in laoreet metus dignissim. Nulla orci purus, fringilla et mattis nec, rhoncus nec enim. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Maecenas tristique urna et lacus pharetra, in efficitur dolor bibendum. Suspendisse potenti. Quisque eget tellus sem. Sed porttitor nunc metus, ac fermentum lacus venenatis at. Phasellus faucibus libero eget enim commodo posuere. Proin urna velit, fermentum sit amet pulvinar sit amet, tristique porta elit. Integer et sapien lorem. Nunc hendrerit, felis eu facilisis tempus, elit urna elementum dolor, vel elementum diam nunc id tellus. Phasellus eget felis nec eros semper tincidunt ut vel risus. Etiam ac libero cursus, congue ex eu, elementum nibh. Vestibulum ullamcorper elit in lectus suscipit, mollis volutpat lacus ultrices. Cras sit amet libero lectus. Aenean ac convallis turpis, sit amet sollicitudin mi. Pellentesque non tellus et odio egestas eleifend. Donec egestas id turpis ut scelerisque. Nam pretium eget diam quis consectetur. Donec lacinia ex augue, sed imperdiet odio pharetra in. Nunc quis tempus nisl, at ornare dolor. Nunc pulvinar libero et lorem aliquam, id vehicula tortor vehicula. Aenean mauris ex, posuere in egestas non, porta nec mi. Curabitur ornare risus in orci blandit, ut hendrerit nisl vestibulum. Morbi nunc nunc, tincidunt vitae turpis eget, lobortis imperdiet leo. Nulla non velit vitae sem laoreet condimentum. Nam congue consectetur sollicitudin. Maecenas et erat varius, gravida metus a, finibus urna. Curabitur mattis dolor ut lorem sollicitudin pellentesque. Ut a orci ipsum. Nam tincidunt lacus dui, tempus eleifend nunc tristique non. Vestibulum sit amet diam lacus. Fusce et orci est. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Morbi eu blandit tellus, nec volutpat justo. Morbi gravida cursus ligula, sit amet consectetur felis. Fusce ultrices eleifend purus. Suspendisse potenti. Sed varius, orci at tristique commodo, purus nunc egestas massa, sit amet malesuada lacus justo eu turpis. Vivamus in placerat enim. Donec nec posuere massa. Cras eu est nunc. Vivamus lacinia, arcu et sollicitudin tincidunt, libero nulla feugiat erat, id maximus leo sem sit amet nulla. Curabitur accumsan condimentum augue, nec interdum nisi placerat eu. Nunc nulla metus, auctor consequat feugiat at, maximus sed erat. Morbi vel erat lacus. Mauris hendrerit, metus vitae fermentum fermentum, est ligula convallis metus, ac sollicitudin elit risus et ex. Nullam vitae dui nec tellus commodo condimentum a vitae lacus. In imperdiet quis ex vel pharetra. Cras porta viverra facilisis. Quisque efficitur vitae ligula ac ultricies. Vestibulum id iaculis nunc, vel vehicula leo. Nunc ut rutrum lectus, quis pellentesque nisl. Pellentesque non augue nisi. Donec ullamcorper odio ut faucibus eleifend. Nulla sollicitudin tincidunt tellus. Maecenas tempus quam quis congue faucibus. Vivamus nisi orci, dictum id magna quis, ultrices scelerisque tortor. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Etiam velit arcu, ullamcorper vitae sagittis a, faucibus et felis. Aliquam erat volutpat. Mauris eu convallis nisi, eu rhoncus erat. Donec condimentum imperdiet felis. Maecenas vehicula mauris eget sapien sollicitudin aliquet. Aliquam consequat ornare finibus. Sed pretium tortor in quam accumsan lacinia. Morbi purus augue, pulvinar sed odio vel, lacinia auctor dolor. Sed eu urna non ligula pharetra ultricies sed in arcu. Proin facilisis, turpis id interdum ultricies, dolor enim sollicitudin odio, in ultricies erat nisi id ante. Orci varius natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Praesent eu iaculis nibh, at pellentesque tellus. Nulla id sagittis magna, nec condimentum turpis. Orci varius natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Cras sit amet sapien vel ante tincidunt interdum. Vestibulum leo sem, elementum sed lorem at, tempor luctus ex. Phasellus posuere, felis vitae euismod luctus, est velit tincidunt nisl, quis facilisis mi erat in magna. Vivamus in laoreet tellus. Vestibulum ut ligula et velit sollicitudin hendrerit vel nec dolor. Nam vitae urna libero. Nulla finibus ornare orci, vitae lacinia magna. Praesent vulputate erat id ligula porttitor, id malesuada nibh consectetur. Vestibulum vulputate dolor eget eros pharetra eleifend. Fusce in odio augue. Aenean et nisl sit amet dui egestas dictum a quis erat. Donec in convallis magna, nec ornare tortor. Phasellus auctor massa ex, ac mattis nisi sodales vitae. Duis ut vestibulum tortor, sed convallis mi. Morbi est augue, hendrerit sed convallis in, dapibus sit amet nisl. Nunc tristique aliquet dui, ac mattis lacus dictum sed. Quisque fringilla sed massa eget sollicitudin. Nullam justo lorem, sodales quis nisi vitae, pharetra fringilla sapien. Nulla mattis est felis, ut commodo arcu hendrerit nec. Etiam dapibus gravida viverra. Maecenas eget odio eros. Praesent porttitor fringilla justo eget eleifend. Pellentesque nec molestie urna. Nulla ligula est, auctor vitae est sed, faucibus mollis orci. In sit amet tincidunt turpis, vel luctus orci. Phasellus posuere leo a ex blandit, non euismod sapien porta. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Suspendisse facilisis viverra malesuada. Suspendisse non euismod arcu. Ut at purus lacus. Mauris non iaculis ante, eu tempor lectus. Sed venenatis elit et facilisis viverra. Sed sit amet magna nisi. Sed id arcu rutrum, venenatis lorem at, gravida ligula. Ut sed ante eget mauris vestibulum aliquam ac ac leo. Aenean ut justo enim. Mauris tincidunt quam ac sagittis dictum. Morbi at mattis libero, sed euismod enim. Mauris sem urna, laoreet nec massa in, auctor dictum orci. Nulla

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consect, 2024/12/18 - 11:49:14

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Etiam ut facilisis tortor, sed gravida metus. Aenean volutpat turpis nibh, sed venenatis libero volutpat sed. Donec nec risus eget purus tempus lobortis quis at lectus. Donec mattis imperdiet vestibulum. Proin varius eget lectus in accumsan. Vestibulum sit amet dignissim mauris, id hendrerit magna. Nulla vitae dolor dui. Nullam eget dui risus. Pellentesque malesuada turpis in lacus lacinia, vel ornare tellus finibus. In mollis urna in justo accumsan fringilla. Ut auctor ac eros ut facilisis. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae; Sed scelerisque cursus neque, at lacinia massa congue non. Vestibulum eu lorem at nibh sagittis ultrices. Vivamus mi neque, blandit sit amet est vitae, sollicitudin laoreet ipsum. Quisque sapien mi, tincidunt vel interdum eu, dapibus vel risus. Vivamus porta eu leo efficitur efficitur. Vestibulum in varius nulla. Etiam feugiat ex id nisi egestas, ut sodales urna facilisis. Aliquam erat volutpat. Proin at massa lectus. Integer iaculis nisi vitae diam finibus efficitur. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae; Fusce volutpat sapien et lectus maximus tristique. Aliquam quis odio justo. Quisque efficitur euismod hendrerit. Donec pellentesque a mauris a venenatis. Sed at enim eget metus venenatis auctor nec et nunc. In nec massa nec nisi accumsan facilisis. Integer mattis dignissim nunc, eget elementum metus commodo sed. Curabitur posuere odio non purus ultrices scelerisque vel vel odio. Sed condimentum vitae neque eget sodales. Sed pellentesque eros egestas, bibendum arcu interdum, fermentum lacus. Phasellus mollis nibh ut neque hendrerit, nec auctor arcu aliquam. Nulla rutrum et libero non dignissim. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Nunc bibendum nisi sit amet neque mollis, efficitur sollicitudin ante tristique. Nullam volutpat molestie viverra. Duis dapibus facilisis nisl, nec interdum velit faucibus feugiat. Duis et velit at massa iaculis fermentum. Nunc nec orci dignissim, blandit mauris eu, rhoncus augue. Morbi ornare nisi tincidunt nulla tincidunt auctor. Phasellus ultricies enim eros, nec lacinia turpis pellentesque et. Sed lacinia est rhoncus ipsum bibendum posuere. Integer eu congue nibh. Nulla quis ante rutrum urna consectetur eleifend a ut urna. In quis tellus vitae augue fermentum interdum. Donec bibendum risus sem, quis porta nisi accumsan vel. In mattis fermentum justo, sit amet sollicitudin sem fringilla eget. Duis tincidunt orci quis mi dictum, ut bibendum neque fermentum. Donec porta mi in varius finibus. Sed tempor condimentum molestie. Morbi lobortis efficitur odio et ultrices. Suspendisse quis tortor quis sapien iaculis gravida vel eget turpis. Cras efficitur lacus nec velit ullamcorper imperdiet. Nulla facilisi. In porta ultricies odio vel consequat. Nulla vulputate eget erat ut congue. Aliquam erat volutpat. Nulla risus dolor, placerat at finibus sit amet, dictum sed lacus. Morbi porta molestie augue, eu vestibulum ligula efficitur a. Morbi iaculis pretium risus. Aliquam luctus lacus sit amet facilisis varius. Aliquam egestas, orci sed sodales placerat, purus ex ullamcorper erat, at vehicula ipsum dui et tortor. Praesent pellentesque sed dolor ac fringilla. Sed accumsan nulla ut urna ultrices consectetur. Nam sed sem ipsum. Curabitur tristique non tortor venenatis rhoncus. Curabitur condimentum pharetra euismod. Morbi lorem est, faucibus ac convallis vitae, pretium eu lorem. Proin quis orci ac ligula feugiat consectetur. Cras sagittis diam eget metus finibus sodales. Nullam sit amet elit facilisis, scelerisque dolor in, pharetra lacus. Donec faucibus eget neque eget rutrum. Nulla eu sem in dolor pharetra cursus quis et lorem. Suspendisse consectetur nisi sit amet quam vulputate, at convallis lorem fermentum. Curabitur tincidunt elit in elit maximus, euismod aliquam nulla efficitur. Vestibulum nulla mi, fringilla at justo id, tristique vestibulum urna. Sed sit amet augue quis quam iaculis laoreet. Nullam in velit ut ex gravida dapibus eu nec arcu. Curabitur porta tincidunt massa. Sed rhoncus lorem erat, in ultrices turpis tempor at. Duis imperdiet rhoncus ipsum nec aliquet. Praesent ut leo nec orci gravida sodales nec a lectus. Duis pulvinar id purus in ornare. Aenean pulvinar imperdiet velit sit amet feugiat. Donec mi nisi, fringilla quis nulla sit amet, viverra venenatis tortor. Vivamus commodo purus eu lorem consectetur feugiat. Curabitur et nunc lacinia, accumsan dolor id, condimentum sem. Mauris vel placerat eros, quis maximus urna. Sed in diam et tortor finibus ullamcorper. Aliquam sed placerat tellus. Donec nisl mi, hendrerit eget consectetur eget, interdum nec nibh. Nunc et sollicitudin nibh. Quisque luctus tortor at mollis iaculis. Integer interdum vel elit in tincidunt. Morbi justo dolor, congue ac dui ac, finibus congue ligula. Vestibulum auctor vel dui vel commodo. Etiam convallis aliquet arcu, a interdum ligula malesuada vel. Aliquam sem dui, molestie sit amet eleifend ut, tempus eget turpis. Etiam euismod dolor a purus commodo, at commodo est luctus. Nam semper aliquam est, non suscipit massa aliquet ac. Aliquam at nisl massa. Cras pulvinar placerat magna et luctus. Integer sed ullamcorper urna. Nulla aliquet in ante nec tristique. Curabitur vitae porttitor magna. Pellentesque hendrerit tellus metus. Ut tincidunt, massa et malesuada hendrerit, ex nibh blandit eros, et accumsan orci risus et justo. Curabitur sit amet nisl gravida erat ultricies mattis. In tortor eros, elementum sed sapien eu, aliquet pellentesque velit. Aliquam erat volutpat. Suspendisse potenti. Quisque ut neque sapien. Proin ac enim vel nisl placerat fermentum eu id lacus. Etiam accumsan lobortis erat, non tempor arcu fermentum id. Nullam quis ex ac dolor egestas efficitur vitae id ligula. Sed tristique gravida nulla. Vivamus et ex in elit imperdiet rhoncus. Integer ultricies, lorem et consectetur faucibus, magna nisi lacinia orci, eget molestie lacus nisl sed urna. Ut lacinia nisi interdum cursus tempus. Fusce in bibendum orci. Morbi id diam semper, convallis nisl quis, ultricies quam. Phasellus elit neque, porta lacinia turpis vel, auctor dapibus diam. Integer ex leo, pulvinar ut auctor vel, interdum nec quam. Fusce rhoncus lectus at nulla varius fermentum. Phasellus accumsan ornare sem vel ullamcorper. Mauris quis maximus justo, id fringilla purus. Nunc id tellus vestibulum nisl tristique laoreet. Fusce in molestie elit, sit amet cursus elit. Nunc interdum a enim vitae tempor. Maecenas at lorem ante. Mauris lectus lacus, blandit nec est non, facilisis pulvinar enim. Curabitur sit amet ligula nec ipsum sodales ornare. Etiam auctor ultrices dignissim. Donec vel elit in massa congue scelerisque sed et metus. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Integer non velit laoreet, congue ante quis, vestibulum tortor. Vestibulum cursus ornare risus, nec egestas diam pellentesque nec. Nullam eu augue eros. Aliquam imperdiet neque eu metus placerat, at finibus eros vestibulum. Sed nulla orci, mattis nec hendrerit sit amet, interdum nec metus. Aenean tempus magna aliquet, commodo mauris in, condimentum quam. Mauris pellentesque feugiat convallis. Aenean ut tellus lacinia, dignissim augue nec, volutpat enim. Vestibulum cursus ex id porta euismod. Nam velit augue, ultricies id ornare a, lacinia id enim. Proin quis facilisis ante, id accumsan magna. Nunc fringilla fermentum est eget lacinia. Morbi ut massa at eros pretium volutpat sed at dui. Proin id dictum justo. Donec et nisl volutpat, mollis massa ac, rutrum nisl. Aenean et porta arcu, vitae viverra urna. Sed sed sollicitudin ex. Pellentesque cursus sem felis, sit amet volutpat elit vestibulum sit amet. Etiam posuere risus at ultrices porttitor. Proin eu finibus odio. Morbi posuere pulvinar diam sed dictum. Ut ac leo erat. Mauris consequat dolor sit amet pellentesque viverra. Proin orci arcu, aliquet vel vestibulum ac, aliquet id nulla. Nam non lectus enim. Aliquam interdum ligula libero, vel lacinia nisi blandit et. In mauris leo, mattis ut sollicitudin sed, ultrices sit amet dolor. Donec aliquam lorem sed orci dapibus feugiat. Nunc quis sollicitudin mi. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Aliquam imperdiet felis mollis erat tincidunt vestibulum. Quisque congue risus eu neque vestibulum auctor. Sed urna risus, feugiat nec turpis a, viverra eleifend ipsum. Integer vitae feugiat augue. Suspendisse vel ultrices risus. Sed vehicula fringilla est eget tempus. Suspendisse condimentum dui nibh, a consequat ipsum suscipit in. Maecenas ex ex, sagittis vehicula magna vel, tempus viverra nunc. Donec rhoncus sit amet sem at facilisis. Nullam nec interdum elit. Nam nibh lacus, elementum ac luctus non, feugiat a libero. Praesent non enim tincidunt, lacinia odio id, molestie velit. Aenean id felis sed augue sodales eleifend in et erat. Suspendisse fringilla, eros in imperdiet viverra, urna libero dictum sapien, sed gravida ante nisi at lorem. Sed viverra magna est, dignissim rhoncus erat elementum nec. Nam elit purus, fringilla vitae quam in, luctus volutpat est. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Curabitur non facilisis arcu, vel molestie neque. Pellentesque ultrices tempus enim. Fusce laoreet egestas turpis a rhoncus. Donec blandit lorem ac interdum semper. Quisque in ultrices augue, ac convallis dui. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae; Aliquam euismod magna vel dui placerat, luctus volutpat enim placerat. Proin quis nunc sit amet ipsum blandit semper. Cras diam velit, congue eu nulla gravida, rutrum tristique nulla. Praesent non pretium sem. Donec molestie, mauris a pretium fermentum, nulla tellus imperdiet tortor, sed dignissim magna mi ac dui. Cras vestibulum rutrum ipsum ut egestas. Etiam consequat lobortis libero, ac vestibulum leo porta vitae. Nullam commodo mi et eros finibus, eu sagittis sapien convallis. Nunc bibendum gravida urna, a tempus nunc. Integer vestibulum purus eu nunc sagittis auctor. Vivamus a risus dignissim, tincidunt ligula consectetur, gravida urna. Sed ultrices sagittis odio vel consectetur. Sed ultricies egestas turpis. Nulla gravida, enim posuere scelerisque dignissim, urna nulla tincidunt nunc, at mollis eros massa nec ipsum. Nulla tincidunt fermentum nunc varius suscipit. Duis euismod dapibus mi, eu aliquet ligula rutrum in. Sed a lobortis massa. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae; Nulla lectus odio, ornare vel efficitur vel, venenatis ac ligula. Nunc eros tortor, pharetra at mauris a, dignissim lacinia nunc. Donec vehicula, mi vitae tincidunt maximus, sem nibh sagittis turpis, ac gravida risus purus id dolor. Etiam eleifend tincidunt augue, ac bibendum arcu fermentum sed. Aenean vulputate sem nec dolor ultricies suscipit. Aenean vehicula condimentum odio, non tristique justo tempus nec. Sed risus mauris, ornare quis erat nec, ornare ullamcorper diam. Vestibulum sodales imperdiet feugiat. Quisque vestibulum ex id commodo auctor. Cras ornare nunc at leo tincidunt sagittis. Nulla sagittis mi sed elit aliquam, in scelerisque magna lacinia. Morbi vulputate id tellus in eleifend. Nullam eget nulla eu orci luctus consectetur nec id sapien. Nulla placerat at odio a fringilla. Morbi vel ligula in arcu tristique ornare. Nullam in euismod ipsum. Vestibulum ultricies rhoncus diam, vel lacinia risus eleifend eu. Phasellus ac orci lectus. Praesent id massa et nisi vehicula consectetur. Integer ac ligula pharetra, molestie nunc quis, posuere mi. Sed molestie euismod nibh, id vehicula erat pulvinar quis. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Nulla metus enim, molestie quis imperdiet id, gravida at augue. Nunc rutrum egestas finibus. Vestibulum hendrerit magna nunc, nec auctor leo euismod nec. Quisque odio quam, pellentesque non mauris in, gravida auctor tortor. Fusce cursus nisl sit amet est blandit, vel interdum risus vulputate. Suspendisse auctor sit amet purus vitae scelerisque. Quisque ac vehicula felis. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Vestibulum elit lectus, placerat a viverra ut, vehicula ut dolor. Donec bibendum diam tempus consequat consequat. Duis quam urna, facilisis vel metus ac, fringilla volutpat mauris. Curabitur rutrum erat in eros pretium eleifend. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut sit amet lobortis arcu. Phasellus ullamcorper consequat lorem, quis dapibus libero. In placerat vel augue ac accumsan. Nullam a maximus eros. Aliquam quam enim, interdum vitae hendrerit interdum, molestie ac velit. Pellentesque bibendum eu lacus et eleifend. Sed eget urna eget neque dictum imperdiet in eu diam. Curabitur scelerisque justo at elit scelerisque sodales. Proin id congue nisi. Nulla facilisi. Ut faucibus in diam sit amet dapibus. Aliquam mollis purus ac eros laoreet, sit amet iaculis ante scelerisque. Phasellus lobortis, lorem at porta posuere, turpis ex eleifend magna, a suscipit odio augue sed ante. Nam in mattis orci. Duis bibendum urna quis auctor consectetur. Cras consequat, odio in ultricies ornare, magna felis pretium orci, nec suscipit augue dui vitae libero. Suspendisse eleifend, magna ut maximus sodales, mauris justo gravida leo, non rhoncus tellus turpis vitae sapien. Nulla eget rhoncus ante. Nunc eu iaculis nibh. Phasellus vel consectetur erat. Maecenas consectetur condimentum ex, in mattis erat aliquam sed. Sed tempus consequat mi, pulvinar pretium enim auctor nec. Suspendisse laoreet dictum mollis. Vivamus viverra nulla at augue mollis pellentesque. Vestibulum sed venenatis odio. Nullam maximus mattis arcu, in sagittis sapien tempus eu. Nam malesuada nibh non cursus semper. Maecenas lobortis ultrices turpis, sit amet molestie dui. Vivamus in cursus arcu, ac rhoncus lacus. Nam interdum laoreet placerat. Nulla et faucibus mi. Morbi quis elit in ligula tristique aliquam. Fusce tincidunt gravida sollicitudin. Integer eros dolor, placerat vel ligula vitae, congue euismod justo. Pellentesque sed cursus velit. Ut eget tortor diam. Curabitur vitae sagittis leo. Nulla mattis mauris eget elit ornare, eget rhoncus massa pretium. Suspendisse malesuada odio justo, a imperdiet velit convallis at. Maecenas aliquet convallis ante, sit amet auctor urna porta in. Quisque ornare augue id risus vulputate, ac scelerisque lorem ornare. Sed sed dolor hendrerit, convallis arcu maximus, laoreet arcu. Curabitur porttitor purus aliquet dapibus dignissim. Fusce eu sollicitudin nulla. Orci varius natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Integer hendrerit odio vel mauris lobortis, vel aliquet dolor tristique. Pellentesque feugiat quis erat nec mattis. Nunc tempus interdum tempus. Quisque bibendum arcu et dolor accumsan, quis semper est volutpat. Etiam lacinia tortor quis dolor blandit, eu blandit erat tempus. Nunc ac tellus tristique, convallis leo et, iaculis metus. Aliquam euismod finibus purus vel semper. In lorem sapien, hendrerit at aliquet non, posuere luctus erat. Pellentesque convallis elementum elit, at congue risus rutrum feugiat. Proin nec leo non magna pellentesque vestibulum non condimentum magna. Etiam condimentum dui ut quam imperdiet, ut consequat enim vulputate. Nullam convallis magna a ante luctus, sit amet porta massa pretium. In vitae justo suscipit, faucibus erat non, dictum nulla. Vivamus vitae pharetra tortor, imperdiet congue lorem. Donec lobortis massa sed augue posuere, id tincidunt ex interdum. Aliquam ullamcorper bibendum fermentum. Nulla facilisi. Vivamus quis molestie arcu. Nullam ac mauris eu ligula venenatis viverra ut condimentum mi. Aliquam dictum justo varius turpis efficitur, sed dapibus velit aliquet. Nunc scelerisque urna tellus, volutpat tincidunt velit feugiat in. Sed accumsan tincidunt tortor, eu viverra nibh dignissim eu. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Morbi iaculis, felis feugiat sagittis posuere, dui mauris ultrices ligula, eget blandit tellus sapien quis quam. Etiam sed erat sapien. Nam molestie orci in sapien varius feugiat. Vestibulum dapibus lorem ac neque cursus, in bibendum nunc sodales. Morbi a ipsum a arcu aliquam consequat sit amet sed tellus. Praesent posuere molestie varius. Proin dictum, nibh sit amet laoreet egestas, lacus erat vehicula nulla, quis hendrerit neque neque ac arcu. Donec luctus porttitor leo vel lacinia. Morbi volutpat laoreet ipsum sit amet cursus. Mauris porta dictum cursus. Pellentesque eleifend fermentum diam, eget blandit orci venenatis quis. Etiam et ante velit. Quisque nibh sapien, dignissim eu cursus a, congue ut dolor. Suspendisse purus massa, mollis in varius sed, dignissim vel risus. Suspendisse bibendum quam in justo tempor, nec rhoncus mauris lobortis. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Duis pellentesque arcu non dictum venenatis. Maecenas sed ultricies purus. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Sed turpis metus, iaculis sed aliquam at, sodales quis velit. Praesent suscipit consectetur nisl, sed rutrum tellus semper fringilla. Aliquam risus nisi, imperdiet ac posuere eleifend, laoreet et odio. Sed feugiat, quam quis tempor faucibus, odio neque porta enim, eu vestibulum lectus quam nec quam. Vivamus condimentum quam mi, dignissim ultrices libero venenatis non. Ut sit amet lectus eget risus pharetra imperdiet. Aenean ac odio a odio fermentum semper. Aenean luctus libero consectetur lacus vehicula, maximus accumsan mauris accumsan. Sed mollis id est eu varius. Integer sit amet consectetur neque, ut luctus nulla. Mauris tristique risus quis ante laoreet convallis. Donec nec tincidunt velit. Nulla vel rhoncus tortor, vitae porta odio. Nam porttitor nulla in orci hendrerit tincidunt. Suspendisse ligula nunc, dictum condimentum mattis et, porta quis nunc. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Aenean eget sodales augue. Duis accumsan volutpat mauris. Donec non pulvinar augue. Nullam at tristique sem. Aenean elementum fermentum viverra. Mauris elit urna, lacinia a neque sit amet, dictum iaculis felis. Integer at imperdiet quam. Pellentesque lacinia libero quis eleifend porttitor. Donec quis malesuada enim. Vivamus luctus, tortor at tempor sodales, urna mi efficitur nulla, quis placerat lacus tellus sed felis. Cras egestas egestas neque maximus pretium. Pellentesque porta rutrum aliquet. Ut rhoncus turpis dui. Maecenas vel aliquet risus. Nunc sit amet metus vitae massa varius pellentesque. Duis facilisis diam a augue eleifend placerat. Sed efficitur ex non eros eleifend luctus. Aenean condimentum libero in eros tristique mattis. Nunc quis malesuada augue, id malesuada sapien. Nunc eu venenatis lectus, vel varius dolor. Vestibulum non velit tristique, commodo leo vitae, ultricies lectus. Fusce consequat condimentum erat, a iaculis dolor elementum malesuada. Nam et arcu imperdiet, ornare magna vitae, cursus leo. Sed accumsan nisi eget diam volutpat, dignissim aliquet purus viverra. Donec porta, mauris non tristique aliquam, leo purus feugiat arcu, quis consectetur ligula lorem sit amet tortor. Suspendisse at varius tellus, nec eleifend nisl. Fusce accumsan semper velit quis finibus. Maecenas dapibus magna a leo efficitur, vel commodo lacus fermentum. Vivamus eu elit eget sem faucibus egestas ac in ipsum. Nullam enim massa, ultricies sed efficitur vel, lacinia quis metus. Praesent dignissim dictum sapien vitae auctor. Sed sit amet risus in massa lobortis finibus. Sed et dui vel lacus fringilla fermentum ut in elit. Nulla urna sapien, luctus eu diam vitae, porta vehicula velit. Sed euismod porta nunc. Phasellus fringilla lobortis lobortis. Morbi lacus nisl, congue ut finibus et, porta a lorem. Vivamus sit amet egestas tellus. Nulla vehicula id enim a commodo. Cras sem odio, porta vel ante eu, porttitor scelerisque sem. Duis molestie a sapien ac vulputate. Nulla euismod enim vel tincidunt viverra. Aliquam lacinia ligula eget dictum laoreet. Pellentesque luctus accumsan est, eu ornare nunc interdum id. Fusce dictum, velit id egestas bibendum, diam lorem viverra metus, eu accumsan libero eros eu diam. Suspendisse nec tincidunt purus. Maecenas eu dui nec orci ultrices pretium. Suspendisse potenti. Vivamus porttitor vitae sem in pulvinar. Fusce egestas fermentum felis non pellentesque. Mauris ornare hendrerit libero in ultricies. Ut vehicula magna at iaculis dictum. Cras vehicula placerat odio, in varius nisl dictum a. In ipsum ante, pretium sit amet sem ut, porta egestas ante. Vivamus sollicitudin ex urna, a commodo eros placerat id. Integer velit lectus, congue id dignissim placerat, fermentum at urna. Mauris tristique elit quis semper tincidunt. Vestibulum sit amet sapien molestie, porta sapien vitae, finibus felis. Phasellus vel tortor sagittis, varius tortor eu, varius lacus. Donec at quam venenatis, fermentum nisl ac, hendrerit dui. Cras eros ligula, faucibus quis ligula id, dictum aliquam sem. Aenean neque orci, varius eget feugiat eu, dapibus nec eros. Vestibulum eleifend a mauris volutpat venenatis. Vestibulum fringilla nisl quis urna tincidunt lobortis. Orci varius natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Vivamus congue orci quis ex lobortis sodales. Sed dapibus nibh et lacus accumsan ornare. Mauris nec congue arcu. Nullam sodales commodo nibh ut tincidunt. Donec a diam condimentum erat pellentesque eleifend ut id risus. Duis orci eros, dictum id pharetra pretium, auctor nec ligula. Nunc non lorem eu urna convallis malesuada. Fusce pharetra erat sed dui placerat consequat. Pellentesque viverra ex sem, ac feugiat ipsum laoreet non. Sed ornare sed erat sit amet accumsan. Phasellus dignissim massa id aliquet elementum. Ut molestie augue quis mauris facilisis, a congue orci vestibulum. Maecenas at nisi non odio ullamcorper consectetur. Vestibulum auctor varius facilisis. Proin eu libero ut massa blandit blandit. In id dictum massa, vel tempor velit. Pellentesque eget euismod turpis. Nunc et turpis porttitor, laoreet nunc nec, facilisis nisi. Nam sodales nibh sem, vitae imperdiet quam aliquet eget. Curabitur metus sem, egestas ut rutrum eget, dapibus ut diam. Phasellus convallis nunc et libero congue posuere. Donec eget sollicitudin augue, in rutrum leo. Aenean sit amet dictum turpis. Curabitur luctus est et lectus varius tristique. Ut ultricies a nisl ut tempor. Ut ut lorem ullamcorper, egestas justo at, facilisis dui. Morbi ac consectetur felis, sed posuere risus. Pellentesque id auctor nulla. Pellentesque laoreet rutrum maximus. Duis iaculis orci ac ex pulvinar, nec consequat ex lobortis. Integer hendrerit neque id ipsum luctus, vel laoreet ipsum tempus. Cras purus nunc, posuere a urna rhoncus, suscipit porttitor felis. Ut efficitur lacinia convallis. Vivamus nec tempus dolor. Nam odio erat, laoreet at euismod a, eleifend at tortor. In porta lacinia iaculis. Pellentesque bibendum vitae augue vitae tincidunt. Cras ut nulla dictum, euismod libero eget, pretium lacus. Duis eget risus pellentesque, fermentum erat nec, vulputate nunc. Nulla eu condimentum est. Suspendisse potenti. Cras facilisis justo rhoncus, interdum ex a, pretium lectus. Nam vestibulum blandit tellus luctus tincidunt. Morbi ultricies arcu id purus pellentesque, vitae imperdiet libero venenatis. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Fusce urna sapien, rutrum vel finibus non, pellentesque id felis. Donec dictum luctus nisi, ut fringilla ipsum ultricies sed. Nulla feugiat elit vel magna maximus, quis ultricies ipsum vehicula. Morbi viverra pharetra ligula, vel pharetra neque lobortis quis. Vestibulum eget tincidunt tortor. Etiam nec tempus massa. Cras convallis est ut nisi luctus, sit amet dapibus mi ultrices. Nunc erat mauris, viverra in ornare id, ultrices ut ligula. Aliquam blandit at dolor eu tincidunt. Cras in faucibus velit, at vulputate nunc. Aliquam eget tristique nulla. In fermentum nibh nec metus molestie, a aliquet ante porta. Nam malesuada convallis orci vitae auctor. Suspendisse sit amet augue suscipit nisi faucibus iaculis. Quisque quis enim quis tortor aliquam blandit in eget ipsum. Orci varius natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Integer finibus vestibulum mi, et venenatis enim semper faucibus. Sed venenatis diam vitae sem gravida laoreet. Morbi eu bibendum nibh. Mauris vitae varius ex, luctus semper velit. Sed non fringilla lectus, ut tempus arcu. Phasellus tempor sapien velit, a tempor quam aliquam eget. Quisque tempus sapien a ante aliquam venenatis. Ut vitae risus purus. Curabitur vulputate est sodales tincidunt volutpat. Proin efficitur velit quis mattis molestie. Praesent venenatis pharetra mattis. Vestibulum vel sodales lectus. Integer sodales ipsum et suscipit lobortis. Duis eget arcu scelerisque, accumsan eros sit amet, ornare lacus. Aenean tellus turpis, mollis ut rhoncus ut, gravida at massa. Aliquam erat volutpat. Nullam ut hendrerit dolor. Mauris vitae nulla ac tortor gravida vestibulum. Fusce ullamcorper mattis dui nec euismod. Vestibulum tristique mattis ligula, quis malesuada turpis commodo ac. Etiam sed euismod urna. Aliquam scelerisque tincidunt pharetra. Sed placerat id odio in faucibus. Cras tempus dui quis efficitur gravida. Mauris nec neque malesuada, ultrices nunc vitae, tincidunt dolor. Aliquam vulputate lorem et justo cursus luctus. Pellentesque auctor leo rhoncus scelerisque elementum. In interdum turpis id tempus auctor. Duis cursus arcu sit amet velit condimentum aliquam. Donec eu euismod tellus. Praesent non nibh dui. Phasellus convallis lacus id ex bibendum, quis fringilla dui ultricies. Etiam a ipsum ultrices, ullamcorper mauris nec, vestibulum arcu. Aenean cursus erat non eleifend dignissim. Aenean elementum ipsum risus, vitae blandit ipsum suscipit a. Praesent vel nulla mi. Morbi blandit id nisl eget fermentum. Donec vitae magna scelerisque, lacinia urna sit amet, ultrices tellus. Sed rhoncus vulputate nibh ac viverra. Praesent enim mauris, ullamcorper ut sollicitudin a, vehicula aliquet nulla. Donec ornare vel urna vel gravida. Proin aliquet lacinia justo at vestibulum. Vestibulum euismod enim ac massa finibus, eget lacinia dui eleifend. Phasellus sollicitudin neque id quam blandit faucibus. Cras at neque mollis, aliquet sapien at, rutrum nisl. Suspendisse efficitur ipsum nec purus blandit aliquet. Integer sit amet laoreet dui. Maecenas ac tincidunt felis. Proin feugiat elementum pharetra. Nunc tempus et leo at sodales. Vivamus in dui eget augue tincidunt fermentum et quis lorem. Integer iaculis lobortis odio ac dapibus. Donec bibendum dui ac ante blandit, eu accumsan erat volutpat. Etiam elit libero, euismod in sapien ut, tempus malesuada nisl. Donec massa felis, fermentum quis neque id, commodo vestibulum tortor. Nullam eget fringilla lectus. Etiam sollicitudin quis nisi sed tristique. Proin eu eros congue, sagittis turpis sit amet, elementum diam. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Morbi nulla tortor, mattis et nisi nec, tristique mattis erat. Suspendisse posuere dapibus faucibus. Curabitur id nisl suscipit felis placerat iaculis vel sed dolor. Vivamus fermentum pellentesque diam. Fusce lorem nunc, ornare vitae pretium vitae, cursus congue ex. Nam in quam risus. Donec orci libero, fermentum vitae posuere in, venenatis eu mi. In lorem ligula, gravida et congue eget, pellentesque vehicula turpis. Quisque ac ligula venenatis, finibus enim et, vestibulum nisl. Suspendisse ac porta metus, vel efficitur elit. Mauris commodo justo in sapien sagittis, a pellentesque velit interdum. Maecenas et luctus leo. Donec sed vulputate quam. Aliquam pharetra ante eget pulvinar elementum. Aliquam pulvinar massa consectetur dignissim tempus. Suspendisse potenti. Fusce sed iaculis ante. Aenean volutpat ipsum id nibh laoreet, ac porttitor dolor rutrum. Proin porttitor convallis lectus, egestas rhoncus quam hendrerit ac. Aliquam varius tempus arcu eu auctor. Nulla vulputate vel sem in sollicitudin. Curabitur quis accumsan neque, in pulvinar eros. Curabitur id odio scelerisque tellus pulvinar lobortis in ac tortor. Ut sit amet arcu risus. Vivamus luctus vel lectus et cursus. Curabitur in faucibus magna. Etiam scelerisque auctor diam quis molestie. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Proin feugiat eros ex, vitae dictum sapien venenatis vel. Maecenas fermentum rhoncus odio ac tincidunt. Morbi sagittis quam velit, et tempus arcu efficitur ac. Vestibulum rhoncus vel augue a euismod. Donec nec purus tortor. Ut iaculis odio eu leo semper, a pellentesque nulla tincidunt. Cras non finibus mi, vel mattis ex. Phasellus id nisl nisl. Suspendisse potenti. Maecenas luctus ligula vitae tellus tristique, vitae egestas ante molestie. Donec ultrices lorem et lobortis maximus. Aenean condimentum mi id tortor molestie, vel commodo sem vestibulum. Vestibulum ornare vestibulum mi, sit amet auctor nunc tristique in. Donec euismod orci metus, pellentesque porta neque finibus dapibus. Mauris nec consequat erat. Donec a quam nunc. Praesent consectetur sem ac tincidunt dignissim. Mauris fringilla lobortis neque. Vivamus in eleifend nulla. In nisi sem, venenatis id maximus id, pulvinar at massa. Vivamus pulvinar dui nisi, sit amet dignissim turpis condimentum id. Mauris risus ipsum, facilisis vitae urna et, pulvinar malesuada eros. Ut a laoreet eros. Donec tempor mauris facilisis quam porttitor, id gravida est rhoncus. Mauris feugiat lacus eget lacus pellentesque auctor. Nullam porttitor sodales erat sed interdum. Vivamus vel neque lorem. Pellentesque aliquam augue ligula, et dictum mi maximus id. Suspendisse sit amet gravida nibh. Cras tempor metus quis dolor posuere, sit amet egestas magna tempus. Etiam fermentum laoreet elit quis mollis. Donec porta a mi in luctus. Mauris tincidunt mauris urna, eget dapibus neque pharetra sed. Nulla fermentum vel nisi in malesuada. Ut sit amet metus posuere, viverra turpis eu, varius turpis. In fermentum nunc ut felis auctor, id cursus elit interdum. Cras in justo euismod, tincidunt urna at, egestas quam. Maecenas sit amet nibh vel mi pellentesque consequat. Aliquam efficitur sem vel ipsum cursus laoreet vitae et augue. Nulla consequat, ante eget feugiat placerat, urna tortor mattis dui, ut mollis urna neque eget lectus. Mauris sodales tortor ut dui rhoncus, vitae mollis metus ultricies. Etiam ipsum nisl, fringilla quis lacus ac, rutrum convallis felis. Donec commodo vehicula neque ac accumsan. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae; Sed vitae eros nisl. Integer consectetur, leo vel egestas maximus, turpis massa iaculis urna, at euismod mauris erat ut odio. Nullam porta interdum neque ut porttitor. Duis turpis quam, pretium a libero nec, volutpat egestas mauris. Ut ac sollicitudin sapien, aliquet luctus libero. Phasellus varius venenatis sodales. In eget ex viverra, posuere leo a, ultrices felis. Nulla mattis velit nec ex tempor scelerisque. Mauris quis neque suscipit, mattis ante vel, viverra lectus. Nam turpis nisl, commodo quis lorem nec, dapibus pretium sem. Suspendisse fringilla finibus feugiat. Nulla tincidunt lorem at tempus congue. Nulla cursus lobortis egestas. Proin ac odio euismod, porttitor libero non, mattis elit. Vivamus ligula odio, egestas id dolor at, venenatis cursus nibh. Etiam nec risus eget felis placerat tempus nec vehicula sem. Morbi rhoncus, metus id lobortis luctus, arcu lectus auctor libero, a iaculis nulla metus a arcu. Pellentesque ac neque ex. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Aliquam vitae facilisis enim. Nullam eu finibus odio. Aliquam posuere nisi diam, sed finibus urna faucibus a. Curabitur finibus consequat sodales. Nulla eget ultricies est. Curabitur bibendum, augue ut commodo efficitur, purus est rutrum risus, sit amet vestibulum dui sem non lorem. Quisque mattis, dui in vehicula efficitur, tortor tellus volutpat nunc, quis porttitor elit nulla ultricies ante. Nullam urna magna, tincidunt vitae mollis at, dictum porta libero. Donec sed enim volutpat, gravida nulla finibus, sodales nisl. Aenean luctus orci non fermentum condimentum. Aliquam neque felis, porttitor at risus ut, elementum pulvinar tortor. Vestibulum at lorem ut ante congue fermentum. Nulla fringilla nec orci nec finibus. Suspendisse eget magna elementum, interdum odio a, aliquet nibh. Morbi congue dui eget nunc blandit, sit amet tempor ipsum tincidunt. Sed lacinia est mi, id aliquam lacus porttitor eget. Aenean feugiat vestibulum magna, in imperdiet magna. Quisque vehicula dolor ac libero pellentesque euismod. In et dui imperdiet, dignissim nisi non, lacinia augue. Duis non risus quis ante eleifend pharetra vitae vitae ipsum. Praesent ornare vel ligula quis porta. Donec eros ex, bibendum nec elementum eu, pulvinar eu nibh. Suspendisse ultrices suscipit velit a ornare. Maecenas feugiat metus quam, aliquet facilisis enim porta quis. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Pellentesque eget nunc vestibulum dui imperdiet pretium. Quisque euismod ornare nunc nec dictum. Quisque feugiat, eros vel tristique aliquet, neque lorem iaculis purus, a volutpat dolor enim posuere purus. Praesent euismod eros ante. Morbi luctus, lacus a faucibus placerat, massa tellus fringilla nibh, at blandit elit massa at justo. Nunc faucibus ultrices viverra. In tincidunt interdum feugiat. Pellentesque eget facilisis ex. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Etiam elementum vitae odio ac rhoncus. Sed ut dapibus felis, at porttitor dolor. Sed ex augue, placerat eget sem ut, bibendum semper dui. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Sed bibendum, mi vel feugiat posuere, eros ante tempor mi, sed fringilla mi sapien at erat. In maximus, odio et mattis condimentum, sapien arcu condimentum nisi, volutpat mollis ante enim non mauris. Nunc enim nulla, ultrices in ante eu, porttitor tempus ipsum. Pellentesque imperdiet sollicitudin magna, luctus molestie nisi. Vestibulum vulputate dui est, quis porttitor tellus fermentum ac. Donec a turpis elit. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Phasellus vitae aliquam elit. Nam turpis dui, pretium ut malesuada ut, mollis a dui. Orci varius natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Cras sodales ultrices volutpat. Cras ut tellus quis eros fermentum hendrerit ut vitae sem. Suspendisse potenti. Ut tristique lectus sapien, et tincidunt ante euismod ac. Nullam sodales vitae purus at pharetra. Duis eu lectus elementum, luctus nulla a, scelerisque magna. In a dui sodales, ornare purus sed, facilisis est. Aliquam felis neque, tempus at lorem ac, rutrum mattis ligula. Vivamus sapien lectus, tempus vitae ultricies vitae, auctor aliquet urna. Vivamus sollicitudin tortor enim. Praesent sed augue a odio accumsan iaculis ultricies et libero. Vivamus venenatis nisi quis blandit ullamcorper. Ut porttitor purus consectetur, sodales tellus eu, rhoncus lacus. Pellentesque a consequat felis. Integer sollicitudin maximus leo nec fringilla. Morbi et nibh blandit, dapibus magna accumsan, iaculis massa. Morbi tincidunt luctus condimentum. In condimentum justo nec nibh consectetur, vitae tristique tellus iaculis. Proin posuere ipsum in massa efficitur, sit amet blandit quam posuere. Sed sed velit lectus. Praesent efficitur libero nisl, eget consequat neque finibus sed. Nulla a mi congue risus pellentesque iaculis. Sed a malesuada purus. Vivamus velit leo, malesuada nec dolor tincidunt, semper porta enim. Mauris lorem metus, elementum ultrices auctor non, faucibus vel odio. Phasellus luctus, leo at vestibulum placerat, velit felis congue nulla, vitae rhoncus tellus nisi vitae purus. Etiam dignissim, massa pretium imperdiet luctus, neque nunc venenatis lorem, quis mollis orci nulla in nisi. Ut vestibulum laoreet justo, a placerat lectus sollicitudin nec. Donec sed eros massa. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Cras imperdiet elit nisi, id cursus dolor tempor et. Cras eget nisi eget neque luctus fermentum et ac massa. Integer luctus magna ligula, id porttitor elit finibus vitae. Nulla ullamcorper nibh turpis, a finibus ante consectetur a. Suspendisse tristique velit a orci sodales tincidunt quis et nisl. Phasellus mauris nunc, accumsan nec mattis a, congue ut nibh. Nulla in nisi massa. Proin placerat feugiat odio, eget finibus ligula vehicula in. Quisque varius ornare urna nec porttitor. Mauris dapibus dui vitae ipsum viverra, sit amet semper sem viverra. Integer rutrum placerat purus nec facilisis. Curabitur ullamcorper ultricies leo, ac sagittis nisi pharetra eu. Integer sed sem imperdiet arcu venenatis mollis. Maecenas porta tortor eget sapien semper ultricies. Nullam id augue ullamcorper, maximus sapien id, lobortis libero. Nullam a purus scelerisque, luctus sem a, iaculis nunc. Vivamus volutpat odio vitae nisl convallis hendrerit. Vestibulum et ligula eget dolor pulvinar pretium. Aliquam sit amet ligula venenatis, maximus nulla consectetur, pulvinar ante. Vivamus aliquet posuere felis, in pretium nulla tempor vitae. Proin quam turpis, convallis vel orci in, condimentum malesuada velit. Pellentesque ac efficitur orci, dapibus porttitor nulla. Suspendisse feugiat, mi quis commodo dictum, sem dui hendrerit ex, vitae faucibus sem orci nec leo. Sed eleifend nibh sem, a varius lorem accumsan ut. Nunc diam velit, euismod convallis erat in, placerat pretium turpis. Cras porttitor pharetra magna, eget fermentum purus. Praesent cursus purus ut augue placerat, quis mollis orci egestas. Proin odio tortor, dapibus sed ex non, mattis posuere ante. Proin urna nulla, auctor a ornare in, lacinia eu quam. Mauris laoreet lectus ut purus aliquet maximus. Nullam malesuada ex sed commodo pretium. Duis sit amet efficitur massa. Ut ut neque nec turpis semper consectetur. Integer mi diam, cursus at ligula at, iaculis dapibus lorem. Aliquam erat volutpat. Sed arcu diam, auctor non arcu quis, finibus suscipit dui. Nam eu ultricies nisl. Vestibulum porttitor imperdiet purus, eu pretium quam pulvinar ut. Aliquam rutrum arcu vitae lacus ultrices, sodales pharetra nulla condimentum. Curabitur magna ex, imperdiet et nunc ut, imperdiet sagittis nulla. Aenean blandit luctus sem, ac pretium tellus commodo condimentum. Aliquam dolor mauris, volutpat vel leo id, aliquam fringilla ex. Proin vulputate turpis consectetur, maximus arcu vitae, gravida ligula. Vestibulum dignissim odio non nulla tristique laoreet. Sed facilisis ullamcorper est vel pharetra. Donec consequat nisi a erat dictum gravida. Vivamus tortor dui, ultrices vitae blandit sit amet, porttitor et libero. Vestibulum congue ligula aliquet, ullamcorper justo nec, varius risus. Donec auctor aliquet magna. Integer ipsum ex, egestas a accumsan in, pellentesque maximus ante. Aliquam finibus magna et ligula iaculis, et gravida eros tristique. Maecenas pretium lacinia ante et bibendum. Suspendisse feugiat viverra risus quis suscipit. Nam porta eget lorem vitae fermentum. Proin velit quam, ultricies quis malesuada vitae, auctor et est. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae; Vestibulum semper nulla quis nunc pulvinar, a convallis elit vestibulum. Donec a efficitur leo. Sed vehicula, libero vel tempus consequat, lacus magna vestibulum dolor, vitae congue urna magna sit amet dui. Nam imperdiet risus vel leo sollicitudin faucibus. Sed ac massa rutrum, lobortis dolor vel, pulvinar augue. Suspendisse at nunc felis. Pellentesque egestas facilisis lorem sed vehicula. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Aliquam vel elit pretium, tincidunt enim et, dapibus mi. Donec sed vulputate eros, nec pellentesque risus. In sit amet pellentesque est, quis accumsan enim. Nunc scelerisque libero quis massa pulvinar, sed semper erat ornare. Praesent eget ligula tincidunt, fermentum nulla imperdiet, congue odio. Sed nec feugiat lacus, sit amet volutpat eros. Cras mauris urna, luctus ut arcu ac, semper tincidunt ex. Integer lacus massa, porta in ipsum vitae, porttitor pretium diam. Aenean sit amet dolor sem. Duis dictum, metus ut viverra pretium, neque leo malesuada tortor, consectetur porta ante lacus eget leo. Quisque maximus aliquam lacinia. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae; Curabitur sollicitudin ipsum quis neque pulvinar tempor. Nunc bibendum rhoncus malesuada. Sed aliquet enim eu condimentum maximus. Nam vitae ante pellentesque, pretium libero vitae, egestas lacus. Aenean varius sed dui quis pulvinar. Quisque arcu elit, dapibus sit amet turpis sed, pulvinar pretium ligula. Suspendisse scelerisque ex urna, placerat finibus nulla convallis id. Vivamus quis nunc vitae augue varius vehicula nec non orci. Mauris sodales varius consectetur. Vivamus ullamcorper et metus vel elementum. Vivamus quis tincidunt augue. Donec faucibus tortor ac felis varius tincidunt. Vivamus diam neque, accumsan eu fermentum eu, pellentesque eu mi. Proin in turpis vulputate, dapibus sapien quis, placerat sapien. Aliquam euismod est sed cursus rhoncus. Nullam pretium lorem eu consequat egestas. Etiam in erat non turpis fringilla tincidunt. Nunc ac suscipit elit. Maecenas tincidunt libero lorem, quis blandit nisl viverra ac. Maecenas cursus ex et viverra semper. Vivamus sagittis est ac tellus maximus eleifend eu sed velit. Maecenas vulputate tellus eget accumsan ornare. Phasellus venenatis, metus ut molestie consequat, neque ante hendrerit nulla, sit amet semper est magna vel eros. Orci varius natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Integer lacinia mattis diam, ac lobortis turpis maximus in. Integer fermentum quis turpis vel placerat. Pellentesque ac ultricies eros. Vestibulum eu diam velit. Fusce a consequat magna. Nunc viverra lorem vel enim porttitor placerat. Aenean dictum enim in leo ornare, id faucibus velit dictum. Aliquam tincidunt nulla eget bibendum mattis. Integer facilisis dolor eget quam consequat efficitur. Nullam ac neque metus. Pellentesque id enim placerat, aliquam ligula a, lacinia felis. Cras ut libero vitae arcu maximus commodo mattis eget erat. Etiam semper mi vulputate justo mattis aliquet. Morbi quis mattis sapien. Sed pellentesque purus in luctus egestas. Nullam et risus dapibus, efficitur ex quis, pellentesque lacus. Ut viverra dictum rutrum. Orci varius natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Curabitur varius nibh metus, ut volutpat nisl elementum id. Pellentesque tincidunt imperdiet interdum. Nam ullamcorper eros dignissim nisi pharetra, egestas volutpat mi euismod. Nullam consequat sit amet mauris ac placerat. Phasellus in dignissim risus, non feugiat ligula. Curabitur quis neque ullamcorper, molestie dui ut, commodo elit. Phasellus fringilla, sapien ut mollis lobortis, ante sapien maximus mi, id imperdiet velit velit ac ante. Ut a tincidunt augue. Morbi dignissim velit laoreet felis pretium, eu sollicitudin orci commodo. Integer ut nibh et magna imperdiet aliquam bibendum vel tortor. Phasellus mollis nunc ipsum, ac scelerisque velit gravida ac. Vestibulum sollicitudin, nulla id molestie euismod, lacus orci tristique odio, eu fermentum purus nulla sed tortor. Maecenas eu magna elit. Etiam in lorem ligula. Aliquam venenatis sed nisi a accumsan. Phasellus sed auctor lacus. Maecenas sagittis massa eget feugiat commodo. Nulla ut est quam. Proin in sagittis dolor, vitae imperdiet neque. Ut auctor viverra orci, rhoncus eleifend elit consequat non. Fusce posuere nulla non ante volutpat, ut consectetur diam tempor. Cras magna nulla, ultrices nec nunc et, convallis cursus erat. Nunc erat arcu, ornare et mi eu, malesuada egestas leo. Pellentesque vel nisi consequat, scelerisque arcu ullamcorper, commodo tortor. Aliquam turpis velit, tincidunt eu nibh ac, convallis egestas orci. Sed et maximus nisi. Praesent vehicula lectus ac auctor dictum. Aliquam sit amet blandit massa. Phasellus sodales cursus justo, at faucibus nunc pharetra at. Aliquam non tempus turpis, non vestibulum orci. Proin congue ipsum tempor quam porttitor pellentesque. Morbi in facilisis orci. Maecenas ac lectus urna. Nullam finibus velit nisi, et feugiat ex auctor a. Sed nec dictum libero. Etiam ullamcorper justo lacus, in feugiat turpis tempus quis. Aliquam euismod nibh ut urna fermentum dignissim. In tincidunt elementum lectus sed vulputate. Duis ut consectetur ipsum. Proin tincidunt purus sit amet libero facilisis molestie. Morbi semper dui et fringilla pharetra. Aliquam lorem ligula, faucibus sed turpis pharetra, cursus tincidunt ex. Sed lobortis, tellus quis congue commodo, odio odio volutpat tortor, vel ultricies mi mauris id magna. Vivamus luctus massa sit amet nisl rutrum, in tempor purus placerat. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. In tempus sapien id libero lobortis consequat. Aliquam quis luctus neque. Curabitur nec mollis augue. Aliquam at ex rutrum, blandit magna vestibulum, accumsan augue. Donec a mauris at nisi pharetra ultrices. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Maecenas vehicula mi nunc. Suspendisse egestas condimentum lectus, ut cursus dolor. Proin placerat, risus quis ornare tincidunt, justo turpis consequat nunc, id convallis lacus sapien ac nisi. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Phasellus at efficitur ante. Donec non nisl non purus sodales mattis quis eget lacus. Donec dictum massa magna, ac ultricies dolor euismod eget. Suspendisse consequat magna eros, ut vehicula mauris scelerisque in. In fermentum bibendum fringilla. Nullam sed tellus faucibus orci gravida ornare id vel justo. Quisque risus tellus, efficitur sed leo vel, gravida lacinia dolor. Suspendisse in mauris augue. Mauris venenatis semper est, quis tincidunt tellus accumsan a. Nam finibus massa a neque dignissim, eget posuere dui suscipit. Cras enim est, scelerisque ut luctus ut, mollis id magna. Quisque ut tempor metus. Phasellus ut sapien molestie, fringilla sapien ut, porta massa. Mauris id arcu quis neque ornare cursus. Mauris varius ullamcorper sapien, at egestas enim ultrices luctus. Etiam varius ut est in venenatis. Sed malesuada ex sit amet hendrerit lobortis. Maecenas pharetra sem nibh, vel ullamcorper sem accumsan non. Maecenas dignissim, orci a aliquet ultrices, urna libero viverra lorem, laoreet ultrices neque tellus id odio. Quisque tincidunt ex in scelerisque iaculis. Aenean a tincidunt massa. Praesent hendrerit risus urna, ut venenatis ex sollicitudin ac. Quisque et malesuada eros. Mauris eget magna sed justo ultrices pretium. Sed convallis vitae nulla at feugiat. Quisque leo odio, malesuada imperdiet consequat id, dictum ut sapien. Pellentesque eu ex nunc. Morbi dignissim, massa sit amet luctus interdum, tortor neque egestas dui, tristique gravida arcu purus suscipit turpis. Aenean feugiat placerat diam non aliquet. Suspendisse potenti. Vivamus ornare posuere pretium. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Sed mattis sapien ac venenatis lacinia. Proin et porta lorem. Vestibulum consectetur dolor ut dolor accumsan condimentum. Pellentesque eleifend neque a mollis ultricies. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. In eu eros gravida, euismod metus sit amet, rhoncus libero. Nulla facilisi. Mauris molestie, massa posuere imperdiet posuere, sem quam consequat justo, a molestie odio neque quis est. Morbi viverra semper urna et tempus. Aliquam erat volutpat. Morbi justo justo, condimentum in mauris at, dignissim scelerisque mauris. Nunc a leo quis magna viverra volutpat. Donec vehicula lacinia mollis. Phasellus quis lobortis orci. In mattis mauris egestas magna hendrerit, non finibus enim suscipit. Praesent varius purus nec magna faucibus, eget sollicitudin nunc porta. Aenean condimentum suscipit risus, non blandit odio sodales ac. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Sed blandit lectus quis scelerisque rutrum. Cras gravida arcu et justo tincidunt dictum. Donec eget ante ut massa mattis scelerisque et sed velit. Duis neque sapien, euismod at dictum sed, accumsan a erat. Nulla pharetra tortor nec luctus egestas. Vivamus pharetra efficitur massa a vehicula. Duis volutpat pellentesque tincidunt. Nunc turpis urna, accumsan non metus eget, vehicula vehicula odio. Pellentesque feugiat ligula nec magna ultrices, sed eleifend augue vulputate. Sed malesuada maximus ante a mattis. Sed diam turpis, vehicula id dictum vitae, accumsan at nisl. Sed eu consectetur sem. Suspendisse potenti. Nunc nunc enim, vestibulum eu pretium id, volutpat imperdiet nulla. Nulla facilisi. Aenean placerat ac neque vehicula aliquet. Ut eu neque quam. Proin mattis posuere blandit. Aenean in elit eget tortor ornare vulputate sit amet eu tellus. Donec scelerisque vestibulum diam vitae pellentesque. Nam vel elementum elit. Donec id ipsum quis dui dignissim ultrices vitae vel dui. Praesent enim felis, tempor sed enim ut, consequat tempor dolor. Ut sed lorem condimentum, convallis sapien ac, bibendum lectus. Cras fringilla odio orci, non porta orci rhoncus non. Aenean dignissim tempor iaculis. Sed erat elit, finibus ac velit vitae, dignissim scelerisque ante. Curabitur et lorem nibh. Quisque a iaculis felis. Cras auctor aliquet neque, et maximus velit hendrerit eu. Vivamus nec sem ipsum. Phasellus cursus tellus maximus, mattis mi eu, congue arcu. Nunc non fermentum ligula. Fusce purus elit, varius vitae nulla nec, tristique cursus nunc. Nullam eget metus laoreet, lobortis neque accumsan, condimentum erat. Suspendisse sed fringilla justo, et rhoncus tortor. Aliquam id lorem diam. Aenean vel risus mattis, ultrices turpis eget, congue mauris. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae; Aenean congue elit at felis pretium, in hendrerit leo rutrum. Nulla facilisi. Integer porttitor lorem porta sem rhoncus vestibulum. Quisque sit amet neque vel metus volutpat ullamcorper. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Integer ornare risus ipsum. Sed eget sollicitudin dolor. Quisque consequat tempus mauris, vel scelerisque justo hendrerit eu. Vestibulum fringilla mi tellus. Praesent non ullamcorper lacus, sed interdum erat. Suspendisse nec felis elit. Nulla placerat urna vel scelerisque egestas. Aliquam malesuada mattis maximus. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Nam sit amet egestas mauris. Maecenas lacinia volutpat sem, vel tincidunt diam gravida fringilla. Nullam convallis libero quis dolor efficitur vehicula ut eu risus. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Pellentesque et finibus leo. Suspendisse eu sem dictum sem pharetra facilisis. Quisque efficitur orci velit, sit amet fringilla nisi mollis posuere. Duis mauris odio, luctus quis volutpat a, rhoncus et nulla. Maecenas posuere ut ligula eget malesuada. Mauris nec dolor nisi. In libero dui, feugiat a sollicitudin a, pulvinar eget tellus. Quisque molestie, quam vitae malesuada fringilla, velit purus pellentesque mi, eget scelerisque sapien lorem eget enim. Duis vitae ornare eros. Vivamus aliquam interdum felis ut placerat. Integer porta a lacus vel bibendum. Donec in porta mauris, et egestas tellus. Vestibulum a tellus scelerisque, congue magna sed, finibus turpis. Mauris sapien velit, suscipit et lectus non, auctor ultrices diam. Cras at ante pellentesque, vestibulum mi eu, luctus nisl. Mauris semper vulputate sagittis. Donec ac mauris sit amet ex mollis facilisis. Vestibulum commodo ut eros sed semper. Donec pellentesque libero ac placerat vestibulum. Praesent tincidunt massa turpis, nec sollicitudin quam aliquet ut. Morbi sollicitudin lobortis est, vel ultrices mauris aliquet lobortis. Sed eget nisi in tellus fringilla suscipit id eu velit. Fusce suscipit semper lacinia. Nulla dictum elit in egestas cursus. Aenean dignissim posuere eros sit amet lobortis. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae; Aliquam erat volutpat. Vivamus pharetra faucibus porta. Etiam ac sapien et nibh mattis aliquam sed eu dui. Phasellus sagittis porta leo vitae imperdiet. Sed tincidunt lectus venenatis blandit elementum. Praesent gravida fringilla tellus, vitae scelerisque lorem pulvinar eu. Maecenas bibendum, dui eu mollis luctus, velit nisi blandit quam, at scelerisque risus metus nec purus. Nulla eget blandit eros, quis finibus nibh. Nullam pulvinar condimentum leo, eget vestibulum risus vulputate sagittis. Maecenas eget pellentesque mi. Orci varius natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Cras luctus, dui a fringilla bibendum, diam erat tincidunt tortor, sit amet fermentum velit augue et mi. Integer posuere, ex vitae mattis bibendum, ante lorem condimentum sem, sed aliquam elit turpis id velit. Proin scelerisque efficitur dui, nec ultrices lacus ullamcorper in. Aliquam dictum tortor finibus dolor varius, eu laoreet lacus faucibus. Praesent felis felis, facilisis a dui ut, blandit pretium dui. Praesent vulputate elit quis sem efficitur cursus. Proin pulvinar faucibus justo, et vehicula erat egestas eu. Morbi vel mauris rutrum, ultricies neque nec, sollicitudin justo. Pellentesque quis blandit nisl. Praesent viverra aliquet nibh. Nam eu euismod lacus. Mauris sapien mi, lacinia sed congue at, ultricies ac risus. Proin tristique faucibus quam sed vehicula. Vivamus ut mauris lectus. Nam vestibulum volutpat nunc. Quisque pharetra sed nisi non venenatis. Vivamus enim eros, ultricies quis lacinia eu, vulputate eget quam. Quisque ipsum tellus, iaculis vitae tristique quis, varius ut nisl. Aenean vitae eros et risus ullamcorper gravida. Cras ac mauris sapien. Donec quis ex justo. Maecenas a nibh lorem. Nam malesuada felis pulvinar risus varius, ac efficitur tortor convallis. Suspendisse sit amet congue nulla. Aliquam laoreet eleifend est at tristique. Vestibulum volutpat tellus et turpis fringilla, ut dignissim neque dictum. Nam ultricies purus eu tristique lacinia. Integer sagittis purus vel nisi imperdiet, vel euismod lacus blandit. Donec malesuada arcu nec quam condimentum, eget interdum dolor suscipit. Fusce aliquet erat elit, nec venenatis ex lacinia vel. Vestibulum at purus ex. Aenean non dui ac lorem ultricies porta. Maecenas at tellus venenatis, sodales sapien et, convallis purus. Nam tempus mauris purus, nec mattis ante laoreet tristique. Donec tristique, augue non ultricies pellentesque, quam tortor ultricies urna, sit amet porta ipsum augue sit amet felis. Nullam sit amet ipsum urna. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae; Proin laoreet luctus neque, non dapibus lorem cursus et. Curabitur ac fermentum enim. Aenean vitae orci euismod, mattis erat nec, feugiat sapien. Fusce aliquam risus turpis, elementum faucibus mauris auctor ac. Fusce sit amet mollis metus. Donec nec augue quis est pretium sollicitudin a eu lectus. Cras cursus, sem a tempor hendrerit, elit quam semper leo, sed egestas urna lacus nec nibh. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut ipsum lorem, tincidunt in nibh sed, pellentesque congue diam. Orci varius natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Nunc vehicula mollis risus vel mattis. Proin molestie lobortis quam at tempus. Sed nisi odio, ullamcorper nec neque a, dapibus aliquam augue. Curabitur eget ipsum leo. Integer ullamcorper vel orci vel maximus. Sed quis dui sed ex commodo placerat sit amet at ex. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Quisque a eros consequat lorem faucibus sagittis quis in sem. Vivamus nec odio sit amet quam lobortis pulvinar. Vestibulum rutrum elit a sagittis finibus. Nullam nec dui tortor. Etiam aliquam ex ac vehicula facilisis. Integer sed tincidunt metus, eu ullamcorper urna. Nunc sodales quam a felis aliquam, at mollis erat finibus. Ut pellentesque placerat odio. Morbi condimentum nibh fermentum arcu dignissim scelerisque. Suspendisse feugiat dui id porta commodo. Nam semper lacinia ipsum, nec porttitor dolor vehicula sit amet. Mauris gravida in metus id dignissim. Quisque enim ante, sollicitudin vitae commodo nec, dictum sed ipsum. Fusce nisl arcu, pulvinar euismod commodo id, tempus ac purus. Suspendisse sodales tellus tellus, et ornare lacus semper nec. Quisque volutpat porttitor neque, blandit feugiat libero gravida sit amet. Maecenas semper porttitor massa, non hendrerit est euismod non. Maecenas sollicitudin dui sapien, sit amet tristique justo sollicitudin vitae. Curabitur mauris diam, fringilla eu placerat ac, pharetra vitae purus. Sed commodo magna in nulla lobortis, quis vehicula ipsum interdum. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Fusce pretium sodales elementum. Praesent consectetur malesuada mi, sit amet commodo odio consectetur ut. Morbi pharetra id nisl at luctus. Cras id efficitur lectus, non vulputate diam. Morbi quis lacinia turpis. Donec imperdiet non velit malesuada blandit. Praesent interdum vehicula dolor, non rhoncus lectus auctor eget. Fusce egestas ac sem bibendum porta. Nam ipsum ipsum, tempor in ipsum at, feugiat condimentum purus. Vestibulum consectetur metus a tempus rutrum. Quisque non porta augue. Morbi sit amet euismod risus, non convallis nulla. Morbi facilisis turpis diam, non rhoncus lacus tincidunt quis. Duis imperdiet, urna nec ornare vulputate, orci nulla luctus leo, eget tincidunt diam augue in sem. Donec ultricies congue porta. Duis accumsan ultrices velit, a condimentum mauris commodo ut. Praesent viverra augue viverra egestas dapibus. Vivamus facilisis venenatis odio, a aliquet odio mollis vitae. Ut sit amet lobortis mi. Proin lorem sem, aliquam eu odio eu, maximus tincidunt arcu. Praesent sagittis fringilla imperdiet. Nullam commodo imperdiet elit, vitae sodales sapien maximus vitae. Integer laoreet vel sapien et vestibulum. Vivamus condimentum, magna non tempor vestibulum, urna orci egestas massa, ac ultrices sapien turpis et nisi. Ut convallis placerat elementum. Ut sed accumsan massa. Phasellus eleifend vitae elit quis malesuada. Proin id dolor ultrices, interdum tellus in, ultrices risus. Maecenas risus diam, commodo quis nibh interdum, varius placerat leo. In non placerat erat, gravida ornare sem. Proin lectus risus, lobortis id facilisis vel, finibus eu tellus. Nunc lacus ligula, mollis ut augue at, malesuada molestie lacus. Proin in elit sit amet libero fermentum venenatis. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Pellentesque ante quam, commodo sed odio ac, tempor luctus nisl. Vivamus posuere tincidunt finibus. Integer nisl odio, placerat ac suscipit eget, imperdiet et magna. Proin metus nunc, laoreet sed luctus at, consectetur eu augue. Nunc ac ante tempor, iaculis neque ut, aliquet nisi. Aenean a nunc justo. Nam pulvinar lectus dolor, sed sagittis sem cursus non. Aenean vulputate placerat luctus. Quisque eu quam condimentum, tempor nunc sed, rutrum leo. Vivamus egestas vehicula ipsum nec imperdiet. Fusce eros odio, dictum et mattis vel, dapibus ac mauris. Ut in aliquam erat. Mauris elementum ex quis sapien maximus, et scelerisque dui vulputate. Aliquam libero mi, pulvinar et risus vel, dapibus efficitur nulla. Phasellus sed mollis odio. Curabitur pellentesque enim turpis.

Jacek, 2024/12/16 - 14:23:51

Dzwoni Adam Iglewski - oszust

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