Riverkeep Read Online Free PDF Page B

he said.
    â€œLettin’ me live an’ that, ’s not really up to you, sir.” Tillinghast rolled in his captors’ grips. He decided the man onhis left, the rose-lakoris chewer, was stronger, and leaned in that direction. “I’s not
technic’ly
alive right now, Mr. Rattell.”
    â€œYou can yet be made to suffer,” said Rattell, smiling. Dabbing water from the corner of his eye, he lifted Tillinghast’s chin with the point of his cane. “All things can be made to suffer, in time. Is that not so, Mr. Rigby?”
    â€œRight, Misser Rattell,” the egg-smelling blob on Tillinghast’s right-hand side rumbled, then made a wheezing sound like a blocked drain.
    â€œWhat in gods’ was that, Mr. Rigby?” said Tillinghast. “That your first time laughin’?”
    â€œI suppose there is little point in asking for your opinion, Mr. Pent?” said Rattell, addressing the mountain holding Tillinghast’s left arm.
    Pent squeezed Tillinghast’s wrist.
    â€œAargh! I reckon he agrees, Mr. Rattell,” said Tillinghast. “What a shame we can’t hear from Mr. Pent—I imagine he’s got a wonderful singin’ voice. High an’ flutey, I shouldn’t wonder—like them fellas with no plums.”
    Pent squeezed his wrist again.
    â€œAargh! All right, Mr. Pent, I takes it back—you’ve a nice deep voice!
And
plums!”
    Rattell hunkered down before him.
    â€œMr. Pent stole from my employers and me a number of years ago. Some money, a small amount. For this petty act, Mr. Tillinghast, he lost his tongue. In contrast,
you
have triedto steal the last mandrake grown from the seed of the hanged man Garswood Fenn, a man more beloved of my employer than his own children. The mandrake is the last scrap of this dear man in existence; it is therefore an item of immense value and one which—happily, thanks to your clumsy attempts at burglary—remains safely ensconced in my study.”
    â€œYou’ve a study, Mr. Rattell? Tha’s grand, sir. I din’t know you could read.”
    Rattell smiled, his eye twitching. “I should like to take that slippery tongue of yours to silence your . . .
wit
, but it would deny my lumbering companions the joy of your suffering, and since I pay them so poorly, this is the sole treat that keeps them loyally in my employ. Having said that,” drawled Rattell, warming to his theme, “I’ve seen Pent and Rigby’s work in the past, and I rather imagine they’d carry out these little chores for free. Mr. Pent in particular seems to have used his enforced silence to channel his energies into . . .
creative
ways of inflicting pain.”
    â€œâ€™S very impressive, Mr. Pent. Give us a song, will you? I’s always had a soft spot for ‘Pickle the One-Eyed Sailor.’ . . .”
    Pent hissed.
    â€œStop antagonizing my associates, Mr. Tillinghast. Your focus should be on making the short remainder of your life as bearable as possible.”
    Rattell wiped some sweat from his top lip. Tillinghast relaxed and straightened his back.
    â€œI ’in’t got a life right now, Mr. Rattell. You keeps forgettin’ that. What you plannin’ on takin’ away from me? My breath? My heartbeat? You take all the time you need to find ’em, and good luck, ’cause I never has and I’ve had plenty time to rummage about, believe me. Some days when there’s not much else to do, I rummage with my bits for hours, and I’m gettin’ plenty good at it an’ all.”
    Rattell sighed, then dabbed at his narrow face with a handkerchief. “Do you believe in the theory of nominative determinism, Mr. Tillinghast?” he said at length.
    â€œI’s never had a head for mathematics, sir.”
    â€œOh, it’s not mathematics; it’s the notion that the name a person is given at birth determines much