Here’s another bit from THE WOLVES OF PORT NOVO, the book formerly known as EEL’S REVERENCE. I hope to have this completely revised by early 2018 and ready for republishing. Clare and Muriel are trying to locate and liberate some mermayds (ambisexual amphibious sentient beings).
Clare and Muriel to the Rescue
excerpt from THE WOLVES OF PORT NOVO
by Marian Allen
Clare and Muriel stopped in the shadows across from Aunt Isabella’s temple.
As the women watched, a watertight wagon rumbled past them, accompanied by a mounted churchwarden and two men who, by the way they walked, had been at this task for longer than they cared to. The churchwarden raised a hand in greeting, and Clare saluted her in return. The wagon turned into the temple’s courtyard. Clare and Muriel heard the clatter and screek of working hardware, then the terrified cries of the mermayds being tipped onto the slide, cut off as the trap-door closed behind them.
Clare chuckled, behind her veil. “That was easy,” she said. “I expected we’d have to search the temple for them. I should have thought of the natatorium. She’s so efficient.”
The two footsore men led their wagon back into the street.
A double handful of scowling citizens surrounded them.
“Where’s your warden?” one of them asked.
Another said, “That was your last trip.”
“Yes, that was our last trip,” one of the wagoners said. “That’s all of ’em, or as many as She needs.”
“I don’t know.”
“You just do as you’re told, eh?”
“Well, suppose we just tell you to fall down and bleed all over yourselves?”
The courtyard gate opened again and two wardens rode out, neither the one who had brought the wagon in.
The mob drew back.
“Hey, wait,” the wagoners called to the wardens. “Give us an escort back home, will you?”
The wardens shook their heads. One turned toward the harbor. The men with the wagon hurried after him. The other one turned east.
“One to Uncle Phineas’ and one to Theofric’s?” Muriel guessed. “To tell the priests Aunt Isabella’s demands, and what she plans to do if they aren’t met?”
“I’d say,” said Clare. “I hope Uncles Phineas and Gregory get to Aunt Libby before that warden does. She’s awfully hard to hold onto.”
“I know. Let’s go.” Muriel pulled the hood of Blennie’s cassock far forward and stuck her hands into her sleeves.
Clare led the way to the courtyard gate and knocked. The muttering mob stayed across the street, and grew.
Clare knocked again.
The back of a latticed peephole opened. “Who is it?”
“It’s Holy Sweet Micah and his faithful wolf, Tiflos,” said Clare, with sarcasm so thick it could’ve been hacked off in chunks.
A rock flew from across the street and bounced off the wall near Muriel’s head.
“Open the door,” Clare snarled, “before I have to go over there and numb some skulls.”
Nothing contentious there. Oh, dear me, no.
A WRITING PROMPT BASED ON MY POST: Write about someone knocking on a door.