Jarvit

Jarvit Ch9 p1

Chapter Nine.

‘The mule has said nothing in all the time you have been here, why are you so sure that it is he Jarvit?’ The Professor asked as they sat together over breakfast. Mrs Anders no longer fussed around Professor Klimpt as she used to. She banged his lumpy oatmeal down on the table and stomped out of the room in silence. Bender had been gone for some time and she somehow knew it was because of the two of them.

         ‘He’s always an animal and it’s always black. I think he is not speaking because he is still angry with me. I don’t know. I’m just glad you don’t think I made it all up,’ Jarvit replied.

         ‘Well I admit to not being totally convinced but you are consistent in your story. And knowing your real name helps, it no longer feels as if you are hiding something. Well we had better be off, another day of study for you my boy. I am impressed by the reports I am getting from your reading master,’ the Professor rose and Jarvit walked with him to the college.

         That evening on his return to the house Jarvit heard a strange and yet familiar voice coming from the dining room.

         ‘Oh yerse ma’m, I can see as how that must be very trying for ya. Yerse indeed. So I can’t say how grateful we is that under such circumstances ya saw fit to give two strangers such as us a room.’

         ‘I am most grateful.’ The second voice was fuller, soft and reminded Jarvit of the feel of a peach. Jarvit sneaked down the corridor and peeped in.

         Two men were sitting at a table with Mrs Anders stood beside them. The long greasy hair confirmed Jarvit’s suspicion. It was the Sprightly.

         ‘Well you look like honourable gentlemen and not like to take advantage of a woman on her own as I am. And there it is the cold season and the town is not over run with people needing rooms. There’s worse you could have picked on and maybe there’s better but none as welcoming I’m sure.’

         ‘If I may make so bold ma’m I’d have to go a long ways I think to find better, but not more than the next door to find worse.’ The Sprightly said and Jarvit was sure he winked at him.

         ‘Now don’t say you tried Mrs Blewness before coming to me?’

         ‘How is a body supposed to know straight off? But as soon as she opened her door, well; cabbage I said to my friend ‘ere. Cabbage, he says right back at me and I leave it to ya ma’m to tell us if we chose to stay there or not.’ He folded his arms and nodded as if to underline the matter. Mrs Anders fussed over the table.

         ‘You did quite right, quite right. I am often told the same by others who have tried her door. Why my learned lodger, a Professor at the college you know, even he would not dream of moving next door. No, you are most welcome gentlemen and when the boy gets back from his studies he will take your bags to your rooms. You do have bags?’ She stopped as though puzzled.

         ‘Indeed we do ma’m, and we took them up ourselves, so no need to trouble the lad, who I think must be this young man?’ Jarvit was standing in the doorway staring at the man seated with the Sprightly. His skin was the colour of the night and his body had a powerful yet gentle look. But it was the amber eyes that held Jarvit’s gaze.

         ‘Stew!’ Mrs Anders reprimand jolted him back to his senses, ‘did no one ever teach you it is rude to stare! This is Mr – um Mr -’ Mrs Anders looked confused again.

         ‘Mr Coachman and my colleague Sir - ,’ the Sprightly stood.

         ‘Holen,’ came the soft voice and the man held out his hand for Jarvit to shake. It felt like holding the soft pads of an enormous cat’s paw in his hand. Jarvit knew this was him, the son of the Dryad.