ISOF

ISOF by Pete Townsend Page A

Book: ISOF by Pete Townsend Read Free Book Online
Authors: Pete Townsend
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‘That’s something you’d better ask Briel,’ she replied. Stroking Ben’s cheek she gave him a comforting smile. ‘Follow me, you’ve been summoned to meet Lord Tolc.’ She gave a short chuckle. ‘That should give you something to smile about.’
    Without allowing Ben the opportunity to ask any more questions, she led the way through the doorway of the cell and into another dimly lit room, which lay directly opposite. A candle spluttered light from a shelf allowing Ben to see a table propped against the far wall. On the remains of a chair sat a bundle of clothes, which Pinchkin pointed to.
    â€˜Get yourself out of your wet clothes and put these on. I’ll just be outside the door. Call if you want anything.’
    The thin wooden door shut with polite bump. Ben was just about to unwrap his cloak when the door opened again and Pinchkin’s hand appeared waving another piece of cloth.
    â€˜And make sure you give yourself a good wash down before you put those clean clothes on.’
    The door closed softly. Ben eyes gazed around the room until they located a wooden pail hiding under the table. He dipped his hands into the depths of the pail and immediately took them out again with a gasp, as the freezing water numbed his fingers. As he rubbed the warmth back into his face and hands with the cloth, he briefly toyed with the idea of dunking his head in the pail so that the numbing water could obscure his thoughts and stop him thinking. Ben very quickly decided against the idea and squeezed himself into the clothes provided by Pinchkin.

Chapter 9
    Emerging from the room, Ben stood nervously in the corridor as Pinchkin examined his wash and brush-up efforts. After a quick head to toe move of her head she gave a brief nod.
    â€˜You’ll do,’ she said giving the air a sniff. ‘And you smell a lot better too, almost.’ Gently patting his collar straight and, brushing her hand across his hair, she gave him a smile. ‘Come on,’ she said, setting off along the dimly lit corridor without waiting for Ben to reply.
    Ben did his best to keep up as Pinchkin scurried along. The corridor was partially lit by spluttering candles placed in small recesses in the wall, which almost illuminated the roughly hewn wooden doors set into the walls at regular intervals. Each door appeared to have a square metal plate set in the middle, most of which were rusty and looked as if they hadn’t been used for centuries. ‘Little wonder,’ muttered Ben to himself, ‘if all the cells are as dark as the one I was in, it’s a waste of time trying to see what’s in there. Better off using your nose!’
    Lost in his thoughts, Ben hadn’t noticed Pinchkin urgently waving her hand behind her back. Ignorant of the signal to stop, Ben collided with the matronly figure. Pinchkin emitted a high-pitched grunt while Ben was left spluttering and spitting out bits of woollen cloak. Just as he was picking out the last fibre particles from his mouth, he suddenly felt himself squashed against the roughly hewn wall of the corridor.
    â€˜Gerroff,’ he moaned, using his hands to push against the smothering figure of Pinchkin.
    â€˜What’s this all about?’ demanded a voice, which sounded vaguely like a chainsaw. Pinchkin jabbed Ben hard in the ribs with her elbow. Unable to make a sound, as more woollen cloak seemed to invade his mouth, Ben quietly rubbed his bruised ribs.
    â€˜There’s nothing here that you need to worry about,’ intoned Pinchkin, with a voice that seemed to drip honey.
    â€˜Nothing?’ asked the chainsaw voice dreamily.
    â€˜No, nothing whatsoever,’ repeated PInchkin sweetly. ‘Why don’t you go about your rounds as if nothing mattered and everything is just as it should be,’ she suggested.
    The voice sighed dreamily, muttering something that Ben couldn’t hear clearly. He felt Pinchkin lift her

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