This story (see part one) started life as an entry in 
I already had plans to continue the tale, but this week
to read part one of the story please click here
The Pig Man smiles and takes my hand. His hooves feel surprisingly warm, and I am surprised to find he has an opposable thumb. The blind woman nods, her expression seems to say, Good, it is done. They both turn to the King and bow, low.
The King coughs, violently. I think he may vomit. Drend, his hands pressed to his mouth gestures wildly at the guards.
“Arrest them,” he splutters, through his fingers. The guards, big men used to fighting drunks, not farting Pig Men, and blind women move towards us, swords drawn, with caution.
I expect the Pig Man to expel more of his magic wind, to create a diversion, to allow us to escape. But he just stands there, the smile on his face. The woman waits, too, and neither resist when the soldiers take them roughly by the arms.
“Her too,” Drend spits at me. He hates me, as much as I, him. He distrusted me from the start. Rightly too, I suppose. I could not explain my sudden arrival in the courtyard of this place, any more than he could. My adoption by the King, as his serving girl, went against all reason, but it happened quickly and despite Drend’s objections I rapidly became a trusted member of the King’s household. The King, coughing still, does not interject. I am grabbed, by the rough hands of Isley - one of the soldiers I had to fight off during my first week, in this place. He grins at me, teeth stained yellow. He licks his lips and winks. He will enjoy this, I think.
“Wait!”
It is Princess Loli who speaks. Her voice is strong, now: authoritative, commanding. The guards stop pulling at the Pig Man. Isley’s grin drops from his face. Loli does not appear to have suffered any ill effects from the Pig Man’s magic gas, she does not hold her hand to her mouth or nose. She breathes normally.
“They saved my life,” she says looking at Drend. “You will treat them well. If any harm comes to any of them,” her gaze moves to each of the guards, and lingers on Isley. “I will make sure harm comes to you.” I watch the colour drain from Isley’s face, but I pretend not to notice.
Drend looks slightly taken aback. He is not used to take orders from a woman, and he clearly does not like being threatened by one, even if it is the Princess. He nods, and his face cracks to allow a greasy smile to leak through clenched teeth. He asks the Pig Man if he wouldn’t mind doing him the courtesy of accompanying the guards to a place where his security can be guaranteed.
I am puzzled by Loli’s intervention. Why does she not plead for the release of her rescuers?
If the Pig Man expected Loli to set them free, he shows no sign of disappointment. On the contrary, he seems content, as if everything is going to plan. He bows low to the still coughing King, and then to Loli. He nods at Drend.
We are escorted from the Great Hall, surrounded by soldiers, but untouched by their heavy hands. Drend stays with the King, but, as we leave, I see him whisper something to the Captain of the Guard.
I have never been down to the dungeon. Drend wanted to throw me down there when I first appeared. “Witches have no place in the Great Hall, Majesty,” he told the King. “She should be burned or buried deep underground.” But for some reason, the King decided he liked me. He wanted me for his pet.
The stone steps are uneven and I find it difficult to descend without stumbling. Gala once told me this was deliberate. I have often heard the soldiers practice fighting on the steps. If anyone ever escapes the cages - unlikely - they would be at a disadvantage: the sure-footed soldiers against the clumsy prisoners. The steps are as much as weapons as the swords.
The Pig Man and the blind woman don’t seem to struggle with the steps, they appear to glide down on a cushion of air, although I can hear the Pig Man’s hooves clopping against the stone. In the confined space of the spiral staircase I have no doubt that the Pig Man’s magic could solve our problems with seconds. But it is clear from how they are both acting that this is what they want to happen. It is as though they are instructing the soldiers to take them to the dungeons. I have so many questions for the strange pair, not least why they brought me to this strange world in the first place, all those months ago.
I can feel Isley’s breath on the back of my neck. He is close to me, I can feel him pushing himself against me. I toy with the idea of reaching behind and grabbing the man by his balls, squeezing them hard, until they burst. Something stops me from doing that. It is not through fear of being punished. I believe Loli’s threat, and I think Isley does too: any harm that comes to me will be visited upon him. Bide your time. It is meant to be this way. It is as if the blind woman is talking to me. Even though I have not heard her speak aloud yet, I know the voice I hear in my head is hers.
There is a heavily barred gate at the bottom of the stairs, and we wait patiently for the ugly, dirty man on the other side to unlock them with a large key. He smells worse than the pits beneath the communal privy. It took me weeks to become accustomed to relieving myself there, holding my breath while I took a dump, lest the smell of other people's shits, floating in the darkness below, made me heave.
The Captain whispers something to Sewageman and he grunts, clearly unhappy. He stares at the Pig Man, and shakes his head as if to say he has seen it all, now. As the Blind Woman passes through the gate Sewageman looks her up and down. I don't like the look on his face. He does the same to me, although I don't notice his expression because, as I pass him, his smell makes me retch. He is appraising us, I realise, coughing into my sleeve. We are valuable to him, down here. I suppress a shudder as I imagine what might happen to us if we lose the protection of the Princess.
The Captain waits as Sewageman locks the gates, gives another inaudible order and then turns on his heels and leaves. Isley lingers and says that perhaps he'll come and see me, keep me company. He exchanges a look with Sewageman, and blows me a kiss as he heads back up the stairs.
Sewageman takes a torch from the wall. It burns with a greasy flame and the odour coming from it is almost as repulsive as that from the man who bears it. I wonder what animal produced the fat that burns upon the cloth, then quickly decide I do not really wish to know.
We are led through a dark, dank, stone corridor. Something drips from the ceiling and lands with a splash onto my forehead. I wipe it off with the sleeve of my dress, hoping it is water, but fearing it’s consistency is too thick for that to be so. Either side of the corridor are cages, and within the cages are people - or at least I think they once were. The light that reaches them from the foul smelling torch makes them recoil. They make no sound as we pass.
Sewageman takes his keys from his belt and unlocks a cage. There appears to be no one inside, but it is too dark to see if anyone or anything lurks in the shadowy recesses. Sewageman gestures for the blind woman and me to enter the cage. The Pig Man attempts to follow, but Sewageman holds up his short sword, shaking his head. He grunts something, that might be words. Pig Man smiles and reaches into his pocket. Sewageman steps back, his sword ready. The Pig Man has farted, it is not as strong as the last time - I can barely pick out it’s odour over the smell of Sewageman and his torch. But it is there. I appear not to be affected this time - perhaps his magic is more selective than I could imagine, back there, in the Great Hall. I see Pig Man hand Sewageman what looks like a stone. The vile jailer takes it, looks it over, and bites down on it, as if it were gold. He appears satisfied and pockets the stone, and gestures for the Pig Man to join us.
The cage is locked behind us, and as Sewageman and his torch retreat, darkness covers us completely.
“Let me introduce myself, properly” the Pig Man says. “We did meet once, in Paris, but I don’t think I ever told you my name. I am called Bertram,” I feel his hoof, once more in my hand. He shakes it, gently and then I feel the warm, soft hand of the blind woman. “And this,” Bertram says. “Is Aby.”
...
Part three to follow...