Read Online Floods 7 by Colin Thompson - Free Book Online Page B

with you?’ said Betty.
    â€˜Two streets away they threw me off the back of the cart into the mud.’
    â€˜But surely you could have just gone back home, couldn’t you?’ said Betty.
    â€˜Oh yes,’ said Standpipe. ‘I did, but in the hour since I had left, my parents had sold the house and moved and refused to tell anyone where they were going.’
    â€˜You poor man,’ said Betty. ‘So you never saw your parents again?’
    â€˜Only bits of them,’ said Standpipe. ‘When the Knights Intolerant took me in and I told them my sad tale, they tracked my parents down.’
    â€˜So you were reunited after all?’ said Betty.
    â€˜Partly,’ said Standpipe. ‘The Knights chopped them into little bits. All I saw of my parents were their left ears. They were so good to me, theKnights Intolerant, they had those ears made into a beautiful purse. Look, I have it here still with the three coppers the knights gave me for my twenty years of loyal service.’

    â€˜Oh, you poor, poor man,’ said Betty.
    â€˜No he’s not,’ said Mildred. ‘He’s pure evil. Look.’
    She pulled her left sleeve up and burnt into her skin was a scar. It read:

    â€˜Oh,’ said Betty. ‘Fair enough. Let’s take him down to the cellars and chain him up where your poor dog was.’
    â€˜Winchflat’s taking his time,’ said Mordonna, ‘and it’s gone very quiet.’
    She went over to Standpipe and, clicking her fingers, made him rise up into the air. There was a large iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling and Standpipe floated over to it. The chandelier had once held fifty-one candles, one for each of theKnights Intolerant. Standpipe reached out and grabbed it, clambering up into the middle of the ornate steelwork. Mordonna clicked her fingers again and fifty-one large yellow candles filled the chandelier, fifty-one candles with big yellow flames that imprisoned Standpipe in a circle of fire.
    â€˜Tell me,’ Mordonna said. ‘The Knights Intolerant, are any of them still alive?’
    â€˜They are, all fifty-one of them, but they are old and toothless and all near extinction,’ Standpipe cried. ‘They all lie in their beds in the Great Dormitory awaiting death.’
    â€˜Really. And their weapons?’
    â€˜They lie rusted away in the Great Sword Room.’
    â€˜So they are powerless?’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Standpipe. ‘They are like me, old and feeble, living out our last days on nettle soup and weevil biscuits.’
    â€˜But in their time they killed many, many witches and wizards,’ said Queen Scratchrot. ‘Theyalmost drove our race to extinction, and being old and feeble is no release from being guilty.’
    â€˜I, I, I …’ Standpipe whispered. ‘I cannot disagree.’
    The heat from the fifty-one candles was ferocious, as had been the wrath of the fifty-one Knights Intolerant. Standpipe poured with sweat as he clung to the chain. Mordonna handed him a steel rod with a little cup on the end.
    â€˜Take this,’ she said, ‘and snuff out the candles. As each one dies so will each one of the evil Knights Intolerant.’
    â€˜I cannot,’ whimpered Standpipe.
    â€˜Of course you can,’ said Mordonna. ‘Don’t be such a baby. It’s your one chance to redeem yourself and possibly save your own neck.’
    â€˜Oh, all right,’ said Standpipe and began snuffing out the candles.
    As each candle died and Standpipe moved the steel cup on to the next one, the dead candle sprang back to life.
    â€˜Betty, stop doing that,’ said Mordonna.
    â€˜Sorry, Mum, I couldn’t resist,’ said Betty.
    â€˜I know, sweetheart, but this is a seriously gothic moment of great symbolism. So stop it,’ said Mordonna. ‘When all of the candles are gone, witches and wizards around the world will be free.’
    â€˜We’re free