The Eyeball Collector by F E Higgins Page B

Both of them.’
    ‘Lord Mandible lost his father last year,’ she said vaguely. ‘Poor Burleigh, he was most upset.’ She sipped at her coffee and shrugged. ‘Now, about the butterflies. As you know, the Mandible Midwinter Feast is unrivalled for miles –’ she looked at Hector and he nodded quickly in agreement – ‘and this year I am going to make sure it stays that way forever. For that I need butterflies, hundreds of them, but they must all be big and colourful, no dull browns or bland whites.’
    Hector thought for a moment. ‘I know one that would be perfect for a display,’ he said. ‘Is that what you have in mind?’
    ‘A display? I suppose you could call it that.’
    ‘I am thinking of Papilio ingenspennatus ,’ he continued, picturing the colourful butterfly his father had shown him that last night before everything changed. ‘An enormous butterfly, with spectacular multicoloured wings the size of your hands. No two are alike.’
    Lady Mandible leaned forward and her eyes sparkled. ‘Can you get them for the very day I need them?’
    ‘For the very hour,’ said Hector, somewhat recklessly. ‘I can control the hatching through temperature.’
    ‘Well, well,’ she said finally, with a look that seemed to penetrate his skull. ‘If you can do all you say, then you must stay here at the Hall and provide the butterflies for the Feast. But be sure that you can. I don’t like people who break promises.’
    ‘I always keep my word,’ said Hector firmly, ‘but I will need money, to buy the cocoons and equipment. There is a supplier in Urbs Umida –’
    Lady Mandible raised her hand dismissively. ‘You can have anything you want. Ask Gerulphus. Just make sure the butterflies are ready on the night.’ Her smile was engaging but there was a hint of menace in her voice and Hector remembered Perigoe’s warning.
    Sensing that the conversation was drawing to a close, Hector stood up but before he could take a step the door opened and a man entered the room. All eyes turned in his direction. Lady Mandible arched an eyebrow in greeting as Hector’s heart fluttered.
    The man was Baron Bovrik de Vandolin.
    Bovrik’s eye sought only Lady Mandible and he came straight over to kiss her outstretched hand. Hector, slowly recovering from the bilious feeling that rose in his gullet upon seeing the Baron again, took the opportunity to look at him properly. His clothes could only be described as riotous in their colour, and he wore an eyepatch that matched his cravat perfectly. As before, the faint smell of citrus lingered in the air around him.
    ‘Ah, Bovrik,’ said Lady Mandible with a clap of delight. ‘This is Hector, found half dead with exhaustion on the steps – the boy from the City you told me about. I must commend you, sir. He is quite a find.’
    Bovrik sat on a nearby chair and absentmindedly stroked the furry cushions, as if they were an animal of some sort. He looked at Hector with his one eye and an odd smile.
    ‘I am glad that he meets your high expectations,’ he said. Then, with an exaggerated flourish, he turned to Lady Mandible and pulled off the eyepatch.
    ‘Oh, Bovrik, not another one!’ she sighed with seemingly mock ennui, drumming her glittering fingers on the ivory handle of her fan. ‘Are you expecting to lose your right eye as well? At least you will have enough eyeballs to fill both sockets! What jewel is it this time?’
    Bovrik deliberately faced Hector, who could now see clearly the white scar that ran through the Baron’s eyebrow to finish under his eye. In the socket was the false eyeball Lady Mandible spoke of, with a pale blue iris to match his good eye. It was sparkling in the light and Hector suddenly realized there was a jewel set into the black pupil. The effect was quite odd and unnerving: it was difficult enough to be so close to a man when you knew his fate was in your hands without this ludicrous display.
    ‘An emerald, Lady Mandible,’ said Bovrik, without