A familiar savory smell wafted, like fine vegetable soup, as the liquid began to simmer.
Add one-ah, three parts nihillis and…
Pumping at an ingenious little foot bellows connected to the test-barrow, the hedgeman looked up from his work, and with a frown of friendly concern said, "You know, Rossamundo, I have a-made many nullodors along these many roads, but with this a-one here I cannot figure how it might a-do its job." Critchitichiello shrugged, thick-gloved hands raised palms-to-the-sky.
Rossamund blinked. The hedgeman was such a kindly fellow he did not want to gainsay him.Yet he knew Master Craumpalin would never give him something that was crank. To question his old dispensurist's scripts was unthinkable.
"It has done what I suppose it was meant to do," he offered guardedly. "I have no complaint." Add the benthamyn.
"And good that is!" Critchitichiello kept smiling. "Yet I tell you. Up till a-now its parts are all just as they ought-a simple base for a nullodor, but put a-this in"-and in went the tiny benthamyn pellets, six parts, just in time-"and suddenly it's like a-no nullodor I've ever heard made. It might foil some noses, but not a nicker's sniffing."
Rossamund nodded patiently. He had no answer for the hedgeman. Instead he watched in silence as the mabrigond and dust-of-carum were added in right and timely proportion.
"Don't a-mind me, Rossamundo, my fine a-fellow," the hedgeman said perceptively. "Just a curious old noddy am I… I'm-a sure this no-stinker answers for what you are a-wanting it for."
Rossamund certainly hoped it was so.
Critchitichiello poured the deep blue liquid into a fine new bottle and Rossamund reached for his wallet.
Taking payment, the hedgeman looked beyond him with twinkling eye. "That sweet lass has been a-watching you for a little while," he said mildly. "Is she your sweetheart?"
Sweetheart? Rossamund looked around and saw Threnody standing beneath a lantern already lit against the dim afternoon. She was leaning against it and looking his way very, very intently. "Oh, that-er… She isn't my sweetheart, Mister Critchitichiello," he said emphatically.
"Ah.Too a-bad for thee.Though…," Critchitichiello said with a flourish of a bow, a conspiratorial whisper and a glance at Threnody, "… if you's a-needing an amorpoti-a lover's brew-just remember your a-friend, Critchitichiello."
With a blush and a garbled farewell Rossamund quit the awkward scene.
Threnody pulled a cryptic face as he approached. "What have you had that ledgermain making?"
"Mister Critchitichiello is no ledgermain," Rossamund came back, still tetchy. "He's the genuine article, a true dispenser."
"Ledgermains. Imperial fumomath. However you like it, lamp boy," she insisted. "That does not answer my question, does it? What did the man make you?"
"It's a… a nullodor. For my salumanticum."
Threnody stroked at her lips. "A nullodor! A waste of good parts. What do you need a nullodor for?"
What has everyone got against them? First Critchitichiello, now Threnody. Rossamund did not care to quibble. Craumpalin had given it to him and told him to wear it, and that was good enough.
In silence they entered Makepeace Stile together.
As douse-lanterns approached and while Threnody polished her teeth with expensive dentifrices, Rossamund decided it was time to write his own letter back to Fransitart. Dormitory Master Fransitart by the care of Lady Praeline Versierdholte Halt-by-Wall Boschenberg City Hergoatenbosch 4th of Heimio, HIR 1601
Dearest Master Fransitart,
I have got your letter and read its most terrible and sad news. I wept for you all, especially the little ones and Master P and the poor Madam, but am so glad to know that you and Miss Verline and Master Craumpalin (his poor dispensury!) still live. Though you might feel that you should not have survived the fire, it is too sweet a consolation for me that you survived to share your regret. And though you have all taught me to return evil with good, I cannot help but wish foul ends for that dastard Gosling. I can hear you scolding me in my head even as I write this. What is to become of you all now?
The other reason I write to you is to tell you that I have been sent early to my first billet, a place called Wormstool, far east along His Most Serene Highness' Highroad, the Conduit Vermis-almost the last place before the blighted Ichormeer. Can you believe it that I shall be so close to such a terrible place? Though it is a long way out from Winstermill, I shall probably be already established there by the time you get this. When you do travel, please come to me there-I am sorry it is so far away.
I am delighted that Master Craumpalin might be with you when you see me, though I most solemnly wish it was under better reasons.
Please give my most loving regards to all I care for. Tell Miss Verline I am safe. Tell Master Craumpalin I still wear his Exstinker. A hedgeman made me some more today, and he was baffled as to how it worked. He seemed good at his trade but perhaps not as good as our own dispensurist.
It is wonderful to hear that your health has improved with Master Craumpalin's help-may you stay in fine fettle always, from your old charge, and with love, Rossamund Bookchild, Lampsman 3rd Class Makepeace Stile Makepeace The Idlewild
I do not wish to alarm you, but some nights ago I fought with a rever-man in the cellars of Winstermill Manse. This is the second I have ever met and they are broken and disgusting things that only need to be destroyed. I worry for a friend I left behind. His name is Mister Numps, a retired seltzerman. Please look in on him if you pass through the manse.
Tell Miss Verline that I love her and her new niece very much.
Of Discipline and Limb!