Lori rolled off the bed, battling with the floorboards which heaved under her feet like waves. A pitcher stood by the basin on the table. Before now, she had used the water only for washing. Was it safe to drink? She was dithering between risking it, or going in search of a better source when the crunch of footsteps sounded on the path outside. Multiple people were approaching the Silver Ravens’ quarters. The steps did not have the rhythm of a military march, yet nobody was talking. An alarm stirred in Lori’s gut.
By the time she opened the window shutters, the group had entered the building and were out of sight. The footsteps now sounded on the stairs. They passed her door, and continued along the corridor. Whoever the people were, she was not their immediate concern. Should she investigate? Something was up, and in the circumstances, that something was almost certainly bad news.
But first, she needed a drink, in the hope it would ease her head and calm her stomach. Water from the pitcher would have to do. Whatever was coming, she should face it in the best shape possible—which was a joke. She could barely stand. Was it just alcohol to blame, or had the brandy been drugged?
Mid-gulp, she heard muffled shouts. An alarm? A warning? Her standard issue pistol was in her footlocker, in accordance with rules forbidding Earth weapons in the middle bailey for everyone not on active sentry duty. Trying to be as quiet as possible, she opened the lid and fumbled with the holster.
Having the gun in her hand was reassuring, but before she went to investigate, she ought to put on more clothes. She was trying unsuccessfully to slip her foot into her trouser leg when the footsteps returned. Too late to worry about getting dressed. She held the gun securely, one hand bracing the other, the muzzle pointed midway between her feet and the slowly opening door.
Four strangers stood in the corridor, torcless humans with blank faces and dead eyes. Rianna knew about the Waters of Clarity. Whatever plans Tamsin had were out of time and luck.
Lori raised her gun, fighting to control her shaking hands. “What is it? What do you want?”
She might as well have brandished a bunch of flowers. The thralls marched in like automatons, showing no reaction to the pistol, even after she flicked off the safety catch.
“Stay back.”
They ignored her.
Her finger was on the trigger, but the memory of Gaius’s dead face swam before her eyes. Paralysis gripped her hand and her finger refused to move. But even had she shot the first thrall, there was not time to get them all. They surrounded her, grabbing her arms and forcing them behind her back. Cold metal touched her wrists, accompanied by the click of handcuffs.
BH, Hippo, and Widget were already in the bailey when she was dragged out to join them. All looked dazed, and were standing as if they needed the support of their thrall captors to remain upright. Widget’s head lolled to one side. If anything, their condition was worse than her own, since she had drunk the least brandy.
Shorty was also dragged out. “Fuck you, bastards.”
He was struggling, but his movements were clumsy and uncoordinated. His legs splayed left and right, doing little to support his weight. In Mud Town, Shorty had downed large quantities of beer without showing anything close to the same level of intoxication. It confirmed her guess about the brandy being drugged. Rianna had hedged her bets.
Without a word said by their captors, they were dragged to the audience hall in the keep. Tamsin was already there, handcuffed and kneeling. Blood oozed from a cut on her forehead, and a graze marked her cheek. They joined her in a line before the empty throne.
Finn was also present. Alone of the Silver Ravens, his hands were free, and he was on his feet. He stood to the side, arms folded, watching with a disinterested air.
“Finn? What’s going on?” Hippo shouted.
“That’ll be Captain Finn to you. And I’d have thought it was obvious.”
“Captain?” BH sounded shocked. “Finn. You’ve sold us out? Why?”
“I’m not going to lose everything in a fool’s game.”
“After what she did to you?”
“Maybe I’m not so much of a wimp as you lot.” Finn shrugged. “Nothing happened that I couldn’t handle. Anyway…” He pointed at Lori. “It’s her fault. If she hadn’t stirred things up, none of us would be any the wiser. Revenge isn’t worth missing out on a golden retirement. I’m not giving up my future for the sake of a past I can’t change. It’s as simple as that.”
“If I get out of this, I’m going to rip your fucking guts out and ram them up your arse.” Shorty spoke through gritted teeth.”
“That’s a big if. I don’t—” Finn broke off.
Rianna arrived, complete with entourage. She settled calmly on her throne and cast her eyes along the row. The silence dragged out, but at last she smiled. “What a pretty bunch of traitors. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
“You wouldn’t have without a fucking rat,” Shorty shouted. A thrall cuffed him on the back of the head, sending him crashing face first on the ground. He struggled back to his knees.
“Be quiet. You’ll now remember I have ways to make you regret any show of insolence.”
Lori glanced left and right. The Silver Ravens were angry, defiant, and not one was showing a trace of fear. She pushed her shoulders back and her chin up.
“Finn knows where his duty lies. So, now I have a new captain for my Silver Ravens and six more house thralls.”
“You’ll come to regret this. Both of you.” Tamsin spoke for the first time, calmly and clearly.
“You think so?” Rianna leaned forward, her eyes glinting. “Remove their torcs.”
Cold fingers slipped under the metal band around Lori’s neck. The ornate ends scratched her neck as the torc was yanked away, and then fog rolled into her head.
The audience hall softened. The fear went away. The surprise went away. The world was a distant painting she drifted through. Nothing was worth fighting over. Yet, somewhere she was screaming. Somewhere, she was buried alive in a coffin of fog. She was confused, and she did not like being confused. Somewhere there was panic, and pain, and a lost voice sobbing and pleading to be set free. It made no sense.
“Follow the others to the pen and wait there.”
That was easy. Maybe, if she did as she was told, the confusion would go away. She did not want to hear the lost voice. The pen would be quieter, she was sure of it. She would go to the pen and wait for the confusion to go. It was all very easy.
If only the screaming would stop.
* * *
Scrubbing the floor did not stop the screaming, but it made it less annoying. Lori thought possibly the voice was inside her, but that would be puzzling, and puzzles were not worth the bother. What was the point in wondering why the voice was screaming? What was the point in wondering about anything, when it was so easy to dip the brush in water and scrub the floor instead? Maybe her hands were wet, cold, and raw, her knees ached, and her stomach was empty, but it did not matter. The floor was easy to deal with.
“Empty the bucket in the drain and go back to the pen for tonight. Your food is there.”
Confusion turned into a moment of distress. Scrubbing the floor protected her from the screaming in her head. But then she realised her mistake. She would be safer in the pen. That was where she was supposed to be. The voice would not trouble her there.
Lori did not feel hungry after she had eaten, which was good. She found a clear patch of ground and lay down to sleep. Everything would make sense tomorrow. She was sure of it.
* * *
A hand on her shoulder. “Wake up. Follow me.”
Did she need to wonder why the man spoke so quietly? It would be easier to hear him if he did not whisper. How awful it would be if he wanted her to do something and she did not hear what he said. Perhaps she could ask him to speak louder. But it would be better to wait to see if he raised his voice when they got to wherever he was taking her.
The fog shattered. The world crashed over her in a wave t
hat made her head implode. Lori groaned and wrapped her arms over her skull in an attempt to shield it from reality. Memories seethed and ripped into her—clean floors and coffins of fog. The screaming voice tried to crawl up her throat. She slapped a hand over her mouth to hold it back.
Slowly, the tempest settled. A weight of cold metal lay around her neck. Someone had replaced her torc.
She raised her head and opened her eyes. She was in a wine cellar, lit by a single candle. Cobwebs hung from the low ceiling and racks of bottles lined the walls. A figure stood silhouetted in the candlelight, just out of arm’s reach.
“How do you feel?” Finn’s voice.
“What?”
“You can take a moment to gather yourself, but we don’t have time to waste.”
“Finn?”
“Yes?”
“What…why…” Which question needed an answer first?
He gave an impatient sigh. “Even though you didn’t see anyone when you arrived at the well, there was a high risk Queen Arsehole had a watch set. I would have in her place. It might even have been the crows you saw. The captain thought me playing stooge was safest. Most likely I was only telling her frigging highness something she already knew. But if it came as a surprise, she’d have been in my debt. Either way, she’d end up trusting me more than she did before.”
“You planned this with Tamsin?”
“Of course. I’ve allowed two days for things to calm down. But now we need to move.” He picked up an iron torc from a pile on a shelf and placed it in her hand. “If you’re ready, you need to find the others and bring them here, one at a time.”
“Where is here? Where are we?”
“Underneath the keep. Gilwyn knew a secret tunnel from the middle bailey, which conveniently ended up by the thrall pen.”
“You’ve talked to him?”
He shook his head. “The captain got the details when they spoke by the well.”
Lori’s legs were shaky. “Wouldn’t it be better if you rescued the others, since you know where they are?”
“No. Because they might rearrange my face before I had a chance to explain. I reckoned I could handle a mousie.”
“None of them knew?”
“Just me and the captain. Less acting required, and less risk if the bitch dug around in your heads.”
“Won’t she dig around in Tamsin’s head?”
“The captain will be on a long leash.” Finn’s voice was rougher than normal. “It’s no fun torturing a thrall. They don’t react to pain.”
“What?”
“Tazer really did have a special place in her affections.” He gave a humourless laugh. “I’d thought it was me. Now I’m glad it wasn’t. On past form, she won’t have the captain deeply enthralled.”
The full implication sunk in. “You mean, she’ll…”
“Let’s just say, I think the captain will be very pleased to see us.”
“We need to rescue her, right now.”
“Yup. So you need to stop talking and start moving.”
Finn led the way down a corridor and pointed out the door to the thrall pen. There were no locks or guards. The thralls were not going to run away. Finn vanished into the shadows.
Inside, over three dozen humans lay on the cold stones. The air stank of stale sweat, mildew, and filth. She stepped over sleeping bodies. No one stirred, although some muttered in their sleep. Were they listening to their own insane voices, screaming about the fog?
The first Silver Raven she spotted was Shorty, a head taller than anyone else. She knelt by his side.
“Wake up and come with me.”
Chapter Twenty-two
The Silver Ravens formed a huddle in the wine cellar, listening to Finn. “First step, we have to free Gilwyn.”
“Arrogant fay shithead. We can’t fucking trust him.”
“Yup, Shorty. I agree with you, one hundred percent, but for now he needs us. He knows the secret passages, and he’s our best hope if Queen Arsehole has some magic tricks up her sleeve.”
“Do you know where he’s being held?” Widget asked.
“Good news and bad. He’s in the dungeon, one level below us. But after his last escape, there are guards watching him round the clock.”
“Which species?”
“Human. Iron Ravens. She wouldn’t want Gilwyn talking to any of the fay. And he could take control of thralls or boggarts.”
“I’d rather not fight other humans,” BH said. From their expressions, the others agreed.
“We may not have to.” Finn held up a flask. “The Waters of Clarity. I brought it back in my saddlebag. It’ll only take a mouthful each.”
“How do we get them to drink it?” Hippo asked.
BH had a second question. “Will their memories have been altered like ours?”
“I doubt there’s a human in Annwyn who hasn’t had their mind fucked with by the fay. They have to do something to ensure our loyalty. Otherwise they’d run the risk of ambitious captains making their own bid for the throne. As for the Iron Ravens here, the queen wouldn’t let unsupervised humans in the keep without turning their brains inside out first. They might not have been through everything we have, but I’m betting, once their memories are restored, they won’t have much love left for her. As for how we get them to drink, I’m open to ideas.”
“Stick a gun in their face?” Shorty suggested.
“They’re armed and might raise the alarm.”
“Why not simply order them to? They ought to recognise you,” Widget said.
“I’m not their commanding officer, and it’s not a normal order. If I wander in and say, ‘Here, lads, have a drink on me,’ they’ll know something’s up, unless they’re plain stupid.”
With each second, Lori’s nerves unravelled a bit more. Tamsin was not in the thrall pen, and the implications were bad. They had to rescue her as quickly as possible. “Did you bring Widget’s bag o’ tricks?”
“Yes,” Finn said.
“The iron amulets. If I wore them, would I be safe from enthrallment?”
“Not if one of the fay targets you directly,” Widget answered. “But otherwise, you could get away with it.”
“What are you thinking?” Finn asked.
“If I wore the amulets and took the torc off, I could pass as a thrall, bringing them a drink. I’m dressed for the part.” The slave rags barely covered more than the underwear she had been captured in. However the sleeves went to her elbows, and would cover the amulets. “In this part of the keep, they’ll be used to seeing human thralls around.”
“It’s the middle of the night,” Finn pointed out.
“I’ll be there on the orders of Queen Rianna, for her loyal troops to toast the news that has just arrived, of the birth of Her Majesty’s first grandchild.”
“Is her daughter pregnant?”
Lori smiled. “If you don’t know, they won’t.”
* * *
Lori tapped on the door, concentrating on the rhythm. Not timid, not demanding, more as if she was hitting her knuckles against the wood without understanding why.
The door opened. “What is it?”
She stared straight ahead, working on keeping a passive mask. “The queen wishes you to celebrate the birth of her first grandchild. News has just arrived.”
“What?”
“The queen wishes you to celebrate the birth of her first grandchild. News has just arrived.”
“You said that. How are we to celebrate?”
“I have brought you a drink.” The man should have been able to work it out for himself. In her free hand, she was carrying a tray with a bottle and twin glasses. Maybe he was plain stupid after all.
“Okay…um. Come in.” He stepped back. The sight of a thrall, without a torc, clearly did not surprise him, although he did not seem at ease with her.
The dungeon was a similar size to the thrall pen, but, unlike the room on the level above, would have no natural lighting during the day. Gilwyn ha
d been asleep on a bunk in the corner, but was now woken by the noise. He raised himself on an elbow, twisting awkwardly due to his bound wrists and feet. His expression was its normal condescending sneer.
Apart from the bed, the cell had a small table and a stool. Lori put the tray down and poured two shots, working at copying the deliberate way Gaius had moved, and how his eyes fixed unwavering on whatever lay directly before him. “The queen wishes you to celebrate the birth of her first grandchild.”
“I heard.” Another Iron Raven, a woman, picked up a glass and gave a cautions sniff.
“What is it?” the first guard asked.
“Rat’s piss, going by the smell.”
The man joined his companion and raised his glass. “Boy or girl?”
Lori said nothing. Gaius would not have taken the words as a question.
The man sighed. “Is the baby a boy or a girl?”
“It is a boy.”
“Does he have a name yet?”
“I do not know.”
“Right, then. A toast to his young lordship.” The Iron Ravens tossed the drink back.
The woman stumbled away, hands pressed over her face. The man was rooted to the ground, while his shoulders shook with ragged gasps. Lori was able to catch both glasses before they hit the floor.
“Oh, well done.” Gilwyn’s tone dripped sarcasm. “I wondered how long you’d take.”
Lori ignored him. She opened the door and beckoned to the Silver Ravens waiting a short way along the corridor outside.
Finn was first in. “There’s another two Iron Ravens around here somewhere. They watch Gilwyn in shifts. They aren’t allowed out of the keep, so they have to sleep close by. We should take care of them too.”
“Why aren’t they allowed to leave?”
“I guess Queen Arsehole is worried about what they might see and hear that she won’t want passed on. They could have had their memory scrubbed when the job was over.”
Silver Ravens Page 28
