Call of the Wraith

by Kevin Sands

  You knocked him out, I said to myself in amazement. Then I sliced the longbows’ strings—all of them. If he roused, he wouldn’t find another weapon there.

  Sir Edmund pushed himself from the floor. Terrified, he ignored the weapons and turned to flee down the steps. Sally, still cradling her wounded hand, kicked at him from the ground, driving her heel into Sir Edmund’s gout-swollen foot. The baronet turned white, then collapsed, gripping his ankle, mouth open in a soundless scream.

  And all the while I thought, Tom. He’s still in trouble.

  I ran, bounding over the writhing Sir Edmund. I prayed I wouldn’t see the worst.

  Tom was standing at the bottom of the steps, his back to me. Beyond him, I could see Álvaro’s legs on the floor.

  “Tom?”

  He turned. He spread his hands, upset. “I didn’t mean to,” he said.

  And I saw. Álvaro’s head was twisted, bent impossibly backward. The fall down the stairs, Tom’s weight landing on him . . . the Spaniard had broken his neck.

  I had to look away. I consoled myself: At least it wasn’t Tom. “Are you all right?”

  He nodded, silent, and came back upstairs, head bowed. Moppet—who had finally, blessedly quit shrieking—hurled herself into Tom’s arms, weeping uncontrollably. I hurried over to Sally.

  She held her hand, palm upward, the dagger pierced all the way to the hilt. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow.

  “I think I’m in trouble,” she said. She gave a laugh, then sobbed.

  “Don’t touch the knife,” I said. “Tom, bind the Darcys. And see if you can find a cloth for Sally’s hand.”

  He used the leather bindings on the quivers to truss Julian and Sir Edmund. Then he moved them to the ground floor of the tower, where there weren’t any weapons close by. I carried Sally down, her head against my shoulder as she struggled not to cry. For a moment, I worried about the servants—would they come to defend their master?—but the sound of fleeing feet and a glance into the entrance hall showed them all sprinting from the estate.

  I laid Sally on the stone. “Thank you,” I said.

  She sniffled. “For what?”

  “What do you mean, for what? You saved my life.”

  “Oh. That.”

  I stared at her incredulously. “Sally . . . you do know you have a dagger in your hand, don’t you?”

  She shrugged. “It was a worthless hand, Christopher. It didn’t even work anymore.” She said it lightly. But her voice caught, and she choked, tears in her eyes. “What am I going to do?” she whispered.

  “You’re going to get better,” I said. “I promise.”

  She sobbed and buried her head in my chest. I held her close until Tom brought me a cloth. He couldn’t find one upstairs—there were only rags for cleaning the weapons, filthy with rust and oil—so he began to tear a strip of linen from his shirt. Then he thought better of it, and tore a strip from Sir Edmund’s shirt instead.

  I took hold of Sally’s wrist. “I need to pull the blade out,” I said. “I’ll make a poppy infusion for you when it’s over. But this is going to hurt.”

  “It hurts already,” she said.

  I grabbed the hilt. She gritted her teeth.

  “Sally?” I said.

  “Yes?”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?”

  She stared at me. “I . . . you . . . I . . .”

  I yanked out the dagger.

  CHAPTER

  43

  SHE CURSED AT ME. THEN she passed out. When she roused, she cursed at me again, slurring, though by then I’d packed the wound with spiderweb and honey from my sash and bound it, so the worst of it was over. While Tom kept watch over our prisoners, I found a pot in the kitchen and set it to boil so I could make her the poppy infusion I’d promised. Though she was in terrible pain, I kept the dose small; I didn’t want her getting too drowsy.

  Now it was time to deal with Sir Edmund. He leaned against the wall where Tom had propped him, hands and feet tied behind him, legs tucked underneath. Julian lay next to him, a swelling lump on one temple and blood in his hair where his head had slammed into the stone.

  “You don’t know what you’ve done,” Sir Edmund said, voice trembling.

  “I caught a kidnapper,” I said.

  He moaned, a sound of bitter despair. “You haven’t stopped anything. You’ve only made it worse.”

  “How could anything be worse than you?”

  “You don’t understand. We were saving people. Why couldn’t you leave it alone?”

  I knelt close to Sir Edmund. “I know you’ve been working with Barbary pirates to kidnap children. I know your son tried to murder us yesterday, and your friend and colleague Álvaro would have murdered us tonight if we hadn’t stopped him.”

  “You see?” Sir Edmund said. “You know nothing. Álvaro was not my friend. He’s to blame for it all.”

  I remembered Moppet’s terror. Even now, though Álvaro lay dead by the stairs, the girl still hid behind Tom’s leg, holding him tight.

  I finally realized what Sir Edmund was saying. “Álvaro was one of the pirates.”

  Sir Edmund nodded. “Their first mate.”

  “So . . . it’s not Barbary pirates after all? The Spanish are attacking us?”

  “No, they’re Berbers.”

  “But Álvaro was a Spaniard.”

  “Many European converts have joined the corsairs. This whole plan was his idea. And now that he’s dead . . . you’ve finished us all.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Sir Edmund took a deep breath. “Two weeks ago, Álvaro arrived at my door. He told Cooper he was an old friend of mine from my witch-hunting days, and he’d come to visit. When I saw him in my drawing room, I had no idea who he was. I thought he’d come because of my reputation. I was quite famous, you see—”

  “I don’t care,” I said.

  “Right. Uh . . . anyway . . . once Cooper left, Álvaro let his disguise drop. He told me he was the first mate on the Andalus, a ship of a hundred Barbary pirates. He said fifty of his men were waiting, hidden in the woods outside my estate. They were going to ransack my home, then work their way back south, killing every man, burning every village, hamlet, and farm, until they had more plunder and slaves than they could carry.

  “At first, I didn’t believe him. So he dragged me to the window, where he used a mirror to flash sunlight toward the trees. Then I saw them.” He shuddered. “They were waiting at the gates, Barbary pirates all. I thought we were doomed.

  “I asked why he’d told me this. He said he could be persuaded not to raze the coast if I made it worth his while. I offered him all I had. Money’s all they really care about, you see. When they take slaves, they always linger to ransom them back to their loved ones. They get their profit, and they don’t have to worry about keeping the prisoners alive on the journey back to Africa.

  “I thought this was the same. But once Álvaro had my money, he laughed. He said what I’d given him wasn’t enough; he was going to take prisoners after all. I told him there was no more to be had. People here were poor; there would be no ransom. He said it made no difference. His captain had promised their pasha slaves.

  “Again, I didn’t understand why he was telling me this. Álvaro said he’d be willing to spare the villages if he could kidnap a few of the children. All I had to do was arrange for it to happen quietly.”

  I frowned. “Why quietly? Why not just raid the coast, like usual?”

  “I asked him the same question. He said they’d raided the Dutch twice already on this trip, and the eastern shore of England after that, and they’d caused such havoc that both navies were after them. They needed to lay low, and they’d found a cove to hide in—but they still intended to find a way to profit. They didn’t have much more room in their hold, so they only needed about a dozen more children. I could either help him capture them quietly, or his corsairs would slaughter everyone here, all the way down to Seaton. They’
d take their slaves, one way or the other; they’d just rather do it without risk.”

  Tom glowered at him. “Better for your soul that you had fought them,” he said.

  “Fought them?” Sir Edmund cried. “Fifty men? With what? The handful of arms in my tower? My gout-cursed foot? Our servants, who flee at the first sign of danger? No, boy. I’m not your master’s grandfather, and the people of Devonshire are not the King’s Men. It was let them take a few—or have them kill everyone.”

  He drew a breath. “So I did what I was told. Álvaro had heard the legend of the White Lady—a legend believed here most seriously—so he knew any child’s disappearance could be blamed on her, and in turn, on the witch in the woods. He forced me to send Julian to lead the children away quietly. And he made me teach him to write Leviathan’s signature, to leave in the children’s place.”

  “You claim you had no choice,” I said. “Why not give up yourself? Your servants? Why other people’s children? Why not your own?”

  “If we were what he wanted, he could have taken us at any time. What could I have done to stop him? No, he said he would only accept little ones. They were easy to keep captive, easy to control. So that was our trade, Baron. Twelve children for the lives of hundreds. The Devil’s bargain, yes. Perhaps I am damned for it. But I would make the same choice again. And so would you.”

  “Never,” I said.

  Tom was just as horrified. “Never.”

  Sir Edmund shook his head. “You judge so easily, because you never had to make the choice. But it wasn’t your people staring down their guns. What would you do, Baron, if they came to Chillingham? If they told you everyone you loved, everyone you cared for, would all be slaughtered? Would you trade a dozen for the rest? Or would you condemn every man, woman, and child, just so you could keep your foolish pride?

  “You’ve been surrounded your whole life by the safety of soldiers, so you have the privilege of principles. You don’t understand what it’s like to live under the yoke of the strongest. There’s a reason Barbary pirates have raided Devonshire for decades. These people have no one to defend them. You, you didn’t even think about the choice, because you know you’d never have to make it. Well, think now! What would you do?”

  I shuddered. I despised this man. And yet . . . what would I have done, given Álvaro’s ultimatum? A dozen sold into torment—or hundreds dead?

  “I’d find a way,” I said, but my defiance sounded hollow, even to me.

  I shook my head. It didn’t matter what I’d have done in his place. We had this problem to solve, here and now. “How do we stop them?”

  Sir Edmund looked at me incredulously. “You haven’t heard a word. You’ve condemned us all.”

  “Why?”

  “You killed Álvaro.”

  “It’s not like he didn’t deserve it.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Look,” I said, “we just need a little time. I’ve already sent a letter to Lord Ashcombe, asking for help. If he sends the King’s Men, from what you said, the sight of them alone should scare the pirates off. All we have to do is stall until they arrive.”

  “No,” Sir Edmund said. “They’re going to sack Seaton tonight.”

  “But . . . you said they weren’t going to raid the village. That was your deal.”

  “And you broke it when you killed Álvaro!” he cried. “Every night, one of the pirates comes to the garden. Álvaro confirms that the plan is still working. Then the pirate returns to the ship and tells the rest of them to remain hidden. That’s why Álvaro stayed here: To ensure my compliance. To make certain I wouldn’t betray him.

  “Now Álvaro is dead. So there will be no meeting in the garden. The pirate will return to the Andalus and tell them the deal is broken. And Seaton—and the hundreds who live there—will fall.”

  He shook his head. “You see? You foolish boy. You thought you were saving the children. Instead, you’ve killed us all.”

  CHAPTER

  44

  WE STARED AT HIM IN horror.

  “All right . . . then . . . we stop him,” I said. “The pirate who’s coming here. We lay a trap and—”

  “Don’t you think I thought of that?” Sir Edmund said. “It won’t help. Either the man returns to the Andalus with the message that everything’s all right, or he doesn’t, and they sack the town. Preventing him from returning will delay them a few hours at most.”

  “Then . . .” I trailed off, heart sinking. What was there to say? I’d stumbled into this mess trying to help and instead had made the whole tower fall.

  “What can we do?” Tom said.

  “Nothing,” Sir Edmund said.

  Sally propped herself up, gritting her teeth. “There has to be something.”

  “Yes. We run.”

  Tom whirled on him, fists clenched. “Be quiet.”

  Sir Edmund shut his mouth, but his glance at me was knowing. You see the truth of it.

  And I did. We couldn’t fight a hundred men. We couldn’t even fight a dozen. The people of Seaton weren’t warriors. There had been fighters in the village—Captain Haddock’s crew—but I’d sent them away. To bring soldiers who would come too late.

  I couldn’t see any way out of this. Every choice was bad. I thought once more about the Devil’s bargain Sir Edmund had made with Álvaro. It made me want to crumble.

  Don’t despair, Master Benedict said. Solve the problem.

  How? I said. We can’t possibly fight a hundred men.

  Who says you have to fight them?

  Of course. “We’ll go to Seaton,” I said. “We’ll warn the villagers of what’s going to happen. Even with a few hours delay, that should be enough time to make for the woods. Everyone can hide in the neighboring hamlets.”

  “And if the pirates follow?” Tom said.

  “Then we keep running. Go as far as we need to, until they give up.”

  “That won’t work,” Sir Edmund said. “It’s not just Seaton that’s in danger. It’s all the villages. You can’t warn every one.”

  “We can’t,” I said. “But in Seaton, we’ll have hundreds more people on our side. They can fan out, run to every village, hamlet, and farm. Let the pirates come. They won’t find anybody to take.”

  “The people will lose their homes,” Sally said, “when the corsairs raid them.”

  “At least they’ll be alive.” Though for many that would be small comfort. The people here were poor. To lose their homes, their livelihoods . . . some of them wouldn’t survive it. I didn’t think my heart could sink any lower.

  “What about the kidnapped children?” Tom said. “We have to get them back.”

  I wasn’t sure how we could do that. “We don’t even know where they are.”

  “They’re on the Andalus,” a groggy voice said.

  It was Julian. He’d come to. Now he looked up at me with glassy eyes.

  “Where’s that?” I said.

  “On the coast. East of Seaton, in a hidden cove. About half a mile from the mouth of the river.”

  “You’re sure the children are there?”

  Julian nodded. “The pirates are living in the cave. They can keep a fire going, even so close to the village. They used to keep the children there, too, but one of them escaped a week ago, so they’ve locked them all back in the hold.”

  I glanced over at Moppet, who still hugged Tom’s leg. “Are the children kept under guard?”

  “One man walks the deck. The others stay in the cave; it’s too cold.”

  Tom looked at me, hopeful. I thought about it.

  “We might actually be able to do this,” I said. “If we could sneak onto the ship, I could free the children from the hold.”

  “There’s a padlock on their cell,” Julian said.

  “I can handle a lock. The real problem will be getting past the guard.”

  Tom loosened his sword in his scabbard, a haunted look in his eyes. “I’ll take care of that.”

  “Not t
hat way,” I said, and Tom looked relieved. “It has to be done quietly; we can’t risk a fight. Though we’ll still need someone to warn Seaton.”

  Julian sat up. “I can do that.”

  I shook my head. Like his father, the boy might have thought kidnapping children was the righteous choice, but I didn’t want him anywhere near the pirates.

  “I’ll warn Seaton,” Sally said. She held up her bandaged hand. “I can’t do much else anyway.”

  Tom nodded to the Darcys. “What about them?”

  I wasn’t sure. Leaving them behind would be a risk, but we couldn’t take them with us. Beyond the fact they couldn’t be trusted, Sir Edmund’s gout would slow us down. “We’ll have to leave them here.”

  Tom didn’t like that. “What if they tell the pirate who comes what we’re doing?”

  Sir Edmund, quieted earlier by Tom’s threat, stiffened. “I only made a deal with those blackguards because I had no other choice,” he said. “Though you may think otherwise, I am not a monster.”

  But he is a monster, Master Benedict said, and the truth in his words made me stop.

  Sir Edmund didn’t realize it, but I knew. Twenty years ago, he’d murdered eleven girls by falsely proving them witches. And I’d seen the scars on Julian’s back.

  And as I remembered that, I noticed his eyes. They were searching me. Trying to see if I believed him.

  What do I do? I asked my master. Do I confront him as an Ashcombe?

  You don’t need to. He’s already lied to you.

  About what?

  Think, my master said. Something he told you is clearly not true.

  I didn’t know what he meant. Did Sir Edmund not do a deal with Álvaro after all?

  No, he must have. But what did Sybil say about him? I’d asked her, Even if Edmund Darcy was a fraud, why would he steal children now?

  And she’d answered, I don’t know. All I can tell you is that it must be for money. All Edmund Darcy is loyal to, all he believes in, is money.

  That was it. The money. Sir Edmund said he gave them money. But his house was still full of valuable things.