I didn’t even have to pull aside the coarse overgrown grass, since the guards had done that. The smallest and narrowest of gratings was set into the very bottom of the wall, and as I lay down and put my face close to it I smelt first the sharp reek of their urine, both stale and fresh, and then the fouler stench that lay behind it. My vision is like a cat’s, always has been, but even I could see nothing of the subterranean hole beneath.
He was there. I shut my eyes, feeling my heart clench with a mixture of emotions. Relief, pity, pain. His mind remained as closed to me as this dungeon. I tried to say something, but my throat was constricted and thick with tears, and I couldn’t. I pressed my forehead to the rusty grille of cold iron, and then I heard him.
He spoke very softly, but my hearing is as good as my eyesight. I knew right away he wasn’t speaking to me, because he didn’t know I was there. I cursed in my head over and over, the worst curses I could think of. He wasn’t alone.
‘Listen to me.’ His voice sounded dull and dry. He needed water. ‘You must confess.’
‘I won’t!’
My blood stilled in my veins. The voice was a girl’s, but it was high-pitched with fear and pain more than with her gender.
‘You have to.’
‘You’re one of them!’ She spat it at him, but I could hear her terror. ‘You’re with the guards. You’re with the minister!’
‘No,’ he said.
‘I won’t confess! I’m innocent!’
‘It doesn’t matter. So am I.’ There was a long pause in the blackness. ‘I’m as innocent as you are, and I’ve confessed. So will you. Make it quick.’
For a moment I could hear only her rasping, terrified breathing as she thought about it. Then she hissed, ‘You’re an agent of theirs. I know what they do. I know the tricks!’
‘In the morning,’ he said, and the dryness in his voice was now the amused kind, ‘a sliver of light will come in up there, along with the morning piss from the guard. Then you’ll be able to see me, just a very little, and you’ll know that isn’t true.’
‘I don’t believe you. Where did you come from? I didn’t know you were here. I don’t believe you.’ She was on the verge of terrible tears, and I was afraid she’d turn hysterical. Shut up, I thought viciously. Don’t you dare cry and bring the guards. Don’t you dare, you silly bitch.
‘Listen,’ said Conal. ‘Quiet, now.’
There was silence again, and I heard her breathing slowly ease, and quieten.
‘Do you trust me?’ he said.
‘Why would I?’ There was an edge to her bitter words, but it was no longer hysterical.
‘No reason. But do you?’
‘Are you a witch?’
‘No.’
There was a tiny hesitation, then her small voice. ‘Am I?’
‘You’re no witch, lady, any more than I am. You’re guilty of nothing. I’m guilty of having the wrong ancestors, being the wrong person. I’m different to you but we’ll both die the same death. You can’t avoid it now. Even if you denounce me.’
There was a smile in the way he said it, and her wave of shame was palpable. The idea must have occurred to her.
‘Make up a story,’ he said into the silence. ‘Make something up for your confession. It’ll pass the time anyway.’
‘Why?’ Her aggression had faded; she sounded bewildered. ‘Why would I do such a thing? I’ve done nothing.’
‘You must. Give them what they want. Tell them you’ve been to Black Masses, flown in the air, kissed the Devil’s backside. You must make something up. Tell them some perverted rubbish. Come on, I’ll give you some ideas. It’s for your own good.’
Tears threatened again. ‘I could never even say such things, let alone do them!’
‘Doesn’t matter. You have to say it. Please.’
‘Why?’ she cried.
‘Because if you keep them happy with a good story, and renounce the Devil, and show you’re penitent…’ he hesitated.
‘What?’ I could hear her renewed hope, and I felt sorry for the stupid child.
‘Then they might strangle you first,’ he said. ‘Before they burn you.’
She started to cry in earnest, but softly, and in despair.
‘It’s worth it,’ he added.
He didn’t know, I realised. He didn’t know his death would be merciless. Somehow the priest had kept it from him. There was no sound for a while but the quiet aching sobs of the girl, but sooner than I expected she got a hold of herself.
‘You’re not chained, are you?’ he said after a while.
‘No.’ She sniffed.
‘I stink,’ he said, ‘and I’m no help to you, but I’m manacled myself. I can’t hurt you.’
She scrambled across to him, fast and noisy, stumbling and falling. I heard the rattle of his chains as he put his arms round her as best he could. Love for him lanced under my breastbone. It hurt so much I had to hold my breath. ~ Look after yourself, I thought. ~ You sentimental idiot. Never mind her.
But he still wasn’t listening to me.
‘When you hear them coming,’ he told her softly, ‘get away from me. They put you in here hoping I’d terrify you. If they find us like this they’ll put fetters on you too.’
Her tear-choked voice was muffled by his chest. ‘So I can’t stop them killing me.’
‘No,’ he said kindly. ‘But you can try to die less badly. And with luck we’ll be together.’
With better luck, I thought grimly, you won’t.
‘I don’t know,’ she whimpered. ‘I don’t know. About confessing.’
‘What have they done to you so far?’
Her words, when they came, seemed half-stuck in her throat. ‘A … a needle or something. The pricker. They looked for a mark where I couldn’t feel it.’ Her voice went higher. ‘In the end they said they’d found a spot. I don’t know. Maybe they did.’
‘No, they didn’t. Poor girl.’
‘And there was … they … tied my arms behind me and hung me up by them. I thought,’ she swallowed hard, ‘I thought I couldn’t bear even a second of it.’
‘Next time they’ll hoist you up and weight your legs and drop you. I survived it, but you might not. You think they can only dislocate your limbs once? That man from town puts them back. Every time. Confess, lady.’
She was silent again, but this time when she spoke her voice was calm and steady. ‘They’ll want me to name others. They’ll want me to denounce people I know and I can’t do that.’
‘Listen, that much I think I can help with. Tell them you were my acolyte. My only acolyte. I sent you to Balchattan to work my spells for me. I’ll tell them the same, I’ll volunteer the information because I want you in Hell with me. I can convince them of that, at least. And the minister is only interested in me.’
‘Why?’
He paused, then said wryly, ‘It’s personal.’
I’d heard enough. Actually I’d heard too much. Quietly, under my breath, I said, ‘Conal.’
There was no sound, only stillness for a very long time, perhaps as long as ten minutes. I waited. I didn’t speak again; I knew he’d heard me. Then, in the silence, I heard the deep, intermittent breathing of a sleeping girl. I doubt they’d let her have any sleep for days, and now she was dead to the world. And to me. He shifted, moving the slight weight of her in his arms; I heard a small dull clank of chain. Moving must have hurt him: I heard him grind his teeth.
‘Seth,’ he said softly, a reluctant smile in his voice. ‘Did I not hurt you enough?’
‘Aye, you did. I’m thinking of leaving you here.’ I gritted my teeth and swallowed tears, but my voice broke anyway. ‘Speak to me, Conal, properly. Please.’
‘No.’
‘Please,’ I said. ‘Don’t block me. Not now.’
He was silent again, for an age. ‘I’ll talk to you. But only talk. Try to get inside my head and I’ll block you again, and this time it’ll be for good. Understand?’
I knew
the reason, and my heart shrivelled in my ribcage. I knew then I’d kill them for his pain. All of them. But I only said, ‘Yes.’
~ Murlainn.
The gentle way he spoke my name brought fresh tears to my eyes. ~ I’ll get you out of here, Cù Chaorach. I swear I’ll do it.
~ Don’t swear anything, because you won’t. It’s too difficult.
~ I have to try.
~ Do that, and they’ll have you too. It will be a hundred times worse for me if they get you. It’ll kill my soul. I thought you’d gone home.
~ How could you think it? I was furious with him.
~ Well. I don’t suppose I did, really. You wee bandit.
~ We could use the Veil …
He laughed softly. ~ I told you before, you’re inconspicuous, not invisible. You think they can’t see me when they do what they do?
~ I’ll kill them, I said. ~ I’ll kill the priest last. I’ll make him beg to die.
~ It’s not a priest. And don’t, Seth. Just go home.
~ I could wait till the guards are at their lowest point. Before dawn. I could pretend I’m …
~ Put it out of your head, greenarse, he said gently. ~ Besides, there’s her.
I clenched my jaw to stop myself saying what I wanted to say. ~ We could … I don’t know. Draw the Veil over her too. Keep her right beside us.
~ Can’t be done. If we were caught we’d all be in this together, and they’d break my heart as well as my body. No, Seth. I won’t leave her, and I won’t risk you.
I could only despair, frustrated beyond reason. ‘Then there’s nothing I can do for you,’ I said aloud, dully.
‘Yes. One thing.’ His mind touched mine gently once more. ‘Bring me a dirk.’
I knew what he meant. ‘No!’
‘Bring me a dirk. Please. I don’t want to burn, Seth.’ His voice shook. ‘I heard the last ones.’
Heard them? I’d seen them. Have you ever seen skin bubble and melt, eyeballs explode, fat sizzle and pop? Have you smelt live flesh roasting? Have you heard them? Do you know how long it takes them to die?
A thousand years. A hundred thousand. Forever.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘All right.’
‘I’ll cut her throat and then I’ll cut my own. Don’t worry about me any more.’
‘Aye,’ I said. ‘As long as you don’t waste too much time on her. See to yourself. And do it right, you clumsy sod.’
I thought I glimpsed his grin in the darkness. ‘I will, if you bring it. I promise. Now go.’
‘I don’t want to leave you,’ I said.
‘I know.’
‘What will they do now?’
‘Don’t worry,’ he murmured.
‘Don’t make me laugh.’
He laughed, instead, a little hoarsely. ‘The interrogation’s over, all right? They’ll bring me food and water to keep me alive for burning. Bring me a dirk, that’s all.’
‘Shut up. You don’t have to keep asking me.’
‘How often do I have to ask you to go? If they catch you they’ll burn you, and they’ll do it slowly. And they won’t even burn you till they’ve made you sorry, and me sorrier. How much dignity do you think you’ll have left, Seth? How much of your precious pride?’
I pressed my face to the small grille as if I could somehow melt through it and touch him. The stink of urine was unbearable. I thought, I’d know those guards anywhere by their smell. I could track them down now like a hound. And one day I would.
‘Seth.’ His voice was almost a whisper now. ‘They’re coming. Try to bring me what I want but don’t risk capture. That’s an order.’ Then he was silent again, just for a moment.
~ Don’t let them catch you. Go home and live. That’s what I want most. Go.
The girl was stirring in his arms, I could hear her.
‘Hey,’ he said, and his chains clanked as he shook her. She must have woken at once, because she scrambled from his arms and across the cold stones, gasping with fear.
Backing away, I almost tripped over the unconscious guard. I swore. The man had a dirk, and if I’d had my wits about me I’d just have taken it off him and passed it through the bars to Conal. Now the bolts of his dungeon were being shot back with an echoing clang, and the guards were coming in. It was too late.
Besides, I don’t know if I could have done it then; the shock of Conal’s request was too new. And after all, this had been so easy. I could slink back and put the guard back to sleep any time. Next time, I’d slit his throat before I gave his dirk to Conal, and then I’d disappear, and Conal would be beyond their vengeance. I smiled. There would be a next time, after all.
I’d be back.
19
I’m an arrogant toad. Full of myself, always have been. But I have never again been so arrogant when the life of someone I love is at stake: literally at stake, in Conal’s case. I know now that I have to think ahead and plan for the worst. Now I know I’m not the cleverest fighter who ever walked the earth. Now I know I can be out-thought and outsmarted and outfought. Now I know the value of contingency planning.
Not then, I didn’t. But I learned.
It was the following evening when I made my way back to the keep. I stayed in the tree line for more than an hour, panic squeezing my skull and my chest till I could barely think or breathe. I put my hands in my hair and gripped fistfuls of it and tore it till it hurt, trying to make myself think clearly, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even think in a straight line.
The guard at the outer keep wall had been trebled, and they were no longer local clansmen. Cold-eyed, unsmiling, they were the paid mercenaries of the priest and I knew that they would have the wits to keep their eyes open and to watch each other’s backs. There would be no putting sleep on these grim fighters, and they’d be damn sure to hold onto their weapons.
I hunted in a wide circle around the keep, staying in the trees. Only at the wall outside Conal’s dungeon had the guard been changed and strengthened. My brain and spine prickled with terror. How had they known?
Two days. Could I reach the watergate in that time? Yes, but the time might unbalance. It often did. No speed would matter if a month passed while I ran helpless to my clann. Or a year.
How long would he take to die? How long would it feel?
The courtyard gate swung wide and out came the priest, hands clasped piously before him. Close to me was the vertical base of an uprooted pine, blown down in a spring gale. The trunk and branches were gone, but the mud-choked tangle of roots was nearly twice my height, so I ducked behind it and watched through the trees.
The priest walked to the new guards, his robes flapping like batwings, and spoke to them for a minute or two. There was much nodding, many gestures up into the surrounding hills and trees, and at one point they all looked up simultaneously, almost directly at my hiding place.
The priest glanced down at his feet and stamped hard. I heard the clang of solid metal. He leaned down and tugged at something with his fingertips, quite hard, then straightened, nodding in approval. Sickness turned my stomach, and tears burned my eyes.
They’d covered up the little barred hole. They’d taken away his last light, and his last air, and his last chance of a death of his choosing.
When he left the guards, the priest did not go back towards his pony as he usually did. He walked out towards the trees, straight towards me. For a moment panic almost made me leap from my hole and run, and I felt for every hare and bird I’d ever hunted to its death.
But his pale gaze swept the low slopes and the trees, and I knew he hadn’t seen me. I thought I was safe, I thought I could breathe again, but the next thing that happened almost knocked the air from my lungs.
~ Where are you?
His voice was clear in my head. I was scared for a fraction of a second that I’d left my block down, but no. At least I hadn’t been quite that careless, but how was he doing that? How could the thoughts of a full-mortal echo through the forest like a hunting cry?
~
Where are you, my little warlock? He sniffed the air and smiled, a death grimace if ever I saw one. ~ I smell you, little one. I smelt you in the grass by the keep and I smell you now.
Do not panic, I told myself. Do not run. Do not run.
~ We gave your brother an extra whipping, to celebrate your visit. He’s good, he’s very good. He only screamed the once, when we hung him up by his poor sore arms.
You’re dead, I thought. My fingers flexed and clenched, wanting his throat. But not now. Not now. I had to live to kill him.
~ There. You don’t interest me, so forget your brother. Run along home now, or I’ll warm my chilly old fingers on your burning bones.
He snuffed the air again, and turned, and made his unhurried way back to the courtyard and his pony.
It’s not a priest. That’s what Conal had said. I’d thought he was correcting my vocabulary, like always.
I’d thought he was saying It’s a minister, you daft greenarse.
That wasn’t what he’d been saying at all. A shudder went through me, and wouldn’t stop for more than a minute.
It’s not a priest. It. It.
* * *
No-one cared about the western wall of the keep. Obviously, whoever was rotting or screaming in the dungeon on that side had no brother who was trying to get them out of it. That side was still protected, for want of a better word, by clansmen who were by now chafing at the contempt of the professional men, and resentful enough of their presence to be careless. They bitched and moaned to one another endlessly, and shared drams from their flasks, and wandered off to relieve themselves less entertainingly now that their amusing latrines had been sealed. They left their weapons lying while they did it, among them new and alien weapons that I doubt they could even use. Some of them I couldn’t, either; I knew nothing of the slender steel pistols and how they killed. Others, though, I could use better than anyone here.
Firebrand (Rebel Angel Series) Page 15
