The Vilaró shook his head. “When I have what I want, I will do so.”
The marquesa had finally reached Joaquim’s side. She stood next to him, leaning heavily on her cane. “Who are all these people?” she demanded in a cross tone, as if everything had been done to inconvenience her. “Why is the street broken?”
“I came to Barcelona to find this woman,” Joaquim told his great-grandmother, pointing with his chin toward Leandra. “But she’s not the only one of my wife’s people who was held captive here. All of these others are captives, just as she was, just as Alejandro was.”
Marina clutched the boy to her side.
The marquesa slammed the tip of her cane on the stone of the square. “Children being held captive? In a prison? I will not put up with such an offense.” She turned to the mayor. “Have your guards fetch this other girl immediately, man.”
Leandra looked at the marquesa for the first time, as if baffled by the woman’s intervention. The mayor seemed taken aback as well, but after a second of indecision, he sent his guards out the back of the arcade with orders to find the warden and the missing girl.
And for a moment, silence reigned in the square.
“When they bring the child,” the marquesa said loudly, “these people will need to be transported to the train station. We will need six cabs, I think. And I want the first-class carriage cleared for us. Send one of your men to do that as well,” she added, clearly speaking to the mayor now. “I won’t sit in second class with a horde of smelly children.”
Joaquim did his best not to look surprised at her presumption. But the mayor dispatched his remaining aides to fulfill the marquesa’s demand.
Then Joaquim heard the sound of a child screeching somewhere beyond the walled-off square, sooner than he’d expected. Reyna must have come in pursuit of the Vilaró herself. She could not have gotten here so quickly otherwise.
The Vilaró waved one hand, and a part of the new stone wall about the square opened like a door. Reyna entered the walled-off square, her regal bearing leaving no doubt that she thought her name apt. Next to her, Miss Prieto dragged a clearly uncooperative Liliana by one arm. A livid bruise on one side of her jaw marred the girl’s pretty face—Piedad’s work.
“No! You can’t make me go with her!” Liliana screeched.
The queen glowered down at the girl. “We’re keeping our part of the bargain.”
It was a mark of Reyna’s fear of the Vilaró, that she’d given in so completely.
“No!” Liliana screamed, the sound sending gooseflesh along Joaquim’s arm.
“You have to stay with your mother,” Miss Prieto said quietly, “or the Vilaró will kill them all.”
“That’s not fair,” the girl shouted. “It’s not my fault.”
Joaquim glanced down at Alejandro, and saw him eye the girl with distaste. Joaquim couldn’t blame the boy. After all Leandra had done to get the girl free of the prison, Liliana should be grateful. But he suspected that gratefulness wasn’t something the sirenas had instilled in her. He doubted Liliana had any idea she should be grateful.
Miss Prieto drew the girl toward Leandra, who stepped forward. The girl turned her face away, but then confronted her mother. “You let Piedad hit me,” she said bitterly. “Look at my face.”
“Piedad hit you,” Leandra said. “Not me.”
“And Piedad enjoyed it too, I’m sure,” the Vilaró said, glaring down at Liliana. “You’re an obnoxious child.”
“Vilaró, don’t bait her,” Leandra said, no real anger in her voice.
“You agreed to free Piedad,” Reyna insisted.
“I agreed not to kill her,” the Vilaró replied. “I can bury her ten feet under the ground, still alive, and leave her there. So tell the man in charge what I want. I’m sure Miss Prieto made my demands clear.”
Bristling, Reyna turned to the officious-looking man. “These people,” she said, pointing at the group of women and children, “are not to be returned to the prison.”
The Vilaró shoved Piedad away from him. She stumbled a few steps before she turned on him, teeth bared, but stone lifted from its bed and crumbled to wrap around her feet, trapping her there. She hissed in fury as she struggled to wrench her feet loose.
Dust swirled around her, rising from the ground and pulling off the old walls of the building. A slender column coalesced within the dust, rising like a cobra poised before Piedad’s face. “Cross me,” the Vilaró said, “and the dust will seek out your lungs. It will grind your teeth away, scratch your eyes to blindness, fill your gills until you cannot breathe and your organs until you are stone itself.”
Joaquim swallowed. He’d set the Vilaró free. He was responsible for what this creature did now. “Vilaró, your promise!”
The Vilaró’s pale eyes flicked toward him, but then he turned to Leandra. “My bargain was that all of you would be freed in return for Piedad’s life. If they try to take any of you back, all their lives will be forfeit.”
Leandra nodded her understanding.
Piedad struggled, but the stone encasing her lower legs didn’t give. At least she didn’t dare open her mouth again.
“My grandson will stay,” Reyna said, turning calmly to the mayor. Joaquim heard the hint of a call in her words. “They are trying to take away my own flesh and blood. My grandson and great-granddaughter are Spanish citizens.”
Marcos looked horrified, mouth agape.
“No!” one of the women cried out. Joaquim recognized the young woman who’d stood guard outside the chapel. She clutched a black-haired imp in her arms that must be Marcos’ daughter. “You threw him away. He belongs to me now.”
“My deal,” the Vilaró rumbled, “was for all of them. Including Marcos and Miss Prieto.”
Joaquim saw relief on Marcos’ face. Even if Reyna didn’t respect any claim Safira had on Marcos, the Vilaró’s threat should make her relent.
The mayor, caught between the warden and a creature with far more power, stepped closer to the Vilaró’s side, as if that would protect him from the warden’s call. “You will have what you asked for,” he assured the Vilaró. “I’ve sent for cabs, but they won’t be able to enter here until you return my streets to normal, sir.”
“We will all walk out of here,” the Vilaró said to Reyna. “These people will board a train and travel to Barcelona. If they do not leave here safely, I will destroy the prison and take each one of your sirenas down with it. If there’s any attempt to take them into custody before they escape Spain, there will be repercussions. They are under my protection now, and a town like this, made of dust and stone, is mine to destroy. Your prison can become your tomb. Do you understand that, Reyna?”
She stared at him and nodded once, regally.
The Vilaró waved one hand and the broad cobbles sank back to the ground like dough being rolled out. When the dust settled, Joaquim was relieved to see that the Vilaró had managed not to hurt anyone. Most of the prison guards had scattered, but a few remained in the center of the street. The shaken paer en cap raised his arms to warn them back.
The stones at the center of the square abruptly heaved, pitching Piedad to land at the queen’s feet. Piedad scrambled to her feet and lunged toward the Vilaró, but Reyna slapped her across the back of her head. Not hard, but enough to startle Piedad into stopping. The queen said something softly to her, only a couple of words. With one last disdainful look, Piedad turned and walked away. She gestured as she walked past, and the prison guards followed her.
“You’ve won for today,” Reyna said to the Vilaró, “but God will destroy you.”
The Vilaró regarded her disdainfully. “In one day’s time, I will return here. If there are any guards or sirenas left in the Morra below, I will feed them to the stone. I will restore the walls of your prison once these people are safely beyond the shores of Spain.”
“And our lives?” Reyna asked.
“And your lives, such as they are, will be spared,” the Vilaró answered.
The queen nodded her agreement, clearly grasping that she had no choice at all.
CHAPTER 46
Once they were off the platform and safely ensconced on the train, the paer en cap appeared satisfied that his part of the bargain had been upheld and his town was now safe. The Vilaró stayed on the platform as well. He would remain in Lleida to ensure that the conditions of the deal were kept. Given that the train was mostly iron, Joaquim suspected that the creature would find the trip uncomfortable anyway. He had no doubt that the Vilaró had some other way of getting to Barcelona.
The marquesa marched down the narrow corridor of the first-class car, assigning each compartment as she desired. Leandra, Miss Prieto, and the sullen Liliana were in the first, leaving the second for the marquesa and the priest. Joaquim, his leg temporarily bandaged by Miss Prieto, was put in there as well. After she’d introduced Joaquim to the priest, Alejandro came and joined them, apparently preferring their company to his sister’s.
Marina sat back against the squabs and watched as Joaquim and Alejandro consumed between them half a dozen meat pies from the full tray the mayor had procured while they waited for the train to arrive. Joaquim looked terrible. In addition to his bandaged leg and arm, his face was bruised, and he had a few days’ growth of beard. He smelled too, although she wasn’t going to complain about that. It was a relief to have him back.
“Did you actually send a telegram to the king?” Marina asked once the marquesa settled in her seat, apparently having reorganized the escaping group how she wanted them.
The marquesa barked out a laugh. “My husband might have been a grandee, but that doesn’t mean what it did when I married him. The young man on the throne would have no interest in an old lady’s complaints. The bishop might have come when I asked, only because he’s a good man. Once you’re my age, you can say whatever you want, and no one dares to contradict you.”
It had all been bluster, Marina realized, but very convincing bluster.
Joaquim shifted, trying to get comfortable. “I am grateful you came, Marquesa. We weren’t managing our escape well.”
The old woman gripped the silver head of her cane. “No, you weren’t. A good thing you have such a persistent wife. You should call me Grandmother.”
Joaquim nodded slowly, grasping Marina’s hand in his own. “Thank you, Grandmother.”
The marquesa harrumphed and plumped her pillow preparatory to feigning sleep. Evidently that was the only concession Joaquim was going to get today.
Once the train started into motion, Marina saw Joaquim’s shoulders relax. She couldn’t blame him.
“How did you convince her to come here?” he whispered, pointing toward his great-grandmother with his chin.
She launched into the story of her visit to the marquesa’s home with Alejandro, and then their next morning’s conversation in Terrassa, all in whispers. A knock on their compartment door came just as she’d finished. The Spanish nurse had come to check on Joaquim’s injuries again.
The woman smiled and ruffled Alejandro’s hair first. “I’m glad you’re safe, Jandro.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything, looking a bit sulky.
“Your mother wants to see you,” the nurse added, “but Liliana’s being difficult, so it may have to wait until we get to Barcelona.”
Marina put her arm around Alejandro’s shoulders and hugged him closer. She had no doubt that—what was the word the Vilaró had used?—obnoxious girl was going to be a problem. She was embarrassingly relieved that Liliana wasn’t in this compartment with them. Marina gazed down at the top of Alejandro’s head. If she understood what he’d told her so far, he’d had very little to do with Liliana, and what few encounters he’d had with his elder sister hadn’t been pleasant.
Father Escarrá went to stand in the corridor so the nurse could sit across from Joaquim. She gently surveyed bandages on his arm. “This has ripped open. You’re going to have an ugly scar after all. The leg will need attention, but I think it bled out most of the contaminants left by the bullet. The ankle wound is another story. That’s going to need a thorough cleaning when we get somewhere safe. I’ve stopped the bleeding, and I can block the pain if you want, so you can get some sleep, but you’ll have to be careful not to aggravate either injury further.”
Joaquim glanced over at Marina and she nodded. He looked as though he desperately needed the sleep. So the healer placed her hand at the outside of Joaquim’s elbow and appeared to concentrate for a moment. Then she laid her other hand on the back of his knee. He sagged visibly, as if he’d been holding himself stiff to stifle the pain.
“It will wear off in a few hours,” the healer said to Marina. “With a bite we have to worry about infection.”
Marina agreed, noting that Joaquim seemed ready to nod off already. Had the healer made him more sleepy? Or was it just a cessation of pain combined with a full stomach? “Thank you,” she said to the healer. “We’re very grateful for your help. Is anyone else hurt?”
“They’re mostly frightened,” Miss Prieto said. “Getting out of the prison is not the same as escaping Spain.”
Marina knew that all too well. “We’ll manage somehow.”
The healer smiled at her, patted Alejandro’s head again, and left them.
“I wish my mother didn’t go back for Liliana,” Alejandro said in little more than a whisper.
Marina leaned closer to him. “It doesn’t mean she loves you less. It’s just that Liliana needs her more right now.”
“That’s what she said,” he returned.
“Would she lie to you?”
Alejandro shook his head, which was better than a shrug, Marina supposed. She glanced over and saw that Joaquim had indeed fallen asleep, his head against the wall of the compartment and his wounded leg stretched out.
She wished she could have some time alone with him. Now that they were getting away from that town, she wanted to put her arms around her husband to assure herself she had him back. Alejandro wanted much the same from his mother, she suspected. She hugged the boy again and drew out the book. They would finish it before they reached Barcelona, but she hoped that at some point his mother would come back and see him. He needed that.
* * *
By the time they reached Barcelona, hours later, Joaquim was fevered. When Marina shook him awake, he responded, but looked so disoriented that she wasn’t sure he understood what she said.
It was dark already, and the group gathered on the train platform, some arguing that they should immediately go to the harbor to find a ship heading away from Spain. Others were quicker to realize the extent of their problem: they had no funds to book passage anywhere, a large hole in their plan.
“It is late,” the marquesa snapped. “And my grandson needs to rest. We will go to a hotel and they will serve us dinner. In the morning we will sort this out.”
“We were at the Hotel Colón,” Marina said quietly. “They’re holding our room.”
The marquesa banged her cane on the platform, catching the attention of the arguing sereia. “It’s decided, then. We will all go to this hotel. Now. Everyone off the platform.”
Father Escarrá picked up the marquesa’s bag and then Marina’s. “She’s a bully at times,” he whispered, “but that can be helpful.”
Marcos helped get Joaquim to his feet and down the corridor to where a porter waited to help him out to a horse-drawn omnibus. The children had never seen a city before, save from behind the walls of the prison. The older ones were fascinated by the lights . . . and the horses . . . and the omnibus as well. As some of them climbed to the top level, Miss Prieto counted, making certain they had everyone. Marina was thankful someone had the skills to organize this retreat—she had no idea what half of them were nam
ed, even, or to whom they belonged. The porter helped Joaquim into a seat on the lower level and Marina sat next to him. Alejandro settled on the nearest bench.
The hotel was close to the train station, and a few moments later, they straggled into the lobby, hoping to book enough rooms and beds that they could all sleep—those who weren’t too afraid of being taken back to the prison, that was. Marina left Joaquim sitting in an upholstered chair in the foyer and went to the front desk in the marquesa’s wake.
The clerk at the desk looked appalled at the state of his unexpected guests, but quickly regained his professional aplomb when faced with the marquesa’s sharp glare. When she demanded that he clear rooms next to the one Joaquim and Marina had, he stammered, “But . . . but . . . that hall has been booked, ma’am. We can provide other rooms, but those rooms are already being held for Mr. Tavares.” He waved at Marina as he said that last part.
“We didn’t have the entire hall,” Marina protested.
The clerk turned to her. “Not before, Mrs. Tavares, but Lady Ferreira’s agent sent another telegram yesterday morning, and she arrived just this evening.”
“Lady Ferreira is here?” Marina asked, suddenly feeling limp with relief. But she couldn’t stop now, not while decisions needed to be made.
The clerk turned and checked the keys on the wall. “Yes, Mrs. Tavares.”
“Then may we have the keys?”
Marcos and Father Escarrá helped Joaquim up the stairs to the second floor, and the commotion of herding several exhausted and overstimulated children up the curved stairs was enough to alert Joaquim’s foster mother that they’d arrived. Lady Ferreira emerged from one of the rooms on the hallway, a picture of elegance in her fine brown suit and ivory lace. She ran down the hall to join them, brown eyes wide.
Joaquim blinked at her blearily, as if he feared he was hallucinating.
Lady Ferreira stroked the side of his face. “Filho,” she said, “what have you done to yourself?”
Then she smiled down at the boy silently clinging to Marina’s hand. “And you must be Alejandro. I am pleased to meet you.” She turned back to Marina. “Dear, why don’t you get Joaquim settled in his bed, and we’ll sort out your entourage? We have twelve rooms on this floor. . . .”
The Shores of Spain Page 39
