by Karen Brooks
'Seeing you now, I can understand why those not expecting to find an Estrattore wouldn't have seen one. It would be easy to convince someone they were mistaken.' She glanced towards Pillar. 'Hasn't anyone ever been curious about Tallow?'
Pillar raised his head. 'Not really. As you pointed out, he – she – knows to avoid people, to hide her face – those eyes – to look the other way, not to draw attention to herself. There have been no awkward questions, only observations. That he's unusually shy, gauche, immature, a bit small for his age.' He sighed. 'We didn't enlighten them.'
Katina nodded. 'Wise of you.'
We fell into an uncomfortable silence. I didn't like it, there was too much I wanted to know.
'I thought all the Estrattore were killed or forced into the Limen,' I said matter-of-factly, defensively almost.
'That's right,' agreed Katina.
'Well, what am I doing here?' I asked.
'You're here because of a Bond Rider.'
'A Bond Rider!' Almost everyone gossiped about Bond Riders, but it was mostly hearsay. No-one really knew what happened to them once they made their pledges and entered the Limen – at least, not any more. They were the subject of much private speculation and curiosity, but rarely spoken about openly. But now that Katina mentioned them, I found something tugged at my memory. A dark, windswept night, bitter cold, caustic whispers of death. It was if the images were lodged deep in the walls of the room.
Pillar half-rose out of his seat. There was a wild look in his eyes. I thought he was going to insist Katina stop, but he remained mute. He sank back into his seat and closed his eyes.
It would be a long time before I found out what it was that had alarmed Pillar – a long time indeed.
'What was his or her Bond?' I asked.
'It's not polite to ask that question,' said Katina. She hesitated. 'Let's just say, that a Rider – Filippo was his name – along with some other Bond Riders, found a child. A very special child. But then, they found them.'
'Who?' I asked.
'The Morte Whisperers.' At the mention of their name, the fire guttered and the room darkened. A shutter blew open. I jumped. Pillar leapt to his feet and quickly closed it, bolting it from the inside.
'Morte Whisperers,' I repeated. Once again, I felt that familiar tug at my memory. Repressed images snapped at the edges of my consciousness. 'I've never heard of them. What are they?' I cast a glance in Pillar's direction, but he just shook his head and shrugged.
'Servants of death, soul-slayers. Call them what you will. They're unnatural creatures, summoned from realms beyond our own; they haunt and hunt a soul until they are no more.' The light from the fire made her hair and eyes blaze.
Pillar broke his silence. 'And these Morte Whisperers, they were after the Riders?'
'No.' She turned away from the fire, her face thrown into darkness. 'Not the Riders. They were after the child.' She looked directly at me. 'They were after you.'
My heart seized. I placed my hands around the mug, drawing comfort from its warmth. I didn't dare speak. I didn't dare think.
Katina began pacing the room. 'Filippo took the child and tried to escape. But he couldn't. He was left with no choice. He gave the child to someone he thought could protect her.' She swung to face Pillar. 'He gave the child to you.'
Pillar's face paled. 'I didn't know about those Morte creatures. But I reckon I felt them.' His eyes glazed for a moment as he dragged long-buried memories into the present. He gave an involuntary shudder. 'I think it's time for me to tell my tale. It might take some time.'
Katina sat in the chair opposite, turning expectantly towards Pillar.
It took him a while to find the courage to speak. Slowly, and with great care not to upset me, Pillar told his version of that night on the mountain. Katina never took her eyes off Pillar.
Neither did I.
There were gaps in his story, and I knew there was something he wasn't telling. But, when he finished, Pillar pressed his lips firmly together. For now his tale would lack an ending – or a beginning, I was uncertain which.
Absorbing what she'd been told, Katina sank into her chair. 'I always thought Filippo would last longer in Vista Mare. It must have been too much, all the crossings he made in an attempt to outwit the Morte Whisperers and the oth– To ensure the future. His life-force must have been spent.' She stopped and seemed to collect herself, remembering where she was and to whom she was speaking.
My imagination burned with thoughts and images. My curiosity about the Bond Riders wasn't sated by these snippets of information, but rather fuelled. I could see that Pillar was hanging on her every word as well. I didn't want to interrupt with the questions I was so eager to ask lest she stop talking. I waited, forcing myself to keep completely still.
'All these years,' she continued, 'I believed he'd taken you to someone who would recognise what you were and nurture your talent, prepare you. No wonder it's taken me so long to find you. I was looking in the wrong places.' She laughed. 'A candlemaker. Who would have thought?'
Her laugh was harsh, false even. I thought of Quinn.
Shaken, I slowly stood, biting my tongue as my body protested and pain shot through my limbs, and threw another piece of wood on the fire. 'How come you were looking for me?' I asked over my shoulder. 'You still haven't told us that.'
Katina took a long drink from her flask and then poured some more into all of our mugs. I returned to my chair. 'Because, just like Filippo, I have no choice.'
I looked at her quizzically.
'I am also a Bond Rider.' My heart quickened. 'And, like my brother, I am Bonded to you, Tallow.'
'To me?' I whispered. The room began to contract around me and my heart beat loudly in my ears. 'Why would a Rider Bond to me?'
Katina didn't seem to hear. 'Only, unlike my poor Filippo, after all this time I now have the chance to fulfil my Bond.'
'How?'
'I ... I've been told I must try to train you, Tallow. As for the rest of my Bond,' she shrugged and went to the window. 'All I know is that you are the key to so many things, and that I must prepare you for what lies ahead.'
'And what is that?' I asked softly.
Katina gave a twisted smile. 'The usual – war, heartache and, hopefully, return.'
'Of the Estrattore?'
Before she could respond, Pillar interjected. 'How can you train her?' He rose and joined her. The rain lashed the window. 'For what purpose?' Then a thought occurred to him. 'By God! Are you an Estrattore, too?' Pillar took a step backwards, bumping into the wall.
'Not exactly,' said Katina, smiling. 'But I am the descendant of one. I have been given enough knowledge to unleash many of Tallow's latent abilities and train her in ways to hide them as well. For when an Estrattore reaches puberty – in the case of a girl, menarche – then she also starts to come into her powers. That's why I was able to sense you. To one trained to look, traces of your abilities are everywhere. You've lost your first blood, have you not?'
I lowered my eyes and remembered that time, over six weeks ago, when I'd awoken with severe cramps and found my mattress stained with blood. I nodded. It had been frightening the first time, but Quinn had told me it was normal. The curse of our kind, she'd said. I wasn't sure what she meant, but just accepted there was nothing untoward occuring. It had only happened twice so far and wasn't hard to hide.
Pillar coughed. Katina struck the table in triumph. 'Then that explains why I sensed you. And why others can, too. We have to be very careful from now on.'
Recollections of hunger-filled whispers and that overwhelming sense of being watched filled my mind. I shuddered and wrapped my blanket tightly about me.
Folding her arms, Katina regarded me critically. 'It's a good thing you disguised her as a boy, Pillar. Him. I mean him. I have to remember that from now on. I will adopt your way. Refer to Tallow and think of you only as a boy. You might be a woman, but we'll work hard to make you a man. It might be the only thing that keeps you safe.'
I shrugged. I'd never thought of myself as other than a boy, so whatever Katina did made no difference to me. I'd already begun strapping my chest and my shirts and vest were big anyway. I was a boy – a strange boy, perhaps – and I didn't know how to be anything else.
'I just hope that today doesn't trigger more omicidi, more allegations and murders of innocents,' said Katina, more to herself than to me or Pillar. 'The soldiers weren't looking for Estrattore; they were searching for kidnappers.'
'Do you know anything about the kidnapping?' I asked.
Katina didn't answer me immediately; instead she went to the window and stared into the night. 'Me? No, why should I? It was just a coincidence, that's all.'
There was something about the way Katina answered – her flippancy and lightness of tone – that didn't ring quite true.
Before I could question her further, she continued. 'They may have been tracking the Doge's grandson, but the Estrattore weren't far from the soldiers' minds, they never are. If I could feel you, chances are there will be someone out there who is trained to look, a padre or someone who may yet report back to –' She paused when she saw the look of concern on Pillar's face. 'I'm sorry. In my excitement, I grew careless. It's my fault the soldiers came here.'
'It wouldn't have made a difference,' I reassured her. 'I've been taught not to engage with strangers, no matter what. You would have had to force me to interact with you.'
'Who do you think might be searching for Tallow?' Pillar interjected. 'What do they want? One Estrattore is not a threat, surely?' Pillar took a step closer to the table, more at ease with Katina now he knew she was only the descendant of an Estrattore.
'Good questions,' said Katina. 'They're ones I keep asking myself. Though let's not forget the poor man they accused all those years ago. He wasn't even an Estrattore, yet he might as well have been. They didn't hesitate to kill him. As for those searching for Tallow, it could be the Doge, or someone connected to him. Remember, it was the Church that persuaded old Doge Alvisio all those centuries ago to get rid of the Estrattore in the first place, convinced him they were a threat and their practices and beliefs heretical. Even now, there are people in the clergy trained to detect them.'
I recalled Padre Foscari in the taverna that afternoon. Clearly, he had been working with the soldiers. I repressed a shudder. Was he one of those trained to find and destroy Estrattore?
'The padres are the worst,' said Katina, seeming to read my mind. 'They're afraid of what will happen should the Estrattore ever return; if the legend comes true.'
'Legend? What legend?' Pillar resumed his seat and picked up his mug. He downed the contents in one mouthful.
'I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it. It's in the Church's best interest that it's kept secret. But those with access to archives – the nobiles, philosophers and others within the Church with an interest – know it well. The legend says that one day, an Estrattore more powerful and dangerous than ever before will be born into the world. This Estrattore will unite and lead the exiles triumphantly home and, in so doing, will restore balance to the world.'
'The world is out of balance?' Pillar wondered 'What do you mean? How can you say that?'
Katina raised her eyebrows and leant towards Pillar. Her eyes glowed. 'You need to ask? Can't you feel it?'
Outside I heard the wind screaming. The rain lashed the building, and thunder and lightning tore apart the sky. And, beneath it all, like a persistent melody, was a chorus of murmurs. Faint but nonetheless discernible, it hissed and moaned. The words were not clear, but their meaning was. My head filled with images of dying children, weeping sores and a barren vista of ruins scorched by a pestilent sun. I knew by the expression on Pillar's face that he saw them too. They transformed into pictures of dried canal beds, filled to the brim with bloated toads feeding on swollen corpses.
I shuddered and deep inside me I felt the lure of capitulation. Don't fight it. It's all inevitable. Nothing can be changed. After all, death comes to everyone, eventually.
'The world is out of balance,' repeated Katina.
The whispers ceased.
'And the legend says this child can restore it by bringing the Estrattore back?' asked Pillar, his words slightly slurred.
'Indeed, it does.'
'Do you believe in the legend?' I asked.
Katina looked at me carefully. 'I do now, with all my heart.'
'Who ... who is this child, then?' I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear it from this strong woman's mouth.
'Haven't you been listening to a word I said?' Katina shook her head at me, but I could see she wasn't angry.
'It's me, isn't it?' My voice was too small for such a large task.
'Indeed, it is you.'
CHAPTER EIGHT
On the Mariniquian
Seas
'HE'S DEAD. YOU'VE KILLED HIM,' cried Lord Beolin Waterford as he strode across the deck, oblivious to the stares of the sailors or the sting of the sea spray slapping his face.
A tall, cloaked figure standing alone on the poop deck swung at the sound of his voice. Lord Waterford bounded up the steps towards him and then faltered, blame written all over his face.
'You exaggerate, my Lord,' hissed the figure from beneath his hood. 'He is not dead. He is merely severely incapacitated.'
'Why is there no pulse then?' persisted the flustered nobleman. 'I cannot find a pulse. Explain that to me, if you dare, because you'll certainly have to explain it to Queen Zaralina.'
The skeletal being began to shake. He was laughing. Waterford bristled. 'Do not mock me. I don't understand your ways, but I know you've woven your dark magic over the lad and taken the gods know what from him. Unless we bring him to Her Highness alive, then all this has been for nothing.'
His arm swept the deck of the swift Kyprian corsair, the ship they had hired from a merchant who had been not only keen to take their gold but curious about their purpose. Moments after they'd left the isle of Kyprus, their local agent had ensured the merchant did not live to speak of the transaction. Lord Waterford imagined his bloated body was little more than fish bait now.
A gust of wind swept Lord Waterford's hood from his head and his cloak billowed behind him. He quickly pulled the hood back over his hair and held his cloak together with one hand; his other never released its clawlike grip on the rails. By the gods, he thought, glancing at the tortured sky and the tossing seas, it was as if the elements themselves were shouting disapproval at their unnatural deed. Glancing at his companion, he noticed that neither the creature's hood nor cloak even fluttered in the savage winds.
Unnatural indeed, he brooded.
The creature gave Lord Waterford a mock bow. 'As you are well aware, the boy breathes. He is comfortable; he is safe. That is all that matters. His heart is not your concern.'
Turning aside, Waterford gave a deep, pained sigh. Caught by the wind, it was ripped from his lips and lost in the wide, watery expanse. He too had gone astray, so far from home, so far from those who were familiar to him. Though lately, he reminded himself, home was becoming as alien to him as those he used to call friends. Still, anywhere would be better than drifting on the sea with an unconscious foreign prince and the queen's latest confidant for company.
Instead of dwelling on his current misery and uncertainty, Lord Waterford thought about what lay ahead. Once he was back in the city of Albion, he would present the queen with the fruits of this journey: the Doge of Serenissima's grandson, Claudio Dandolo.
