‘Nah, he can’t be. Charlie? Charlie taught me to whistle. We played hooley together.’ His voice rose in panic. ‘Man, he’s married to my second cousin!’
‘Did you talk to anyone else? Then face it, you. Charlie sold you out to the Tressies.’ He’d turned white. ‘How much did you tell him?’
‘Everything I knew,’ he whispered. ‘Like Butros said.’
‘Oh dear God.’ It was like plunging through a rotten floor. Only to plunge through the one below. ‘Our own folks! Then we can’t hide out in the village tonight.’
‘Golar,’ he choked. ‘He’s coming, isn’t he?’
They stared at one another in terror. ‘Paran will protect us.’ She clung to Loxi’s arm. ‘We’ll stick close to him and it will be all right. We can stay here. Nothing evil can get past his charms.’ It was true. Why did it feel like clutching at straws? ‘No worries, eh. This time tomorrow it’ll all be over.’
‘This is all my fault, Nan. I’m sorry.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s mine. I should never have gone to the slave market. Why did I go and get involved?’ she wailed. Instantly she was ashamed. She stood up, squared her shoulders.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘if you can’t undo it, you got to go through it.’ It was an old Gull saying. ‘Eat your breakfast. I’ll get Enobar to bring you some clothes down. Make the bugger earn his wage for once, eh. Then I’d better warn Mooby about Charlie.’ Ah, you stupid tears. ‘Hey. It’s going to be fine. Promise.’
As the morning wore on Anabara got her terror back down to manageable proportions. Like the wind—which was still hunting round Larridy in great whoops and shrieks—it didn’t seem so bad in broad daylight. It was still a nightmare, but she and Loxi would be safe in her house. After all, they were protected by psychotic levels of security. My God, even Butros didn’t resort to viper jinxes!
No, they had nothing to fear with Paran around. How many times did the Fairy need to repeat that, before she believed him? When had he ever let her down? He was bound by his solemn oath. Her credit ran high with him. And creepy though the thought was, he seemed to have… She wanted to say feelings for Loxi, stroking his hair like that. Tscha, she was doing it again: projecting human emotions on to him. Fairies had no emotions. She thunked her forehead. They are incapable of empathy, remember? Even that monster Golar had warned her not to make the mistake of thinking him human.
Rodania had gone, taking the psych-tab with her. Then Mooby came. ‘Charlie? Ah, dammit. I liked that boy. I thought I was a good judge of people. Dammit.’ But the planned raids had not been jeopardized. Loxi hadn’t known about the slaves in the library, or the Breaking Camp, thank God; and Mooby had been keeping her squad in the dark since her suspicions had first been aroused.
‘Shite feck bollocks. Charlie. God-DAMMIT. And now I’ve got to worry about the pair of you, as well. Right. We’ll get you up the Precincts. You’ll be safe there. I’ll arrange an escort.’
‘We’ll probably be safer here, detective. The door’s armed with a viper jinx. So are the windows.’
‘La la la. I did not hear that. I so did not hear that. All righty. Change of plan. Stay here, don’t even stick your nose out of the door till I give you the all clear. Got that? Good. I’m off.’
After Mooby left the street got steadily busier. Anabara sat at the little window on the landing, waiting for Enobar. Where the hell was he? A minstrel troupe tramped by, bells jingling. A creaking mule-cart laden with ale barrels. Chairmen carrying fares too idle or hungover to haul themselves up Skuller. The statutory pillocks in wolf masks. A fire-juggler, gangs of over-excited kids with a day’s holiday. Three Gulls, each with a saltings sheep carcass slung over his shoulder.
Come on Enobar. But most of the traffic was heading up the Mount. Precincts curfew would be early tonight. The big gate would be shut and bolted against non-residents before the worst of the roistering got underway.
It was getting dark when Enobar finally showed up with a big basket. She opened the top half of the door first to check he was alone, then let him in. ‘What took you so long?’
‘I was in an urgent meeting, and—Ow!’ He yelped as he crossed the threshold. Stared in shock. ‘Oh my God! Your charm just… snapped me!’ He dumped the basket and rubbed his backside. ‘Ow! That really hurts. Like a wet towel!’
‘Well, it’s never done that before,’ said Anabara, as if it was a pet dog. Urgent meeting, my arse.
‘So, yes. I brought the clothes, I brought the wine, I brought the food, I brought the sweetmeats, I brought the firecrackers. Rodi says you’re spending Wolf Tide here. But we are so going to have a good time!’ He started unpacking the basket. ‘How’s Loxi doing? Your Fairy healed him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thank God, thank God. Tell him I kiss his hands and his feet. Swear to God, my life’s blood is his, my beating heart is his.’ He reeled off a few more empty Candacian vows, committing his family for five generations to a life of willing slavery. ‘So. He’s an artisan herbalist? Reckon he does love potions? When can I meet him? Is he in?’
‘No. Be very grateful.’ She folded her arms, nailed him with a glare. ‘He blames you for this.’
‘Wha-a-at, me?’ Eyes wide. Hand on chest. Enobar would lie if you asked him what he’d had for lunch. Couldn’t help himself. And now he was about to tell her crock of shit about what had happened last night. ‘He blames me? Oh my God! I was distraught! It wasn’t—’
‘Let’s cut the crap about how it’s not your fault.’ He squeaked. ‘Let’s focus on the future instead. Loxi needs looking after. Promise me you’ll get him into the combat room every day until—’
‘Are you kidding me?’ he cut in. ‘Your cousin is lethal! He put two students in the Infirmary yesterday! Bit one guy’s ear half off. Swear to God, it took four beadles to drag him away!’
‘No! Loxi? Get out of here!’
‘Seriously, I would rather go one-on-one with a shark in a plunge-pool. He’s insane. Does this insane scary war cry? Is that a Gull thing? Anyway,’ he went back to unpacking the basket, ‘I couldn’t train him up if I wanted to. He’s banned from University premises for six months. He’ll have to move in with you. Oh, don’t worry, the vampire’s all over it. It’ll be fine. Vampire says “race discrimination”, Chapter freaks out, the ban disappears, vampire sends her ladyship a bill for 800 gilders. Ba-ba-boom. Where do you want the wine?’
Anabara was still standing open-mouthed. ‘Loxi? Fighting?’
‘Oh God yes. Believe it. They called you a slut. Made horse jokes?’ He clapped a hand over his mouth. ‘Damn! I promised not to tell you. Don’t let on, will you?’
Her face burnt. Me. He was defending me?
‘Yes, so, I’ll just take him his things.’ Enobar eyed her, and got out of range. ‘Then maybe we can open a bottle? Come on, lighten up. It’s Wolf Tide! Oh, there’s a message from Rodania somewhere in there.’ He scampered up the stairs, anklets tinkling, with a pile of clothes.
Anabara rummaged in the basket, half-blind with fury and mortification. If there had been a single person left in Larridy who hadn’t heard about the bathhouse incident, there surely wasn’t now. Ear-biting? Oh my God! Talk about magnifying her folly!
There was the letter. Uh-oh. Not good. Rodania’s impeccable handwriting was a scrawl. URGENT underlined three times.
Her heart was already thumping as she broke the seal.
Have cracked it. Disaster. Guard plans leaked to enemy network. Stackmaster in contact with G (?Semmayit Golar) and a Guard, C (?Charlie Rondo). Slaves to be killed before raid can take place, camp to be broken up. Warn Dt Mooby. Take utmost care. Do not go to village, they are lying in wait for you. Trust no-one. Send reply please. Rodania.
The letter had been written at four o’clock. It was now nearly nine. She was already too late.
CHAPTER 19
She left by her back door, made her way across rooftops, up the Mount towards the Precincts. The orange Wolf Tide full moo
n bulged up above the horizon, vast, terrifying as Judgment Day. Far below the streets thronged. A procession of ants wended down Skuller towards the Docks, to watch the Wolf Tide tear up the river.
The sky had cleared. A million stars glinted, but the wind still blew, punching her off course, snatching her breath. Too late, I’m too late. But she had to try. She’d promised the slave: Help will come. Please, let me not be too late. Each leap took her closer. The flutes howled. Leaves and rubbish scoured the chimney pots. Someone’s hat hurtled by. Then a vicious gust slammed her into a wall. She scrabbled for a handhold, a foothold, fell somersaulting, righted herself, grabbed the nearest gable. A tile whirled past her head and exploded against a turret.
Let Loxi be safe. Let him not come after me. She’d left a note, but would he listen? Thank God the rivermen couldn’t hunt her up here. A Gull might pursue her, but surely Charlie’s best flying days were behind him? He was too big, too earthbound. She set off again. There were the Precinct walls. Boom! sang the mighty bass flute. The ancient cedars groaned and cracked. She got in by the old grain barns, past the crumbled dragon man and headed for the Round Room. It was dark. Shut. But she’d be able to sneak in from the Cloister side. Sweet-talk an old gargoyle, force a downstairs window.
She was about to jump down into the courtyard when it struck her: the stained glass charms. Dear God, they were fully armed again. The moment she set foot in the Library they’d come out of their lead-work and slice her to shreds. A sob shuddered through her. Too late, too late. The Minstery bell struck nine, each chime buffeted this way and that. Only two hours left till high tide. It’s all my fault! Pelago, help me, what should I do, what should I do?
The moon nudged up over the buildings. Too huge, too close. It cast a fiery light on the ancient stone.
Talk to the charms. Explain. Maybe they’d let her through when they heard her tale? She wrung her hands. Then froze. Her palms—what was wrong with them? No! Her heart contracted. A trick of the moonlight. They looked like they were on fire. Fire tattoos. Not possible. She spat and rubbed them on her clothes, shook them. The moon inched higher. Her palms glowed brighter. Oh dear God, what’s happening to me?
A hand seized her arm. She screamed.
It was Paran. His eyes, his clothes, his hair were all on fire.
‘It’s the moon!’ she gabbled, ‘You’re burning! The moon’s doing it!’
‘You told me you had no Fairy blood in your veins!’ He forced both her palms upward. Fire squirmed like maggots under the skin. His hands were hot on her wrists. Dry, like a burning snake. ‘Then what’s this, you liar?’
‘But I don’t understand!’ she cried. ‘I’m pure human. Why—?’ Suddenly she saw. That night she freed him. His blood pouring over her hands. Into the open blisters. ‘No!’
Understanding hit him in the same instant. He recoiled. They stared at one another in revulsion and fear.
‘It must be your blood!’ she gasped. ‘Oh God! What will it do to me?’
‘Who cares? You fool, you treacherous fool! It’s what your blood has done to me!’ He let out a long wailing cry. Rage. Despair. Whipped away by the storm. ‘A lifetime of training, wasted!’ Fiery tears seemed to pour from his eyes. ‘This explains everything. My weakness, my wavering. You’ve infected me!’
‘I didn’t mean to,’ she sobbed. ‘I didn’t know!’
‘Believe me, that does not absolve you.’ The wind grabbed handfuls of flame off him and tossed them into the night.
‘But it can only have been a drop. A tiny speck.’
‘That’s all it takes. There’s no cure. I’m ruined!’
‘But I didn’t know! I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry? Sorry?’ he hissed. ‘Don’t let yourself hope I’ll forgive you. I’m not that far gone. This crime of yours wipes out my debt. From now on, I owe you nothing.’ He raised his right hand. It flamed like a torch. ‘Anabara Nolio, our deal is void. I hereby rescind and cancel it.’
‘No! You can’t! I need your help, Paran.’
He bared his fangs. ‘Don’t use that name! Go and thank your Saint that I’m now so riddled with mercy, I cannot bear to kill you.’
There was another savage gust, then a flash like red lightning. His imprint lingered on the air.
‘No!’ she shouted. ‘Come back! Come back!’
But he’d vanished.
She blundered across the rooftops, hunting for him. The bass flute roared like an ogre. A flicker of fire—there he was! But it was only the moon’s reflection. Another flash—no, just the moon. He’s gone, he’s abandoned you. St Pelago’s flag snapped, its ropes whined. The clock chimed quarter past. The slaves! You can’t give up on them, there may still be a chance.
With another sob she set off for the Round Room. Battled the wind till she was up there, clinging to the cupola. Larridy was spread out like a map. The docklands were on fire! No, it was bonfires, mutton roasts. Crowds with lanterns. Braziers along the banks. To the west, a necklace of fire—the Gull Islands strung out into the distance, beacons blazing. Fireworks ripped into the night. Far off on the Mainland rockets winked and scribbled trails.
She turned to the window. Moonlight gleamed on the dark glass. A warrior saint. A knight on horseback. ‘Will you let me pass?’ The wind snatched her words away. She couldn’t hear a thing. Were they awake even?
‘There are Fairy slaves down in the Library Stacks,’ she shouted. ‘They’re about to be killed. Please let me pass.’ But the force of the charm was unrelenting. ‘Please! You know me. I’m employed by the scholasticus, my uncle is the Patriarch. It was my associate who restored you.’
Still nothing. She rattled the window catch. The charm-field swelled, thrusting her towards the edge. If she tried again it would hurl her off. Passwords. There must be passwords. Locked up in the security charm vault. Rodi! But it would take her hours to dis-encrypt them. Anabara sagged in despair. It was hopeless. Like on that black night out on the salt flats when her courage broke. I’ve failed. I have nothing left.
The moon broke free from the rooftops. Her palms writhed with fire. ‘Look!’ She turned her hands one at a time to the stained glass. ‘I have Fairy blood in my veins. You must let me past to save my kindred!’ But a gust sent her tumbling; slammed her on a flat leaded roof below.
She lay winded. The moon looked down. And suddenly rage coursed through her. Feck this. Feck you all. She got to her feet. I’m going in. Come after me and do your worst!
The downstairs windows were guarded by weathered caryatids. Too dozy to put up a fight. She sprang up on to the stone sill and kicked in the lower pane. Glass tinkled on to the marble floor inside. She knocked out the fragments, then squeezed through.
Silence. Apart from the wind outside, smacking the buildings about. Orange moonlight on the checkered floor. She leapt down and tip-toed into the room. Ranks of shelves. Desks. The levels rising above her, one, two, three. Then the cupola. She watched for movement. All was still. Maybe they’d believed her? Or maybe all Paran’s work had unraveled now he’d cancelled their deal. A new terror reared up: the house charms. Was Loxi safe? Nothing she could do. She began to creep towards the Stacks.
Then she heard it. Behind her. Another tinkle of glass. She whipped round. Her heart boomed. Idiot, it was just the last pieces falling out. She set off again. Had she still got the password? She felt in her pocket for the scrap of parchment. Too dark to read.
Halfway down the corridor she paused under a small round window, and tried to memorise the numbers and letters in the faint light of the moon. There it was again. A tinkle of glass. Her pulse began to gallop. And again. Closer. And now an eerie light gathered at the corridor mouth. Jingle, jingle. Wind-chimes in a breeze.
Oh dear God. An angel. I’m trapped. It’s over. Snick-snick-snick, the peacock wings unfolded. It filled the archway. A sword in its hand. No escape. She backed away. It advanced. She stopped. It stopped. She could hear herself whimpering, couldn’t help herself. She cringed away again, it ca
me on. And now her back was against the door of the Stacks. Still it advanced. All lit up as if by sunshine. A dozen colours spilled on to the walls and floor.
Then it gestured her aside. She staggered out of the way. It touched the door handle with its sword tip. A cascade of clicks. The door swung open. The angel gestured her through.
‘Oh dear God, oh dear God! I thought you were going to kill me!’ she gibbered as she stumbled into the Stacks.
The stained glass angel stared. Then unmistakably, rolled its eyes.
‘Thank you.’ She turned and fled down the tunnel. When she glanced back the angel had taken up guard in the doorway. Well, no rivermen were going to get past that.
The tunnel emerged into the same arcaded road she’d seen the day before. The top. Only one way to turn: left, down the hill. She stood still and listened. Not a sound. The storm was raging, but down here it was like a tomb. Oh, let it not be a tomb. The thought propelled her feet off down the hill. It would be simple to retrace her steps. She wouldn’t get lost.
The way was lit as before by old-fashioned torches. She followed the slow curve. A maze of tunnels. But where? Then she came to a taller wider arch. Set in the stone portals were letters: Aa. A tunnel, an echo of the side streets off Skuller. She ventured in. Yes, it seemed to spread out into a maze of alleys. Little higgledy-piggledy houses. She peered through a window. Filled with shelves. Anatomy. Areapogitucus His Booke. Animals of Southern Galencia. She retraced her steps back on to the main street. Further down hill, another larger arch, this time labeled Bb. So the Stacks were still alphabetical, not by subject. Small wonder it took a Fairy to find anything down here. She pressed on. Cc. Dd.
Where, in all this network of sub-mazes, would she find the slaves, the Master of Stacks? Surely there had to be some kind of central office? The logical place would be at the top, in the underground equivalent of the Precincts. Had she missed it, passed it already? Panic surged again. Too late, too late. She began to trot. Was she even going in the right direction? Where were they? Housed in Ff for Fairy? Ss for slave? She was losing it.
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