‘Are you sure you wish to have it back?’
Was she? ‘I don’t know. Look, there’s something else as well.’ She told him about Paran breaking their deal, and the Fairy blood now coursing through her body. ‘I should probably find out about the effects of Fairy blood.’ She trembled again and hid her hands under the covers. She still hadn’t dared to look closely at the palms. ‘But I’m kind of scared to know.’
He sat silent for a long time.
‘Paran said there’s no cure!’ she burst out.
‘Perhaps he meant no cure for himself?’ He stroked her hair. ‘I wouldn’t worry, my dear. In years gone by Fairy blood was used in quack remedies. Unscrupulous herbalists made all kinds of extravagant claims about its properties—but it was always deemed beneficial, not harmful. Of course, modern medicine dismisses it all as nonsense. Either way, I doubt you’ll be suffering any ill effects. Why not ask the doctor? She’ll be able to set your mind at rest.’
‘Good idea.’
‘To know the worst can be a blessing—and more often than not, the worst doesn’t happen. They say ignorance is bliss, but in fact it tends to breed fear. Try not to fear. My heart tells me you haven’t seen the last of your Fairy. If it was Paran who sent you that healing charm, he has not abandoned you completely.’
‘That was real? I thought it was another dream.’
‘No, it was like a tiny blue humming bird. Powerful magic indeed, but of a wholesome kind, I think.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘I must let you get some rest now. Brace yourself for all those visitors Yannick has been frightening off!’
The first of them was Mooby. She crushed Anabara’s hand in a mighty paw.
‘Good to see you, Ms Nolio. Your uncle wants me to get you up to speed. Thinks it’ll assist your recovery to know what’s going on. Ponce disagrees. But last time I looked Ponce was just a slimy little jumped-up counsel, not the Metropolitan of all Galencia.’ She plonked herself on the chair by the bed. ‘He says you’re not to answer any questions, so obviously I won’t be asking any. But if you want to comment on anything I tell you, that’ll be peachy.’
Anabara nodded. Then frowned. Was that a waft of chypre? ‘Butros?’
He stuck his head into the room. ‘Never fear. Ponce is right outside this door, taking notes.’
‘Hey!’ said Anabara. ‘That’s kind of you to come.’
‘PAH-HA-HA! Oh, sorry,’ said Mooby. ‘You just said “kind” in connection with a lawyer. Assumed it was a joke. Out you go, ponce. Matron says one visitor at a time.’
Butros smooched a depraved kiss at Mooby and retreated.
‘All righty, then.’ Mooby clapped her hands on her thighs. ‘First off, you are a stark raving nutter of the first order. You’re lucky to be alive. But well done—owe you a great deal. Can’t say how much I… how relieved…’ She cleared her throat like a tramp on a park bench. ‘Well, never did have that drink, did we? Hate to think we’d missed the chance to spar as well. Not like I have many friends here.’
There was a stifled snort.
Mooby blushed, cast an evil look at the door and pulled herself together. ‘Yes, so cracking good work there. Gave me a real scare when I got the heads-up from your Gull cousin. Right before Wolf Tide. Told me you’d headed for the Stacks.’
‘Oh my God—Loxi went looking for you?’
‘Yep. Him and the little demy. Took out a couple of Tressies who were lying in wait outside your door, apparently. Look, I know it’s a time-honoured Gull tradition and everything, but you might just want to have a word with your cousin about the ear-biting thing some time.’
‘Alleged ear-biting,’ called Butros. ‘No witnesses have come forward.’
Mooby sighed. ‘Whatever. Anyway, your other cousin—what’s her name, Galen bean-pole, slide-rule up her arse?—Rodania, thank you. She’d already got a message through to me. Salvaged the operation. We re-grouped, intercepted the shipment of slaves down at the docks, arrested the ringleaders—all except Golar, who’s disappeared down some worm-hole. Mainland Special Forces all over his palace like a rash. Nothing. Gone underground. Hey, don’t worry, we’ll get him.’ She leant forward and gripped Anabara’s arm. ‘Doing all right there?’
‘I’m fine,’ she lied. Golar was still alive. Still waiting.
‘My Tressy agent told me you’d been snatched. Led us to the “safe” house. Bloody knackers yard is what we found. Illegal razor-web. Chunks of doggie all over the show. Plus one chewed-up left hand, presumed to belong to Golar. Pause for you to comment…’
‘No comment!’ sang Butros.
‘No comment,’ repeated Anabara.
‘Fair enough. By the way, she’s one smart cookie, that Rodania. One ve-e-ery smart cookie. Be glad to make use of her expertise in the future. Accessed all the erased stuff on the psych-tab. Her testimony alone is probably enough to put them behind bars.’
God. Rodi was going to be insufferable from now on. ‘We were wrong. It was Chief Dhalafan, not Charlie.’
‘Yeah.’ Mooby pursed her lips. ‘Mainland Guard HQ had their suspicions but no proof. That’s why I was brought in. Owe you a huge apology there. Put your life at risk. Wish I’d known you’d got a psych-tab and were intending to go haring off after the slaves.’
She swallowed. ‘Has he… been arrested?’
There was a silence. Mooby glanced towards the open door again. ‘All right, so you haven’t heard. Dhalafan’s dead. And his personal psych’s gone AWOL, surprise, surprise.’
‘Dead! How did he die?’
‘Heart attack, it looks like. But I’m thinking more a whopping dose of digitalis, self-administered. Still doing tests on the brandy glass found beside him. All kinds of pressure being brought to bear to sweep the scandal under the carpet. But nuh-uh.’ Mooby shook her head. ‘Not going to happen. I’m going to bust this whole thing wide open. That includes the part played by the university.’
‘Woo! You go, girl!’ whooped Butros.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Bloody lawyers. All wetting themselves about how much money they’re going to make.’ But there was a grin lurking. Looked like professional respect was now almost bordering on friendship between her and Butros. They were both doing their best to hide it, though. ‘Where was I? Yeah, so we found the remains of the Breaking Camp, like you said. Down in the bowels of the library. Possibly the nastiest thing I’ve encountered in my entire career to date. And that includes wading through half a dozen Tressies after they’d had a run-in with a bacon-slicer.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Or whatever.’
‘It was the ancient stained-glass charms. They’ve been reactivated.’
‘Holy bollocks. That’s the last time I have an over-due library book! Reactivated by a certain so-called Fairy artisan going under the name of Paran a’Menehaïn, I hear. Where’s that little tinker wandered off to, I ask myself? He’s wanted for questioning in connection with the mutilation and murder of the Stack-master.’
‘But that—’ She caught herself. It wasn’t Paran. Her pulse began to race. The fifth slave! She’d forgotten about him. Still roaming about Larridy. A nasty possibility crossed her mind: was he technically her slave, now the Stack-master was dead?
‘But that—? Know something about this?’ Mooby was asking. ‘What’s wrong? Where’s a’Menehaïn?’
There was a whoosh of red silk. ‘My client is not answering questions. If you continue to harass her, I’ll have you crated back to Bogganburg in a lard tub, Detective Ball-buster.’
‘That’s Acting Chief Ball-buster to you, tallywags!’
The noise brought Matron in, breathing fire. She threw the pair of them out.
Her next visitor came by night. She woke with a jolt. Something was trying to get in her window. The slave! He’d found her. She fumbled for the nightlight.
‘Psst! Ms Nolio.’
Tscha! That idiot Zaarzuk. But she was smiling. She wrapped herself in a woolen robe and made her way shakily across the room and pulled back the curtain. There h
e was, on the narrow sill, clinging to the mullions.
‘Let me in! Quick-quick, before I fall.’
She opened the casement. ‘You shouldn’t be here!’
He leapt in, grinning, dark eyes flashing. ‘What is this? A bad girl, out of bed, hey? And now the horseman has caught her!’
‘Ssh! Get off, you ape!’
‘But I must do my duty!’ He swept her up in his arms and carried her back to bed and tucked her in. ‘Lie still and be good, or I will crawl under your covers and do my filthy Zaarzuk things.’
Instead he sat on the edge of the bed and took her hands. They searched one another’s faces in the glow of the nightlight. She was trembling and smiling. Blinking away the tears. Tadzar, Tadzar. He was smiling back. His hair had grown. A ragged halo of gold. She started to say thank you for everything, but he laid his fingers on her lips.
‘Hush. It is my honour to serve you. I would ride through seven seas of fire for you, Anabara Nolio. Truly, I would do this to earn your respect.’
Tears brimmed over. He stroked them away. God, she was still so stupidly weak, or his nonsense wouldn’t get to her. She cleared her throat. ‘So. Are you all right? Those Tressy pigs shot you.’
‘Pff! Is nothing. A hornet sting. But you—you are so thin! Like a poor starving sparrow. They say you will be completely healed, yes?’
‘That’s what they think.’
‘I thank God for it.’ He made the triple sign. ‘But… I fear there is something you should know.’
Her heart thumped. ‘What?’
‘I saved your life.’
‘I know you did. And I’m truly—’
‘Hush.’ His fingers were on her lips again. ‘In my country, I save a life, that person belongs to me.’
‘Tscha! I don’t belong to you, mister.’
He turned up his palms. ‘What can I say? Is the rule. You are mine now.’
‘But we’re not in your country.’
‘Then I take you to my country. I will steal me another horse and ride away with you and keep you forever—in my heart, in my life, in my bed. Word of a Zaarzuk.’
Footsteps. The main light snapped on. ‘What is the meaning of this?’
The Zaarzuk was on his feet, clutching his shoulder. ‘Matron, it is my wound. It troubles me. I seek medicine, but then I see Ms Nolio’s nightlight is on, so I—’
‘Yes, I’m sure. Mr Dal Ramek, you must leave immediately, or the Master will be summoned.’
‘I go, I go.’ He bent swiftly and kissed Anabara.
‘Mr Dal Ramek!’
‘Remember,’ he whispered. ‘You are mine.’
The light snapped off and he was gone.
Clown. Impudent rogue. She tried in vain to scowl her smile away. The wind stirred the curtains. She heard the bell chime. As she drifted back to sleep she could still feel the imprint of his mouth on hers.
CHAPTER 22
Waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting.
Anabara was not good at waiting. A month passed and they finally let her out of the Infirmary. Not to go home and pick up the threads of her life, to see if she still had any tiny remnant of business left, any clients who hadn’t given up on her and gone to Carramans. Oh dear me no. She was packed off to the Gull village to be fattened up by Aunt Malla’s non-stop seafood-and-stodge-fest.
All the Gullmothers of the village joined forces to keep a sharp eye on her and congratulate themselves on being right all along. Hadn’t they always said Nan Nolio was heading for trouble? Learnt her lesson now though, hadn’t she, eh. High time they found her a husband and put a stop to her nonsense. Messages were sent out through all the Gull settlements near and far. But strangely enough, the young Gull men were not exactly falling over themselves for a bride who got herself mixed up with slavers and Zaarzuks.
She went out on the salt flats each morning to escape the lectures—and the knitting lessons! Baby booties, for God’s sake! Linna was almost sick she was laughing so hard. Instead she started training. Ah, it was good to be flying again. It was late autumn now. The dragon fruit had been harvested and fermented into ale, or threaded on long strings to dry round every Gull hearth. The saltings boy lambs had been slaughtered, all apart from next year’s lucky rams. There seemed to be a great aching emptiness everywhere.
Maybe that was just Anabara. Everyone kept telling her how lucky she was to be alive. But all she could think of was what she’d lost. In the end, the worst thing was losing your innocence. That’s what turned you into a real grown up at last. She wasn’t talking about some sweaty fumble under the quilt. It was coming to terms with the fact the world wasn’t a safe shiny happy place—that’s what lost innocence meant. A daft part of her kept on crying for Dhalafan. The Dhalafan she’d thought she’d known and loved all her life. The Dhalafan who had never really existed.
And Paran, for God’s sake! Why the hell was she missing that bugger? Hadn’t she got what she’d been praying for—release from their nightmare deal, and her little house all to herself again? But here she was, still looking out for him, still hoping that when they finally allowed her home he’d be there waiting for her. She clung on to the Patriarch’s words: he has not abandoned you completely.
Nights were frosty now. All the great Galen divers had migrated south. But sometimes as she flew low over the salt flats she still thought she heard the last echo their call. Come home to me, come ho-o-ome! Linna, belly now the size of a small pumpkin, was reprieved from knitting and sent off with her each morning to supervise the training sessions. Don’t let her overdo it. Don’t let her fly too high. Don’t let her get wet. Make sure she’s back in time for lunch. Oh, and if you do happen to run across a boy who hasn’t heard about her—knock him out, drag him home, and we’ll get them married double quick before he comes round. The young Gull shepherds strode away as fast as their stilts would carry them whenever Anabara showed up. Woo, didn’t want to make eye contact in case they ended up betrothed!
Only Loxi dared keep her company and fly with her. Loxi the mollygull. Live and let live, eh. That’s what all the young Gull bruisers were saying these days. They defied the village elders and the Gullmothers. Refused point blank to try and teach Loxi a lesson and beat the perversion out of him. Nah, live and let live. His business if he cropped his hair short and dressed like a Galen. Let him wear them molly diamond ear studs, him, if that’s what wanted. It was a free world, eh.
Well, nice to see that broad-mindedness and tolerance had arrived in Gull circles at last. Although Anabara had heard there was a rumour going round that Loxi’s diamond studs were actually trophies: one for each ear he had bitten off. And that nobody was keen to see him add to his collection.
Slowly her body healed. Slowly her strength came back. Then one day Enobar sauntered down to the Gull village, sent by Grandmama to spar with her and hone her fighting skills again. Their bouts were watched with interest by the young Gull warriors. His type weren’t normally welcome round here, but the policy of toleration seemed to include him. Sure, to the Gull eye he looked like a shrimpy little girlyboy. But another rumour was doing the rounds. Something about Tressy rivermen singing falsetto after finding themselves on the wrong end of one of those spinning back-kicks. Woo, that boy looked lethal. Nah, no business of theirs what another bloke did with his bits. So long as he didn’t thrust it down their throats, eh. Live and let live.
Delays, setbacks, loopholes and endless frustrating adjournments. Waiting was the name of the game in the criminal justice system, too. Of course it was. Speed was never going to be a priority while top counsels charged fifty gilders an hour.
‘Change of financial arrangements,’ announced Butros one afternoon.
They were sitting on a windswept rock in the middle of a waste of salt furze, far from any snoop charms—unless someone had cunningly concealed one in the gannets that screeched overhead. Butros had exchanged his silk for cashmere and Candacian shearling, while Anabara was bundled up in an old shepherd’s coat belonging to L
inna’s husband Matteo—which smelt of sheep and came down to her ankles—plus a few hundred scarves. She still shivered.
‘From now on my work for you is pro bono.’
‘Oh my God! It’s a trick! You’re not the real Butros Kaledh!’
‘I think “thank you, Butros” is the phrase that’s eluding you here,’ he replied.
‘Thank you Butros. Why are you being nice? It scares me.’
‘Don’t flatter yourself. I am merely bowing to the inevitable. You never pay me. This way I can offset you against tax.’
‘Plus you’re making obscene amounts of money defending the University.’
‘I’m making pornographically obscene amounts of money,’ he agreed. ‘I need a bath after I’ve contemplated it. But that’s enough about my erotic life. The reason I’m here is firstly because you’re the prosecution’s star witnesses. My esteemed colleague, Damora Lhossi, the counsel defending the Tressy scumbags—that’s a technical legal definition—is a completely ruthless lowdown amoral bitch.’
‘Duh, Butros. She’s a lawyer.’
‘And screw you too, darling. Unfortunately, she’s also clever. Not as clever as me, but then, who is? All the same, she’s going to try to rip your testimony to shreds and undermine your reputation in any way she can. I need to be sure you’re prepared, so you don’t balls up my case. Briefly, it hinges on the fact that the Stackmaster was a rogue agent acting by himself, and nobody else knew anything, your honour.’
‘Bullshit! The scholasticus knew!’
‘Did he tell you that? No, he did not. That remark was speculative, and if you repeat it, my client will sue for defamation. As will Carraman, by the way, if you allege anything about his involvement.’
‘But I know he’s involved!’
Butros sighed. ‘You don’t know, you infer. I am not defending any slander action pro bono, so behave yourself please. And secondly—now that Acting Chief Mooby is safely out of hearing—I need to locate that Fay of yours. I don’t want the defence blindsiding me and producing him like a rabbit out of a hat. Where is he?’
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