Yes, I have tried so hard to keep an open mind, and not to let my own cultural leanings influence the oral history we have recorded here, but God knows, it is difficult sometimes.
I remain,
Your dutiful nephew,
Shor iso Fabold
ELEVEN
One look at Flame drove all thought of my own pain out of my mind. She was fighting what was happening to her, but she was losing the battle. Her arm was a vicious red, swollen as far as the elbow, the skin stretched hot and taut. And yet it lacked any signs of putrefaction that a dunmagic death sore would have caused by then, and she did not seem to be suffering much pain. It was fear her eyes held, not pain; so much fear I could hardly bear to meet them.
Ransom clutched at my arm the moment I entered the room; the wretched man always seemed to be clinging to me. ‘Where have you been? Don’t you know how she’s been suffering? Why weren’t you here? The Keepers wouldn’t listen to me!
How could you go off and leave her?’
It was Tor who soothed him, leaving me free to go to Flame. She did not reproach me but her muttered words seared anyway. ‘The bad grows inside me,’ she said. ‘I begin to hate— I think awful things about everyone.’ She looked down at her arm. ‘It’s like this because I’m trying to fight it; once I’ve given in, the swelling will go away. But inside…Oh God, Blaze, the inside of me! Blaze, don’t let me live like this. Promise me. If the Keepers fail—’
I scarcely recognised my voice as I gave her the promise. ‘I’ll see you dead before I’ll see you succumb to dunmagic. I swear it.’
‘You kill her and you’ll have me to contend with,’ Ransom spat in my direction.
Tor interrupted, voice smooth. ‘We have a sea-pony downstairs. Can you carry Flame down, Noviss? We’ll take her to the Keeper Fair.’ He touched me on the arm, acknowledging my slim hold over my emotions. Too much had happened that day. I wanted a bath to wash away the contamination, I wanted to be held and cosseted, I wanted to feel safe.
Instead we took Flame to the Keeper ship.
When Tor and I had returned to The Drunken Plaice from the beach, I had insisted that he not be seen with me. Once we had reached the first of Gorthan Docks’ houses, I had made him walk back to the inn by himself. Now, too, he slipped away by himself to the docks. It was the only way I knew to keep him safe, but we both knew it was a fragile safety at best. I hadn’t wanted him to go to the Keeper Fair with us at all, but he insisted, probably because he knew how close to collapse I was, how much in need of his support. He arranged to meet us at the ship while the Holdheir helped me with Flame.
###
The Keeper on shipwatch was a woman with a hooked nose that spoiled the balance of her face. She had woven a sylvspell to replace the offending beak with a cute retroussé and she didn’t like meeting me face to face one little bit. The retroussé was just a silver shadow to my Aware eyes; in fact, if anything, it drew attention to her flaw. And she knew it. She knew who I was and she knew I saw her exactly as nature had made her and she hated it. She was surly and didn’t want to let us on board.
I insisted Syr-sylv Duthrick be consulted, and finally we were allowed up the gangplank. However, the moment we all stood on the deck, Tor and I exchanged startled glances and began to wonder if the Keeper woman had had another reason for keeping us off. Somewhere below us, deep in the ship, something reeked with sylvmagic warding. The amount of effort that must have gone into the raising of such wards was extraordinary, and for the life of me I couldn’t think what the ship could be carrying that could possibly warrant such a tangle of protection spells.
We were all shown into the wardroom: Ransom, Flame, Tor and myself. Flame was on her feet, but had to be heavily supported by Ransom. While we waited, the two of them sat down in adjacent chairs. Ransom could hardly keep his eyes off Flame’s arm, which did little to reassure her. Tor stood gazing out of the porthole, thoughtful and unobtrusive. I strolled around to examine the room. It was wood-panelled throughout, with intricately carved cornices on the ceiling, and patterned inlay on the floor. The walls were decorated with oil paintings of Keeper Isles scenery: bucolic scenes of gambolling children, red-cheeked milkmaids and neat haystacks inhabited by impossibly cute mice; or clean cobbled streets filled with impeccably dressed men and their smiling wives, going about their business while their red-cheeked children in spotless pinafores rolled hoops and played with dogs. Somehow it left me with the same feeling I would have had if I eaten a whole jar of honey at one sitting.
Some ten minutes later Duthrick entered, alone, his violet eyes flashing his annoyance. He glanced at Tor and dismissed him from his consideration almost immediately. He had no way of knowing that Tor was one of the Awarefolk, and apparently found nothing in the way the Stragglerman dressed or held himself that might interest a Keeper Councillor. He nodded to Ransom, prepared to be marginally more polite, perhaps because the expensive cloth of Ransom’s coat proclaimed him to have the status of the rich, if nothing else.
I explained what had happened to Flame and he glanced down at her, indifferent to both her fear and her beauty. He cut me short with a brusque, ‘I can see what the matter is, Blaze. I am not blind. And this young man was here earlier today telling it all at great length, although a little incoherently. But as I explained to him, to treat her would require more power than that of any one Keeper.’
‘You have more than one,’ I snapped. ‘Consult them.’
He arched an eyebrow in that intimidating way of his, but after a measured moment of thought, he left us to do as I asked and did not come back for almost an hour. I spent most of that time wondering why I was making an enemy of Duthrick. Was I saltwater mad? What possessed me to be rude to the one person I depended on for so much?
When he returned he was more urbane, but he was still alone.
‘We have discussed the matter at length,’ he said. He looked at Flame, not me. ‘We wish you to know that your cure would cost us dearly. We need our sylvpowers to deal with the dunmagic here; to treat you would be to deplete ourselves, at least temporarily. Nonetheless, we are willing to do it. There is however a payment to be made.’
‘I’ll pay it,’ Ransom said in immediate reaction, and then added hurriedly, ‘if the sum is reasonable.’
‘The price is not one you can pay,’ Duthrick told him. He turned his attention back to Flame. ‘We wish to know where the Castlemaid can be found. That is our price.’
I held my breath. I was sure she would tell, and I could see any chance I had of benefiting from the situation vanishing.
Flame was silent so long that Ransom could not restrain himself. ‘If you know, tell him, Flame. He won’t hurt her.’
Flame ignored him and addressed Duthrick. ‘You would have me sell her to you for all time.’
‘We want only what is best for her. She, or her children, will be in a position one day to inherit Cirkase and Breth—most people would hardly consider that a burden.’
‘You already have both islandoms under your sway: she would be your pawn forever.’ Sweat beaded along her forehead; her voice was weak but her resolve held.
‘Even if she were never found, we’d still be in a position to influence those islands.’
‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘You need her. If the Bastionlord can’t have her, he’ll not have anyone. And he might blame you for not bringing him the Castlemaid. He has craved her alone of all women, ever since he glimpsed her without her veil at Cirkasecastle last year. She’s the only one he could ever bring himself to breed from; his interests normally lie in other directions. Besides, if he has no heir of his own get, the line will fall to his much younger cousin—and his cousin does not favour Keepers. Without the Castlemaid, you’ll definitely lose influence over Breth Island eventually. With her, you’ll have the Bastionlord’s gratitude and cooperation for as long as he lives.’
Was that enough to explain Keeper interest in the Castlemaid? I doubted it. Besides, there was a tenseness underneath Duthrick’s bland urb
anity that told me there was more to it than that.
Duthrick continued, still addressing Flame, ‘All that can hardly matter to you. Anyway, you are a sylvtalent. You know us—you are of our kind. We do not use our talents for evil as the dunmagickers do. Our influence is not to be dreaded.’ He managed to sound both hurt and bewildered.
Flame, however, was implacable. ‘Castlemaid Lyssal matters to me. She does not want to wed the Bastionlord. She also glimpsed him, you see, and he wasn’t veiled either.’
God, I thought, she can still joke.
Duthrick looked amazed. ‘You would rather be subverted to dunmagic than tell me where she is?’
She looked him straight in the eye with unself-conscious dignity. ‘No. That I will never allow.’ I tried to intervene, to stop the words I knew she was going to utter, the words that would condemn her, but she continued to hold Duthrick’s gaze and never saw the warning look I threw her. She said, ‘But I would rather die.’
Duthrick pulled himself up, as regal and forbidding as only he knew how to be. ‘Then die.’
His callousness made me draw breath sharply, even though I had sensed it was coming. If he thought he would eventually have to deal with yet another dunmaster, he might have considered curing her before she succumbed; but if she was going to kill herself, then he had nothing to lose by refusing her. She hadn’t seen the trap; she lacked my guile and understanding of what other people could be.
Duthrick didn’t leave the matter there either. He said, ‘Don’t think the death of the dunmaster will free you from the subversion spell. It won’t. Not unless he dies very soon indeed. Once you are a dunmagicker, you will be a dunmagicker for all time. Of your own volition.’
I wondered if he was lying, but then decided he was not. It made sense; subverted sylvs would not want to change back to what they had been, because they would now be dunmagickers, and dunmagickers hated sylvs. So—if the dunmaster died—they would use their own dunmagic to make sure they stayed the way they were. A self-perpetuating perversion. That subversion spell was diabolical.
Ransom, for once, was silenced. It was Tor who spoke. ‘There is nothing to be gained here,’ he said softly to me. ‘Neither Flame nor the Syr-sylv will ever change their minds.’ He nodded at Ransom. ‘Help Flame out.’
Dumbly, Ransom obeyed and Tor followed. Just before he left, he turned to look at me. ‘Some prices are too high,’ he said. I couldn’t decide whether he was offering me the words as an explanation or a warning.
I stayed behind. I felt flayed. My heart had contracted into a hard and painful gall in the middle of my chest. I knew how to save Flame—but she didn’t want to be saved at that price. Haven’t I had enough pain for today? I raged to myself. Must it go on and on?
‘How can you do this?’ I asked Duthrick, in my pain unable to do more than whisper; the feeling of betrayal was almost more than I could bear. ‘It is inhuman.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s your fault. You should have had the Castlemaid in your hands by now.’
‘And if I had, you would have cured Flame without a price?’
He shrugged. ‘Perhaps. But what I said was true: we do not want to deplete our powers just now.’
Bitterness twisted in me, tightening the gall. I knew I’d never be the same again after this day; the guilt would last forever. I made my decision, and blanked out the alternative so that I could go on living with what I did. I didn’t tell him what I knew, and Flame paid a terrible price.
I changed the subject. ‘Do you know about the village of dunmasters to the west of here?’
‘Of course.’
‘Ah, yes. Of course. And don’t tell me—you will deal with it.’
‘That’s right.’
‘There’s enough power there to turn the lot of you into creatures like Flame, the corruption corroding your souls and your bodies until you either kill yourselves or succumb.’
‘We will prevail.’
‘I hope you are right, Syr-sylv. I really do. But let me give you a warning: the dunmaster, the one who is responsible for all this, has put you at the top of his list of people to be dealt with first.’ Of course, it was unlikely that the dunmaster would take my naming of Duthrick too seriously when he heard it from Domino; I had only done it because the Syr-sylv was the one person I could think of who might just have sufficient protection to keep himself safe—reasonably safe, anyway—from a powerful dunmaster. From Morthred, if it was Morthred.
Duthrick looked at me uneasily. ‘How do you know that?’
I grinned. ‘I told him to. More or less.’
It was as good an exit line as any and I turned to walk out of the cabin—but he had to have the last word.
‘Blaze,’ he called after me. ‘What we have warded below: it is physically guarded as well.’
I stopped and looked back. He’d read my next move as if I were an open book, and had aborted it before I could even plan it. ‘Damn you, Duthrick,’ I said quietly. ‘Damn you to the Trench below.’
###
The others were waiting for me on the dock.
I looked at Flame and took her hand. ‘I have one more card to play.’
Fear ignited in her eyes. ‘Don’t go after the dunmaster—’
‘I doubt if I could find him in time. I was thinking of something else. Will you trust me a little longer?’
She focused her eyes on me with an effort. ‘I trust you.’ She wasn’t talking about the hope I offered her; she didn’t believe in it. She trusted me to kill her.
I turned to Ransom. ‘You owe me one hundred and fifty setus.’
He was outraged. ‘How can you think of money at a time like this?’
‘Easily. Pay me.’
‘I said two hundred if she was returned alive and well. Look at her! She’s not well!’
Tor said softly, dangerously, ‘Pay the lady, Noviss.’
‘But—’
‘Pay her.’
He dug into his purse and begrudgingly handed over the money. ‘Now take Flame back to the inn,’ I said.
‘The inn?’ he protested. ‘It's not safe there!’
‘No, it’s not,’ Tor agreed. ‘Not for any of us.’ He looked at Ransom with compassion. ‘I’m afraid it’s not safe anywhere. But the dunmaster is not going to bother Flame for a while yet. He thinks he already has her in his power and all he has to do is wait for her to come to him. So the inn is as good as anywhere else. Come, Noviss, help Flame up onto the sea-pony. The creature is fretting; it needs to get back in the ocean soon.’
When the two of them had ridden off, Tor asked softly, ‘Are you thinking of what the Keepers have hidden? Of finding out what it is and then somehow using the knowledge as a bargaining point?’
I shook my head. ‘No. Duthrick has anticipated that. He knows me too well—it’s guarded with more than sylvmagic and I haven’t quite come to the stage where I can kill Keeper sylvs just to see what they are hiding. I have another way out for her, I hope… Go back to the inn, Tor. I’ll be all right.’
He accepted the dismissal, knowing his Awareness was needed by Flame and Ransom, but not liking the role I had assigned him. I suspected that it was more his duty to Ransom that made him decide to accede to my request, not any desire to oblige me. Had the circumstances been different, he would have come with me no matter what I said. Instead, he jammed on his hat, pulled the brim low, and slipped away across the wharf.
Once he was gone, I went to Niamor’s house. I had to pick my way through sleeping vagrants littering his doorway, and felt a stab of sharp emotion: a mixture of pity, shame, anger—and relief it wasn’t me there. The odour of unwashed poverty was still so familiar and childhood memories welled up in response; I had to push them away, not to think, not to remember.
I was lucky to find Niamor home; normally he would have been out at that time of night, but these were not normal times.
He wasn’t quite as enthusiastic about seeing me as he had been that morning, but he invited me in and gave
me a drink. It was a drink I needed; I hadn’t had nearly enough liquid that day, and I hadn’t eaten since the grilled fish that morning. I choked on the potent alcohol, which prompted him to offer me water as well. It was equally welcome, although Gorthan Spit well-water always tasted faintly of salt and fish.
‘What’s up?’ he asked. He was uneasy, although he hid it well. ‘I still haven’t singled out a name for you.’ He waved a hand towards his desk where a few sheets of cheap paper were scattered haphazardly, as if to say: I’ve been working on it.
My last real hope of extracting Flame entirely unscathed from the mess she was in died within me. I took a deep breath and wished the day would end. ‘I came to warn you,’ I said. ‘The dunmaster knows I came to see you this morning.’
‘So?’ he drawled. ‘He can’t know I’m helping you to identify him. Believe me, Blaze, I’ve been very careful on this one.’
‘Even if he doesn’t have the faintest suspicion about that, you could still be in trouble. Niamor, the dunmaster had the Cirkasian, and I played a part in her rescue. He knows it. He’s vengeful: dunmagickers are like that. Anyone who has had contact with me could be in danger. It’s time for you to move out. I hope it will only be temporary—the Keepers are working on the demise of this fellow.’
‘Damn. You fool, Blaze. Couldn’t you leave well enough alone?’ He gave a quick glance around the room as though regretting what he saw. ‘Damn you, you firebrand. I might have known anyone as splendid as you spelled trouble—’
‘Halfbreeds are always trouble, Niamor, splendid or not. You’d do well to remember that.’
‘Yeah. My mistake.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll send a message to you in a day or so; I’m close to working out who this fellow is. In the meantime, I will move out.’
I didn’t doubt that he had a bolthole already planned for just such an emergency. I said, ‘There’s one other thing you can help me with.’
He threw up his hands. ‘Sheesh. She’s just wrecked my life and now she wants to poke at the remains.’
The Aware (The Isles of Glory Book 1) Page 16
