Katrina circled to the right. It went for her, and again the collar thwarted it. Her eye flicked to him. Silas went to the left. Something cracked underfoot and he sprang back. Other things scattered around his boots. He tried to keep his eyes on the monster, but he had to know…
Bones. A small skull lay on its side next to his foot.
Heat built up in his eyeballs, as though they'd explode and his brains would spew through the holes. He was going to kill this thing.
Silas trod through filth and debris. A bone crunched. The monster bellowed. Its head twisted towards him, then its body jerked round and launched itself. Silas backed away. He swept his blade in front of him, swung it back and forth like a kid waving his first toy sword. Yellow eyes glowered at him. Its mouth opened and slivers of flesh flapped between a million spikes. The chains pulled taut. The monster's thews shuddered. It kept going for him, but couldn't get any closer.
Katrina struck.
It howled, spun round, clawed at her. She leapt backwards. Her left hand gripped her blade partway along its length. Black blood spattered the floor around the creature's feet.
Silas matched her half-sword grip. He lunged, brought the point down into the monster's back. The tip pierced its scales, penetrated the meat, and the creature's whole body quivered. The monster rounded on him. But he was ready. Silas darted away and Katrina struck.
It attacked her again. But its movements were slower now. Ichor poured down its hide, ran along its thighs. She hacked at its hand. Three green fingers fell among the bones. The monster didn't howl this time. It made a noise that was either a moan or a hiss.
The rest was butchery.
They each attacked when it was open, and their half-sword techniques punctured it again and again. It staggered between them like a drunkard, went for one then the other, but got nowhere near either. It tried to spring at Silas and fell onto its knees.
Katrina drove her sword into the base of its neck.
The monster flopped forward. Its chest crashed down onto blood and bone and filth. It didn't even twitch.
They stood there for some moments. Katrina was a statue, but Silas' chest heaved. He gasped, tried to pull air into his lungs, and couldn't quite fill them.
"Congratulations," she said. "Your first monster kill."
First monster kill. First monster kill. First kill…
The girl's eyes flashed in front of him. Silas doubled over and threw up. He spewed until there was nothing left, and still kept going.
"Better?" Katrina said.
Silas looked up, tried to talk, then dropped his head and vomited again. His stomach dredged up more from somewhere. It gushed from his mouth, squirted through his nose.
Katrina waited for him to recover and didn't say a word. In the corridor, Silas fumbled with his scabbard, tried to aim the sword's point into the opening.
"Clean it first."
"Oh… Yeah."
"Here…"
She walked back down the passage, past the cell where the children slept, and wiped her sword on the woman's dress. Silas stared. Katrina looked at him. He squatted down and cleaned his blade on the dead man's doublet. His chest convulsed. He gulped. But nothing came up his throat. The weapon slid back into his scabbard, and it was impossible that the world had changed so much and so little between drawing and sheathing.
"Can you manage?"
Silas nodded. He thought he'd be shaking, but he wasn't. So when Katrina took the farmhands' boy in her arms, he lifted the girl. Lotti murmured something and pressed her head against his chest, but her eyes didn't open.
Upstairs, Harold, the butler, still sprawled where they'd left him. But he groaned and moved when they approached. Katrina set the boy down on a rug. Silas did the same.
"Wha…"
The butler's eyelids quivered. Katrina shook him until they opened.
"Huh? Whu…" His eyes focused on the face above, then on the rug where the children lay. He squealed. "Wait! Don't… Don't kill me! Please! I'm just a servant. I've never hurt anyone!"
"Talk, if you want to live."
"Lord and Lady Harvishti…" He looked past her, towards the stairs. "Are they…?"
"Dead. And their children. Fear us, not them."
He exhaled.
"They're… They were… Chidna worshippers. She's supposed to be the mother goddess of monst-"
"We know who Chidna is. What did they think they were doing?"
"His lordship believed if they made the right offerings, performed the correct rituals, she'd bless the family with power over her offspring."
"The cow on the Fazan farm…" Silas said.
"The young master and mistress were in… high spirits. They went out to mutilate cattle as a sacrifice."
"And snatch children."
"The boy and girl caught them in the act. And since the thing below eats…"
"They thought they'd silence the witnesses by feeding them to it," Katrina said.
"A ghastly affair. I assure you, I warned Her Ladyship and His Lordship that they'd bring ruin to the house, but they wouldn't listen."
"Nobles…"
"Quite."
She helped him to his feet. Harold straightened his uniform.
"If you require a formal statement, I'll gladly denounce them in writing and explain how they threatened me into silence."
"And loot the silverware on your way out."
"Ha! Oh, I don't know about-"
Her hands closed around his throat. The butler wheezed and his eyes bulged. He grabbed her wrists, but Katrina's grip didn't budge. One hand went for her face. Fingers gouged at her eye. She drove his head backwards and it thudded on the doorframe. It struck again, and again. Katrina yanked him back and forth like a hound shaking a rat, and battered his skull against the wood.
Cracks gave way to squishier sounds. His arms dangled and legs crumpled. She tossed him aside. Crimson oozed down the doorframe.
Katrina von Talhoffer picked up the boy. After a moment, Silas Renshaw lifted the girl. They carried the children back to their horses.
***
Barbs of ice ripped through Ghadi's stomach. She tried not to look down. If she did, if the masked woman noticed, somehow that'd make it worse. But she couldn't stop herself. A sword hung from the woman's hip, and even inside its sheath the blade promised slaughter.
She was dead. The Kharji would draw it now, cut her down. Because they were the ones from Traverd. Had to be. And one more life would mean nothing to them. Two lives…
"Is the girl here?" the masked woman said.
The other Kharji moved back, left the two of them facing one another in the doorway.
"I told your friend…" The words came out steadier than she thought possible. "I haven't seen a girl. I haven't seen anyone."
"Yes, I heard what you said. But I'd prefer the truth."
Ghadi put her hand on the door, shifted her weight. But the Kharji placed a foot over the threshold before she could slam it shut.
"Truth?" Heat rushed through her body, blazed inside her eyes. "I haven't seen any child of hers, and that's true enough to tell the gods."
"No, I suppose you haven't. She isn't Jasmina's, but we still need to find her. Where-"
Yallis coughed. The masked woman looked over Ghadi's shoulder, and fire turned to stone in her breast. Ghadi ran to the hearth, seized the poker, stood between them and the crib.
The Kharjis came through the doorway.
Yallis coughed again. It became a splutter. Ghadi wanted to turn, touch her, comfort her. But if she took her eyes off the intruders…
"She's ill," the masked woman said. The tenderness in her voice shocked Ghadi more than any rage or malice could've done.
Jasmina stayed by the front door. The masked Kharji crossed the room, looked into each doorway, and stopped outside Kahla's chamber.
"I'm sorry. You've already lost so much. Did illness take them too?"
"Yes. Please, go. Just go."
The woman unwou
nd the cloth from her head. Ghadi made a sound and bit the side of her tongue, but didn't feel the pain. Black script flowed upon the Kharji's skin. Living tattoos.
"May I see your baby?"
The poker shook in Ghadi's hand. A string of curses and profanities massed in her brain, but she held them back. If she refused… She'd fight. They'd kill her. Then Yallis would die at their hands, or starve while Ghadi's corpse rotted on the floor.
"I swear by Allat, I won't harm her. You see I've been marked by the One Goddess. I'd never break an oath sworn to her."
Ghadi shifted, gave her space to see into the crib. But she drew back the poker and took aim. If the woman went for Yallis, she'd smash her temple.
The baby spluttered again. Then came a sound Ghadi hadn't heard for a long, long time. She stole a glance. Yallis gazed at the markings on the Kharji's face. Another giggle became a rasp.
"I know that cough," the woman said. "And that ashen colour in her cheeks. We saw it in our camp, last year."
She looked Ghadi in the eye.
"Tell me about the girl, and I'll cure her."
The Kharji was lying. It had to be a lie, a monstrous one to make a mother talk. She didn't have to choose. But… That script danced on the woman's cheeks, across her brow, faster than before. She had power. Her goddess had power. And Ghadi knew she was the liar, not the Kharji. Because she wanted it to be true. By all the gods and demons and everything in the whole wide world, she wanted her daughter to laugh and play in this house, not lie outside with her father and sister.
"How? How will you cure her?"
"A few herbs, a few mushrooms, and Allat's favour. If you agree, I'll send Jasmina to gather the ingredients."
"Cure her. Cure her first."
The Kharji held her gaze for several seconds.
"Very well. Though if you refuse to talk after that, I'll have to compel you."
Ghadi said nothing, but the woman went to her companion and murmured. Ghadi caught snatches, the names of flowers and fungi. Jasmina nodded along to each instruction. Then she left. The marked Kharji shut the door behind her.
"My name's Fahmaia. Fahmaia Hashad."
Yallis coughed.
"Ghadi."
The two women stared at one another for a time. Ghadi didn't want to speak, but she had to know…
"What do you want with th-" She stopped herself before she said them. Did they know about Rayya? Were they looking for her too? "…the girl?"
"It's Allat's will. Terrible things will befall the world if we don't find her."
The woman looked at her, waiting. But Ghadi found no words. Yallis wailed and Ghadi put down the poker. She picked her baby up, cradled her, whispered sweet words for minutes or hours. When the door opened again, the sky was darker.
Jasmina unslung a bag from her shoulder and gave it to Fahmaia.
"May I use your kitchen?"
Ghadi nodded. Fahmaia left, and noises came from the next room. The tap of cupboard doors, the slosh of water in a bowl, and countless other once familiar sounds. Ghadi was a ghost, haunting her old home while a new inhabitant cooked a meal in the place she'd fed her family.
Fahmaia returned with a clay bottle. Ghadi flinched when the Kharji reached for the baby in her arms, and Fahmaia paused until she nodded. The woman tilted the bottle. A few drops fell into Yallis' mouth and the baby smacked her lips. The Kharji bowed her head, closed her eyes, and spoke words Ghadi couldn't understand. Her markings quickened, whirled around her face. Ghadi's vision spun. She looked away and the world settled.
Yallis' chest rose and fell. She sucked air deeper than she had for many days, then laughed. A clear, musical laugh. Ghadi's eyes stung.
"How can it work so fast? She only just drank."
"This is Allat's blessing. The drug will take time to complete its work." She tilted the bottle one way, then the other. "You'll need to give her the rest over the next few days."
"Thank you." Wetness blurred the room and the woman and that bizarre script. "Thank you."
"Now you must fulfil your end of the bargain."
Ghadi's face burned. A mass blocked her throat, filled her mouth. But Fahmaia held the bottle before her.
"The girl was here. I gave her food and clothes and sent her on her way."
"What's her name?"
"Clara. I don't know her second name."
"Where did she go?"
Ghadi's mind raced. A dozen falsehoods crawled onto her tongue, but how could she deceive this woman with sorcery crawling across her skin? Fahmaia would know. Somehow she'd sense the lie and draw her sword, or just leave with that medicine. But…
"Lemstras. She wants to go to Lemstras."
"That's over the hills, to the east?"
"Yes."
"Why there?"
"She knows someone in the city. He might take her in."
"Do you know his name?"
"I…" She frowned. What had Rayya said? She groped for it, but nothing came. "I don't remember."
She braced herself. If the sword flew from its scabbard, she'd shield Yallis with her body…
"Thank you." Fahmaia put the bottle on the mantelpiece. "Give her this over the next three days. One dose each morning, one in the evening. Try to give her the same each time, but it won't harm her or stop it working if they aren't exact."
Jasmina opened the door. The Kharjis left, and closed it behind them. Ghadi watched it for a full minute. They were really gone and she was alive. And Yallis…
The baby dozed, but a smile curved her lips. Her lungs drew breaths into her body and sent them back out into the world without a single cough or splutter.
Ghadi sat by the crib and cuddled her child.
Clara… Her eyes burned and blurred again. Tears trickled down her cheeks. That poor, hurt girl who'd thanked her and hugged her… Perhaps she'd be safe. Maybe Ghadi had done enough. The girls were on their way to Hogmire, after all. A roundabout route for anyone going to Lemstras, especially without transport to ease part of the journey. And the Kharjis knew nothing of that. They'd head east instead, wouldn't they? A shorter, quicker path. But one that went through places the locals shunned and only travellers strayed.
They might never make it to Lemstras. And if they did, it was a big city, with peacekeepers. Kharjis couldn't raid it and murder people in the street as they'd done in Traverd.
Ghadi clung to these things, and hoped one day she'd forgive herself. When Yallis woke, when the baby looked up at her and those brown eyes sparkled, it was easier to believe she might.
9
Clara stood on tiptoe. The stepladder creaked under her and she went still. But it didn't topple over, so she reached up into the yellow leaves, palmed an apple, and twisted till it came off the spur. She placed it inside the basket.
The movements were natural, as though she'd always known them. Clara picked several more before she remembered.
"Don't pull them off. Twist them, or you might break the spur."
"If you drop them in like that, they'll bruise."
Her mum wore a brown and yellow dress that day. She'd matched the trees.
Clara plucked another, turned it in her hand. A white thing wriggled in the fruit's flesh. And another. More. She watched the maggots gnaw and burrow for a while, then tossed the apple away.
Did Rayya's mother teach her too? Flame-coloured branches hid her friend's face atop the other ladder. Any tears spilled in secret.
She filled the basket and brought it down. Rayya descended before Clara had a chance to go back up with an empty one.
"Thirsty?"
"Sure," Clara said, though the dryness at the back of her throat was a faint and trivial thing.
"Where'd she say it was?"
"That way, I think?" Clara's arm swept to encompass almost a quarter of the horizon.
They made their way through the orchard, across a field where two goats chewed a boot, to a collection of pens and outbuildings. A girl came along from the opposite direction. She sto
od there, a white bundle in the crook of her arm, and waited for them.
"You the ones doing apples?"
"Yeah. Clara."
"Rayya."
"Tammie." Her smile plumped up her face. It could've belonged to a kid their own age, though the body beneath it was too sturdy for that. "Need something?"
A head popped out from her bundle. The chicken's orange eyes stared at them for a second, then scoured the ground instead.
"Mrs. Darthun-" Clara said.
"Isley. She lets everyone call her Isley."
"Isley… said there's a well, if we wanted a drink."
"I'll show you. Lemme just sort this 'un out."
"Thanks."
"Thank you," Rayya said.
Tammie sat on a stool and put the chicken down. It pecked at the dust. She reached behind her seat, picked up a butcher's knife. The chicken looked up and she struck. Its head flipped over three times before it landed. The bird ran in circles, while blood spurted from its neck.
Rayya went pale and turned away.
Clara squatted down. Droplets sprayed her upper lip. She wiped them away, and a metallic tang filled her nostrils. The chicken almost stepped on its own head.
"Dumb things," Tammie said. "Don't even know when they're dead."
The farm girl grinned, so Clara smiled for her. But it wasn't dumb. You lose everything and you keep on running anyway, go through the motions until…
It flopped on its side. Tammie picked it up by its legs but left the head lying there. She stood up, nudged it with her boot.
"The dog'll have that. Loves crunching 'em." She walked away. The chicken swung at her side, and crimson circles spattered the ground behind her. "The well's over here."
They went past a pigpen. Sows wallowed in mud and watched the girls go.
"Ducks are worse," Tammie said. "They can fly away after you do them. Just fly off, without their heads. Can lose your dinner that way if you're not careful."
At the well, Tammie turned the crank one-handed until the bucket came up. She nodded and the girls grabbed the tin cups which rested there. Rayya dropped hers into the hole, yelped. But Tammie tugged a length of twine and it jumped back out. The farm-girl caught it with the same hand, while the chicken flopped in the other.
Clara Mandrake's Monster Page 11
