by Karen MacRae
“Tell us anything you know that might help us find him.”
The housekeeper shook her head, struggling to stay silent. Truth won. “He has keys to the cupboards in the outer walls,” she blurted. “He uses one as a private den. He has the only key. On the fourth floor.”
One floor below this, on the third, Spider and Sy were circumventing the latest set of Compelled guards they’d come across. They reached the other end of the guards’ corridor within a couple of minutes, their eyes searching for blood on the walls. “There!” called Sy.
Spider found a second handprint sixty paces further on. The Compeller ran. The next imprint was on a corner. He’d swung himself round to run up a flight of stairs. He imagined a man climbing out of the moat and getting away in the dark. “We can’t let him reach the battlements!”
They split at the top of the stairs. Sy searched the walls to the left. Spider searched the walls to the right. “This way!” Spider called. The two took off running once more.
Bojek heard the footsteps run past his den. He giggled, covering his mouth with his hand. They’d never find him. He hummed to himself as he packed a bag with essentials. There was really only one, he grinned: his special oil. He opened the lid and inhaled deeply then dipped in a fingertip and gently rubbed it against his lips. The pain was exquisite. The temptation to do more was almost overwhelming, but he closed the lid and put the jar in his bag. Later, he promised himself. Later.
Spider and Sy came to a halt at the end of the corridor. They’d passed no stairs, but the handprints had stopped. They didn’t need to voice the conclusion. The spy had hidden somewhere along this corridor.
“He’ll kill himself if he knows he’s cornered,” whispered Sy.
“We wait,” agreed Spider.
Bojek admired himself in his small mirror. They’d never recognise him, he grinned. Moments later, a middle-aged, obese woman with blonde hair stepped from behind a wall hanging. Her bloody hand was tucked into the pocket of a deep skirt.
Spider saw the woman approach. “Mistress,” he called, “you shouldn’t be out alone. There’s a dangerous man at large.”
“Dangerous? Oh my!” she warbled, dropping her heavy handbag in shock.
“Yes, mistress, dangerous. I can’t leave my post, but you should get yourself to your assembly point as soon as you can.”
“I’ll go there right now. Thank you,” the frightened woman said. “Would you give me a hand with my bag so I might get there quicker? It’s very heavy.”
“As I said, mistress, I can’t leave my post. I’d be happy to look after your bag and return it later,” Spider offered, keeping his distance from the stranger.
The woman stepped forward, a grateful smile on her face, her hand outstretched to pat the young man’s hand in gratitude. “My thanks, young man.”
“It’s no trouble,” he smiled.
“None at all,” Sy grunted as his huge right hook connected with the spy’s right temple.
A thunder of marching boots sounded from the stairwells. General Braxton was first to the top. The sight of Spider and Sy, a collapsed woman lying between them made him pause.
“Just in time, General. This one needs his arms tied behind his back and taken to Holding. No visitors.”
Masters Peyton and Ffion were given a hero’s welcome in the Great Hall, news of the spy’s capture somehow getting there ahead of them. Seleste astonished her brother by running up to him and giving him the first willing hug she’d given him in more than a decade. Anna was not far behind her. Spider already being occupied, Sy found his chest being headbutted by the Shaper as she crushed her arms around his waist. She’d already lost one friend this night, she couldn’t have borne losing another.
General and Lady Braxton looked on, their grief barely contained. Davy slept in Mistress Oclare’s arms, Luciado at his side. Both boys’ faces were heavily tearstained. The governess still wept.
“Aibreann...” said Sy, his eyes scanning the hall. “Where’s Aibreann?” he asked, his voice rough with expectation.
Seleste shook her head. “We were too late,” she whispered.
Spider and Sy stiffened, fury coursing through their auras.
“Who else?” Spider asked.
“Edevan, three aides and an unknown number of guards.”
“Death is too good for the man,” Sy growled.
“Mistress Manson was working with him. She stabbed Anna with a crested blade.”
“You’re all right?” they gasped, their eyes bulging in concern at the Shaper.
“Thanks to Seleste, yes.”
Spider grabbed his sister in another hug. “Thank you, sister.”
“You’re welcome, Spider.”
Anna watched the silver-grey and bronze auras mingle happily. At least something good had come from this nightmare. She was just wondering when Seleste’s aura had taken on a distinct silvery tint when Captain Laracy cleared his throat right beside her.
“Excuse me, Miss Northcott, but perhaps you could enlighten me as to why there are three men hog-tied in the training square? I could get nothing from the Iliyethan officer or the dozen recruits surrounding them except that they were waiting for you.”
“I’ll fill you in later, Captain, but I’m afraid they’ll have to wait for Miss Northcott,” Lady Braxton explained. “She’s needed in a Council meeting. You too, Miss Peyton, Master Peyton, Master Ffion.”
Lord Edevan’s third-in-command replaced the murdered Councillor and his second-in-command. He wisely followed Lady Braxton’s instruction to keep his mouth closed unless anything they decided on was against the King’s Law. His one and only contribution was a wobbly, “Oh my!”
Anna and her friends arrived at Holding an hour later. Bojek had been bound and moved into a room where they could observe his behaviour. He was tied to a steel bed built into the floor, his disguise removed. He wore only his underpants. His wounded hand had been treated with Anna’s mother’s herbs and a fresh bandage applied. No Healer had been allowed to waste their well on the monster, but he would avoid a quick death by blood poisoning.
Anna trickled just enough energy into the Compeller’s aura to wake him. She left his thumping headache as it was. They watched him lie still for several minutes before testing his bonds, but the only way they were coming off was if they were cut off, so he soon gave up.
Seleste and Anna saw his aura change as different plans were dreamed up and discarded. Frustrated, he began to hit his head on the wall. The rhythm was hypnotic. Slow to begin with, it built up until the thud came every second, harder and harder until blood splattered the wall.
Still Bojek thrashed. Suddenly, he stopped, groaning loudly with pleasure rather than pain. He sighed with satisfaction then began to shout. “I’m hurt. I need a Healer. I’m hurt. I need help. Is anyone there?”
A slit in the door opened briefly for a guard to assess the situation. Five minutes later, two volunteers opened the door and stepped inside. One carried a sponge, herbs and water. She approached the spy carefully. The other remained on guard, his sword drawn.
“I’m going to need to clean it,” Beitris said to the prisoner. “No gifting or my friend here will have the King’s Shaper cut your balls off and eat them for supper.”
Anna bristled slightly until she realised Beitris was joking. Not that Bojek knew that.
Beitris leaned over the prisoner and began to bathe his head with the sponge. “I’m going to need your help, Hew. Will you hold him down for me?” she asked, her voice expressionless. Compelled.
Anna drew energy from her dagger, ready to protect the Dornie guards, but Bojek had bigger plans than petty revenge. The watchers looked on as Beitris sliced open Bojek’s bonds and sat patiently with the man to await her partner who’d rushed off to get a third uniform. Within ten minutes, Bojek was standing before them in full Kingdom uniform, looking smug, a grin all over his too-thin face. He placed his hands on the Dornie guards’ arms and whispered new commands. They each wrapp
ed an arm around the prisoner.
The three drinking buddies took two paces towards the door before toppling to the floor.
Bojek awoke in a new cell three hours later. He was clothed in underpants and a shapeless smock in soft cloth. His arms, legs, torso and head were bound tightly to the bed. There was no way to self-harm. Worse, he was going nowhere. He spat a string of swear words.
He told himself that he still had a chance. If he could get close enough to the bitch, he could wipe her out. He passed the time thinking of ways to kill her, ways to get her to kill herself. The sound of bells interrupted his daydreaming. One long peel followed by one short peel: a level one alarm. All the bigwigs from town and every person who worked in this monstrosity of a building were required. He could imagine them all rushing to comply. Morons. Sheep. He smiled. It would be good to have an audience.
Anna and Seleste were finishing dressing when they heard the bells. Anna brushed her hair as she looked out the window at the garden. Her thoughts turned to Aibreann, to how the girl had welcomed her and made her feel beautiful even though she knew she wasn’t. How she had made her laugh, taught her to curtsey and glide, eased her nerves. How she’d woven magic into Anna’s hair. Anna wandered over to the dressing table. She opened a small drawer and ran her fingers through the beads. She’d never wear them again. She would never see Aibreann again.
“It’s going to be terribly quiet,” said Seleste, Reading Anna’s thoughts. “Too quiet, even for me.”
Anna nodded. “I don’t suppose you do hair?” she asked her companion, smiling through the tears.
Seleste’s face didn’t move a muscle.
Anna smiled. “No, I didn’t suppose you did.”
There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” called Seleste.
A pale Davy stood in the open doorway, his hands behind his back. Luciado hovered nearby for moral support. “Anna, I thought you’d want this. Aibre…” The boy gulped back tears. “Aibreann made it for you. She’d planned to give it to you when your training was done, but I thought you’d like it now.”
Anna took the gift from Aibreann’s baby brother’s outstretched arms. She turned it over in wonder. It was a gorgeous comb, covered in tiny beads of all the colours of the rainbow.
“It’s beautiful, Davy. I’ll treasure it… Aibreann was a very special person. I’d only known her a short time, but I will miss her terribly.”
Davy nodded bravely then gave the Shaper a small bow and left, his blind shadow beside him.
Anna went to the mirror. She swept up her black hair and pinned the comb in place. She turned from side to side, admiring the strands of stringed beads that moved with her hair, each one sparkling in the light. It went with the rainbow dress perfectly. A tear fell down her cheek. Seleste’s hand touched her shoulder.
“It’s time. We need to go.”
CHAPTER 39
T he training square was crammed with people all talking at once. In the centre of the massive space stood a long platform, a handful of chairs at either end. In the middle stood the boulder of Aurovian crystal used for the King’s Oath ceremony. Other than to allow shorter onlookers to the front, the crowd had not been told where to stand. They encircled the platform in three rough groups: guards, staff and visitors. One in ten were holding a small, transparent plate. These had been handed out at random as people had gathered and were now being passed around in wonder.
Just outside the square, Lord Cassidy came to shake Anna’s hand. “Good luck, Miss Northcott,” said the King’s Organiser, bowing slightly. Anna curtseyed and murmured her thanks.
Lord Witheridge joined them, smiling at his favourite student. “Have you spotted my glasses? Mia came up with a way to make it in batches. She’s a wizard, you know.” His face grew serious. “You’ll put on a good show? We’re relying on you,” he said quietly, sincerely.
“I’ll do my best, milord,” Anna promised, bobbing a curtsey to the Scientist.
General and Lady Braxton stood a little separate from the others, their faces grey with grief. The spy mistress turned to face the girl in the rainbow dress. “For Aibreann, Anna. And Luciado. And all the others,” she said, her voice close to breaking.
“I swear,” Anna promised, dropping into a curtsey fit for the King. Just like Aibreann had taught her.
Anna, Seleste, Spider and Sy waited by the gate as the Councillors and Lord Edevan’s assistant marched to the platform. The sun peeked through between dark clouds as they climbed the steps. The rainy season wasn’t far off.
The General’s gift-enhanced voice boomed for quiet. “You are here to witness and give opinion on two trials. The first is that of three men accused of brutal rape and attempted murder.” Murmurs rippled through the crowd. “The second is that of a man and woman accused with espionage, terrorism, murder and attempted murder.” Gasps and oohs echoed through the audience. “Here this! The King’s Shaper will ensure the guilty never harm another person of the Kingdom.”
Anna began her walk to the platform in complete silence, her three leather-clad and fully armed personal guards fanned out behind her. The murmurs grew as the glasses were passed around the crowd.
“Her aura’s white.”
“No one else’s aura is white.”
“That white glow is amazing with the hair and the outfit.”
“Why’s her aura so much brighter than everyone else’s?”
Anna put the whispers from her mind as she took her place in the middle of the stage.
Silence fell as the accused rapists were marched up to the far end of the platform and made to sit.
“Your commanding officer has given you over completely to our jurisdiction. The penalty for brutal rape and attempted murder is life imprisonment and hard labour in the King’s Tullen mines for life. The Council has heard testimony from the victims. Captain Roscoe of the Iliyeth Army, Miss Seleste Peyton and Miss Anna Northcott, the King’s Shaper, have also testified. With Miss Peyton’s assistance, the Shaper personally Healed the two women who have come forward. Both women had numerous broken bones and bruised flesh all over their body. One victim had multiple knife wounds. She would have died had she not received prompt Healing. How do you plead?”
The General’s gift ensured the muttered “Not guilty” from the three men was heard by all. They also heard Anna’s response.
“They lie.”
All eyes snapped to the Shaper. The General nodded and Anna walked forward to stand before the three men. The audience didn’t need Lord Witheridge’s glasses to see their fear. The accused had all witnessed the King’s Oath ceremony. They knew what was at stake.
“I may choose to go easier on the first to tell the truth without my prompting,” the Shaper told the men, her voice carrying over the silent crowd.
The junior officer started to babble. The others had got him involved. It hadn’t been his idea. It’d been the Major who’d found the girls. It’d only been a bit of fun. The women deserved it really. They’d liked it. They’d caved like cowards when they’d been told that no one would listen because The Kingdom’s relationship with Iliyeth was more important than they were. The Major and the Lieutenant had always made him go last. The Major loved to slash breasts with a knife.
His co-accused tried to talk over him, but the General made sure that the man’s words were heard by all.
“What do you say, people of Alsham?” he called when the man fell silent.
A resounding call of “Guilty” came from the crowd.
“Captain Laracy, these rapists are to be displayed, naked and chained, in the town square for three days. They are to receive only a basic breakfast and water. They will then be taken by caravan to Tullen where they will serve the people of The Kingdom for the rest of their lives. King’s Shaper, you are hereby ordered to remove any urge from these men to ever again force themselves on a woman.”
Anna nodded to the General and stepped in front of the three men. She called to the crystal under her robe and lifted a hand
to point at the first man’s aura. She knew only too well where lust resided. She blocked it under a mass of intricate ribbons of white light and squeezed it so tight it could never be opened. Next, she blocked the man’s need for power. Finally, she opened wide his conscience and sense of shame. The man wept at the memories of his crimes.
Glasses were passed in the audience. New eyes watched the King’s Shaper repeat the procedure on the second and then the third man.
“Did you see the light going from her hand?”
“What’s she doing?”
“What’s the light?”
“They’re crying and she didn’t even touch them.”
The Compeller and the housekeeper heard the crowd’s call of guilty and their gasps and whispers at the Shaper’s work. Bojek had been attached to long poles so no one need touch him, but he was close enough to his conspirator to share looks and a couple of urgent whispers. He would not go down without one last attempt to fulfil his mission. He might not get to touch the Shaper, but he might distract her while the housekeeper turned her. That would be more than enough.
The spies heard their names being called. The guards marched them to the platform and up the steps at the far end of the stage. The rapists had been removed. Bojek sneered as the General addressed them.
“You are accused of espionage, terrorism, murder and attempted murder. How do you plead?”
“Guilty,” the housekeeper wept, Anna’s Shaping giving her no option but to tell the truth.
Bojek made no reply.
“Is this man guilty?” the General asked Mistress Manson, pointing towards her co-accused.
The housekeeper fought to stay quiet, but her “Yes” blurted out for all to hear.
“Who do you work for?” asked the General.
“Nystrieth, Emperor and God,” intoned the woman, her fanaticism showing through for the first time. Anna saw the black pulse behind the housekeeper’s false golden oath badge. The workmanship that allowed the dual pledge was a thing of beauty.
Bojek again gave no reply.
Anna saw the General’s nod and stepped forward to stand in front of the Compeller. He growled at her and pushed at the poles, trying to force his way through to her; the guards had to fight to keep him still. She flinched but stood her ground.
