by Martin Ash
‘And what’s the other thing?’ asked Meglan, quietly seething.
‘The second point is that I’ve already witnessed the effect a mere glimpse of this strange stone can have on you. Who’s to stay what it would do were you to carry it on your person for several days?’
‘It was more than a glimpse, Father.’
‘Is that the only defence you offer? The fact is, you were gravely disquieted. It upset you, for some indeterminable reason. I’ve seen it render similar effects on others. It doesn’t affect me in that way, nor Sildemund. Therefore, though I’d far rather go in person, as I cannot Sil is best qualified to take my place.’
‘But at least I have awareness of the stone’s qualities!’ Meglan protested. ‘Who knows, it may be wreaking an effect upon you and Sildemund without your being aware of it! Look at what has already happened!’
For an instant Master Atturio was lost for a response, this being something he’d not considered. He wondered at his fascination with the stone, his attraction to it. Was it possible that it could be exerting an influence on him, imperceptibly?’
No! He banished the thought, irked with himself and with Meglan for suggesting it.
Sildemund was frowning. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘There’s something in this stone,’ Meglan began. ‘It has a bad aura.’
‘Silence!’ fumed Master Atturio. ‘There’s nothing in it. It’s a stone, that’s all. A strange and mysterious artefact, but it has no power.’
‘How can you say so – ‘
‘Enough! I’ve made my decision. Sil, send out immediately for Gully and Picadus. Have them rendezvous with you here. I want you to leave as soon as you’re able.’
Sildemund departed. Meglan glared at her father and Master Atturio found himself unwilling to meet her gaze.
‘Why not have Sil sell it in Dharsoul?’ she said. ‘Be rid of it.’
‘I’ll sell it when I’ve ascertained its value to my satisfaction.’ Atturio felt a pang of conflicting emotion. There was profit to be had from this stone, he was sure. At the same time he was vaguely aware of an unfamiliar feeling deep within him, an as yet undefined feeling of fascination with the object he had unearthed. ‘That’s the time to sell, and not before.’
An hour later the horses were packed and saddled. Gully and Picadus waited outside as Sildemund said goodbye to his father and sister.
‘Remember, act wisely and stay safe,’ said Master Atturio, embracing his son. ‘Heed the advice of Gully and Picadus – but listen: they don’t know that you have the stone, nor your real purpose in Dharsoul. It’s better to keep it that way. They won’t ask questions, so don’t volunteer information. They’ll guard you with their lives. So go well, my son. Do the job and return home quickly.’
Sildemund straightened. ‘You can rely on me, Father.’
He turned and hugged his sister, holding her firmly, kissing her head. ‘Dear Meg, I’ll miss you. I’m sorry we’ll be apart again, so soon. But I’ll be back in a few days. While I’m gone I charge you with our father’s welfare.’
Meglan drew back. ‘I should be with you.’
‘No, Father needs you more.’
‘Don’t be impetuous, Sildemund. Stay clear of danger.’
Her brother smiled. ‘Have no fear.’
She kissed him hard. ‘Go safely!’
Sildemund left the bedchamber. He said goodbye to Neena downstairs and went outside and mounted his horse, pulling up his hood to shield him from the fierce heat of the sun and wrapping his dustmask over his face. Meglan followed him to the front door and stood with old Neena who, caught up in the emotion of the occasion, dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.
Sildemund waved, the thrill of anticipation and adventure alive in his breast. With his two companions he set off for the Dharsoul road.
~
‘There’s a man to see you. A Mister Skalatin.’
It was evening. Meglan, closing the shop, had been startled by the presence of a swathed figure standing motionless in the dusky shadows close by the door.
‘Skalatin?’ Master Atturio roused himself from a light doze. ‘I don’t know anybody of that name. What does he want?’
‘As I said, to see you. He won’t reveal anything of his purpose to me, a mere flittering girl. He insists you’ll know what it’s about.’
Her father frowned. ‘Well, he’s mistaken.’
‘Father, he’s adamant that you’ll most definitely want to talk to him. His manner is forceful, and cold. He’s… I don’t like him.’
‘Where is he?’
‘I had him wait downstairs.’
‘You’d better show him up, I suppose.’ Master Atturio eased himself into a more comfortable position on the bed.
Meglan hesitated at the door. ‘Father, there’s something about this man. He’s not pleasant. Be careful.’
Atturio smiled. ‘Child, you fuss too much over me. Do you think I’m so ingenuous?’
‘No, but you’re confined here, and immobile.’
‘You believe Mister Skalatin intends me harm?’ Atturio’s smile became pronouncedly sceptical.
‘Father, don’t mock me. I don’t know what he wants, but I don’t like him.’
‘I’m not mocking, but nor am I as helpless as you might think.’ He withdrew his bandaged hand from beneath the sheet. In it he held a gleaming, curved-bladed dagger. ‘Don’t worry for me, Meg. Show this visitor up, please.’
The visitor entered moments later, with Meglan just behind. Master Atturio thanked his daughter and she retired. As she went, she failed to fully close the door of the bedchamber. She made her way quickly downstairs to the scullery, took up a long kitchen knife and concealed it in the folds of her skirts, then crept back up the stairs. Halfway to the top she took up a position where, concealed by the dark, she might overhear everything that was said in her father’s room.
Master Atturio appraised the stranger. Skalatin has placed himself near the end of Atturio’s bed, just beyond the fullest glow of the candles, so that he was largely in shadow. He stood perfectly still, almost as if inanimate. He appeared slight of build of about average in height. He was clad in a dark burnous and kept the cowl raised, preventing Master Atturio from making out much of his face.
What he could see was not pleasing to the eye. Cadaverous features, unusually pale. A sharp, bony chin and tight, narrow mouth like a pallid gash. The eyes, deep in shadowed sockets, reflected darting pinpoints of light. One hand was clutched close to his throat, showing knobbled white knuckles and pale, thin fingers. Master Atturio was in little doubt that this was the man he had glimpsed the previous day, who had knocked him to the ground in the doorway of the taverna.
He understood that Meglan had the measure of the man: he was a danger. He had stabbed Dervad in the hand. Atturio gripped the hilt of his dagger beneath the cover, but his bandaged hand throbbed with pain. His palm had begun to sweat and he wondered how firm his grip would be were he forced to use the weapon.
‘What do you want?’ he said without warmth. ‘Are you here to offer apologies, to tender reparation for the injury and inconvenience you’ve caused?’
Skalatin eyed him in silence for a moment. His voice, when it came, was a subdued rasp, quite without emotion. It carried an accent that Atturio could not place. ‘I come merely as the representative of another.’
‘What other?’
‘One who is prevented from coming in person.’
‘And what does this ‘other’ want?’
‘You already know the answer to that.’
‘I do not.’
‘You took something that isn’t yours. It is the ancient property of another, who wants it back.’
‘I do not know to what you refer.’
Skalatin gave a sigh, with the sound like the scrape of sand over bones. ‘Games are tiresome. Let me state the obvious. I refer to the red stone, which you removed from its resting place. I’ve come to relieve you of its burden.’
/> ‘It was buried. Hidden in unclaimed wilderness. Hence, it’s mine by right. And it’s no burden.’
Skalatin’s voice grated. ‘It is not yours. The one I speak of will have it back.’
‘You can provide proof of ownership?’
‘You are irksome, old man. Let me tell you that patience is not a virtue that my client is prepared to indulge in. That’s not to say, however, that generosity is absent.’ Skalatin brought from beneath his burnous a leather pouch which he tossed onto Master Atturio’s bed. The pouch landed heavily, with a dull chink. From its open neck spilled coins.
‘Fifty gold crowns,’ said Skalatin. He raised his hand to his mouth and gave a dry cough. ‘That’s the price my client is prepared to pay to recover property that is already his. No questions. Give me the stone now and the money is yours.’
Atturio stared wide-eyed at the money. It was a small fortune. In a year of dealing in contraband over international borders he could hardly hope to make as much in clear profit.
‘A more than generous sum,’ said Skalatin. ‘For, believe me, the one I speak of need pay nothing at all.’
Atturio looked back at him, angered in equal measure by both his manner and the shadows that seemed to collude with the man to obscure his face. ‘Your client must be a very wealthy man.’
Skalatin said nothing.
‘Why is he so anxious to regain the stone?’ Atturio asked.
Skalatin gestured irritably. ‘It’s no matter to you! Can I believe this? Do you really hesitate? I hadn’t taken you for such a fool!’
‘Your manners leave much to be desired,’ said Atturio with a greater confidence than he felt. He chose his next words carefully, and his throbbing fingers curled more tightly around the dagger hilt. ‘I don’t have the stone. That’s to say, it’s no longer here.’
Skalatin’s whole body shuddered, his dry voice rising with an almost palpable anger that made Atturio’s skin crawl. ‘Then where is it?’
‘That I’m not presently prepared to say.’
‘You are worse than a fool!’ Skalatin stepped forward and snatched up the leather pouch. A portion of his face entered the candlelight. Atturio glimpsed sallow, stretched, broken skin like decayed parchment, a nose and cheek that seemed little more than bone. Then the face was back in shadow. ‘I’ve already said that patience is not my client’s greatest virtue. Take heed, old man, the price you’ll pay for non-compliance will be more than you can bear. Be sober, then. I shall return tomorrow and you will trade me the stone then.’
Skalatin turned before Atturio could muster a reply, and swept from the room.
On the stair he came upon Meglan who, unprepared for such a sudden exit, had no time to move away. Skalatin halted, and gave a low chuckle. He leaned in close to her. She drew back, pressing herself against the wood panel of the wall behind. She found herself held by his eyes – or rather, by the darkness that hid them. She glimpsed a chill, distant glitter in a blackness that seemed to have a depth she could not take in.
Involuntarily, Meglan uttered a sob of fear. Skalatin’s hand rose to caress her cheek, its touch dry and wintered. She was overcome with revulsion, yet lacked the power to resist him. The reek of his breath, so close, made her gag.
‘Chi-ld,’ he breathed. ‘So-o beautiful. Oh yes, you are per-fect.’
There was a thud upon the wooden floor between them. The knife that Meglan had held in her skirt had dropped from her hand. Skalatin chuckled again. He lowered himself and tugged it free, clasped the handle, then held it up before her face. Meglan saw, or thought she saw, a sudden brief flicker in the cowled dark of his eyes. He thrust forward. The blade ran past her cheek and plunged deep into the panel behind her.
Skalatin levered the blade up and down. Meglan heard, close in her ears, the tortured wood fibre splintering, sundering. Skalatin’s lips were beside her other ear, his chuckle intimate and vile. He inhaled, slowly and deeply, in such a manner that she felt something was being sucked out of her. As if to confirm this he made smacking sounds with tongue and lips. He gave a low grunt, a breathy sound, then pushed himself away, pulled his cloak about him and passed on down the stairs.
Meglan remained frozen where she stood until she heard him leave the house, his footsteps passing beyond earshot on the street. Retching, she ascended the remaining stairs, her limbs trembling, and entered her father’s room.
IV
‘You must do as he says!’ Meglan implored. ‘He’s a devil! He isn’t human!’
‘Patience, Meg. You’re overwrought!’
‘Overwrought? Overwrought? Father, this stranger has insulted, injured and menaced you. He has stabbed Dervad. What more do you need. He is dangerous, and you worry because I show an emotional response?’
‘I’m thinking more about what this means. Skalatin is a felon, quite possible a madman. I could have him arrested, it wouldn’t be a problem. But I’m reluctant to take that step. He comes to us with a generous offer, claiming to be the representative of some anonymous personage even more mysterious than he. Who can his client be, I wonder. And why, why is he so anxious to regain this stone?’
Meglan, seated beside the bed, clenched her fists before her in exasperation. ‘Father, we don’t care who or why! He’s offering good money in exchange for the stone. Take it, then, and be rid of that hateful object.’
‘Hateful? It really has disturbed you, hasn’t it? But I find nothing hateful in the stone itself. And plainly it has a high value – possibly higher than I’d imagined. If Skalatin’s client is willing to offer fifty crowns on first contact, I’d wager he could be persuaded to raise it to seventy, even eighty, without great effort. A hundred, even!
Meglan vented a small scream. ‘What is the matter with you? This is not a man to haggle with. Take the money! Give him back the stone! Please, let’s be done with it.’
‘You forget, Meg. I no longer have the stone.’
‘You shouldn’t have sent Sil away with it! I’ll go after him. If I ride swiftly I’ll catch him before he reaches Dharsoul. You somehow stall Skalatin until we return. If I go now, we could be back in a couple of days. Protect yourself; employ bodyguards. When Skalatin sees that you are sincere, he and his client will surely be persuaded to wait a short while longer.’
Master Atturio shook his head. ‘Sildemund is already ten hours gone. You could not leave before morning, and even then the road is dangerous for a young woman alone.’
‘I’ll take guards.’
‘No! You wouldn’t catch up with him. He won’t be long in Dharsoul. By the time anyone reached him he would be preparing to return, anyway.’
‘Something could delay him in Dharsoul. At least if he’s warned, he’ll return immediately.’
‘I’ve said no, Meg. Besides, Skalatin’s interest makes me all the more intrigued to discover what Sildemund can learn about the stone.’
‘Oh Father, don’t you see how unwise this is? Skalatin will return in the morning. What are you going to tell him, then?’
‘I’ll explain that I’m expecting the stone to be returned to me. I won’t tell him where it is. I’ll ask him to wait a few days more.’
‘And if he won’t accept that?’
‘Does he have a choice? It’s the truth, after all. What can he do? He may be villainous, but we’re ready for him now.’
Meglan stared long and hard at him, a tumult of emotion in her breast. ‘He’s capable of worse than villainy. I sense it. He has wickedness within him. I don’t want you to become his adversary.’
‘Calm yourself, Meg. You worry too much. I won’t oppose him. I’ll simply endeavour to negotiate, as is my nature. If Skalatin is unwilling, then I’ll accept his fifty crowns and give him the stone as soon as I have it back. Now, I’m tired and it’s getting late. Would you be good enough to plump my pillow and extinguish the candles so that I can sleep?’
Meglan did as she was asked. When she had gone, Master Atturio lay for a long time in the dark, stroking his grey whiskers, d
eep in thought.
~
Midway through the morning Doctor Sibota called again, as he’d promised, to check on Master Atturio’s progress. The swelling of Atturio’s knee had reduced slightly but Sibota was still unable to fully determine the extent of the injury.
‘There may be a fracture, it remains impossible at present to say. Keep applying cold compresses, and keep the foot high, on pillows or some other support. Now, your hands.’ The doctor unbound Atturio’s hands, inspected them and declared his satisfaction. ‘The healing process has begun. I’m relieved to see it. You are more fortunate than your man. His wound shows signs of severe infection.’
‘Dervad?’
‘That blade had been steeped in filth or some kind of pernicious agent.’
‘How serious is it?’ asked Atturio with concern.
‘I’m doing all I can to contain it, but it has advanced more rapidly than I could have anticipated. I’m striving to prevent an eating sore. If putrefaction sets in he will be lucky to lose no more than the hand.’
‘Lose the hand? Spare neither effort nor expense, Sibota. Charge your account to me, but do not let him come to harm.’
The doctor bathed Atturio’s hands and dressed them with clean linen, then departed. An hour later Meglan came taut-faced into Atturio’s bedroom. ‘Skalatin’s back. He’s downstairs.’
Atturio pushed himself into a sitting position. Despite himself his heart had begun to pound. ‘Send him up.’
Meglan hesitated. ‘Would you rather I told him we don’t have the stone at present, and ask him to return?’
‘No, just send him up.’
But there was no need. Skalatin was already in the room
‘Where is it?’ he demanded.
Meglan protested loudly, ‘Do you have no manners?’
‘It’s all right, Meg,’ Atturio said. ‘Let me speak with Mister Skalatin.’
With reluctance Meglan departed. Skalatin’s eyes swept the room. ‘I do not see the stone.’ He was dressed as before in a dark burnous. Though the light was better it did not help, for his face was obscured, the lower half concealed by a filthy black dust-scarf. He strode to the bed and stood looking down at Master Atturio. ‘Well? I am trusting that you have considered well during the night and come fully to your senses. But I do not see it.’
