by Martin Ash
The gelid glitter of his eyes darted, taking in every corner.
Master Atturio cleared his throat, trying to conceal his nervousness. ‘I don’t have it at present. I am, however, doing all I can do secure it again without delay.’
Skalatin gave a dry rasp of contempt. ‘Where is it?’
‘It is on its way to me.’
‘That’s not good enough!’
Without warning Skalatin stepped suddenly forward and climbed up onto the bed. He stood erect, callously kicking aside Master Atturio’s injured leg. Atturio cried out in pain. Skalatin paid him no heed. He lowered himself onto his haunches, straddling Atturio’s legs. Thrusting his torso forward he slid up on hands and knees until his masked face, loathsome and sallow, hovered just inches above Atturio’s.
Atturio, in outrage and fear, struggled to draw his dagger from beneath the cover. His assailant emitted a guttural snarl, tossing his head back in derision. One clawlike hand came from beneath his burnous and seized Atturio’s wrist with a force that paralyzed. Atturio gasped with pain and his knife slipped from suddenly limp fingers.
Skalatin’s hand shifted so that it covered Atturio’s. He increased the force of his grip, slowly and deliberately squeezing Atturio’s injured hand with a strength that seemed more than human.
Atturio cried in helpless agony. The putrid vapour of Skalatin’s breath choked him, burrowing deep into his lungs. He struggled, gagging, weak as a child in Skalatin’s grasp.
Skalatin gave a grunt. He slightly eased the pressure on Atturio’s hand. Atturio, gasping, stared into those inhuman eyes, drawn into something cold, lifeless and unspeakably distant.
‘Old man,’ Skalatin slowly rasped, ‘I warned you that my client lacks patience. Do I have to demonstrate to you the price you will pay if you try to obstruct him? You will not bear it!’
Atturio took a few gasping breaths. ‘I’ll get the stone! It will just take a little time!’
With a scornful gesture Skalatin released him and sat back astride his middle. His voice grew calm but all the more intimidating. ‘I shall return. You will have the stone.’
He got down from the bed. As he did so there was a crash as the door flew open. It slammed into the wall behind as Meglan burst in, a kitchen knife held high in one hand.
‘Get off him!’ With no thought for her own safety she hurled herself at Skalatin.
Skalatin stepped towards her with a swift fluid motion, deftly grabbing her wrist.
‘I already have,’ he said, and his other hand flew out, almost casually, ramming into Meglan’s chest. As she staggered under the blow his fingers curled around the neckline of the embroidered caftan she wore. He twisted the material, hoisting her virtually off the ground. Meglan’s face turned crimson as he held her on her toes. Her hands clawed at his wrists, her windpipe blocked by the knot of her clothing in his fist.
‘No! Please! Leave her!’ Master Atturio called out, struggling to rise from his bed.
Skalatin let out a harsh, scornful sound. With the same hand he yanked Meglan clean off her feet. He swung her around and tossed her effortlessly across the room. Slamming into a wardrobe, she folded to the floor.
‘Meg!’
Before her body had even settled Skalatin had swivelled to face Master Atturio. He raised his arm and targeted Atturio with a minatory finger. ‘Your man is marked. He will show you the price.’
He turned, and was gone.
Master Atturio dragged himself from the bed and across the floor to where his daughter lay motionless. ‘Meg! Meg!’
He tore loose the clothing at her throat then slapped her cheek, sobbing in horror at the sight of her limp form. To his relief her eyes half-opened, rolled, closed again. She gave a moan. Master Atturio took her in his arms and held her. ‘Meg, my darling, my baby. It’s all right. Don’t be afraid. He’s gone. It’s all right now.’
Meglan came back to awareness. She cast her eyes quickly around the room, then clutched her father as her body shuddered.
‘Are you hurt?’ asked Atturio.
She gingerly stretched her limbs, then gave a slow shake of her head. ‘Not seriously. Some bruises, I think, and my throat… Are you? What did he do to you?’
‘I’m all right. Don’t worry.’
‘Oh Father, what is he? He can’t be a man!’
‘Don’t worry. We’ll be rid of him soon.’
‘Why did you bring this stone to us? I knew as soon as I saw it that there was something malevolent in it. I felt it. It’s evil. Where did you get it?’
Master Atturio held her head against his breast and said nothing. After a while Meglan freed herself from his embrace and stood. There was the sound of a footstep outside the door. Both of them stiffened, then sagged with relief as Neena came into the room. At the sight of the two of them the old housekeeper gave a cry of shock, her hands flying to her mouth. ‘What has happened?’
‘It’s all right, Neena,’ Atturio said, mustering a show of calmness. ‘There was a misunderstanding, that’s all.’
The absurdity of that statement brought a sharp burst of laughter from Meglan. She stifled the sound, feeling herself rising towards hysteria.
‘Who was that man?’ said Neena, bewilderment on her face. ‘He stormed out. He stared at me so… so… Oh, what has he done to you?’
‘Neena, it’s nothing. Go back to your duties, please.’ Atturio extended a hand to his daughter. ‘Help me back to the bed, Meg. I must lie down.’
‘I’ll send for Sibota,’ said Meglan as, with her help, her father settled himself into a seated position on the edge of the bed.
Atturio shook his head. ‘There’s no need.’
‘Father, what are we going to do?’
Atturio, taking deep, laboured breaths, hung his head in despair. ‘I’ll give him the stone.’
‘But we don’t have it! It will be days before Sil returns.’ She ran her hand through her hair, thinking wildly. ‘I’ll go, Father. I must. I’ll find Sildemund and bring him back immediately.’
‘No! I forbid it! I’ll explain again to Skalatin that he must wait a little longer. I’ll hire guards so that next time he comes we’ll be well-protected. If necessary, I’ll even agree to part with the stone without recompense. That will assure him of my sincerity.’
‘I hope so. Oh, by the soul of Yshcopthe, I hope so.’
‘Now, help me back. I need to rest.’
But rest was impossible. Even as his head touched the pillow, Master Atturio’s mind was racing furiously, probing through his shock and fear, seeking to find some clue to the mystery that confronted him.
But his fear remained uppermost, and with it the implicit threat in Skalatin’s parting words: Your man is marked. He will show you the price.
What had he meant by that?
Before the day was out, Atturio would have the answer to that question.
~
The remainder of the morning and much of the afternoon passed without great incident. Meglan took charge of the shop. She sent Atturio’s assistant out, first to recall Doctor Sibota to tend to her father, then to hire bodyguards. Sibota arrived within the hour, and only minutes later three stout fellows armed with shortswords and knives, and clad in padded leather jerkins, were stationed in the house, two at Atturio’s door and the third in the shop with Meglan.
Doctor Sibota was thorough, but brusque. ‘You have suffered no serious damage, Atturio, though plainly you’re shocked. The abrasion on your hand has opened, but it will quickly heal again. What in the name of all the devils have you been up to?’
Atturio was absorbed in his thoughts and did not reply. Sibota made ready to depart.
‘There is something you are unwilling to discuss, I sense. Whatever it is, plainly it’s not pleasant. Yes, I know, it is not my place to enquire, nor necessarily to know. But I am your physician and your health is my concern, and whatever it is that you’re currently involved in, it plainly doesn’t enhance your wellbeing.’
Atturi
o merely grunted, as though he had really not heard. Then, rousing himself somewhat, he asked, ‘How is Dervad?’
‘I am concerned for him. I’ve kept him at my surgery so I can monitor him. I think I may have no choice but to operate, probably today.’
Atturio’s gaze settled with foreboding upon the doctor. ‘You mean amputate? His hand?’
‘I cannot guarantee that it will be only the hand. The putrefaction has spread like nothing I’ve seen. I’d expected it to slow, perhaps to reverse, but the opposite is the case.’
‘Then what are you saying?’
‘I am anxious to return to him now. If its advance is not stalled within the next hour or two, I will operate while the light remains good. I am sorry, but I fear I will have to take off his arm.’
Was that what Skalatin had meant? Your man is marked. Dervad had been cut by a poisoned blade, deliberately, indiscriminately. He was an innocent, with no part in this. He had simply accompanied Master Atturio, dutifully, as he was paid to do. If anyone was to pay it should be Atturio himself, for he was the one who had brought the stone to Volm.
Was this the price?
‘Does Dervad know?’
Sibota nodded gravely. ‘I had to tell him.’
‘How did he take it?’
The doctor hesitated, then said, ‘Not well, but he understood.’
Master Atturio felt that a gulf had opened within him, into which he was descending with sickening speed. At the same time, everything seemed to have slowed, the moments cruelly drawn out to force him to experience his anguish to the full.
Dervad. Poor, good Dervad.
And Edric!
A groan escaped Master Atturio’s lips.
‘Atturio? Are you all right? You’ve turned very pale.’
Atturio nodded weakly. ‘Go. Attend to Dervad. Do everything you possibly can.’
Lying there, helpless and for the most part alone, Master Atturio was at the mercy of his thoughts. They were not merciful. They tormented him over and over, reminding, accusing, demanding, questioning. He broke into a fevered sweat then, just moments later, collapsed into uncontrollable shivers. He wept silently, berating himself for his foolishness, then reminding himself that it was not, on the face of it, foolish to have unearthed the stone. Anybody in his position would have done the same.
But Edric had known. He had understood something.
But then, Edric had been delirious with the fever.
Meg had perceived it, too. And the banker, Gotif Adlem.
But by then it was too late. The deed was done. The stone was in Volm.
The stone. The stone. What was this cursed thing? And how could he get it quickly back to Skalatin?
Master Atturio’s tortured musings were interrupted by the sound of footsteps outside. The door of the chamber opened. Meglan stood there, ghastly-pale. Doctor Sibota was with her, holding her. She was hunched, her whole body tensed. It was plain that without Sibota’s support she might have lacked the strength to stand.
They came slowly into the room. Sibota’s gaze was lowered, Meglan’s focused glazedly upon her father. Master Atturio could not gauge how much time had passed since Sibota had left. It didn’t seem long. He hadn’t slept, or even dozed. It was still daylight. Surely, it was less than an hour?
‘What is it? What is the matter?’ he cried out, reeling from a shock that had yet to come.
At first nobody answered. Both seemed struck by some awful compulsion to silence. Then Sibota, who himself was oddly grey and showed all the signs of being in a state of shock, said in a quiet voice, ‘It’s Dervad.’
Atturio stared, not daring to allow himself to understand. ‘Dervad? Is he – Is he - ?’
‘He died,’ Sibota said, a modicum of strength returning to his voice, mingled with – what? Accusation?
Atturio groped for words. ‘Died? Was it so difficult a procedure?’
‘It was not the operation,’ Sibota replied. ‘He passed away while I was out. While I was here with you.’
‘Oh. Oh, no!’ Tears started to Atturio’s eyes, though his senses were numb. ‘Did the poison spread so quickly?’
Meglan was sobbing, unable to stop herself. Sibota, still supporting her shoulders, said, ‘You don’t understand, Atturio. It wasn’t the poison. Dervad has been murdered, horribly murdered, while I was out.’
Now the blow struck Master Atturio like a hammer, and he drew in a long, involuntary breath, his jaw sagging wide. Of its own accord a frail arm lifted before him, warding off what he knew was about to come.
‘I returned to my surgery,’ the doctor went on, struggling to remain calm, ‘to find Dervad’s body upon the floor. His blood covered the floor and walls. His chest… had been torn open in some kind of frenzy, as if by a crazed beast. His – ‘ Sibota gulped. ‘His chest was filled with shattered glass and potshards – my own medicine vials, smashed to pieces. And his… his heart… it was gone. It had been wrenched from his body and was not to be found.’
Meglan gave a loud cry. She wrested herself free of Sibota’s grip and fell in tears upon her father, grasping his shoulders and shaking them.
‘Father, tell me now! What is all this about?’
Master Atturio could only shake his head in stupefaction. She shook him harder, unable to control her actions. ‘Tell me! Tell me! How did Edric die? What happened when you found that stone?’
But her voice was a distant wail that resounded at the limits of Atturio’s perception. For he was falling, falling, spinning as he went, deeper and deeper into darkness, anguish and unfathomable dread.
And he heard his own voiceless scream, joining the cacophony that was his daughter’s:
‘Oh, by all the spirits of Moban who created us, what have I done?
V
Dusk was falling, the sky streaked with rose and purple. In Volm the evening’s long shadows had been absorbed into the greater gloom, though a few of the highest towers and rooftops still reflected the dying sun. Meglan rode out at a canter, a pair of guards at her back. She passed beyond the last of the houses into the open country, where the distant hilltops were kissed by the late tints of rose-gold light.
She had made the decision that afternoon: she would defy her father and set out to find Sildemund. It tried her conscience, and she knew she would have to leave without telling Master Atturio, but there was no other way. Meglan was terrified. The day had brought horrors like nothing she had ever known. Her greatest fear was not for herself, but for what consequences any further delay in returning the stone to Skalatin might precipitate for Master Atturio.
The arrival of the city militia had prevented her immediate departure. Their captain, Gosbedah by name, a gaunt, stooping, fish-eyed fellow with breath that reeked of cheap wine, wanted to question her and Master Atturio over Dervad’s death. His men searched the house. It was plain, at least initially, that Master Atturio was not above suspicion.
‘You’ve been injured?’ Captain Gosbedah said, eyeing Atturio’s leg and hands.
Atturio was glazed-eyed, his voice a murmur, though he somehow – in an attempt to deny his feelings to himself – managed to summon a note of disgruntled and inappropriate humour. ‘Knocked flat by a lummox.’
Gosbedah requested details. Atturio supplied them, but referencing the incident at the tavern he omitted to mention Skalatin by name. He had, however, already spoken of Skalatin with regard to the visits to the house. Meglan wondered whether the omission was deliberate, or whether Atturio was simply too disoriented to recall.
Gosbedah, standing by Atturio’s bed, nodding to himself, turned around as if to speak to one of his men. He seemed to lose his balance, and toppled. His weight came down upon Atturio’s knee, eliciting a sharp howl of pain from Atturio.
‘My apologies, sir! I am so clumsy!’ Captain Gosbedah righted himself. ‘Plainly the leg is very sensitive.’
‘The bone may be broken!’ Meglan informed him, sharply.
The captain continued to address Master Attur
io, whose teeth were clenched against the pain. ‘I am so sorry. I wonder whether I might just ask your daughter to unbind the dressings on your hands for a brief moment?’
Meglan glared at him in disbelief. ‘You think… You did that deliberately! I can’t believe it! You think my father murdered Dervad!’
Gosbedah concentrated upon Master Atturio, saying blandly, ‘I do not know who murdered your man. That is what I am here to ascertain. Now, if I could just see your hands.’
Atturio was inclined to obstinacy, but Meglan, her cheeks burning, said, ‘Do as he asks, Father. You’ve suffered enough already.’
Gosbedah stood motionless as she removed the bandages. He leaned forward and examined Master Atturio’s hands, then nodded. ‘Plainly you are quite debilitated by your injuries.’
‘He could not have left the house. There are witnesses.’
‘Quite so. I shall interview them presently.’
‘You mean he’s still under suspicion?’
Gosbedah again addressed Atturio as though Meglan had not spoken. ‘I’m satisfied that your condition would have precluded such a ferocious assault on a man considerably younger and stronger than yourself. I do have a few more questions, though, if I may?’
Gosbedah asked about Doctor Sibota, whose innocence was also in question. Atturio’s answers seemed to satisfy him that there would be no useful purpose served by arresting the doctor. The captain was less than happy with the circumstances, however, this being the second of Atturio’s employees to die within days. He questioned Atturio thoroughly on the particulars of Edric’s death. Only now did Meglan learn details of what had occurred in the ancient, hidden ruin, for Master Atturio had remained mute to her earlier pleas.
