Dark Enchantment (28 page)

‘Her father did not return until after the midnight bell had been tolled, when she had fallen asleep in her seat with the dog curled up around her feet. When he came in he was pale and worried; she asked what was wrong and he said, “We must leave as soon as the city gates are opened in the morning. We must get out of the barony as soon as we can. The Baron is dying, and will not see many more days; more than that, I see the signs of poison in him, not of sickness. I did not dare tell him the full truth of my reading, but the courtiers there took from me the chart I had scribed, and have guessed the truth … If they did not know it already. I am afraid that whether I am right or wrong, I will be blamed for the outcome.” So the two packed their few belongings, and before dawn the maiden crept downstairs to harness the mules.’

The young woman’s dark hand clenched around the stick
and
the muscles in her forearm knotted visibly. Her hand was slender and scarred, the nails rather tattered. The nails of the ghoul, of course, were hooked like a cat’s claws.

‘But while she was in the stable,’ she continued in a low voice, ‘she heard the sound of many people in loud boots, and when she looked out through a crack in the plank door she saw soldiers pushing into the inn, all carrying weapons. In a few minutes they were back down, shoving the girl’s father in front of them. He had blood on his face. They had the little yellow dog on a piece of rope too, and it was barking and trying to run round in circles. The whole group hurried out of the inn, shouting and pushing aside the innkeeper and his servants who had rushed out to see what was happening. The maid did not know what to do, so she ran and hid in the hayloft over the stables, where she could see the mules when she looked down. She stayed there all day, frightened to come out, hoping that her father would come back, crying to herself in the dusty hay. Nobody found her. Then late in the afternoon the soldiers came back, and they pulled the wagon out into the yard, and then they led the mules out and hitched them up to it. The girl was terrified that she would never see her father or her home again if she let them out of her sight so, greatly daring, she put a piece of sacking around her dark head and she sneaked down out of the hayloft when they had left the yard and followed them through the city.

‘It was easy to follow them. A big crowd was moving with the soldiers, whistling and shouting, and the mules moved slowly. They processed through the narrow cobbled streets to the marketplace where her father had first announced himself to the populace, and there he was again, waiting, but this time with a retinue of soldiers and a line of priests, and in the centre of it all a heap of kindling as big as a cart.
The
Baron was dead, you see, just like her father had feared.’

The girl paused in her tale. The yellow orb of the sun had disappeared now except for the brightness it left on the horizon, and the sky was a pale eggshell blue, streaked with pink clouds. She let the stick fall into the dust, and slipped her arms about her knees instead. Her head drooped.

‘The maiden had to watch from between the shoulders of everyone else in the crowd, as the priests made their formal condemnation of her father for sorcery and the late Baron’s murder. The crowd spat on him and threw stones, until the soldiers got nervous and stopped that. He looked very small, and old, and he kept shaking his head. They didn’t let him say anything. They had her dog there, and when the crowd started booing and getting really loud they cut its throat and dropped it on the kindling, which they lit. And a big man with a butcher’s axe stepped out and hit both the mules between the eyes with the spiked end, and they dropped in their traces. And they cut the mules loose and tore the wagon to pieces and heaped the flames with all those bits of wood. The fire rushed up high. She thought she could hear the bird shrieking as it burned. Then … ah,’ she faltered, her voice breaking up into a croak, ‘they took the maid’s father and tied him to a cartwheel and broke his arms and legs with a big hammer, and then they threw him onto the fire too. The maiden did not watch him burn, because she was crying.’

The ghoul paused in its gnawing and regarded her solemnly.

‘They heard her.’ The girl cleared her throat with a growl. ‘They heard her crying, and someone looked at her and started shouting, “Look, here is another one!” And suddenly they were all trying to grab her and she had to run through the crowd. Hands caught at her but she bit her way free and
tore
loose from her shawl and dodged from them, and because the crowd was so noisy most people did not know what it was that they were supposed to do when they saw her, so that she got to the edge of the marketplace and ran down a street. She could hear feet pounding behind her. She saw a big wall in front of her with a gate open in it, and people coming out of that gate. She thought it must be the city wall, it was so tall and so long, so she dashed through into the open space beyond. But there were houses there too, though much smaller and further apart than before. She dodged down the wide lanes between the white houses, turning left and right, and finally hid in a porch because she was too breathless to run further. She heard the noise of the people following her, but they were grumbling and uncertain. She crouched down low behind a great urn full of sand and rosemary as they came near, and she saw their feet pass close to her head, leather boots with bright nail heads, and heard them say – though she could hardly understand their accents – “It’s nearly sunset; leave her for the dead.” Then they went away, leaving only their footprints on the sandy path.’

The ghoul resumed its repast, but its eyes were fixed upon the storyteller and its pointed, slightly mobile ears turned in her direction. She paused to run her hand slowly through her hair and look about her.

‘When the maiden came out of hiding, she saw the mistake she had made. She was not outside Krisilith. She was standing at the base of a rocky hill, and all over the hillside wound the neat lanes of small white buildings and little sandy paths, while below her, circling the base of the slope, was a wall behind which crouched the darker houses of the city. There was no other person in sight. These buildings here were low and clean, with spaces in between where there were almond
trees
and cork oaks and tamarisks growing among long pale grasses. It was very dry and very silent. When she looked back cautiously towards the wall, she saw that the distant gate was now closed. She realised that she must be in the inner city of Krisilith, the town of the dead. She was a little afraid, but not so much afraid as she was of the living city. She began to walk about, wondering if there was some way beyond the buildings to the open country, but mostly with no idea in her head except pain and thirst. She was hungry and exhausted, and her father was dead. She had no home and no family. She was starting to feel cold now that the sweat of her running had dried and the sunset breeze was picking up.

‘She walked past the basin of a fountain in which there was no water, and crossed in front of a columned building on which pigeons were starting to roost. It was growing dark now. The birds were the only living things she had seen in the city of the dead, until she passed a square tomb with blind stone windows, just like any of the others, and she heard the sound of rock scraping on rock. She turned in time to see the door of the tomb swing open and a face look out at her.

‘It wasn’t a human face. There were too many big teeth in it that had pushed the mouth forwards into a muzzle. The creature looked at her, stepped forwards into the dusk and showed her all those teeth in a big hungry grin. There were other creatures like it behind the first. When she saw the whole animal, the maiden thought at first it was a big hairless baboon, and then she realised it was a
ghûl
, such as she had heard of in her father’s stories. They live in her home country too.’

The ghoul meeped enthusiastically. A shadow of a smile crossed the girl’s face for a moment.

‘The maiden ran again – though she was tired, though she really did not think her shaking legs could drive her onwards more than a few paces. The path led her uphill, and with the creatures only yards behind her she floundered up the rise. On the crest was the tall figure of a man in grey robes, almost blending into the dusk. She ran towards him, and he did not move, and as she reached him she flung herself forwards to snatch at the hem of his robe and call, “Save me, kind sir!”’

The ghoul gave a kind of shudder and dropped the remnants of the chewed hand.

‘She thought,’ said the young woman slowly, choosing her words with care, ‘that if he stood there unafraid of the
ghûls
then he must be a sorcerer. Her hands grabbed the robe, which was very dusty, and for a moment it felt like there was nothing underneath it, just empty cloth, and then the man jerked round to look at her and threw his hand out at the creatures behind and said, “Stop.” And the
ghûls
stopped as if they had run into a wall, crouched to the ground in front of him and fawned like dogs. The maid didn’t look up, she didn’t dare move, she thought she was going to be sick. And she was thinking, Even if he is a necromancer, what is he likely to do to me that the
ghûls
will not surely do?’

The ghoul before her shook its head nervously.

‘The man said to the maiden, “You can see me?” – which seemed to her to make no sense at all. She repeated, “Kind sir, save me, please! Send them away!”

‘The man asked her name then. He had a soft voice and an accent that worried her somehow. “Zulkais en Taherin,” she told him, and to this he replied, “Ah, you are the daughter of Taherin Ahmin Multire, the astrologer, who died today on the fire.” This was a surprise to her and she asked miserably, “You know what happened to him?”, to which he said, “I was there.” And at that point she realised that in her distress she had
implored
him entirely in her own language, and what was troubling her about his tones was that he had replied in the same tongue.

‘She had to look up at him then, and did so fearfully. At first it struck her that he had no eyes, but she blinked and saw that she was mistaken, though they were rather dark. He did not look like one of her people, nor like the inhabitants of Krisilith. He was, she thought, very sallow, the hue of old bone, and had long hair the colour of charred wood, white and black. She saw these things despite the dusk.’

At this point the ghoul broke into a rapid glibbering. The young woman listened, inclined her head gravely and raised one bare shoulder in a shrug. The dying light around them was staining earth and sky blue. She continued with the same caution.

‘The man was watching the maid curiously. “I am surprised that you saw me,” he said after a little time. “It is unusual. I have met only one other recently: an old man who lived alone and prayed a great deal, and was accounted quite mad by his relatives.” And the maiden, who had swiftly learnt that it was better to look straight at him or not at all, because if she turned her head away – to look at the grovelling
ghûls
, for example – his appearance would shift at the edge of her vision in a manner that was not pleasant, well, she asked humbly, “Are you dead, sir?” because it seemed perfectly likely that he was one of the inhabitants of the tombs around them. But she saw him smile, or thought he did so, and he replied, “No.”

‘Then he held out his hand to her, and she took it after a moment’s hesitation. The sensation was … disquieting, but only for a moment. She tried to stand, but her legs gave way and he had to pick her up and carry her. He took her to one of the tombs, leaving the
ghûls
waiting in the dust, and when he
laid
his hand upon the door it swung open before him. They entered the small building, all the lamps in the wall niches flaring into life as they crossed the threshold, and the girl saw that they were in a room with a table laid for a feast, with chairs and fine linen. The man let her sink into one of the chairs and seated himself opposite. The funeral must have been that very day, for the food on the table was untainted, the flowers still fresh, and there was no stink discernible from the corpse that reclined on the bed, visible through the doorway to the inner room. Nevertheless the girl shivered in that cold presence, and at a glance from her host the inner door swung shut.

‘“Eat,” the sorcerer suggested, and watched as the maiden fell to, slowly at first, then with desperation. He waited while she devoured pomegranates and spiced lamb, sheep’s cheese and figs and sweet white bread, and washed them down with a bright red wine. The maiden’s head was spinning by the time she had finished. Her companion at the table said nothing, neither did he eat, but only watched her gravely. When her hands fell still at last he said to her, “You may stay here in the city, Zulkais. It is a refuge from your enemies at night, though you must be wary during the day. I will give my hounds instruction that they are to care for you. But you should eat from these votary gifts, and not from the meat they may offer to share with you. I will return from time to time to see how you are.” With those last words he rose and left the room, and the maiden’s head slipped onto the table and she slept until dawn.’

The young woman stopped talking. Twilight was creeping upon them. The trees sighed in the light wind. ‘That is the first part my story,’ she said. ‘The maiden lived in the necropolis for some years, just as he had suggested. She learnt to wake by night and sleep lightly in empty tombs by day. She stole her
clothes
from the dead people and ate the meals left for them by their living families, and when those offerings were scarce she pulled fruit from the trees and trapped small birds. She learnt the speech of the
ghûls
and their dances in the moonlight and their strange lore, though she never shared their meals and she never followed them through the secret doors that each tomb has. She kept away from the living, always beyond their reach and out of their sight. She nearly forgot the speech of humans, and she grew odd and wild and unsightly, so that anyone who met her by chance would take one look and back away. Sometimes her host would call by on his travels. She grew to like that.