Sin Eater's Daughter 2 - The Sleeping Prince (11 page)

I reach for the vial and hold it up to the light. The Elixir of Life. Can it be?

Which means not all the philtresmiths are dead. Some still live, capable of making the Elixir. And I need more of it, for Mama. It’s the only way to silence the beast.

I peep through the window slats, looking for signs of life or movement out there, then back at the dead man. Dead alchemist. Do I dare…? Yes, I decide. We’re all running out of time. At least under cover of darkness I stand less chance of being seen by Unwin, or soldiers. And Mama will be fine; she doesn’t know anything happened tonight, and it’s not as if the dead can hurt her. As soon as I have my answer, I’ll be back. I fasten my cloak and then bend over the man. I pull a blanket over his face.

“Sleep well,” I say softly.

The night is too quiet. There should be creatures rustling and snuffling, making me gasp and start when their weight snaps the fallen twigs and rustles the dead leaves. There should be owls hooting softly, or nightjars calling. Rats, mice, deer; living things should be out living, but instead the world is utterly silent, and if it wasn’t for my heartbeat skittering loudly inside me I’d worry I’d gone deaf. Where are the soldiers who are supposed to be patrolling? Why can’t I hear them laughing nervously and joshing one another to keep the night at bay? The lack of sound makes me feel too aware, my senses reach out into the darkness for anything that will anchor me, any sound or scent or thing to see.

I use the moonlight to guide me as I try to keep to the shadows. It hangs lower in the sky now, and its light has turned the world monochrome: everything is black and white and grey and silver. The village looks painted, like a model, not at all real, and I have the uneasy sense that I’m not here. Almost every window in the village is dark as I scurry through; only the House of Justice is lit, candlelight visible in one of the upper windows.

I’m about to turn down the track that leads to the cottage Silas is staying in when a flash of silver in the distance catches my eye. A shadow moves along the treeline; is it a soldier? Then I freeze.

From the woods a huge figure lurches into view, seven feet tall at least, its outline misshapen and hulking. A scream is born and instantly dies in my throat when I see its head.

It has no face.

The place where eyes, a nose, a mouth should be is a craggy, bulging mass atop a shape that’s barely humanoid. But its lack of eyes and ears doesn’t stop it from raising its head, as though sniffing the air, before its body turns towards me.

Then another steps out beside it and a gust of wind rattles the treetops and carries the creatures’ odour to me. Wet mud, rotting leaves, and sulphur; sweet, heavy, cloying decay. I turn then and run. I don’t look back as I move, running from Silas’s house, running past the House of Justice, running through the village, determined to put as much space as I can between myself and them. I run to the outskirts of the village and throw myself into a hedge, crawling through the brambles and tugging my cloak from them until I’m sitting in a tangle of undergrowth, my heart racing so fast I don’t know how it still beats at all. I curl up, my heart thudding, my eyes shut, panting and shaking.

My heart is beginning to slow when something touches my shoulder and I inhale, ready to split the night apart with my scream. A hand covers my mouth and then Silas is beside me. He’s not wearing a shirt; he’s naked from the waist up, and barefoot, his skin torn and bleeding from scratches where he’s followed me into the bush. As he twists around, peering out from our hiding place, I see markings along his spine, discs, fading from fully black to three quarters shaded, then half full, to a crescent, and finally an outline, a perfect circle of black ink on his skin, crossed through the centre with a line.

I tear my gaze from the tattoo and peer out through the twigs, waiting for the creatures to appear. He follows my gaze, his head tilted as he strains for the sound of movement, the moonlight reflecting off his silvery hair. I start to shrug my cloak off.

“What are you doing?” he whispers.

“Cover yourself.”

He looks down. “Sorry. I was getting ready to sleep.”

“No. Your hair,” I hiss. “It’s shining.”

His eyes widen and he helps me take my cloak off, pulling it as best he can over his head and shoulders.

We wait, silently, each moment allowing the fear to slip away. After a long while, he nudges me and jerks his head; then he begins to crawl out from our hiding place.

I follow. My arms are scratched by the thorns, but the cold numbs the pain, and then he’s touching me, gloved hands on my arms as he hauls me out.

“I think they’re gone,” he says, scanning the space around us.

I look around too, the hairs on my body still standing upright. “Wait, did you see anyone out there, near the woods? A soldier, maybe?”

He shakes his head.

“I thought I saw someone, before I saw the golems come out.”

“I saw two golems.” He peers around again. “You’re sure you saw someone?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

Silas frowns. “We have to get inside.”

He moves like mist, light-footed and sure, and I follow him, aware that my own movement is not as muted as his. Where he glides I crunch, but he doesn’t hush me, staying close as we slide around the House of Justice. The light inside is extinguished now, the moonlight our only guide. At some point the hood slips from his head, my cloak too small for him.

“Hair,” I whisper, and he stops. I help him tug the hood up and over, obscuring the telltale glow.

“Better?”

I nod. Then that smell, coating the inside of my nostrils with decay, with sulphur. Our eyes lock as we realize what it means.

“Run!” Silas hisses, suddenly pelting away from me, the cloak flaring behind him as he grips the hood to his head. I freeze, shrinking back against the wall of Unwin’s home, watching as one of the large lumbering shapes looms seemingly from nowhere and pursues Silas. Everything about it, from the way it smells to the jerking, lolling way it moves, is unnatural, and I have to fight down wave after wave of nausea, because this thing should not be possible.

Where is the other one?

My eyes stare wildly into the night. I am struggling to draw a full breath. I make a break for it, trying to stay quiet, trying to keep to the darker places.

Only to almost barrel into it.

Up close the stench of wet rot makes me gag. It swings soundlessly towards me, reaching out with huge hands, and I stagger backwards, twisting and bolting towards the forest, this time hearing the footsteps heavy behind me. I have to bite back my screams. I don’t want the other one to know where I am and cut me off. Where are the soldiers? Where is Silas?

In the woods I run, zigzagging, panic ringing in my ears. I remember the mercenaries, the arrows, the swoop and thunk, the way the arrow snapped like bone when I wrenched the tip from it, and I swing myself into the low boughs of the nearest tree, hauling myself up. The closely set trees and bushes at the forest edge make it difficult for the golem to follow, and that buys me the seconds I need to climb ten, fifteen feet above the ground. I perch on a branch, my limbs locked, as it passes beneath me. As the smell reaches me I shudder.

It doesn’t have eyes. It doesn’t know where I am. If I stay still, and quiet, I’ll be all right. I’ll be all right.

It pauses, lifting its head and stilling like a statue, and terror almost makes me lose my grip. Then with surprising speed it lumbers away, moving deeper into the trees. I can hear the crushing of shrubbery as it passes. As soon as it’s out of sight I scramble down, falling the last few feet, scraping my hands, my knees shaking horribly, but I don’t allow myself time to stop, instead half running, half staggering back out of the forest and towards Silas’s hut.

I throw myself through the door and into the empty room.

I burrow into a pile of blankets until only the top of my head is exposed. I have to keep my eyes open and staring, because every time they’re closed, even for the split second that blinking takes, I see the golem standing beneath me, the space where its face should be featureless.

It feels like hours have passed before Silas appears in the doorway, panting hard. Then he’s next to me, cupping my face with one hand, the other pushing his hood back, and I have never been so glad to see anyone in my whole life.

“Are you all right? Were you followed?” His voice is low, and urgent.

“I lost it, in the woods.”

“I did the same…” He stops suddenly and turns towards the door and we both listen, my heart punching against my ribcage.

“I think we’re safe,” he says after a few moments. “No candles. No fire. And no sound. We don’t want them to come back.” Then he turns to me, startlingly close. “Why were you out? Is Ely—” He stops. “Oh.” All the fear, the urgency, flees him. He slumps back, and nods. “Right. I see.”

Ely. The dead man’s name was Ely. “I’m so sorry. I tried…”

“I know. I know you did.” He sighs deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose with long fingers, his neck bent.

“He woke up, briefly.”

Silas’s head snaps up. “Did he speak?”

“Yes.”

His eyes fix on mine. “And?”

“He said enough. I know what you are.”

A shadow passes over Silas’s face. “
What
I am. We’re back to that, are we?”

I speak slowly, choosing every word with care. “He told me what you are, and what you’re looking for.”

“Did he.” It’s not a question.

I nod. “He also said to tell you
he’s
coming. And that
he
knows.”

Silas’s face is blank. “Well, now you know everything,” he says flatly. “What are you going to do with this information?”

I’ve already made my decision. If I tell him the girl is in Scarron, he’ll leave. He, and Ely, have made it clear that their duty to his mother’s order is their priority, regardless of the danger it puts them all in. Even if that means dying. He’ll go and find her, then he’ll disappear into the Conclave. And if I lose him, I lose any hope of helping Mama, or getting my life back.

This is the only way, for me and Mama. I don’t have a choice. I can’t make the Elixir, I understand that now. But he knows someone who can. And if he won’t bring it to me, then…

Family first.

“I want you to take us with you,” I say.

“To…?”

“The Conclave.” His jaw drops so fast it’s almost funny. “You didn’t believe me,” I say slowly. “You thought I was trying to trick you into giving yourself away.”

He stays silent, mutinous.

“I’m not tricking you. Ely told me. You are an alchemist. The reason you’re here is because you’re waiting for a woman, or a girl, someone who is in danger from the Sleeping Prince. She’s why you’re here; she’s what you were waiting for while you moved artefacts for your mother. Once you’ve found her, you have to get her to the Conclave.” I’m not sure how much of it is true, until I see the little colour Silas has drain from his face. “Ely told me where she is. And he told me the Sleeping Prince knows, and he’s coming.”

“Where is she?”

I shake my head. “You take us to the Conclave too. You know where it is. We’ll be no trouble; you know I can take care of us. We need to be somewhere safe, and hidden. And…” I pause. “More Elixir.” His face becomes stony and I speak quickly. “It’s the only thing that … It’s the only thing. When I have that, I’ll tell you where she is.”

“You’re blackmailing me?”

“It’s not blackmail. I’m asking for your aid in return for what I know.”

“I trusted you.” He says it quietly, his eyes wide and filled with disbelief.

“Silas, I just want your help. And I’ll help you in return. We can help each other.”

His golden eyes narrow. “Did you think about asking for my help, instead of making threats?”

“I did,” I say, my tone harsher than I meant it to be. “I asked you twice. First for the recipe, then if you could sell me more of it.”

He makes a strange face, his lips pulled back, his cheeks paling.

“I’ll pay you for it,” I say hurriedly. “I’m not asking for favours.”

“It’s not that. I can’t get you the quantity you want.”

“Then take me to someone who can.”

He gapes at me, shaking his head. “I thought we were friends.”

I glare at him. “Friends. Of course. And if I’d told you what your other
friend
said, and then asked for your help, would you have helped me? Or would you have left straight away?”

He looks pained. “Errin … you can’t possibly understand. If the Sleeping Prince finds her… There isn’t time for this. I have a job to do, and this is much bigger than you—”

“Then this is how it has to be.” I cut him off.

Silas shakes his head. “If Ely knew where she was, then someone must have told him. I’ll find out from them.”

“You don’t have time. Ely said you don’t have much time. We have to work together or we both lose.”

The look Silas gives me is loaded with disgust. “Are you really going to do this, Errin?”

I nod, feeling sick to my stomach. “Yes. I have to.”

He turns away, facing the window, and his shoulders slump. He keeps his back to me as he speaks and my nausea grows. “So be it. I’ll take you to the Conclave. I’ll get you more Elixir. Anything else you want?”