The Curse on the Chosen (The Song of the Tears Book 2) (36 page)

He stared into his drink as though to read his own future
there. ‘No, we don’t.’

She lowered her voice. ‘We’re supposed to be incognito and
he’s making a spectacle of himself. Everyone will remember us.’

‘If you don’t like the company he keeps, go to bed.’

‘I’ve got to bring him to his senses. It’s the responsible
thing to do …’ But Maelys had kept Emberr secret from Flydd, so who was she to
lecture anyone about responsibility? No, it had to be done.

She turned away. Colm grabbed at her arm but she ducked
under it and marched over to the table. What alias had he used? She couldn’t
remember, and she couldn’t call him Xervish.

‘Surr,’ Maelys said, ‘are you sure this is wise?’ It sounded
lame, but she couldn’t be more specific. There were spies everywhere in the
God-Emperor’s realm, even in remote backwaters like Plogg.

‘Go away, boy!’ Flydd growled without looking up.

Bel smiled and dropped her eyes to Maelys’s chest as if she
could see straight through her boy’s clothes to what lay hidden beneath. ‘Your
master is weary and saddle-sore, lad. He needs the kind of respite only I can
give.’

Maelys wasn’t giving in that easily. ‘Er,
master
,’ she said to Flydd, ‘you don’t
know her.’

‘He soon will,’ grinned Bel. ‘Every luscious bit of me.’

Even Flydd looked taken aback at that. He took a long pull
at his mug, swallowed and allowed Bel his hand again. Maelys surreptitiously
tried to see how much beer was left. Surely he couldn’t be drunk on half a mug?

‘He’s drunk on my charms, aren’t you, Lorky?’ Bel said
teasingly. ‘I’m all you’ve ever dreamed of, and much, much more. In all your
life you’ve not had the kind of night I can give you.’ She began to suck his
fingers.

Maelys looked away, disgusted, but Flydd was four times her
own age, and if he chose to fall into the arms of the first scarlet woman he
met, she couldn’t stop him.

‘We’ve got to leave early in the morning, surr,’ she said
quietly.

‘He’ll be up at dawn, I promise you,’ Bel said with a
throaty chuckle. ‘Run along, lad.’

Maelys blushed, for her meaning was perfectly clear. She
stormed back to the counter, where Colm was draining his tankard. ‘I’m going to
bed!’

‘Don’t be silly; our supper will be here in a minute. Come
over here. We need to talk.’

Colm led her to a table in the angle between the counter and
the wall, furthest from the fire or anyone else, and set their drinks down.
Maelys noticed that he took the chair against the wall, where he could see the
whole room and no one could approach him from behind.

‘Did you ask the way,’ she said in a low voice. ‘To your
valley?’

‘Yes, but …’

A cook’s boy came from the kitchen, carrying their dinners
on a tray – thin slices of hot grilled meat on slabs of bread, and on the
side a jumble of steaming vegetables, none of which were familiar to Maelys.
She waited until the boy had gone before speaking.

‘A party of travellers went west this morning – the
God-Emperor’s men. The taverner mentioned them.’

‘I heard it in the stables,’ said Colm. His big fists
clenched on the table. ‘Jal-Nish must know we’re coming, and what we’re looking
for.’

So that’s what the matter was. Maelys felt for Colm; nothing
ever went right for him. ‘We’ll have to call it off.’

Agitated, he hacked meat and bread, speared it on the point
of his knife and wolfed it down, staring at his plate all the while. Maelys was
cutting her meat into neat portions when she remembered that she was supposed
to be a rude, grubby lad, not a well-mannered girl. She picked up a large piece
with her fingers, swallowed it without chewing, had another swig of beer and
even managed a small belch.

‘Don’t overdo it,’ scowled Colm. ‘You’ve already attracted
enough attention.’

How dare he treat her like a child! She lowered her head and
attended to her dinner in silence. The meat was tough but tasty, the bread
gritty, and the vegetables had a bitter taste, but she ate every morsel. She
was so hungry she could have gnawed splinters off the table leg.

Colm threw down his knife, his meal barely touched. ‘I can’t
call it off!’ he hissed. ‘I’m going on by myself if I have to.’

Bel’s eyes were on her. Maelys leaned forwards, saying
quietly, ‘What’s the point, Colm? Without Flydd you’ll never see through the
illusion.’

‘This is the only thing left to me,’ he said slowly, tapping
his fists on the table with every word. ‘I’ve lost everything else – my
family, my estate, everything I’ve ever worked for, and –’

For a terrible moment she thought he was going to say,
‘– and you,’ but he bit the words off.

‘I can’t give up Faelamor’s treasure, no matter the cost.’

‘I don’t think Flydd would want you to go alone,’ said
Maelys.

‘I’ll be gone before the tart’s finished with him. And you
can’t stop me.’ He glared at her.

‘I wouldn’t
try
to
stop you. The things I’ve done to try and save my family …’ Her ears began to
burn. Why had she reminded him?

‘
Indeed!
’ He
nodded stiffly. ‘Good night. I’m leaving at dawn.’

She felt a lump in her throat. Despite their differences,
he’d been good to her once. ‘I’ll get up to say goodbye.’

‘All right.’ He set off upstairs.

Bel was leaning right across the table, nibbling at Flydd’s
palm. Maelys was revolted; in her family, no one would have dreamed of acting
lasciviously in a tavern. Noticing Bel’s eyes on her again, she went up to her
room.

But it wasn’t her room now; Bel would be sharing it. Maelys
turned the lantern low and lay diagonally across the bed, fully clothed, as if
to stake her claim on it, but sleep would not come. She shoved the draught
excluder against the crack under the door and threw herself on the bed again.

It wasn’t long before they came up the stairs. Flydd was
laughing and snorting at the same time, Bel making a throaty chuckle. They
stopped on the landing below and Maelys heard their lips smacking together, the
disgusting slurping noises going on for ages, like two swamp creepers mating.
She pulled a pillow over her head and tried to block them out.

They came up the last flight and Maelys groaned aloud, only
now realising what Bel wanted the room for. How could she, Maelys, have been so
dull-witted as to not realise? She would have to go to the stables. She sat up,
rubbing her eyes, but Bel – Maelys could tell it was her – began to
pound on the door next to Maelys’s room.

Footsteps stumbled to the door and it was wrenched open.
‘Oh, for pity’s sake!’ Colm cried. He stamped across the floor, then back to
the door and Maelys heard him thumping down the stairs. Flydd and Bel fell into
the room, laughing like drains, and the door banged.

The snorting and lip-smacking, and then the symphony of the
bed, continued for hours. Maelys was grinding her teeth down to stubs when the
tumult cut off as their bed collapsed.

 
TWENTY-SEVEN

Maelys shot up in bed, wide awake, her heart pounding;
she had just recalled where she’d seen Bel’s profile before. Front-on her
features were unfamiliar, yet from the side the curves of her nose and chin
were oddly reminiscent of the woman in red, as Maelys had glimpsed her on the
way to the Nightland. Could she be Bel, transformed by spell or illusion, and
if so, what did she want from Flydd?

What if the woman in red was one of Jal-Nish’s mancers? Yes,
that had to be it. She must have been manipulating Flydd all along, in another
of the God-Emperor’s twisted schemes to raise their hopes so he could have the
satisfaction of dashing them irretrievably.

She eased off the bed, trying not to make a sound. She had
to tell Flydd without alerting Bel, though in his current state he wouldn’t be
easy to convince. How could he have been taken in so easily? Because the woman
in red had been in his mind since renewal. Bel must have bewitched him at the
door – at that moment when his eyes had gone blank – while he was
weak with aftersickness.

Surely dawn could not be far off, though Maelys could see
nothing through the dirty sheets of mica that served for window panes.
Unfastening the window, she slid the sash up and put her head out. It was still
dark.

The inn was still, and so was the night; there wasn’t a
breath of wind. No night bird’s cry broke the chilly air, no rat scurried
across the rafters; not even a cockroach was stirring.

Thup-thup.

Her stomach muscles knotted, for the sound was unmistakable
– it was a flappeter, not far away. Bel must have summoned it; no doubt
she’d already rendered Flydd helpless. And Colm was gone. He’d been so furious
that he couldn’t have slept – he would have headed directly for Dunnet,
where his hidden valley lay, and must be at least a league away by now. Maelys
was all alone, and no one here would dare support her against the God-Emperor.

Thup-thup
, louder
this time. The flappeter must be planning to land on the roof. She was out of
time. Jamming her new boots into her pack, she eased open the door. It stuck on
the draught snake and she picked it up thoughtfully. The sand-filled sausage
was heavy; she might knock Bel down with it if she could take her unawares.

There was not even a snore from Flydd’s room now. Maelys
lifted the latch, careful not to let it clack. The door hinges let out a faint
creak and she froze, but when there was no sound from the bed she slipped
inside.

She crept across, feeling her way, and made out Flydd’s
nasal breathing. One knee encountered the foot of the bed.

‘Xervish?’ she whispered, forgetting that they were
travelling incognito.

With a little sigh, someone rolled over and Maelys caught a
waft of expensive perfume, not the kind that a rustic tart would be able to
afford. But if Bel was one of Jal-Nish’s most accomplished mancers she could
have whatever her heart desired.

Swinging the draught snake back, Maelys aimed where she
expected Bel’s head to be, and felt it strike flesh – probably her
shoulder. Bel cursed, snapped upright and tried to tear the draught snake out
of her hands.

With an almighty crash, the flappeter landed on the steep
roof above their heads. Maelys could hear it scrabbling there, and torn-up
shingles sliding down the roof and crashing onto the road at the front of the
inn.

‘What?’ groaned Flydd, sitting up with pearls of light
swelling at his fingertips. He was naked, bleary-eyed and there were scratches
across his arms and chest.

‘It’s a flappeter, you stupid dunce!’ Maelys cried. ‘Bel
must be one of Jal-Nish’s mancers. She’s betrayed you.’

Flydd stared at Bel, bewitched, uncomprehending, helpless.

She scrambled out of bed, threw her gown over her head in
one elegant movement and jumped into her shoes, which fastened themselves. ‘Out
the back way.’

‘Don’t go with her, Xervish,’ Maelys cried. ‘She’ll take you
straight to the enemy.’

Bel was on her in an instant, lifting Maelys by the shirt
front and shaking her. ‘Get out of the way, you stupid little fool.’ She tossed
Maelys at the wall.

She slid to the floor, groaning. There was a thumping and
crashing on the roof, as if soldiers were trying to smash a way in. Flydd
hauled his clothes on. Maelys clambered to her feet, the draught snake hanging
from her hand, not knowing whether to whack again or run for her life. All over
the inn, people were shouting and screaming.

‘Soldiers coming through the roof,’ a man shouted.

‘And outside the doors,’ yelled another.

Someone fell down the lower stairs and began to groan.

‘There’s no way out,’ said Flydd listlessly.

‘Through the window,’ said Bel. ‘Onto the roof.’

‘Xervish?’ cried Maelys. ‘Don’t listen to her. There’s a
flappeter up there.’

Bel’s backhanded blow crashed into the side of Maelys’s head
and knocked her down. Spots floated across her vision and, before she could
move, Bel picked her up, upside down, threw her across her ample shoulder and
was at the window. She thrust it up and scrambled onto the sill, the aged wood
creaking under her weight as she caught the top of the window and supported
herself there for a moment, one-handed. Maelys, folded over her shoulder, had
her face pushed into Bel’s stomach, which was firmer than it had appeared.

To Maelys’s astonishment, for Bel didn’t look as though
she’d taken a day’s exercise in her life, she began to climb the front of the
inn, her toes finding footholds between the stones, her soft hands lifting her
weight, and Maelys’s, easily. Maelys, terrified that she’d slide off Bel’s
shoulder, clung to her flimsy gown.

The flappeter was still
thup-thupping
,
supporting itself on its feather-rotors. Maelys didn’t want to go anywhere near
it, but she couldn’t escape without falling. She pressed her knees against Bel’s
back and locked her arms around her waist.

Bel chuckled. ‘Won’t do you any good,
boy
. If you fall, my gown will tear off and I’ll be dangling here
in the altogether for the whole world to see.’ It didn’t sound as though either
prospect bothered her.

Flydd emerged from the window and looked up the sheer face
of the building. Maelys made out the whites of his eyes. ‘I can’t climb that!’
he said.

‘Wait, I’ll come back for you.’ Bel climbed another span or
two and said to Maelys, ‘Grab the edge of the roof and pull yourself up.’

‘I can’t!’ Maelys hissed. ‘I’ll fall.’

‘One less problem for me to worry about.’

Maelys reached out with one hand, her fingertips scraping
across the rough stone, and felt an indentation between two blocks. Taking hold
as best she could, she tried to slide off Bel’s shoulder, but slipped and her
fingers were torn free. Bel threw her weight against Maelys, squashing her
against the wall and forcing the air from her lungs. Maelys found a better grip
and attempted to climb, but her fingers weren’t strong enough to support her.