Voice Of The Demon (Book 2) (17 page)

*

Selar strode across the courtyard; Vaughn, shorter and older, scurried to catch up, but Selar kept going. There were going to be no further arguments from the Proctor today. A constant barrage over breakfast and a further hounding as Selar dressed for his ride was enough for any man. Perhaps a few hours in the dungeons beside McCauly would cool Vaughn’s ire for a bit.

He wanted to seek them out, hunt them down and kill the last of them.

Sorcerers.

Despite what Osbert had reported, Vaughn believed there were more of them. Everywhere. But the idiot had no idea what he was letting himself in for. All he had to go on was superstition, hearsay and a pile of jumbled history both unreliable and unsubstantiated.

But Selar knew.

Was it possible that Osbert’s investigation had failed to bring out the truth? Had even Nash, the most perceptive of Guildesmen, missed the vital clues that would lead them to an answer? The whole Kilphedir story was fantastic – but it could also be a sign. After so many years, just when Selar was laying the seeds for war, a story surfaces of sorcery within his borders.

And what if Carlan was behind it? What if his evil powers had let him live so long? What if he’d been waiting around, hiding and planning?

Perhaps it was time to give Vaughn what he wanted – but not this morning. Right now, all Selar wanted was a little peace.

Selar reached his horse, glanced a greeting at Nash, then swung up into the saddle. Deliberately, he waited until Vaughn was almost with them and then he kicked the flanks of his mount and cantered off towards the gate. Nash and the guard followed behind.

It was yet another hot and sultry day, the last of the summer squeezing out sunshine like juice from an apple.
The city stank, a polluted and rotting carcass beached on the shores of the Vitala. He was glad to be rid of it – if only for a few hours.

The hills were cooler, browned by the sun and forgiving. As the land opened up before him, he let the clean air soak into his flesh. As he had practised over the last few weeks, he allowed the pounding rhythm of the horse and the wind blowing through his hair to wipe away the cobwebs of his sleepless night, the effects of the wine – and the nightmare.

He slowed as they dropped into a narrow valley where four or five trees drank the life from a struggling stream. He left the soldiers above, keeping watch, and jumped down from his horse. Nash joined him, his faithful, undemanding companion.

‘Vaughn won’t leave it alone, you know.’

Selar wandered down to the water’s edge, then glanced over his shoulder at Nash. The young man was dressed sombrely in brown trousers and a deep green jacket. He never liked to draw attention to himself by dressing in gaudy colours – or in rich cloth. Simple clothes suited him, too. That sharp angular face, half-hidden by a beard, those black silent eyes, always watchful. Very little passed this man entirely unnoticed.

‘I enjoy turning him down,’ Selar replied with a shrug. ‘It’s his own fault. He’s too excitable. Saying no to him is one of the few pleasures I have left. Now he has hours to wait until I return. He should be well stewed by then.’

‘So, you intend to give him permission?’

Those eyes were watching him carefully. ‘Vaughn says he knows things – ways to tell if a man is a sorcerer. He could be exaggerating, but even so, I don’t think he would make the claim if he couldn’t back it up. Either way, I don’t want sorcerers wandering around my country!’ Selar caught himself up, took a breath. If only it could be that simple. Perhaps that could be his cure. If he burned them all away, then wouldn’t that burn away the memory of Carlan?

‘Sire,’ Nash interrupted his thoughts so softly, Selar hardly noticed. ‘What if I told you your court already has a sorcerer?’

What was the man talking about? ‘What do you know? Tell me! Now!’ demanded Selar.

Nash appeared completely relaxed – but that only meant he was trying to hide something. ‘Please, Sire. Be calm. I will tell you all.’

‘I am calm,’ Selar said through gritted teeth.

Nash continued, ‘There is one who has the powers you seek. But he is no enemy to you. He’s been with you some time and has proved his loyalty.’

‘Who is it, damn you?’

Nash’s face was completely devoid of expression. He stood so his back was to the guards above and brought his hands together. He then drew them apart and between them crackled tiny arcs of lightning. ‘I am a sorcerer, Sire, but I am not evil.’

Selar gaped, his heart racing. He was frozen to the spot, unable to take his eyes from those black pits. ‘You . . . a sorcerer?’

Nash said nothing, but dropped his hands. He made no move towards Selar. He just stood there waiting.

For what? What, in the name of the gods . . .

‘What do you want from me?’ Selar gasped. Should he call the guards down, now? Would Nash be powerful enough to overcome them? In the name of Serin, Nash could kill him where he stood!

‘I desire only to serve you, Sire.’

‘What kind of answer is that?’ Selar spat, anger now reaching out to drown his terror. He took a step backwards, shot a glance at the guards on the hill. They’d noticed nothing. Would they come to his rescue if he called? He turned his attention back to Nash. There was still no threat – merely patience. He must think Selar would just accept this revelation and let him remain at court. Taking another breath, Selar sneered, ‘And what would you do if I threw you in prison, eh?’

‘I would go wherever you sent me, Sire.’

‘Then get out of my sight! Out of my city, my country. You have lied to me. You’ve betrayed me just like every friend I’ve ever had. You claim to be better than the others,
but you’re worse – not even Dunlorn kept something like this from me. If you mean what you say about serving me, obeying me, you will do as I say and leave Marsay and never return!’

*

Yes, this was the city he remembered. It had hardly changed. Sure, after a day of wandering around in the borrowed robes Murdoch had given him, Robert had seen some differences. But on the whole, four years had done little to this city. The people, on the other hand, had changed. There was something decidedly brittle about the way they laughed, the easy way they quarrelled, the wary step of every man who passed the castle gates.

In the more commercial areas, there was wealth and prosperity – but the names above the shops were not Lusaran. These were traders who had come here in the wake of Selar’s conquest, happy to make the most of this new market, of the laws which favoured them. Down by the walls, along the older parts of the city the division was clearer still. Here, beggars vied for space in the narrow streets, frequently trampled under the bustle of visiting tradesmen, courtiers and Guildesmen. A few taverns, shops and the odd market still survived – but there were also many derelict buildings, vacant windows and collapsed roofs. Some had even been burned out. One, a farrier Robert had once favoured, was shut up completely, its windows boarded up for some time. The butcher next door was reduced to selling a few scraps. In this forgotten part of the city, existence was eked out by the grace of the gods alone. No earthly help was forthcoming.

Robert didn’t actively Seek Ayn. He had to get to know the city again, feel for its warmth, its weaknesses. The best place for this was the old haymarket. With the heavy rains, grain prices had soared and the bidding was desperate. Fights broke out every few minutes and the city guard did little to stop them. Robert kept to the sidelines, hunched over in his forest-green cape and matching cap. When he walked, it was with a deliberate limp, his face grimy and muddied. It was unlikely anybody would recognize him – even if he were to go near the castle – but there was no point taking chances.

He wandered the perimeter of the market, listening to the odd conversation here and there, just like he had done years before. It was the best way to find out how the people felt and thought. But even here, their conversation was stifled, as though they feared the Guilde was listening to every word.

He was about to leave the market when a rider came up the alley. He was moving too fast and was immediately jostled by the crowd. The horse reared and backed away, forcing Robert up against the wall. Somebody shouted a warning and the horse reared again, throwing its rider.

The man fell in a heap at Robert’s feet and he could do nothing less than help him up.

*

Fury boiled in him like iron in a furnace, searing, white and blinding. First Selar’s banishment and now this damned market chaos; he was ready to burn them all. Nash kicked his horse forward, but there was no room. The stupid animal reared in panic, scattering people in every direction. He fought to control it, but only made it worse. He felt his feet slip from the stirrup and he tumbled to the ground. Instinctively he rolled away, but then a pair of hands grabbed him, pulled him to his feet.

‘Are you all right, sir?’ his helper asked.

‘Yes,’ Nash snapped without looking. Instead he reached out and grabbed the reins, sending his senses forward to calm the animal as he should have done before. He turned back to thank the stranger, but he’d disappeared, his cloak a mere splash of green in the throng. Swearing, Nash pulled his horse out of the square and back along the alley. He took a longer route, but finally arrived at the little house, his mood no better – in fact, much worse.

*

The demon was coming again. She could feel him. He was outside even now, invading her senses, shutting everything else out. The others didn’t know yet. The boy, the woman. They couldn’t tell when the demon was near, but Ayn could. Like a wrenching of her flesh, tearing her apart piece by piece, she could feel him come nearer. Any moment now he
would come close, close enough to touch her, close enough to torture her again.

A door slammed somewhere above. Feet scattered down the stairs. Another door opened, crashed back against the wall.

The demon spoke. ‘He’s banished me!’

‘Why?’ the woman answered, ‘what did you do?’

‘I revealed myself. Now he wants me gone. Blasted fool!’ This seething fury rattled against Ayn’s bones. With her eyes blind, all she had left were her ears – and her too-heightened senses. Why couldn’t the demon just let her die?

‘I thought you said you knew how to handle him this time?’ the woman cried, horrified. ‘How can you have ruined everything a second time? What were you thinking of?’

There was wood scraping as the demon replied, his voice rising, ‘He wants to set Vaughn free on a witch-hunt! I was trying to stop him. He thinks Carlan is still alive.’

‘But he is.’

‘Selar doesn’t know that – and he won’t – not until it’s too late. No,’ the demon paused, his voice dropping so low Ayn wouldn’t normally be able to hear it. Now, however, she could hear everything. Too much. ‘No, he’s just terrified. But it’s not sorcery he’s afraid of – only Carlan. The more his fear controls him, the more he’ll feel alone. In the end, he’ll remember that I was his friend. He’ll call me back.’

‘And if he doesn’t?’

‘He needs me. Just like he needed Carlan. He’s not a man who can live his life entirely alone. He was always like that – that’s why I chose him in the first place.’

The woman laughed, an ugly sound in the darkness. ‘And he still doesn’t know, does he? That the man he’s so terrified of and the man who has become his closest friend are one and the same? You didn’t tell him that, did you? You didn’t tell him that you are Carlan?’

‘No, of course not! Enough of this. I haven’t got much time – perhaps an hour before he sends soldiers to make sure I’m gone. I must squeeze some truth out of the old woman before I go. Keith can get rid of her tonight, after we’ve both gone. Make it late. Have him take her downriver
and dump her body. I don’t want anyone in the city finding she’s been murdered. After that, I suggest you stay low for a while. Send the boys away. I’ll be in touch by the usual means.’

That same laugh again, low and horrible. ‘You sound so sure of yourself. Why? How can you Bond Selar now that he’s banished you?’

Bond? What did that mean . . .

Ayn’s heart pounded. Dry mouth, searing breath dragged in and out. In vain she struggled against the ropes holding her to the pallet, but she was too weak now, too old and frail to free herself and warn the others. She didn’t even have the strength to pray.

‘Go on,’ the demon grunted. ‘Give Keith his orders. I have work to do.’

And then he came close to her again. Close enough for her to feel his breath on her beaten face. Blind, weak and helpless, Ayn couldn’t move away.

‘Now, old woman, this time you will tell me. You’ll tell me if there are any other sorcerers still alive in this putrid country of yours. Tell me all about the Salti Pazar. Most of all, you can tell me who the Enemy is and where you have hidden my Key.’

*

‘Are you sure you won’t be missed?’ Robert asked. ‘Will no one be asking awkward questions later?’

Father John shook his head and gave Robert a strange look. ‘I have many and varied duties. I’m often away from the cloister in pursuit of that work. How else would I be able to serve my own people as well as the Church?’

Robert nodded and continued up the hill towards the market square. Hawkers were packing up now and heading for home. It was almost dusk and time to start the real work. He paused at the corner to give the young priest some last instructions. ‘Remember, no matter what happens, I don’t want you to interfere. Even if the Guilde come upon me, recognize me and haul me away. You are to do nothing. I only want you to keep watch and make sure I’m not disturbed.’

‘But—’

‘You must understand, if I’m taken, there’s nothing you can do to help me. I’ll be much better off knowing that I only have myself to worry about. Do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ John murmured unhappily. ‘Where do you want me to wait?’

Robert glanced around the market square. ‘No less than thirty yards behind me at all times. I’ll be walking and stopping. Just don’t look as if you’re following me.’

The young man brushed his sandy hair back under his hood in a gesture that reminded Robert of Patric. Was it possible the two were related? Hardly. There were very few families that had more than one sorcerer among their number.