Voice Of The Demon (Book 2) (18 page)

Robert steered John into the street, then went off on his own. People passed him by without a second look. His limp was rhythmic, his hunched shoulders convincing. Nobody here would ever recognize him, because nobody would ever believe he’d come back to Marsay.

His senses reached out into the seething mass of the city. Focused and full of energy, Robert swept over all the mild, pale and misty auras he felt, none of whom possessed power. Instead, he kept the setting high, looking for one aura in particular.

Nothing.

He could feel John behind him, aimlessly following his every move, just as he’d been told. But in front was nothing but an empty city, vacant of even the friends he had once loved.

With an inward sigh, Robert changed tactics and turned into the nearest tavern. He took a table by the door, open to let in the little sunset breeze. He ordered a jug of ale and took one mouthful. Then he hunched himself down over it, his elbows resting on the table, his eyes closed. Now John had to earn his keep. This was the moment when Robert was at his most vulnerable.

With the bitter ale taste in his mouth, Robert concentrated, blocking out everything but his single purpose. Ayn’s
aura. He blocked out John. He blocked out Murdoch. Even . . .

What was that?

Hardly daring to breathe, he brought his focus into a solitary point. It was an aura he knew and it was—

In one movement he was on his feet and out the tavern door. Without pausing, he ran down the street, forgetting even to limp. He left the first alley and almost slid down the next. He scrambled to a halt at the corner and, with his heart pounding, he peered around the edge of the building.

Across the narrow street was a small house. Two windows on the street level, two more above. The door was set a little crooked, but it closed neatly into its place, aided by the hand of an extraordinarily beautiful woman.

Valena!

‘I’m sorry, Robert, I don’t understand.’ Murdoch pulled the shutters closed and quickly lit a lamp. ‘Are you telling me that last year you had a Malachi within the walls of Dunlorn – and you
didn’t
kill her?’

Robert nodded and tried very hard to stop pacing up and down the small loft room. Father John waited by the door, looking entirely helpless in the face of Robert’s sudden energy.

‘There were too many people about at the time, too many possibilities for real disaster. If I’d challenged her she could easily have brought the combat into the full view of several hundred people. You must sense Malachi coming through Marsay every now and then, but you don’t go about challenging them, do you? You don’t need to tell me it was a mistake. I know. I failed to kill Valena when I had the chance and now I’m sure she’s got Ayn in that house.’

‘But I thought you couldn’t Seek her?’

‘Not directly, no. An
ayarn
always makes an aura easier to focus on and hers has been destroyed. On top of that, she’s injured – unconscious. The weaker she gets, the harder it will be to find her. I can sense she’s in Marsay and on the same side of town as that house, but no more.’

‘Robert,’ Murdoch’s voice was emotionless, ‘only three or four sorcerers have ever been able to sense an unconscious aura. Are you certain she’s still alive?’

‘Positive. The gods alone know what they’ve done to her. The point is, we need to get her out of there. Tonight.’

Murdoch ran a hand through his shaggy beard and glanced across the room at John. ‘It’ll be tricky. We’ll need some help.’

‘No,’ Robert said. ‘Nobody else. We’ve endangered too many people in this venture already. Just you and me. John can keep watch. If anything goes wrong, we’ll need somebody to warn the Enclave.’

John sighed unhappily, ‘And what am I supposed to tell them?’

Robert paused at this. What indeed? To avoid Marsay at all costs? But where would that get them? And besides, there was one person who would pay no heed to a warning like that. ‘What do you know about Valena?’

‘Nothing,’ Murdoch admitted. ‘I can’t say I recognize her from your description. Perhaps if I see her when we go in I’ll be able to tell you more.’

‘Let’s just hope you don’t see her,’ Robert grunted. ‘I don’t want a fight. I just want to get Ayn free. If we call down hordes of Malachi on us, we’ll never get out of here alive.’

‘That’s fine, except that there aren’t hordes of Malachi in Marsay.’ Murdoch opened a cabinet near the door, throwing a grimace in John’s direction. ‘I would have known if there were. One, I could miss. No more.’

Murdoch strapped on his sword. Robert adjusted his disguise and picked up his own weapons. As he slipped the slim dagger into his boot, his hand shook and he clenched his fist to control it.

It was happening again.

He could feel it, deep down. Disquiet, frustration. Why
hadn’t the Enclave council listened to him? Why had Ayn volunteered for this mission? She must have known it was dangerous, must have known there was some truth in his warning. Had he destroyed her trust in him so much that she hadn’t listened at all?

Yes, there it was, rumbling away inside him, boiling with . . . with . . . anger.

Robert turned stiffly to the window but didn’t push the shutters open. Instead, he closed his eyes and drew in breath after breath. Steady. Steady. Grab hold of the demon and control it. It could be controlled, he knew it. Was certain of it. He’d been controlling it for almost twenty years now. He could do it again. He would do it again. He would continue to control the demon until the day he died.

‘You didn’t say what you want John to tell the council,’ Murdoch interrupted, ‘in case we get ourselves killed.’

Involuntarily, Robert laughed. This was so stupid. The more he tried to stay out of things, the more he became embroiled in them. What should he tell the council? What did it matter since they wouldn’t believe him anyway?

‘You can tell them . . . that the only person who should approach Marsay is the one who can wield the Key properly. Otherwise, the same fate will await them.’

John stared openly, his mouth agape. ‘But that could take centuries.’

Robert picked up his long black cloak and threw it around his shoulders. ‘I hope so.’

*

The sun set very slowly on the Vitala river. Great globules of molten sunlight dangled across the water like so many ships on the sea, for ever moving, until the last had faded away leaving only a faint glow in the sky, purple and orange, blood and fire.

Nash couldn’t leave the view until it was completely dark. He couldn’t bring himself to turn his horse away and ride west until all sight of the city was lost to night.

Selar must recall him. He had to.

Everything was in place. A position in the Guilde, physically close to that secret library. A unique and close relationship
to the King. The Ally, waiting right where he could find her. Why, not even the old woman’s unbreakable will could threaten him. She’d told them nothing – not even her name. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

None of it would matter if Selar didn’t recall him.

It was a pity the Bonding could only be done voluntarily. If it wasn’t for that, Nash could go back tonight, sneak into the castle while Selar was asleep – or drunk. Nobody could stop him . . .

But it was pointless thinking along those lines. Selar had banished him for the moment, and he would go home. Visit Bairdenscoth for the first time in some months.

With a grim smile at the dark city, Nash turned his horse away and spurred it down the hill.

*

‘Can you see him?’ Murdoch murmured, his face hidden in the dark shadows. ‘If he’s in position he should be somewhere by the corner.’

Robert didn’t bother stretching his senses, he could see John quite clearly – though few others would. ‘Yes. He’s ready. Are you?’

Murdoch shook his head disparagingly. ‘Have you any idea how long it’s been since I used a sword in battle?’

Robert smiled in the darkness, his eyes returning to the little house a few short yards up the street. ‘Don’t worry, my friend. You’d be surprised how much you remember.’

Murdoch grinned. ‘Oh, I remember lots of things – like that night on the Sadlani border. And look what happened that time.’

‘That was entirely different,’ Robert also remembered. ‘We weren’t facing sorcery then.’

‘That didn’t stop you using it.’

‘No.’ He shot a glance at Murdoch and smiled again. ‘You’re not still annoyed about that, are you?’

Murdoch grunted and let out a chuckle. ‘Nowhere near as much as the Sadlani. Look, are you sure Ayn is in here?’

‘No – but let’s face it, where else is she going to be?’

Robert waited a few minutes longer until the Basilica bells struck midnight. This area of the city was deserted now, not
a soul in sight. Further down towards the wall, taverns were still open and most revellers would flock there. Even better was the fact that there was no moon. It was hidden behind a curtain of fleecy cloud.

What would he find inside? Was Ayn still alive?

If only Jenn was here. Her Healer’s sight would be invaluable. Her other talents . . .

Robert hissed in a breath.
What was he doing?

‘What is it?’ Murdoch jumped, ready to move.

‘Nothing,’ Robert grunted. ‘Let’s go.’

*

Rosalind rose from her knees as she heard the outer door open and close. Her hands were still clasped together, her eyes still on the modest trium high on the wall above her prie-dieu, but her heart and her mind were far from prayer.

Selar had ordered a search for sorcerers. Even now, Vaughn was organizing his men, gathering together his host of soldiers to go through the land, to arrest and burn every person suspected of the arcane. Vaughn said he would know how to find them – but what else would he find in the process? Who else, innocent and inconvenient, would be burned at the stake as a sorcerer?

Rosalind heard Samah enter the room behind her and came slowly to her feet.

She tried hard, but she couldn’t hide her distress from her own sister.

‘What is it?’ Samah asked, moving quickly to take Rosalind’s hands.

‘The King has forbidden me to visit McCauly again.’

‘But why?’

‘Selar came back in a terrible rage this afternoon. And now this business with the Guilde . . .’

‘I know,’ Samah murmured, joining her by the window. ‘I was jostled as I came back from the Basilica. His Grace the Duke of Ayr was kind enough to escort me back.’

Rosalind nodded, letting her mind go blank. ‘Perhaps it would be best if you return to your priory. I fear the city is no longer safe.’

Samah squeezed her hands, a warm smile on her face.
‘Sister, I will not leave you until this is over. My final vows will await until I get back. Now come, let’s get you settled into bed. You need some sleep.’

*

There was no light coming from the house. It was silent. Robert scanned the surrounding streets carefully before he put his hand anywhere near the latch. Strangely, it was unlocked, and quickly they slipped inside.

It was very dark, but he didn’t dare raise a light, not until they were certain the house was empty. Murdoch began to climb the stairs before them, his feet padding silently on the wooden steps. Robert moved forward into the front room, but it was empty. A little furniture spread around, expensive but sparse. He stretched his senses to encompass the whole building, but apart from Murdoch above, he still couldn’t sense Ayn – and fortunately, no one else either.

Was he too late?

He stood still, held his breath and listened. Yes, Murdoch was good at this. Years of practice collecting information at the capital had bred in him a superb ability for silence. Either that or he’d been discovered.

Robert continued to listen—

There! The smallest sound . . . coming from . . . the cellar!

No longer caring about the noise he made, Robert strode to the back of the house and threw open the cellar door. The steps were lit by a single lamp hanging from the roof. Yes, now there was more noise from below – and from above as Murdoch started down the steps.

Robert moved down into the cellar, drawing his sword as he went. He placed his hand on the door at the bottom, but still his senses failed him. With a quick breath, he opened the door.

Something slammed into him from the side, pushing him up against the wall. He instantly brought his sword arm up, countered the blade held perilously close to his throat, and thrust back. His attacker stumbled, but immediately countered with another blow. Steel clashed against steel, but Robert had the advantage of size and weight. Every blow he exchanged sent his attacker further back into the room. He
heard Murdoch clatter down the stairs behind him, but concentrated on finding a weak point to make use of.

Suddenly the moment came and Robert swung his sword, knocked the blade from his attacker’s hand. As he stumbled to retrieve it, Murdoch sprang forward and raised his dagger. With a blow to the head, the young man fell to his knees and then to the ground, unconscious.

‘Well timed,’ Robert murmured. ‘Let’s find Ayn. We can question him later.’

Without pausing Robert clenched his hand and brought forth a clear white light. This room was tiny, but there was another door to the right. Fearing what he would find, Robert pushed it open, brought the light up to bear.

‘Ayn!’ He bounded forward, dropping his sword. She was lying on an ancient pallet, her eyes closed, her face puffy and bruised. Caked blood surrounded her mouth, nose and ears and she was completely still.

‘Is she alive?’ Murdoch hissed as Robert fell to his knees beside Ayn.

‘Yes – just.’ He put his hand to her face, tried to wake her up. ‘Ayn? Can you hear me? Ayn?’

She stirred, her head moving so slightly he could have missed it. Murdoch found a lamp and lit it, brought it close. Robert killed his own light and cut the bonds holding Ayn to the bed. Again he tried to wake her.

‘Ayn? Please say something. Can you move?’

‘Robert?’ A tiny sound, barely audible, barely understandable.

‘Yes, I’m here. It’s all right. You’re safe now.’

‘No,’ Ayn said, the whisper stronger now. ‘Too late. He’ll come again. To kill me. You must go. Evil.’