Voice Of The Demon (Book 2) (47 page)

Micah tried not to stiffen at the questions, but the moment he’d had word that Margaret and Owen had arrived in secret he’d known what would happen. But they, like everybody
else, had had no sight nor word of Robert since the morning of Jenn’s wedding.

‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ Margaret was talking again. ‘I shouldn’t be doing this to you in your condition. It’s just that I am so worried about him. With all that’s happened to him over the last few years, I wonder how he has the strength to bear it. That perhaps he hasn’t . . .’

‘My lord has strength enough to survive anything, my lady.’ Micah found the words came out without effort. ‘But you know he’s always needed time to sort through his thoughts and feelings. Selar’s rejection hit him hard. I believe that if the circumstances had been different, he would have killed the King.’

Margaret rose to her feet.

‘Then he should have killed Selar! I would have, had I been able. That that monster should defile my son’s name by calling him a coward is unbelievable! All his life Robert has tried so hard to be loyal and honourable and for that he is reviled – in public!’

Ignoring Owen’s hand on her arm Margaret paced back and forth in front of the windows. ‘Oh, we all know why Selar did it. He knew Robert wouldn’t react in such a place. He knew he’d get away with it, believing that the people would see Robert as a coward because he would not react. Selar had to destroy the support Robert has always had across the country. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help wishing Robert had just killed him there and then.’

Margaret paused, fighting back tears of rage and frustration, but before Micah could move to her, Jenn was there, holding Margaret’s hands between her own.

‘Please,’ Jenn began softly, ‘don’t distress yourself so. I know this is painful for you and waiting is not easy when you have no idea of what you’re waiting for. But trust me – this
is
just a time of waiting. This is not the end. It can’t be.’

‘Then you believe he’ll return?’

Jenn lifted her chin and met Margaret’s gaze. ‘I don’t know.’

‘I do,’ Micah said firmly. ‘Robert will come back.’

Margaret turned her gaze on him, quizzical and hesitant. ‘You sound so sure. You must know him so well.’

‘I agree with Micah, my lady,’ Owen joined in. ‘Robert has spent these last years trying to avoid a battle that was always inevitable. One day, however, the battle will be taken to him – and he’ll not fail us then. You know in your heart this is true.’

Margaret nodded slowly. ‘I’m sorry . . . I shouldn’t have allowed myself to . . .’

Jenn smiled, squeezing her hands. ‘Don’t apologize. Robert himself would not allow you to. He’d also be plainly irritated by your concern.’

Owen moved forward. ‘I’m sorry, my lady, but we must be moving on. We need to get some distance behind us before we stop for the night.’

With a nod, Margaret embraced Jenn and Micah and then, without another word, Micah led them out of the room and down through the castle to the stables. They were on their way out of the castle before anyone could really notice. As they rode away, Micah allowed himself only the smallest pang of regret that he was not going with them.

*

It was routine alone that kept it bearable. Jenn ate her supper in her room, washed and changed and heaved her cumbersome body into bed. It was then that she dismissed Addie for the night and indulged in a little reading by the thick yellow candle she kept by her pillow. Only routine failed her from time to time.

A visit from that Guildesman – and Eachern had obviously been useless at finding an excuse to keep him away. Now the news would go all around the court, the subject of endless speculation.

And somewhere, somehow, the Angel of Darkness would hear. What would he do? Would he take this opportunity to further his own plans?

Did he still think Finnlay was the Enemy?

And what if he’d encountered Robert – could that be why neither had been heard of for so long? What if Robert had failed . . .

No!

He couldn’t be dead. She would know. She would
know
!

By the gods, Margaret had taken such a risk coming here. And why? So she could see for herself that neither Jenn nor Micah knew any more than they’d told her already? But then, if it hadn’t been for the child, she would have done exactly the same thing and gone to Dunlorn.

Jenn couldn’t stay in bed. Restless and weary, she got up for a while and tried to walk about, but the baby wouldn’t let her. As she got back under the covers, she lay on her side and wrapped her arms about her belly. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the other life inside her. She carefully calmed herself, breathed deeply and evenly, relaxed her whole body.

And then she could hear it. Softly and gently, like a breeze drifting across her face. Not a voice, but a presence, that had been growing stronger over the last few months. A sorcerer’s presence with an aura all its own, quite unlike any she’d encountered so far – and yet, it was familiar in so many ways.

She couldn’t tell whether it was a boy or girl. She couldn’t even sense what it was thinking or feeling. All she knew was that at times like this, the presence reached out and calmed her, put a bar on her agitation, stopped her from pacing in restlessness.

‘Another four weeks, my love,’ she murmured softly. ‘Another four weeks and then we’ll meet.’

*

Nash returned to the same inn where he’d spent the previous night. For a travellers’ stop, it was very comfortable and convenient, being on the main road to Marsay. With an early start he would be in the capital by sunset tomorrow.

He took a room which looked out over the road busy with carts and litters, riders and walkers. So many people so intent on their own lives that they rarely looked up to see what was about them. If they had?

Well, that’s what made it so easy. The simple fact that most people paid absolutely no attention to what was going on around them. They came across small obstacles and either
overcame them or went around them as they chose. So few even knew the greater challenges that life dealt. Even fewer of them cared.

So Nash could move about as he liked, nudging his plans ever closer to his goal without anybody ever seeing what he was up to.

With a smile, Nash pulled his clothes off and washed. He was reaching for a clean shirt when there was a quiet and familiar knock at his door.

‘Come in, Lisson.’

The young man entered, travel-stained and weary. ‘I have a letter for you, master.’

Nash closed the door behind him and took the pouch from his hand. ‘This had better be from DeMassey.’

Hardly able to control his anticipation, Nash strode to the window, extracted the letter and cracked open the seal. The contents were encrypted as usual, but Nash merely touched his garnet ring to the paper and the symbols took a form and shape he could read.

I honestly don’t know how you’re going to repay me for this. Have no doubt, however, that I have every intention of extracting just recompense. I just thought I’d tell you that now.

I have the boy. If you’re sufficiently grateful when I bring him to you, I may even tell you where I found him. Since you expressed no interest in the others, I’ll make you wait to hear of their fate. Suffice to say, my efforts on your behalf are far beyond what you have any right to expect.

I send this message express to you. It will take me a week or so before I’m close to Marsay. When I’m nearer, I’ll send word where you can meet me. Until then I suggest you keep the news secret. I wouldn’t want anybody trying to steal him away again.

DeMassey.

At last!

Nash almost laughed with delight. What a triumph. He
would hand Kenrick back to Selar, personally – and then he would complete the Bonding.

So very close now. Very close indeed.

‘You’d better be sure about this, Gilbert.’

‘I am.’

DeMassey glanced aside at him and continued, ‘Because if you’re wrong, this is going to take some getting out of.’

‘Don’t worry.’

‘We’ve never ventured this far east before with a raiding party. There are things in this part of the world we really should try to avoid.’

‘I told you not to worry, Luc. Everything will be just fine. I know what I’m doing,’ Gilbert replied confidently.

DeMassey lifted his feet from his stirrups and stretched his legs out. Gilbert sat on his horse, with one leg over the pommel, the image of perfect calm. They were the same age, and yet Gilbert always assumed an older, wiser air which irritated most people. It wasn’t a façade, either. Gilbert had been like that from a child. His ill-proportioned body had taken years to develop any real strength. His face, never attractive, had grown even uglier over the years. Thick black eyebrows shadowed small eyes of a pale amber. Below them sat a nose so large it almost had an identity of its own. There was a crooked mouth too, with crooked teeth to match, one of which was missing from a boyhood battle with a fighting staff. As though to shun any attempt to hide his looks, Gilbert wore his rust red hair long in a braid down his back and gave every indication of being a dangerous, menacing warrior.

He wasn’t.

DeMassey sighed and glanced up through the trees to site
the position of the sun. ‘Where are they? Can’t Felen do anything on time?’

‘If you didn’t think you could trust him, why did you get him involved? You have the entire D’Azzir at your command. Why get Felen in as well?’

‘I should have thought that was obvious. He’ll make a good scapegoat if anything goes wrong.’

Gilbert began to laugh, then waved his hand towards the thick forest. ‘He’s coming now.’

DeMassey turned to look as the brush parted before the small force he’d brought from Karakham. Felenor Callenderi rode in the front.

‘Good,’ DeMassey said. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

*

The brook was overfull of water, though it was clear and clean in the sunshine. Rosalind walked along the bank keeping a careful eye on Kenrick as he waded barefoot in the shallows. It had been a lovely day – and such a good idea to get out from the confines of the house. Duke Kavanagh had been generous in his gift, but there was still the essence of a prison about any dwelling she couldn’t dare to leave. At least she’d had a few moments like this. George had suggested this outing as a surprise. He’d even packed a lunch for them, arriving early in the morning to take them out. The guards hadn’t been happy, but what could they say?

‘Mother?’

‘Yes, Kenrick?’

The boy stood knee deep in water and put his hands on his hips. ‘When will Earl George teach me to ride? He said I had to wait until the snows went, but there isn’t any snow now and he still hasn’t taught me.’

‘Have you asked him why?’

‘I just told him he had to. He laughed. I don’t like him. My father wouldn’t let anyone laugh at me.’

‘No,’ Rosalind murmured, ‘he wouldn’t.’

She glanced over her shoulder to the clearing in the trees where George sat with Galiena and Samah, reading to them from a book. He’d tried so hard to replace the memory of Selar with something more substantial. Galiena had always
liked him and responded well. Even Samah, her life as a nun no more now than a mourned memory, had gone with the spirit of their new life. Only Kenrick resisted. He had idolized his father and still remembered him too much. But it was early yet. Perhaps in a few years, Kenrick would learn more than his father could possibly have taught him.

And as for Rosalind? George had remained her faithful ally, yet she could see from time to time the pain in his eyes. She wanted to love him – and did, in a way. But she could never allow herself to love him as he loved her. Not while she was still married to Selar, while the children were still in such need of her. George made no demands on her and yet, at times, she almost wished he would.

‘I’ll speak to Earl George for you, my dear,’ Rosalind smiled back at the boy. ‘If you’re good, I’ll see if I can arrange a lesson for you tomorrow.’

A war of loyalties crossed the boy’s face until he finally made his decision. He nodded. ‘Thank you, Mother.’

She reached out her hand to help him out of the water. Then a noise disturbed her and she looked up. The trees across the brook rustled with the pounding of horses and instinctively she grabbed hold of her son.

Then, like a nightmare come to life, soldiers on horseback burst from the forest and splashed across the water. They wore long robes of foreign design and immediately surrounded her, waving swords from above. Rosalind screamed and pulled Kenrick behind her. She backed away, but there was no escape. Two men jumped down and tried to get at Kenrick. She kicked and flailed at them, but her efforts were in vain. One man, ugly and menacing, took hold of Kenrick and pulled him from her grasp so hard she stumbled forward.

‘No! Kenrick!’ she screamed.

He was thrown to another man still on his horse. As she struggled forward, unthinking of the danger, she was grabbed and thrown to the ground. While the ugly man climbed back on his horse, the other stood over her with menace in his eyes.

‘Come, Felen, leave her. We’ve got what we wanted!’

Rosalind swung her leg and brought the man to the
ground. She fought to get to her feet and lunged again for Kenrick – then stopped.

Pain. Small and needle-like, in the centre of her back. Her legs wouldn’t move. Instead, they crumpled beneath her and she fell to the ground. Kenrick was screaming for her, but the horsemen gathered together and turned back across the stream. Seconds later, they were gone, leaving only the trembling trees as evidence of their passage.

Rosalind dropped on to her stomach. It was hard to breathe and her legs were going numb. She couldn’t lift her head, but from the distance she could hear feet running towards her, cries echoing in the forest.

Then hands lifted her up, turned her over, and George was whispering her name, urgently, terrified. She blinked but couldn’t say anything.

Slowly she lost her body and then her sight. For a while she drifted down into the darkness until everything stopped.