Rebel's Cage (Book 4) (30 page)

‘Jenn! Martha!’ Arlie emerged onto the small landing, sparing the new cave only the most superficial glance. ‘You have to come. Finnlay and I … we’ve found something.’

*

Margaret walked a little slower than the others these days, so by the time she got to Henry’s rooms, they were already all there. Finnlay, bless his enthusiastic heart, could hardly contain himself, and Arlie looked like he had the day his youngest baby had been born; awfully pleased with himself and trying to pretend he wasn’t.

She looked around the room, at the space that had once been Henry’s. The heavy bookshelves were almost empty now, their contents already deposited in the library. Most of his personal possessions had been removed over the last two weeks by his niece, Celia. And although there was still a faint air of Henry’s character to these rooms, what remained was …

‘What a mess you’ve made!’ Margaret exclaimed. The table had been pulled away from the wall and was covered in notebooks, sheets of vellum, scrolls and boxes. The three chairs and parts of the floor were equally draped, leaving the place looking like a whirlwind had passed through recently, and none too kindly.

‘Close the door, will you, Mother?’ Finnlay flashed her a smile, then darted back around to the other side of the table. Once she’d shut the door, he gestured towards the chaos before him.

‘Celia asked us to go through Henry’s papers, to make sure there wasn’t anything to do with council business we might need. We haven’t finished yet—’

‘But we found something very interesting—’

‘Yes,’ Finnlay nodded, tapping his hands on a pile of papers. ‘Very interesting indeed.’

The women standing before them looked at each other with expressions so plainly patiently indulgent, Margaret almost laughed. Instead, she carefully moved a box of papers from one of the chairs and sat down.

‘So, what have you found,’ Jenn began, ‘that’s got you both excited as a pair of schoolboys?’

‘And why,’ Fiona added, ‘do we need the door closed?’

‘Ah,’ Finnlay’s enthusiasm faltered a little then. He paused, shot a measuring glance at Arlie and then replied, ‘Well, it’s just that, Henry never told anybody about this. The notes I’ve found so far suggest he didn’t think people would take it very well but … well, until we’ve discussed it …’

‘Finn,’ Jenn sighed, ‘please, just get on with it. We don’t have all day.’

‘Right, well …’

Arlie grinned at Finnlay’s dithering and began crisply, ‘Henry appears to have been working on a project for the last five years or so. Possibly longer, but that’s as far back as we’ve got so far. He’s been studying the children born at the Enclave, comparing the numbers to our historical records dating as far back as they go – which is to the Enclave’s founders. What he’s found is—’

‘Incredible!’ Finnlay finished for him, his enthusiasm now back in full flood. ‘I have no idea why he started all this, but I can’t believe nobody else noticed what’s been happening, right under our noses.’

‘For pity’s sake,’ Fiona groaned. ‘What?’

‘Well …’ Finnlay began, but Jenn held up a hand and pointed to Arlie.

‘No, you stay quiet. Arlie can tell us.’

Finnlay scowled, but kept his peace. Arlie, suppressing a smile, continued, ‘Henry had trouble getting complete proof for all this because of the gaps in our library – but we all know that sorcery rarely followed a family line. When the Enclave was founded, fewer than one family in twenty had children with abilities. It didn’t seem to matter whether one or both parents were sorcerers. Before that, inside the Cabal, it was even less frequent.’

Arlie paused, glancing down at the notes before him. ‘Fifteen years ago, a family with one parent sorcerer had a one in three chance of having a sorcerer child. For both parents, it was one in two.’

Margaret frowned and looked at Jenn, but her gaze was fixed on the Healer as though she’d already guessed what he was about to say. A grey light glinted in her eyes, but she said nothing.

‘Henry had no idea how or why it’s happened, but today, in a family of one sorcerer parent, two out of three children will have talents – and when two sorcerers marry,
all
of their children will possess abilities.’

‘All?’ Jenn murmured, staring at him.

‘And,’ Finnlay added, determined not to be left out of this completely, ‘with so many of us living here permanently now, each year we produce more and more sorcerers. I mean, our Seekers hardly find any nowadays, even when they do go out.’ He looked to Fiona to confirm that, as she was responsible for coordinating their activities.

‘Yes,’ Fiona nodded, frowning. ‘We’re only finding children too young to take. Are you saying this is connected? For all we know, the Malachi are out there Seeking …’

‘They never have before.’

‘That we know of.’ Fiona’s voice came out hard, with an edge of disappointment to it – but Jenn held up her hand.

‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, please. Are you saying that if this trend continues, within a generation, or perhaps two, every person in this place will have abilities?’

Both Arlie and Finn nodded.

‘But does he give any reason for this?’ Martha asked. ‘Is there nothing in his notes that suggests a theory as to why this is happening now?’

‘He did seem anxious about the timing of these law changes,’ Arlie shrugged. ‘But he said nothing to us after he collapsed.’

‘But we’re still going through all this,’ Finnlay’s enthusiasm hadn’t dropped at all. ‘We need to check it all more carefully, and go through the rest of his books and papers, to make sure we didn’t miss anything.’

‘Well,’ Fiona murmured, her gaze on the table, ‘it’s a pity we don’t have any records of Malachi traditions. For all we know, all their children are born with abilities, and we’re the ones lagging behind. Or,’ she looked up at her husband, her eyes narrowing, ‘perhaps they
are
taking all those our Seekers would normally pick up.’

‘But the Malachi don’t have the Key,’ Finnlay waved his hand, dismissing her comments without even looking at her. Instead, his gaze was on the notebooks before him, his fingers tracing the edge of papers that held secrets from him. ‘What happens to them doesn’t have any relevance here. We need to start thinking about what this means, how we’re going to deal with twice and three times the number of sorcerers within our midst. As it is, we have a problem with the children getting bored – how much worse is it going to be—’

‘And where,’ Martha added quietly, ‘are we going to house all these people? If anybody with abilities is vulnerable to the Bresail …’

Margaret listened to all the arguments, but her eyes were on Jenn. There was something very odd going on beneath the surface, something almost a little frightening.

Abruptly, Jenn looked up, taking in a sharp breath that almost turned into a shudder. ‘Henry
was
very concerned about the timing of the new laws, as though … Did he leave
any
theory behind at all?’

Finnlay met Jenn’s gaze and the fine hairs on the back of Margaret’s neck rose. It was almost as if a whole conversation was carried out in those brief moments, something weighty and hard and not at all pleasant to either of them. A battle of wills, almost.

‘His last notes,’ Finnlay replied after only the briefest hesitation, ‘pinpoint the change to the year Andrew was born.’

Jenn’s eyes widened fractionally. ‘He actually mentions …’

‘Andrew, yes.’ And there was nothing in his voice. ‘The last child without abilities was born two days before Andrew. Since then …’

Jenn paled a little, swallowed hard, then dropped her gaze to the table once more, but her eyes seemed to bore right through it.

Margaret felt compelled to fill the silence before it could become too difficult to ignore. She cleared her throat and said, ‘Have we heard anything more from Patric? If he’s due home soon, perhaps he’ll be able to shed some light on this.’

‘Yes!’ Finnlay took off again. ‘He had a reference to an obscure prophecy, centuries old. It predicted something would happen about four hundred years ago and … Henry’s notes suggest a similar increase in sorcerer children at about the same time. As though …’

‘What?’ Fiona asked flatly.

Finnlay spread his arms wide. ‘As though Salti were getting ready for something. Something that was supposed to happen!’

‘That’s ridiculous!’ Fiona snapped. ‘This is all guesswork! This is just because we have more Salti living here than before. It’s natural that Salti will marry other Salti …’

‘But the number of children born with abilities for each couple has increased,’ Finnlay began to argue, but Jenn held up both hands, ordering silence.

‘Henry was an old man when he died.’ Jenn’s voice came out
level, quiet, determined and quite unlike the way she usually sounded. ‘He hadn’t been well for a long time.’

‘What?’ Finnlay stepped towards her, enthusiasm ready to redirect to anger if necessary. ‘Are you going to say he was feeble-minded? That he was imagining things?’

Jenn’s gaze snapped to his – and again, there was that secret communication between them. Everyone in the room noticed it, including Fiona.

Jenn continued as though nothing had happened, ‘Henry was a sick old man, trying to do the right thing. But we can’t just take his word for this, he could be wrong.’

‘How can you say that when—’

And in the blink of an eye, Jenn’s expression changed completely, along with her voice. Both gaze and tone came out much harder than Margaret had ever witnessed before. ‘Don’t argue, Finnlay! I refuse to examine this question further until all this work is verified. I won’t have you spreading the word throughout the Enclave that there’s something strange going on. We have enough problems at the moment without that kind of reckless speculation from someone in your position.’

‘Oh, what, so you’re just going to
pretend
that none of this is true? Is that it? By the gods, Jenn, you’re a fool!’

Abruptly the air was full of a physical tension far greater than the other. Margaret held her breath, waiting for Jenn to turn her full wrath on Finnlay, but nothing happened. Instead, Jenn just shook her head at him, and whispered, ‘No.’ With that, she turned and walked out, closing the door gently behind her.

‘Serin’s blood!’ Fiona muttered into the ensuing silence, her anger more contained, but equally focused on Finnlay. ‘When are you going to leave her alone?’

‘Leave her alone? But you know what—’

‘I know that you’re obsessed with that … with that
boy!
To the exclusion of me, of your own daughters, to everything else where you just don’t have the energy to even smile at us any more. But anything to do with Andrew, and you’re right there, aren’t you? Well, I don’t care if he
is
your—’

‘Fiona!’ Finnlay stepped around the table in warning. ‘We’ll discuss this later.’

But his words had emptied his wife of her anger. Instead, she gazed upon him with sadness. ‘No,’ she murmured, ‘we won’t. And that’s the problem.’ She moved away from him then, and left quietly.

For a moment, Finnlay stared at the door, indecision clear on his face. Then his eyes narrowed and, without a word, he left. Margaret already knew which direction he was going in.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder and she turned to find Martha watching her, a faint, slightly resigned smile on her face. Arlie put an arm around his wife’s waist and pressed a kiss to her temple.

‘You’re not worried about them, are you?’

Margaret resisted the urge to look at the empty doorway. ‘No more than usual.’

‘I think I might go and see how Fiona is,’ Martha disengaged herself. ‘Arlie could probably use some help working through all this, if you’re interested?’

With a look at the tall man, then at the table, Margaret felt a crooked smile form across her face. ‘Strangely, though I wouldn’t have said so before, now I find a strong curiosity in me.’

As soon as Martha left them, Arlie pulled a chair up to the table and sat her down to work.

*

It was with a cautious hand that Martha knocked on the door to Fiona and Finnlay’s rooms. A single word was called out and she entered, immediately peering around in case the girls were inside.

‘They’re out. All of them,’ Fiona’s voice came from the bedroom. ‘I have no idea where and right at this moment …’

Carefully, Martha moved to the bedroom door and paused. Fiona was sitting on the end of the bed, feet on a wooden chest, winding spun wool from a skein into a ball. She appeared quite calm on the surface, but it was a good thing the wool was strong.

Martha dived into the mire. ‘You know he can’t help it.’

‘Yes.’

‘And he doesn’t do it deliberately.’

‘No.’

‘He would never intentionally hurt either you or the girls.’

‘Of course he wouldn’t.’

‘He’s a good husband and father.’

‘I could not possibly have asked for more in a man.’

‘Except?’ Martha posed quietly.

‘Except …’ Fiona’s hands came to a halt. Her eyes shifted to the floor before her and she added, ‘loyalty.’

‘He loves you.’

Fiona said nothing to this and Martha moved forward. Shifting her skirts, she sat on the end of the wooden chest and turned to look at the other woman. ‘He does love you, Fiona.’

‘I’m not sure that even matters any more.’ Fiona blinked a few times, as though her eyes stung. ‘He was once prepared to defy Robert in order to marry me – and now, he runs around after … and she smiles at him and shares her secrets with him and loans him her son so he doesn’t feel as though he’s …’ Fiona clamped her mouth shut, forcing further words back into her throat.

‘Have you talked to him about this?’

Winding the wool once more, Fiona shook her head sharply. ‘I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve spoken and he’s not listened. He just says, how can he not watch over his own nephew?’ Fiona swallowed hard, her bitter words almost too much for the soft wool. ‘The sainted Robert and his sainted Jenn. You don’t know how close I’ve come to hating both of them!’

Fiona slapped the wool down on the bed and placed her hands either side of her, rocking back and forth a little, doing what she could to contain the confusion and frustration that leaked out of her with every gesture, every word. ‘And you just watch them. Watch her. You’ll see. It will all start up again and then he’ll go off and be a hero once more because his damned brother is too damned noble for his own good. Those people out there,’ she waved her hand, indicating those beyond the walls of the Enclave, ‘they can’t be saved because they don’t
want it. They’ve been conquered, for twenty-eight years. Most of them can’t even remember what it was like before. What is Robert trying to prove? And why, why does he have to involve my husband in it? Why can’t we just … just be left alone this time?’