Voice Of The Demon (Book 2) (21 page)

So, where was Nash?

With a casual turn of his head, Osbert switched his attention to the King. He was looking even worse now. Dark rings circled his eyes, black against the pallor of his skin. The gods alone knew what he’d done the night before, but he’d not woken until midday, and then in a rage. He’d snapped at everybody and even had one of his pages whipped for forgetting extra water for the bath.

What was eating away at him? Nash had hinted Selar was plagued by bad dreams – but if Osbert could see the damage they were inflicting, how long would it be before their enemies heard? It would take very little for the barbarians
across the Sadlan border to mount a few incursions. In this condition, Selar would be hard-pressed to form an armed response.

And still they waited. The meeting could not begin until the last councillor appeared. Selar frowned at Vaughn, jerked his head towards the door. The Proctor took the hint and rose to his feet. Before he could get very far, the doors crashed open and Governor Lewis stood at the end of the table, his face white with shock, his chest heaving for air.

‘Sire! I come with grave news.’

Selar rose to his feet immediately. ‘Well, what is it?’

‘I went to fetch Earl Kandar as you commanded, but I could not find him anywhere. I searched his rooms but found them empty. I sent out guards to find him and—’

‘What?’

‘The Queen, Sire. She’s gone.’

‘Gone?’ Selar repeated with disbelief.

‘Yes, Sire, with your children. Her sister and a couple of Kandar’s personal guards have gone as well. There’s no sign of them anywhere. I fear—’

‘Eachern!’ Selar bellowed, ‘call out my men. Get them mounted up and in the courtyard in ten minutes. Vaughn, raise your forces, too. They must not get away! Do whatever you must to get them back. I don’t care who you kill, but bring my son back alive!’

*

It was not until Vaughn had finished issuing orders to his soldiers that he realized Lewis was waiting behind him. The Guilde entrance hall was still full of people and the noise was incredible. Glancing at Lewis, Vaughn pushed open the door of a dark antechamber and waited for Lewis to follow him inside. Then he closed the door and waited in the light of a single small window, high on the wall.

‘Is this about the Queen?’

‘No, my lord,’ Lewis replied, obviously nervous. ‘You asked me to observe Nash. I did my best but I—’

‘What?’ Vaughn snapped.

‘I was not prepared for what I would find, my lord. On two separate occasions I spied him in the company of a
certain woman of extraordinary beauty. I’m told she frequents his rooms in the castle.’

‘A woman?’ Vaughn gritted his teeth. This was too much. ‘Who is she?’

‘I’ve not yet been able to discover her identity, my lord, but I will. I found the house where she lives and . . .’ Lewis’s voice trembled as he delivered his report.

‘Out with it, man!’ Vaughn ordered. He didn’t have time for this.

‘Last night, as I was coming back to the castle, I passed by the woman’s house. I saw two men enter and I swear one of them was the Duke of Haddon. He had a cap on, perhaps in an attempt at disguise – but I’d know that face anywhere, my lord.’

Lewis waited for Vaughn’s explosion. Vaughn stared at him for a long time, almost unable to believe this news. Nash – the woman – Haddon. All connected in some way.

‘Why didn’t you tell me this last night?’ Vaughn whispered.

‘I couldn’t find you at first then . . . I was worried my eyes had deceived me.’

‘And now today you are sure?’

Lewis nodded, ‘Yes, my lord.’

Vaughn watched the man for a moment longer, then turned his gaze up to the small window. Without any warning at all, he began to laugh.

Finnlay started awake, lifting his head from the pile of papers strewn across the table.

‘You’re supposed to be working, not sleeping!’

Acelin was standing over him with a lamp in one hand and a steaming cup in the other. There was no other light in the library – all the candles had long since burned out.

‘I was just . . .’ Finnlay’s mouth felt like soggy clay, his head like sand. He sat back too quickly and lost his vision for a moment.

‘Here, get this down you.’ Acelin lifted Finnlay’s hand and wrapped his fingers around the cup, hesitating until he was sure it wouldn’t drop to the floor. ‘How long have you been sitting here? All night?’

Finnlay took a mouthful of the brew and immediately burned his mouth. For a moment he sat there, uselessly fanning his tongue and then threw a grimace up at the librarian. ‘What time is it?’

‘About an hour after dawn.’

‘Then, yes, I’ve been here all night.’

‘And how is my translation going?’

Finnlay closed his eyes. Acelin was a slave-driver, never satisfied with anything Finnlay did. It was a good job that the librarian didn’t know what Finnlay had spent the entire night working on – or the night before. ‘I told you at the start. Saelic is not my best language. It’s going to take me time. Do you want me to finish it quickly or do you want it correct?’

Acelin straightened up, thumped the lamp down on the table. ‘So high and mighty for one so ignorant of Saelic grammar. You’ve been working on this for days and yet you still won’t show me your progress.’

Hunching over the table with the cup between his hands, Finnlay grimaced, but didn’t look up. ‘Is there any wonder with the way you stand over me? I’m only here to help you, after all.’

‘Well, don’t expect gratitude from me, Finnlay Douglas,’ Acelin grunted. ‘You have a lot of work to do before I’ll forgive you for what you did to the Jaibir.’

Finnlay stared at Acelin’s back as he loped away to his precious map room. After a moment a yellow glow flooded through the door and on to the cold stone floor as Acelin lit a lamp ready to start work.

With a sigh, Finnlay lifted his arms from the table and surveyed the mess. The last few lines of his notes were unreadable and he’d managed to spill wax all over two of
Patric’s drawings. Still, the loss of sleep had been worth it. There was no precedent, no record of anyone ever having had a proper vision during a Seeking, but his research had turned up one interesting fact. Once, long before the birth of the Enclave, Seekers had sometimes worked in tandem to search a greater distance. There was supposed to be some way to link the focus. Although there was no actual instruction on how to achieve this link, it was obvious to Finnlay that this was the starting point for some explanation of how he’d managed to see both Jenn and Ayn.

But how to take it further, that was the problem.

‘Finnlay?’

He looked up. Fiona came through the door, her eyes reflecting the light from the candle she carried. For once, there was no frown on her face. In fact, she was smiling.

‘Be careful Acelin doesn’t catch you with that in here.’

‘I’ll be gone before he sees me. I just came to tell you. It’s Martha.’

Finnlay would have sprung to his feet if his legs hadn’t been half-asleep. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ Fiona laughed. ‘She’s had a little girl. They’re both fine.’

‘That’s wonderful! How’s Arlie?’

Fiona glanced down at his papers. ‘Why don’t you come and see for yourself?’

He didn’t need further encouragement. He scraped his books and notes together in a bundle and tucked them under his arm. He paused long enough to blow out the lamp, then followed Fiona out the door.

*

Wilf trotted down the steps into the refectory, waved a breezy good morning to the cook and collected his breakfast. Thick oat porridge and cream, two wedges of brown bread and honey and an enormous mug of lemony brew. He called out a few more greetings as he wound his way between the tables and took a seat opposite Henry. Immediately he tucked into his food, relishing every mouthful.

‘Go on, give me the report,’ he said through a mouth of bread.

‘Those traders reached the saddle before dark last night, but by dawn this morning, they’d moved on west without stopping. Callum followed them for a while until he was sure they wouldn’t come back this way. Apart from that, there’s been no traffic through the Goleth in the last day.’ Henry looked tired. His breakfast plate was small and although he’d obviously finished eating, there was still a lot of food remaining.

‘Anything else?’

‘Sebastian has cleared the heating vents ready for the cold weather. I think he wants to open them up early this year so he has time to trace back any problems to the Firelake before we really need them.’

‘Good idea. I remember what happened last year. Those gears are getting too old and worn. Perhaps it’s time we thought about replacing them.’

Henry sighed and ran a hand over his face. ‘Grolandy has taken a turn for the worse. They had to send for a Healer in the night. They think she won’t last another day.’

‘Oh. I’ll stop by when we’ve finished here.’ Wilf stuck his spoon into the porridge and lifted forth a lump of creamy grey stodge. ‘And what’s the good news?’

‘Sorry?’

‘You always finish your nightly reports with good news. What is it?’

Henry actually smiled – though slowly. ‘Martha had a little girl just after midnight. I’m told it was an easy birth – but having witnessed one of those, I’m not exactly sure how to take that.’

Wilf grinned and lifted his cup to Henry. ‘It always happens on your watch. Have they given her a name?’

‘Not that I know of. However, I believe Arlie’s already had a word with Father Vernon. The Presentation is to be this afternoon – so make sure you’re around for that. I’ll be sleeping.’

Henry picked up his plate and cup and stood to leave. His eyes left Wilf for a moment – then widened in shock. ‘By the gods!’

‘What?’ Wilf twisted around in his seat, but he couldn’t see anything unusual. ‘What is it?’

Henry dropped his dishes and tore off through the rapidly filling refectory. By the time Wilf gained his side he could finally see what had caught everybody’s attention. Young Ben, white-faced and on the verge of collapse, sat hunched on a bench by the wall.

‘I saw him come in,’ Henry murmured, now wide awake. He crouched down as somebody put a cup to the lad’s lips. ‘Ben? What’s wrong? We hadn’t expected you back for weeks. Has something happened?’

Ben lifted his head. His eyes were glazed, but he could speak. ‘It’s Ayn, Master Henry. Murdoch sent me back to tell you. She’s disappeared.’

*

The Enclave chapel was awfully small for such a population; that didn’t mean it wasn’t pretty. As Finnlay waited for the ceremony to begin, he stood in the centre of the cave and stared up at the painted ceiling. There in the foreground was the famous scene where Mineah and Serinleth were born out of the fires of creation. Further along, a depiction of the Dawn of Ages where the gods first discovered their place in the world. Then, closer to the altar, was the most popular setting, when Serinleth and Mineah joined together to drive out the evil Broleoch and douse the fires of hell on earth.

Along the walls were some more spirited interpretations of the various legends of incarnation of the goddess. Even today, a number of these were accepted to be mythological only. But the theme remained the same. She was always with them. No matter how bad things were, Mineah would never leave them alone.

Candles were lit in all four corners of the chapel – within the Enclave, these were dedicated to only four of the saints – those who had, for one reason or another, some special relationship with sorcerers. The only chair in the room was the one used by Father Vernon during mass. While the choir sang the liturgy, the old priest sat; his legs barely capable now of taking him up and down the myriad stairs within the caves.

Yes, it was a nice chapel. Certainly nice enough for Arlie, Martha and their baby. He could hear them coming now. The little girl was crying – or rather, screaming at the sudden change of surroundings. Martha entered the chapel with the child in her arms. Arlie hovered beside her, a stupid grin on his face. Father Vernon brought up the rear, leading the other witnesses into the chapel.

With a twinkling smile at his congregation, Father Vernon turned to the altar and began the first prayer. The ceremony of Presentation was the only really informal religious ritual Finnlay could think of. It was also quite possibly the most important. Every child born had to be Presented to the gods so that Mineah and Serinleth would know there was now another soul to be loved. It was imperative that the child was Presented before it was a day old. One of the best parts about it was that the actual Presentation itself was done not by the priest, but by the child’s father – or closest male relative. The presence of a priest was not required, but it did add a little grace to the occasion.

Father Vernon completed his prayer and turned around to face the proud parents. Martha smiled and handed the baby to Arlie. The man’s face became serious at that moment and his hands trembled as he took the tiny bundle and lifted it towards the trium above the altar.

‘Blessed Mineah and Divine Serinleth, I call upon you to witness a new soul amongst your flock. This is your child. This is my child and the child of my beloved Martha. I Present you to my daughter, Damaris. I pray you keep her safe within your love, the love you hold for all our souls.’

Then, his hands still trembling, Arlie held the baby in the crook of his arm and traced a trium on her forehead. She’d stopped crying now, only letting out the occasional muffled gurgle. When he turned back to Martha, he smiled to find she had tears in her eyes.

Finnlay was the first to congratulate them, then others moved forward, kissing Martha and slapping Arlie on the back. Finnlay couldn’t help taking a good look at the child. She was lying in Arlie’s arm, her face screwed up like a sun-dried apricot.

‘Are you sure that’s your baby?’ Finnlay whispered to Martha. ‘She’s ugly!’

‘No, she’s not!’ Martha laughed back and gave his arm a playful slap. ‘And she’s got talents, too.’

‘How can you tell? She’s only a few hours old.’

Martha gave him a wise smile. ‘Mothers know these things.’

They all filtered out of the chapel and headed towards the refectory where there would be almond cakes and spiced wine in celebration. Finnlay began to follow them, but before he could get too far, an arm shot out of a side passage and pulled his sleeve. He stopped. It was Fiona.