Voice Of The Demon (Book 2) (3 page)

*

Vaughn waited until the supper plates had been cleared away. Then he rose from the table and crossed the room to take his favourite seat beside the fireplace. There were no flames glowing on the hearthstone. Only the light of a few candles warmed the room, occasionally flickering in the gentle evening breeze.

He glanced back at the table to where Governor Lewis still sat. ‘Come, find yourself a comfortable seat. I have a small job for you.’

Lewis looked surprised at the invitation but as usual, he said nothing. Instead, he joined Vaughn in the chair Osbert would normally have taken. Vaughn wanted to smile.

‘How do you think my speech went down this afternoon?’

‘Well,’ Lewis spread his hands in a noncommittal gesture, ‘you’ve given us all something to think about. I suppose you have plans already prepared for when Osbert returns with his findings?’

‘A few thoughts, nothing more.’ Vaughn waved his hands and studied Lewis carefully. The man had none of Osbert’s illicit brilliance, nor any of his charm and personality. They’d both been made Governor at the same time and yet, while Osbert had shone in the position, Lewis had rather faded. He
was a fair administrator, but lacked the initiative necessary for leadership. He was also uncommonly easy to ignore, while, at the same time, remarkably pedantic about details.

The perfect man for the job.

‘What do we know about Alderman Nash?’

Lewis glanced up with a frown. ‘Nash, my lord?’

‘Yes. I’ve been reading his entry records. They state he was born in the west, in a town I’ve never heard of. His parents are deceased and he appears to have no other family. His means are limited, his education adequate, and yet we find he has eclipsed us all in gaining the friendship of our beloved King. At all times he exhibits nothing but the deepest humility and still manages to rise to the highest levels – without, it appears, a grain of ambition. Don’t you find that a little odd, Lewis?’

‘Odd, perhaps, but not impossible.’

‘Not impossible – for a saint. But is Nash a saint?’

Lewis didn’t answer that and Vaughn continued, ‘Nash’ is in a unique position – and he knows it. Selar depends on him more and more as each day goes by. Soon they’ll be as inseparable as Dunlorn once was with the King. We know the damage the Earl caused – dare we allow the same risk, even with one of our own?’

Lewis looked surprised at this. Obviously the thought had never occurred to him. ‘Do you suspect any treachery, my lord?’

‘Of course not,’ Vaughn shrugged, feeling a great calm descend upon him. ‘I merely wish to know more about Nash, about his activities when he’s not directly involved with the Guilde. I want to know with whom he associates, who his allies are. After all, when you think about it, there’s even a possibility that Nash could have very powerful friends. Friends such as the Earl of Dunlorn – but of course, I should call him the Duke of Haddon after his uncle’s tragic demise.’

‘Dunlorn?’ Lewis struggled to his feet. ‘You believe Nash is in league with Dunlorn? But what about the business at Kilphedir? Nash went there with Osbert to investigate! If Dunlorn’s brother was indeed the sorcerer arrested, then . . .’

Vaughn waited for the awful possibilities to sink deep into Lewis’s limited imagination. Then, moving slowly so Lewis could keep up, Vaughn began, ‘I realize this sort of thing usually falls to Osbert – but as you know, he’s otherwise engaged at the moment. I want you to quietly go about learning as much as you can about our Alderman Nash. I want you to subtly pass some of your current responsibilities to your staff and take care of this matter personally. Be discreet. We don’t want Nash finding out what you’re up to – he might well be offended. You won’t need to watch him every hour, just keep an eye on him and those he associates with. Share your discoveries with no one but myself. Tell no one about this. Can you do this for me?’

Lewis’s eyes bulged, but he nodded slowly. ‘Of . . . of course, my lord.’

‘Excellent!’ Vaughn beamed. He reached out and took Lewis’s arm, steering him towards the door. ‘Now you go and get some sleep. Goodnight, Lewis.’

‘Goodnight, my lord Proctor.’

Vaughn closed the door behind Lewis and turned the key in the lock. He leaned his back against the door and surveyed the room.

It was unlikely there was any real connection between Nash and Dunlorn. Nash had come to court a year after Dunlorn had left the country – but then again, that was no reason to assume Dunlorn hadn’t set him up as some kind of spy. After all, Nash appeared to have no ambition of his own and yet grasped every opportunity as it arose to get himself closer to Selar. Couldn’t that be the behaviour of a spy?

Vaughn crossed the room and picked up the letter from Brome. Hideous gushing sentiment about how the Church depended on the Guilde to achieve success in the question of Kilphedir. Vaughn twisted it in his hands and brought it to the flame of the nearest candle. Once alight, he crossed to the fireplace and poked the burning paper in amongst the kindling laid ready. He’d never liked cool summer nights.

Yes, it would be very nice if there was a connection between Nash and Dunlorn – but even if there wasn’t, it
didn’t hurt to place the odd suggestion here and there. Who knew when he might need such a weapon?

*

‘I hate these late summer courts,’ Duke Donal McGlashen grunted, glancing around the galleiy.

All of the windows were open, but no breeze entered the room. Ladies sat close to them, fans flapping like birds’ wings, chatting loudly and paying no attention to the lute player before the King. A boy, dressed in a miniature of Selar’s livery, sang in a high-pitched voice, but even the King looked bored. Teige Eachern stood like a church tower in the far corner, his eyes on one person only: the young lady seated beside the Queen, Lady Samah. This was her last visit to Marsay. She’d been given permission from her priory to attend her sister, the Queen, for a month before returning to take her final vows. A pity – the girl was more than a little pretty.

With a sigh, McGlashen ran his fingers around the throat of his shirt and longed to take the heavy doublet off. He shot a glance at Payne who stood beside him. The young Earl was not that tall, but was definitely considered attractive by the ladies of the court. More than one had volunteered to compromise her virtue in order to secure Payne as a husband – or so Everard claimed. Still, having seen them gather around him, McGlashen had no reason to doubt his word – or his dexterity in taking what was offered. Some men had no shame.

‘I don’t know why you don’t just beg off and return to your estates,’ Payne murmured, his eyes moving casually over the room as though he didn’t have a care in the world. It was a gift he had.

‘You know very well why I can’t go and I wish you wouldn’t take so much delight in baiting me. It does my humour no good at all and I wouldn’t like to cause a scene by slitting your throat in public.’

Payne raised an eyebrow, but didn’t pursue the point. ‘So you have to stay in Marsay; just accept it and enjoy yourself. I do.’

‘So I’ve heard,’ McGlashen grunted. ‘This is an awful risk, you know. Are you sure it’s worth it?’

Payne checked to see if they would be overheard. He kept his face to the rest of the room, but allowed his voice to drop. ‘We’ve been asked to help and we’re the only ones who can. Be thankful there’s at least something constructive we can do. You know Selar won’t want to keep McCauly for ever. One day he’ll turn up dead. How would you feel then if we’d made no effort to save him? Surely you’re still loyal enough to Lusara to want her rightful Bishop free again?’

‘My loyalty is not the point in question. What worries me is what the King will do when he finds McCauly gone. What will he do if we fail and are caught?’

‘Then we die for our country,’ Payne murmured offhandedly.

‘And who will defend her then? That’s my question. Who will there be left who can be trusted? We two are the only old Houses left with any power, however small. You know as well as I do what Selar plans for next spring. Neither bad weather nor political intrigue will stop him. Look at him now, sitting there gazing into eternity. Can you look at him and honestly tell me his thoughts are not on conquest?’

‘I don’t know, but I’m sure Eachern’s thoughts are – on a different kind of conquest.’

McGlashen had to control a frown. It was so difficult for them to talk privately. These public snatches were all they had left. ‘The girl is intended for the Church! She leaves in a month. Please, keep your unseemly thoughts to yourself.’

Payne smiled as though McGlashen had said something funny. ‘It’s not my unseemly thoughts that worry me. I’m not the one gazing at the poor girl.’

The music ended and there was polite applause. McGlashen waited until the lute began again before saying more. ‘I won’t argue about McCauly, if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t want to see him die any more than you do. He’s a good man, a friend.’

‘Then what’s bothering you?’ Payne turned a bright gaze on him.

McGlashen pursed his lips and lifted his jaw. ‘I just wish
we knew where we stood. Treason’s not a game, you know. If I thought for one moment that we’d get support, if we could actually make a move against Selar . . . the other Lusaran magnates would follow, I’m sure.’

‘Like Blair?’

‘Blair was an idiot and will pay the price. He should have known better than to start an uprising without a strong figure to lead it. Somebody the people could place their trust in. Somebody they’d be willing to follow into war.’

Payne was silent for a long time, taking several sips from his cup of fragrant wine. Eventually he murmured, ‘Robert won’t change his mind, Donal. You and the others should get used to that fact. You don’t know him as well as I do. Once he’s made his mind up about something, there’s no changing it. Sure, he may regret his oath to Selar – I don’t know, I didn’t get the chance to ask him. But even so, there’s no way Robert will break that oath. He’s out of it, believe me. Whatever we do, we do on our own.’

McGlashen adjusted his shirt one last time and prepared to move away. They had been standing together too long as it was. ‘You may think what you like, Payne, but I tell you, there’s only one future I see for this country, one future I’d give my life for. It’s the only one I trust and the only one that gives us any hope. It’s one, I might add, that I share with many others.’

‘And that is?’

‘To see Robert Douglas on the throne.’

The forest was warm and humid. Four days of heavy rain had left the ground soft, the leaves fresh and green, the river full. Along its banks brown bracken bent and swayed in the gentle breeze, fixed towards the lucid sun above. Birdsong sprinkled through the grove; deer paused by the water’s edge,
ears pricking for sounds of danger. Suddenly alarmed, they danced away into the darkened woods, oblivious to the nature of the threat.

Nash stood by the river. His light summer cloak fell in a swathe of tanned yellow and his boots sank into the forest floor. In front of him, the river ran from the cliffs, from high in the mountains of Nanmoor beyond. From this point, it was impossible to go on further, to follow the river as it cascaded down from the peaks above. But it didn’t matter. This was the place he’d been looking for, the place where Finnlay Douglas had supposedly met his death.

Huge boulders embedded in the river were constantly pounded by the water as it plunged downwards. Anything falling from that height would be crushed under such power, bones would break, blood would spill, flow out and disappear into the current. Caught between the rocks, torn apart by the incessant raging water, a man would quickly give up his life and leave only a battered body behind as witness to the violence.

But Finnlay Douglas hadn’t died in the river.

Shaking his head, Nash turned his back on the falls and pushed through the bracken to where Lisson waited with the horses.

‘Forgive me, master, but Governor Osbert will be expecting you back soon.’

‘Yes,’ Nash replied, drawing his cloak back as he walked through the bracken. ‘He must have finished with those woodsmen by now.’

‘Will he believe their story?’

‘I hope not, but knowing Osbert, he probably will.’

Lisson handed Nash the reins of his horse and together they began to walk back through the forest. ‘It will be dangerous for us if he does.’

‘Indeed it would,’ Nash nodded. ‘If the woodsmen are right and they did capture a sorcerer, I need to make sure nobody else knows about it. Not even Osbert. And as for the sorcerer himself? There’s only one way I can find out more about the true fate of Finnlay Douglas.’

‘You must go south, to Dunlorn. Question his brother, the Duke of Haddon.’

Yes, the Duke. Robert Douglas. Selar’s old friend: the one person barring Nash’s closer ties with the King. Selar’s memories were still too strong, his loyalty too obscure. Despite the fact that Dunlorn had obviously no intention of being any kind of threat to Selar, the King still remembered the friendship, had unspoken hopes of rekindling the old ties. And while Selar held those hopes, Nash would never be able to get any closer to him.

Nash paused, took the reins in one hand and swung up on to his horse. With a nod, he turned to Lisson. ‘I have a meeting with Pascoe tonight. We have to keep up the pressure the raiders are placing on the country. Selar is still determined to invade Mayenne in the spring and the more people fear the raiders, the happier they’ll be about a war. I want you to stay around and wait for Pascoe. After that, return to Fenlock. Find a job in the village and keep a distant eye on our Lady Jennifer. Let me know if she has any strange visitors.’

Lisson smiled up at him, wide-eyed but not so innocent. ‘Such as Finnlay Douglas?’

Especially Finnlay Douglas. If he was, as Nash suspected, the Enemy, then he must keep them apart at all costs. The Enemy and the Ally must never be allowed to join forces.

*

As the door closed behind the woodsman, Osbert sat back in his seat and folded his hands together. The little inn at Kilphedir had proved useful as a base for his investigations, though hardly comfortable. However, after three days, he was sick of the sight of this chamber above the tap room and even more sick of the smells from below.