Voice Of The Demon (Book 2) (5 page)

‘What?’ Nash came to a halt. Damn him! Why now? Nash needed to go to Dunlorn himself. Osbert wouldn’t be quick enough to see any lie the Duke might make. If Nash didn’t go to Dunlorn – now – he might never find out the truth about Finnlay!

‘He wants you back at court, Nash. Now. You can wait until morning, but if I were you, I wouldn’t make this my moment to defy the King. Besides, I think he misses you. Surely that should make you happy?’

Nash gritted his teeth and tried to keep his disappointment hidden. ‘Very well, my lord. I’ll start out at dawn.’ He took a breath and joined Osbert on the landing. ‘I would appreciate it if we could compare opinions regarding this investigation – before you place your report before the Proctor.’

Osbert laughed a little and turned for his door. ‘Of course, Nash. We are in this together, are we not?’

Deep within the heart of the Goleth mountain, Finnlay paced the corridors of the Enclave, restless, unsettled and alone.

Hour after hour he walked, going deep within the mountain to places he’d never seen before, rooms where grain was stored, cloth and firewood; smoke pits where sides of salted beef hung from beams across the cave roof, like so many thieves sent to the gallows. He sat for a long time beside the Firelake, watching fingers of steam rise from the hot pool, as
prayers to heaven. Even the cloying atmosphere, thick and sultry failed to burn away his distemper.

It was his own fault. His own stupid, misguided fault. If he’d been watching more closely, he might have stopped Robert’s fall from the cliff. If he’d been paying more attention, he might have noticed those woodsmen before he brought his
ayarn
out to Seek his missing brother. If he’d had any sense, he would have hidden his family ring somewhere in that dark cell so the guards might have never known the identity of the sorcerer they’d captured. Surely there was something else he might have said or done that could have prevented Robert from going before the Key.

But now Robert was banished from the Enclave while Finnlay was stuck here, because everybody in Lusara would believe he was a sorcerer if he ever showed his face again.

Slowly, eventually, he rose through the mountain again hoping to leave his mood behind him. But it followed him, like a plague, sat around his shoulders, toyed with his thoughts, shattering the peace of the early morning.

Distant, subdued, irresolute, Finnlay rested in the refectory. Without thinking, he collected a mug of steaming brew and planted himself on a trestle bench in the furthest corner of the room. There were few people up at this hour of the morning, but they kept their distance. He leaned his elbows on the table and stared into the depths of his mug.

A plate of coarse bread and cheese landed on the table before him, like salvation. Then a body – Patric – took a seat opposite and began to eat. Patric didn’t look up. He just concentrated on his breakfast. He was collecting up the last crumbs before he spoke.

‘You’ll go mad before the month’s out at this rate.’

‘What?’

Patric raised his knife and casually waved it in the air. ‘Take my advice, Finn. Find yourself a job to do. All this wandering around without a purpose is going to drive you insane. You know it, I know it – they all know it.’

‘Oh really?’ Finnlay sneered. ‘And what do you propose I do, eh? I’m a Seeker, Patric. Do you suggest I turn my hand to farming? To shepherding goats? Do you think I want to
be here? Hell, I’ve lived all my life wandering the country or at home at Dunlorn. Either way I was free – but now, I’m a prisoner of my own stupidity!’

Patric shrugged idly and tossed the hair out of his eyes. ‘You could teach, I suppose, but I doubt it would suit your temperament. Then again, there’s plenty of work to do in the library. Acelin is always looking for help with translations.’

‘Damn it, Pat!’ Finnlay slammed his hand on the table making the plate rattle. General conversation in the refectory ceased as all eyes turned towards him. He glowered back at them and hastily they looked away.

‘They know, Finn,’ Patric murmured softly, his pale eyes reflecting candlelight. ‘They all know what happened with you and Robert and Jenn and the Key. Some heard the Key, others heard later.’

‘What are you getting at?’ Finnlay turned back to Patric, but now had the sense to keep his voice lowered.

‘You pointed it out enough times to Robert. Whether he likes it or not, these people look to him. Now that he’s banished, they’re looking to you. Don’t ask me what for, but you know as well as I do how important it is to everyone here that one day, sometime in the future, we can all be released from this prison.’ Patric rose to his feet, gathered up his plate and cup. ‘Find something to do, Finn. Something useful. You’re not the only one living in a cage.’

*

Wilf waited all night, to be sure his mind was quiet enough, the air clear enough to abolish distraction. By the time he left his rooms, it was almost dawn. He didn’t feel tired and yet he was sure if he’d lain down he would have slept.

The corridors were empty and only an occasional noise penetrated his thoughts: soft echoes from the refectory and the gentle hum of folk rising for their day’s work. A nice, warm familiar touch.

He made his way quietly and purposefully down the passage towards the great cavern. He reached the balcony which looked down on the expanse and, for a moment, brushed his hand on the cool railing. Then he continued
down the steps until he was on the floor. The council chamber with its panelled wall stood on his left and on his right, the ironwork frame from which hung the innocuous bell. In this place, Wilf felt small and insignificant, dwarfed by the towering roof and the power of the Key.

It was impossible to do this without somebody watching, even this early in the morning. The Key was too damned public. Wilf didn’t dare close the great cavern against them all. There’d be too many questions. But if he couldn’t be alone, at least he could do it in silence.

His hands began to tremble a little and he clasped them together in a prayer for courage. With his chin raised in defiance, he gazed at the black bell suspended above him. He dared not move closer for fear of waking it properly, of the bell shimmering away until there was only the black orb in its place. If it did wake, then people would come, stand behind him, hang over the balconies above and wait to see what their leader would accomplish. It had always been the way. Every sorcerer within the Enclave always knew when the Key had been awakened.

Wilf had come here every day since he had banished Robert. Come and asked the same questions. Silence had been the only reply. It was just his dogged persistence which made him return, made him plead.

Carefully, he stretched out a mental hand to the sleeping orb and felt again that presence in his mind, a presence that had both surprised and frightened him when the Key had first chosen him. He would live the rest of his days with that Other in his mind. Always there, always comforting, never alone. Always silent.

He pulled in a deep breath and focused his eyes on the bell, on the presence in his mind, willing a stronger link, his body straining every muscle, devouring, yearning for more.

What does it mean, this prophecy you gave to Robert? he begged silently. And what is this girl, Jenn, to you? Why is she Bonded to your enemy?

Fearing failure once more, Wilf closed his eyes.

Why do you torment me in this manner? The two of them have this gift of mindspeech and seem to have a destiny you
will not elaborate on. If I am to help, you must say how. Do you want me to bring Jenn here? Is she to take my place?

Ears straining for any murmur, Wilf waited, his heart pounding in his chest. Should he leave? Should he wake the Key properly and force it to answer? Would it?

And if it didn’t, then everybody would know it had stopped talking to him. They would know that the Key put more faith in two outsiders named in its prophecy rather than trust him as well. Two people who owed no loyalty to the Enclave, two sorcerers whose powers soared way beyond his terrified imagination.

They will be the death of me.

Was that his own thought – or had it come from the Key?

By the gods, he swore silently, tell me what you want!

Fear not. She will come.

Wilf started at the faint whisper. His eyes snapped open and fixed on the bell.

More ambiguity? No further explanation?

No, nothing but more silence. Yes, the Key might have spoken to him, but there was no comfort in its words, no counsel in that hollow whisper. He would just have to wait.

*

It took a few hours. Longer, in fact, than Patric expected – but eventually, Finnlay appeared in his doorway. He didn’t come in immediately. He just stood there, leaning against the frame, his dark brown eyes sombre and subdued. At twenty-four, Finnlay was already possessed of the kind of physical presence the Douglas men were known for. Tall and lean with eyes that could burn through oak, not even the newly healed scar on his right cheek could mar his looks. Finnlay had recently taken to wearing black. Some said he was trying to ape his brother, but others, less kind, suggested the garments were chosen more as an expression of mourning his own faked death. Patric, of course, believed neither. Finnlay was far too serious to do anything so frivolous. A pity, really.

Patric didn’t look up. Instead he kept his head down, his pen still moving across the paper. Though a part of his mind
concentrated on the translation, the rest was wholly focused on the dark presence half-leaning into the room.

‘It’s my own fault, you know,’ Finnlay murmured eventually. ‘I should have listened to Robert more.’

‘A common failing,’ Patric replied, dipping his pen in the ink. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Finnlay wander around the room, absently glancing at the piles of books.

‘Very well,’ Finnlay stopped and put his hands on his hips. There was a glint in his eyes not entirely produced by the candlelight. ‘You want me to do something with myself? Well, I can’t unless you help me. I warn you though, you probably won’t like it.’

Patric paused, put down his pen and glanced up through a fringe of fair hair. ‘Has it something to do with the prophecy, or Robert?’

‘Only by association. This is something else. I want to try an experiment and I need your help. Will you?’

‘I don’t know,’ Patric mused. ‘I thought you’d want to talk about the Bonding or Robert or something like that.’

‘I’m sick of going over it, Patric!’ Finnlay snapped, then shook his head. ‘Sorry, but it’s the truth. It’s all meaningless anyway, this Bonding. Robert and Jenn will never marry – Jacob wouldn’t allow it even if Robert did believe in it – so what’s the point of discussing it?’

‘Well, it might help us understand.

‘Look, are you going to help me or not?’

Patric studied him for a moment, then got off his chair and collected a flask of wine and two cups. He handed one to Finnlay and filled it with a tangy red. He took his seat again, sipped his wine and began, ‘You know, the first time I met Robert he couldn’t believe that I’d never been off the mountain. He was nine years old, I a year younger – his parents believed him to be visiting a monastery. He was running away from something, down the corridor towards the still room. I came around the corner carrying a pile of books and he ran straight into me. My tutor didn’t see the collision, but he did see my books all over the floor, one of them damaged beyond repair. He was about ready to whip me when Robert bowed, apologized and flashed that famous
smile of his. My tutor – who’d been in the cavern the day before when the Key had spoken to Robert – recognized him and sent him on his way. I got a scolding and was summarily instructed never to speak to that boy again.’

Patric glanced up to find Finnlay smiling.

‘Robert didn’t give me a choice. He hounded me from that day onwards, wanting to know what it was like being born in the Enclave and never leaving. Even then it was obvious how strong he was. The things he used to do . . .’ Patric shook his head and drained his cup. ‘Suffice to say that for the last twenty years, a Douglas has been getting me into trouble of one kind or another. I fail to see why I should change those habits now. What do you want me to do?’

*

‘I’m still not sure I like this,’ Arlie murmured, helping Martha to settle into her chair in Finnlay’s room. Her condition was well advanced, so his concern was understandable to Finnlay. However, Martha herself had been the one to volunteer, and she was undoubtably the best person to help for this particular part.

Arlie straightened up and turned back to Finnlay. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’

‘As much as I can. As I told you, Robert and I were up in that cliff following up a lead on the whereabouts of the Calyx.’

‘And you found the cave before or after he found the rod?’

‘Before. He began Seeking inside the cave, focusing on the properties of the Key – and that’s when he discovered the silver rod, disguised as a broken jug.’

Arlie looked dubious, but it was Patric who spoke into the silence. ‘I’ve seen this silver rod. It is nothing out of our time or place. I’ve no idea what it does or what it’s for, but I’m positive it has something to do with the Calyx.’

Arlie appeared only slightly mollified and Finnlay reached out a hand to pat his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. There’s no way that any harm could come to the child, Arlie. Martha will just be monitoring my trance, no more. Both you and Partic will be here if I have any trouble. You’re a trained Healer, you can stop it if you want.’

‘I’m only partly trained, Finnlay, but I take your point,’ Arlie’s soft smile was more for his wife’s benefit than anything else.

‘Are we ready to start then?’ Patric almost bobbed with excitement. ‘You know what you’re looking for? You realize that it may not even work? When Robert tried this, he was Seeking for the Calyx in a small space. I know you’re a stronger Seeker than he is, but that doesn’t mean you can’t kill yourself by overstretching.’

‘That’s why you’re all here.’ Finnlay lay down on his bed and reached for Martha’s hand. ‘I’m just going for a wander. If there is something within a hundred leagues of the Goleth that has the same properties as the Key, I’ll find it. If you have a better idea how to find the Calyx, speak now. Otherwise, save your objections until I get back.’