‘We were on our way back from patrolling,’ he said, his voice choked. ‘It was supposed to be an easy one. There are never any dredretches around the tarn.’
Gully nodded, his jaw tight. Beside him Preddy was bone white.
‘He drew them off,’ said Scoot. ‘Told me to run. I shouldn’t … I should’ve …’
‘Don’t think that, Scoot,’ said Gully, in barely a whisper. ‘There were too many of them. If Ottilie and Leo hadn’t found you …’ he trailed off, unable to finish.
Ottilie’s eyes were fixed on Gully. He was a footman too. It could so easily have been him and Ned out there. She felt an unbearable rip, as if the invisible tether between them was being torn – she couldn’t lose him, not again.
‘It was an ambush,’ said Scoot, tears flooding his cheeks. ‘They were so organised. Like, like a hunt. Like they’d always hunted together … but that’s not how they work. They’re supposed to be loners. And dredretches, they don’t hunt us, they just attack, they’re not …’
Someone was behind this. She thought about the witch book, stolen that very morning. She knew who had it, and had seen the signs, but she had done nothing.
Ottilie couldn’t just sit. It hurt too much. She had to move, had to do something. She stood up on shaking legs and headed for the door.
‘Where are you going?’ Gully charged after her.
She didn’t know the answer until the words tumbled out. ‘I’m going to find Maeve Moth.’
23
Witch Hunt
Ottilie and Gully were on the path through the lavender fields when the bells rang out in an unfamiliar tune.
‘Which one is that?’ said Gully, reaching for his knife.
‘I’ve never heard it before,’ said Ottilie, looking around frantically. Not a wyler, not again, but … ‘Those aren’t the alarm bells?’ It was a small comfort, just enough to keep her going.
The bells were ringing from the watchtower above the main gate. She grabbed her bow and together they ran towards the source of the sound.
Ottilie could never have imagined the scene they stumbled into. Countless huntsmen were gathered around. The air was alive with hisses and whispers. Through the crowd, she could see the gates had been raised and, walking between them, Igor Thrike was dragging someone in by the hair.
Maeve Moth was covered in mud, with leaves, twigs and feathers sticking out of her hair and clothing. Ottilie didn’t know what to think.
‘Thrike, what are you … who have you got?’ said Wrangler Furdles, hobbling down from the wall.
‘We found her out there,’ said Igor, raising his voice above the gibbering crowd.
His fledge, Dimitri Vosvolder, was following behind, his pointed face flushed.
‘What d’you mean, out there?’ said Furdles.
‘Look where I’m coming from!’ Igor barked.
Ottilie frowned. Maeve had been beyond the walls, the very day that Bayo had been attacked. Had Ottilie been right? Was Maeve really involved? But seeing her like that, dishevelled, being dragged by the hair, her icy resolve melted … It didn’t feel right.
Ramona stalked through the crowd, her face thunderous. ‘Igor, let go of her!’ It wasn’t a shout, or even a snarl, but it was powerful, like the crack of burning wood.
The crowd fell silent, but Igor was unmoved.
‘No!’ said Igor, bright with righteousness. ‘Bayo Amadory was murdered this morning. Someone set the wylers on him, and here, look! A girl! Out there alone. She’s a witch!’
This was what Whistler had been talking about. Igor had no reason to believe Maeve was a witch, but a girl alone, in a place she was not meant to be – that was enough for him.
There were gasps and several people backed away. Wrangler Furdles spat on the ground.
‘Where is your proof?’ said Ramona firmly.
‘Proof!’ said a shrill voice from behind Ottilie. ‘That girl set the tapestry on fire, right above my head!’
‘Tudor, you don’t know that!’ said Ramona, raising her voice again.
‘She was in the room!’ cried Wrangler Voilies. ‘She’s a rebel! She signed that … that insidious petition. And now here, look at her, a sculkie beyond the walls. An elite dead! You want more proof than that!’
‘Yes, I do,’ said Ramona, staring him down.
Ottilie was dizzy. She had fixated on Maeve as a distraction, because getting answers was something useful, something to help. But Ramona was right. There was not enough proof, and Ottilie remembered again that she had a very good reason to believe that Maeve was innocent. Maeve had wanted to learn to defend herself. She had wanted it badly enough that she had risked being caught conspiring with Ottilie. She had no reason to do those things if she was in control of the dredretches.
‘Search her things, Furdles,’ Voilies shrieked. ‘We’ll get you your proof! And someone alert the directorate.’ He sounded feverish. ‘Igor, step away from her. It’s not safe. But keep her covered.’
Dimitri raised his bow, pointing an arrow at Maeve’s back. Igor withdrew and did the same.
Ottilie finally felt as if she had returned to her body. Sharp with focus, she looked up. Five huntsmen on the wall had their arrows on Maeve. She felt the shift of movement as more huntsmen raised their weapons, tipping spears in her direction, holding cutlasses at the ready. Maeve was completely surrounded. Ottilie and Gully kept their weapons down.
While they waited for Wrangler Furdles to return, more people arrived. Wranglers, custodians, even Whistler had made her way from her tower and was peering over the parapet like a purple-winged vulture.
Ottilie sensed Leo move to her side, raising his bow like the others. Ned appeared on her other side and did not.
Captain Lyre was the first of the directorate to arrive. His eyebrows drawn together in an expression of deep concern, he marched swiftly to the front of the group with the hulking figure of Wrangler Morse by his side.
‘Let’s all remain calm,’ said Captain Lyre. But he did not tell them to lower their weapons. ‘Wrangler Furdles is searching her things?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Wrangler Voilies.
Captain Lyre took a step towards Maeve. ‘Miss Moth, what were you doing beyond the boundary wall?’ His voice was firm but not accusing.
‘Don’t let her speak! She’ll put a spell on you,’ cried Wrangler Voilies.
Maeve met Captain Lyre’s gaze, her eyes blazing. She looked terrified and exhausted. They all waited, but she did not answer.
Why wasn’t she defending herself?
‘We will need an explanation,’ Captain Lyre insisted.
There were shouts from across the grounds. Wrangler Furdles was hobbling towards them, waving something in the air. He was hollering like a maniac. ‘Witch!’ he cried. ‘She’s a WITCH!’
Ottilie gasped. He was holding Whistler’s book.
‘She had this … this witch book! And bones, tiny animal bones!’
Ottilie didn’t know what to do. The book would condemn Maeve, but it didn’t belong to her. She had only taken it that morning.
But why had she taken it? Maeve had been out beyond the wall, doing who knew what. And the strange things, the fire, the animal bones. She looked guilty. But it wasn’t right.
Ottilie opened her mouth. Gully was watching her. ‘Don’t, Ottilie,’ he pleaded.
‘I have to!’ she said, squaring her shoulders. She couldn’t let them use the book as evidence, not until she knew why Maeve had taken it.
Ned was watching her. She sensed him piecing it together. He knew they’d stolen books from the Bone Tower.
‘Don’t,’ he whispered. ‘They’re looking for any excuse to get rid of you.’
‘It’s not hers,’ Ottilie hissed. Feeling steadier than she had in hours, she moved to step forwards but Ned grabbed her hand. The gesture caught her off-guard, just long enough.
‘It’s not her book!’ called Gully, jumping forwards. ‘It’s mine!’
Ottilie wanted to cla
w at him, wrench him backwards. Hot panic coiled around her ribs like a cinder snake.
‘Gulliver!’ said Wrangler Voilies, his expression morphing into something even more unpleasant. ‘There’s no need for heroics. She’s a pretty thing, but witchcraft is indefensible.’
Gully’s mouth curved down in disgust. ‘It’s mine. Maeve took it off me. She said she was going to report me. That’s why she had it.’
‘This is your book, Gulliver?’ said Captain Lyre, his eyes searching.
‘Forgive me,’ said Voilies. ‘But I don’t believe any of our fledglings brought possessions with them on their journey to the Narroway. Gulliver is simply stepping up to save the damsel in distress … very noble but –’
‘I borrowed it,’ said Gully, loudly.
‘Borrowed?’ said Captain Lyre.
‘Stole it, from the bone singers. It’s just, with everyone talking about witches, I wanted to learn more about them,’ he said, very quickly. ‘To know how to fight them … stop them. That’s all.’
Sensing eyes upon her, Ottilie looked up. Whistler was watching her, an unreadable expression on her angular face.
‘And I suppose the bones were yours too?’ said Wrangler Voilies, trying and failing to sound amused.
‘No,’ said Gully, with a forced shrug. ‘Just the book.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Voilies sneered. ‘She’s a liar, a manipulator. She didn’t report it, did she? She kept it for herself!’
‘Enough of this,’ said Captain Lyre, shifting his grip on his cane. ‘We need to take her inside.’
‘The burrows!’ cried Wrangler Furdles with glee.
‘We’ll take her to my chambers, and I will discuss the next step with Conductor Edderfed,’ said Captain Lyre.
Voilies gaped like a beached trout. ‘But –’
‘This is for the directorate to decide,’ said Captain Lyre.
‘I’ll take her,’ said Whistler, from above.
Wrangler Voilies looked aghast. ‘Surely a huntsman –’
‘I do not fear witchcraft,’ said Whistler, sounding a little smug. ‘I’ll take her.’
Whistler descended the stairs and passed through the armed huntsmen, most still pointing their weapons at Maeve.
‘It’s not about personal safety,’ said Voilies, with a sour laugh. ‘It’s about keeping her captive!’
‘Enough, Tudor,’ growled Wrangler Morse.
Whistler took Maeve gently by the arm and led her through the crowd.
Ottilie felt bound – useless. She wanted to be angry with Gully for taking her place, but she couldn’t help feeling grateful for his quick thinking. It was true, it was far safer for Gully to take the blame. Ottilie would probably have been dragged straight to the burrows if she had spoken up.
It took her a few moments to realise Ned was still holding her hand. She looked at him. He had turned away from her, watching Maeve and Whistler. She wondered if he was even aware that he had not let go. He must have felt her gaze because he turned back.
For a moment, they looked at each other. Ned smiled with his eyes, and Ottilie’s overwrought heart shifted its rhythm. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and released it. She felt lost for a moment, as if she had just dropped something precious.
24
An Iron Coffin
‘What are they going to do to her?’ Ottilie asked, looking between Leo and Ned. She noticed for the first time the marks of grief. Leo, always straight-backed, was stiff as a board, unnaturally so, and she could see his eyes were red. Ned seemed heavier somehow and there was a tightness to his face that was unfamiliar to her.
‘I think they’ll talk to her first,’ said Ned.
‘They didn’t talk to me,’ she said. ‘They just threw me in the burrows.’
‘That’s because they knew you were guilty,’ said Leo.
‘Because you told them,’ Gully snapped, glaring.
Leo’s eyelids flickered. Gully had never lashed out at him like that before. Ottilie’s own emotions were bubbling and spitting all over the place.
‘They don’t know about her yet,’ Leo said, ignoring Gully. ‘They need answers.’
‘What do you think?’ Ned asked Ottilie. ‘You saw that person out there, more than once. Do you think it was her? Do you think she’s been’ – his voice became strained – ‘setting dredretches on people?’
‘No,’ she said, finally. She knew now that she didn’t believe it. Maeve had always been horrible to Ottilie – she was certainly not a friend – but seeing her accused like that, she realised she didn’t think Maeve was capable of what had happened to Bayo. ‘But I do think she’s a witch,’ she added, surprising herself with the admission.
‘What?’ said Leo, with a nervous laugh.
‘I got a strange feeling around her from the first time I met her, and I know I’m not the only one,’ she said.
Ned nodded, but Leo looked flummoxed. ‘I never did!’
‘Leonard,’ said Ned. ‘You’re too fixated on yourself to notice anything.’
Leo punched him in the arm.
Ned looked like he wanted to laugh but couldn’t quite get there. ‘You know it’s true.’
‘Strange things have been happening around her,’ said Ottilie. ‘The lanterns spark when she gets upset. You know, I think she did set that tapestry on fire.’ She remembered the terror in Maeve’s eyes as she watched the tapestry smoking. If she had caused it, she hadn’t intended to.
‘What about the bones?’ said Leo, looking horrified. ‘What are they for?’
‘Do you think she’s been using them for spells?’ said Gully, with awe.
It was too much guesswork. Ottilie didn’t like it. ‘I’m going to the infirmary.’ She needed to see Scoot, to tell him about Maeve, about what she was accused of doing. He was going to hear it from someone soon.
When she got there, Scoot was looking ashen, but he turned the colour of sickly marshweed when she told him what had happened. For a moment Ottilie thought he was going to throw up, but then he scrambled out of bed and she and Preddy had to physically stop him from running out the door.
‘Stop it, Scoot!’ She puffed as he struggled against her. ‘You can’t get to her anyway, they’ve got her. She’s probably locked up somewhere by now.’
He was panting and there were tears running down his face as he slumped back on the bed.
‘She did it,’ he growled. ‘She – sh–’
‘They don’t know that,’ said Preddy gently. ‘That’s what you’re saying, Ottilie? They don’t know for sure that it was her?’
‘Of course it was her!’ Scoot snarled. ‘She was out there at the same … at the same time! Why else would she go? How would she survive past the walls if she’s not a witch?’
‘She has been training,’ said Preddy weakly.
‘For two months! And she barely even came the last few weeks. She has no salt weapons, apart from that knife. It’s not enough. Not out there.’
Ottilie saw the horror of the morning engulf his vision and felt her own about to go again.
‘And Bayo was there, helping us train them … helping her!’ Scoot was taking sharp, shallow breaths. It sounded as if every word pained him to speak.
‘We have to make sure they have the right person,’ said Ottilie softly.
Scoot buried his head, his shoulders shaking.
Something was wrong here, Ottilie was sure of it. If they had the wrong person, then not only would Maeve bear the ultimate punishment but the danger would still be there. She had to get to the bottom of it.
The next morning, Ottilie was sitting with Gully and Preddy. Alba joined them under the pretence of wiping a spill. It was still early and the dining room was nearly empty, but they had to be cautious all the same.
‘They convicted her last night,’ said Alba, her face grave.
Ottilie gripped the table, wanting to hold on to something solid.
‘What?’ whispered Skip, appearing at the other end of the table.<
br />
Alba nodded solemnly. ‘Mum told me. She heard it from Wrangler Morse. The directorate decided the evidence was enough. They’re sending her to the Laklands.’
Skip paled. ‘That doesn’t make sense. If they think she’s controlling the dredretches, why would they send her there – to a place full of them?’
‘What if they’re just saying that?’ said Preddy, holding his own hand for comfort. ‘What if they’re actually taking her off to execute her?’
Ottilie swallowed. Would they really execute her? She remembered Wrangler Voilies ripping her ring from her thumb, watching her weaken … If they thought she was guilty, of course they would execute her.
‘It will be the Laklands,’ said Alba. ‘They’ll want her far away, because they don’t kill witches – they’ll want to bury her there.’
Skip frowned. ‘But Maeve hasn’t had a baby, she’s only thirteen – just a kid!’
‘What?’ said Gully. He looked for a moment like he might laugh.
‘Can someone please explain to me why people think witches eat babies!’ said Ottilie.
‘Witches eat their babies so they can live forever. That’s all I know,’ said Skip.
Preddy didn’t seem to have any idea what they were talking about.
‘Back in the old days,’ said Alba, ‘when the Roving Empire had control, they brought in a different belief system. They were scared of the witches, and rumours started circulating that if a witch consumed the flesh of their newborn child they would be granted immortality.’
Gully looked like he was about to be sick. Ottilie felt the same.
‘That was when the witch purge happened,’ said Alba.
Ottilie nodded. She had known that part, at least.
‘They locked them in iron boxes and buried them all,’ said Alba. ‘Even a witch who hadn’t had a child. Even the men.’
‘I didn’t know men could be witches,’ said Gully with interest.
‘That’s because of the baby rumour,’ said Alba. ‘The idea of witchcraft has become associated with women – evil women. But the book –’
Ottilie Colter and the Master of Monsters Page 13