‘And if we’re not lucky?’
‘We’ll be no worse off than we are now,’ said Kate. ‘Baltin knows we can’t go anywhere. We have to hide.’
The nearest ladder was half rotten, with rungs missing at least every third step. As Kate climbed higher she looked along the wall and saw Baltin reach the carved stone. The Skilled had split up and were fanning out across the market in pairs. She kept going and stepped out on to the first safe ledge she found. It was darker than she had expected up there and she followed the crumbling path, clinging to the cracks and bumps in the wall with icy cold fingers. ‘In here,’ she said, as Edgar climbed up behind her. She slid back the bolt on one of the doors in the wall. When she touched it the rusted metal gleamed fresh and new beneath her hand, as she looked into a memory of how the cavern used to be. A fiery torch flared into life beside her, but instead of firelight the flames looked silver, casting everything in a cold washed-out glow.
Edgar felt his way along the ledge as if the light did not exist and two shadowy men emerged from the veil behind him, carrying a large trunk of charred bones between them. Edgar felt nothing as the men stepped through him, opened the door Kate had chosen and tipped the bones inside.
‘In here,’ said Kate, trying to ignore what she was seeing. ‘We’ll be safe.’
Behind the door was an empty space with a sloping ceiling that dug deeply back into the earth and Kate was glad to see that there were no bones left inside. Someone must have scavenged from those tombs long ago, leaving nothing but dust behind. Edgar left the door open slightly once they had ducked inside, keeping a close eye on the people searching for them in the cavern below.
Kate was not interested in Baltin or the Skilled. The veil kept shifting between her world and a time when the little room had been filled with bones. It felt as if something was building in the air, desperate to be released.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but it did not stop. She could hear the screams of the falling shades, the crack of bone on bone, the voices of the men gathered around Wintercraft, and the sounds of the market still going on outside the door.
A man’s shout echoed suddenly across the cavern.
‘Did you hear that?’ asked Edgar, peering out at what was going on. ‘It’s Baltin. I don’t think he knows where we are, but he’s not looking well. The rest of the Skilled don’t look great either. I think something’s wrong with them. Kate?’ Edgar looked back, but Kate did not answer.
Edgar crawled across the dusty floor to Kate’s side and found her slumped against the wall. He pulled out his matches and struck one, letting the light blaze upon her face. Her skin was icy to touch, but her eyes were open. Frost had caught upon the lashes and he couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not.
Edgar was used to being around the Skilled when they were looking into the veil, but Kate was a Walker. Her spirit could walk freely into the space between life and death, often leaving her body behind. Kate usually warned him when she was going to do it, so he knew this time was different. He didn’t know what to do for the best, so he knelt beside her, cupping her hand in his.
‘Kate, come back,’ he said quietly, as the match flickered out. ‘Please come back.’
12
Fate Foreseen
Silas followed Dalliah into the house. She had refused to speak any further until they were inside, and she led him through into a large hall, past two wide staircases winding up to the floors above, and into a smaller room lit with firelight.
The heat in there was stifling after the freezing air outside. The room’s walls were covered in framed paintings, and some were even sunk behind glass within the floor, every one of them depicting places that Silas knew very well. They were pictures of buildings, streets and landmarks that all stood within the walls of Fume. One was a full view of the city square with the lines of Fume’s largest listening circle marked out across it in faint red light; another showed the sunken lake filled with floating bodies; a third showed the council chambers completely consumed by fire, the vast buildings reduced to skeletal remains of charred rubble and ash.
‘I have witnessed every one of these events,’ said Dalliah. ‘The veil has shown me many things that are yet to be. I have hundreds more of these paintings around this house. Many of the events shown within them have already passed from prophecy into history, but none of the scenes in this room have happened yet. Except for one.’
She pointed to a small picture at Silas’s eye level. At first glance it looked less detailed than the rest; a swirling mass of grey and black centred around a single point. Then he looked closer and saw that the mass was filled with shapes and forms. Shades: drawn within the mist of the half-life with a figure standing in the very centre looking up through them. It was a girl with silver eyes, her black hair caught upon the wind.
‘I painted that picture many years ago,’ said Dalliah. ‘This year, on the Night of Souls, it finally came true.’
‘You could interpret these pictures in any number of ways,’ said Silas. ‘If you wait long enough anything you see in them will come true.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Dalliah. ‘But historic events are not as isolated as they appear to be. Each one only exists as a link in a far longer chain. When Kate Winters stood inside that listening circle she set in motion a cataclysmic chain of events that will allow everything you see here to come to pass. I have watched history unfold in similar ways many times before. I thought you might appreciate a glimpse into the future of our world.’
Silas looked further along the wall and saw a picture of Albion’s monstrous Night Train – the train that had carried people into war and slavery for generations. The great engine lay on its side, its wheels broken and forced from its tracks. Its mismatched panels had been torn away by scavengers and its front grille was choked with creeping weeds. Another painting showed rows of dead bodies laid out in the streets of an Albion town and a third depicted the scene of a public execution. Scarred wardens watched over cages full of sickly people who were being released one by one and led into the hands of their executioner whose silver sword was raised ready to be plunged into the back of a prisoner kneeling at his feet.
‘These pictures are not the future,’ he said.
‘The veil has shown me these events,’ said Dalliah. ‘The veil does not lie.’
‘Even if it is true, how could one girl be responsible for any of this?’
‘She has already caused the first stone to fall. The rest of our world will crumble soon enough.’
‘Then perhaps it is better if Kate does die,’ said Silas. ‘She would not want to be part of this.’
‘Are you sure of that? You do not know her, Silas. You cannot presume to know what she wants. She is a Winters, after all. Her family’s priorities have often proved . . . unexpected, when placed under pressure.’
A door at the back of the room opened. Silas turned and Bandermain walked in, scraping the tip of Silas’s blue-black sword along the floor.
‘What the girl wants is no longer important,’ said Bandermain.
‘What is he doing here?’ demanded Silas.
‘I am protecting my investment. I am here to make sure that everything runs smoothly, including you. I remember you being more of a patient man, Silas. If you had waited, my men would have brought you here themselves. Lady Grey has had us watching for you for weeks. It is a shame they could not deliver you here as my prisoner, but you are here nonetheless. I call that a victory.’
‘Your men could not even keep one prisoner under guard,’ said Silas. ‘They are slipping.’
‘They do not know you as well as I do,’ said Bandermain. ‘I doubt any of them would have expected a man with your injuries to escape from that room. When I was told you were gone, I’ll admit, I was impressed.’
Silas turned to Dalliah, keeping one eye upon Bandermain as he spoke. ‘Do any of your pictures include an incompetent Blackwatch officer and his men?’ he asked. ‘I find it hard to believe the future has any use for him.’
‘Officer Bandermain is here at my request,’ said Dalliah, walking across the room and standing at Bandermain’s side. ‘He insisted upon testing you. He was understandably sceptical about the full extent of your capabilities and did not know if we could trust you.’
‘I would say no,’ said Silas. ‘Men like us do not trust our enemies. We kill them.’
‘Not in my house,’ said Dalliah. ‘Bandermain had to be sure the rumours about you were true before moving to the next stage of our plan.’
‘Your plan?’
‘Yes. Bandermain and I have an arrangement. One of which you would be wise to consider becoming a part.’
Bandermain cleared his throat and walked slowly towards Silas, barely concealing his hatred of him behind a grimacing smile. It was only when he drew closer that Silas noticed that something about him had changed since the last time they had met. His forehead gleamed with a thin haze of sweat, his lips were thin and bloodless, and his eyes were shot with red at the edges. His shoulders were hunched slightly, though he still kept his chin arrogantly high, and every breath made his chest quiver slightly, betraying a secret pain. He was hiding it well, but Silas could see that beneath his mask of strength Bandermain was a very ill man.
Bandermain swung the sword up smoothly and balanced the flat of the blade on his cut palm with the hilt laid upon the other. He glanced at Dalliah and Silas saw her nod slightly out of the corner of his eye. ‘I believe this is yours,’ he said.
Silas reclaimed his weapon, taking it from Bandermain and sliding it into its sheath as Bandermain stepped back. It was obvious he had not wanted to return the sword. Dalliah had ordered him to do it. The question was why.
‘So the Blackwatch take their orders from you now,’ he said to Dalliah. ‘I see you have a new mistress, Celador. To return the weapon that killed your own men . . . I cannot say I would have done the same in your position.’
‘My men died in battle,’ said Bandermain, his voice cut with simmering anger. ‘They were honourable deaths. That is all a soldier can ask.’
‘There are more important matters at stake here than war and pride,’ said Dalliah. ‘Sometimes it takes more than one person to complete a task, Officer Dane. The Blackwatch have proved themselves very useful to me. You will come to appreciate their efforts once they deliver Kate Winters to us.’
‘Why should that be of any interest to me?’
‘The veil has shown me that the influence of her young life promises to be far-reaching. If you had known how important she will be you would never have let her go. The girl’s blood lives within your veins. You should not have left her behind.’
‘She can take care of herself,’ said Silas. ‘She means nothing to me.’
Bandermain spoke up. ‘You told me he would try to protect the girl,’ he said, turning upon Dalliah. ‘If he does not care if she lives or dies, there is no reason for him to call her here!’
Dalliah held up a hand to silence him. ‘If he truly feels no responsibility towards her, his judgement will not be clouded by his conscience,’ she said. ‘He will not turn away from what must be done.’
‘And what would that be?’ asked Silas.
‘I am not your enemy,’ said Dalliah. ‘We are the same. Equals.’
‘If that is true, why send the Blackwatch to hunt me?’
‘Because I can no longer afford to leave anything to chance. Do you know how many people are looking for you? Securing the Blackwatch was a necessity. If they had found you before I did, they would have delivered you straight to the Continental leadership. I knew you would be weakened here and they are very effective hunters. I could not risk them finding you first, so I made Bandermain an offer. I secured his services and those of his men for as long as it took us to find you. As you can see, their efforts were successful.’
‘We knew where you were,’ said Bandermain. ‘My men have had eyes upon you from the moment you left Fume’s walls, but we could not approach you within your own country. We had to lure you here, where you would be weakened enough to control. Fortunately, I have an asset posted within your capital that you and your council have overlooked for a very long time. One of my agents is stationed within your city walls. His orders are to gather information about your capital’s weaknesses, its routines and the people in power. He has been very useful to me over the years.’
‘Spies within Fume are nothing new,’ said Silas. ‘I have killed dozens of Blackwatch agents myself.’
‘You hunt your enemies in the shadows,’ said Bandermain. ‘This one lives in clear sight. All I had to do was point him in your direction when the opportunity presented itself and I knew he would lead you to me. The right amount of gold placed in the right hands carries a great deal of influence in Albion society. At first he was just a spy, but the right opportunities taken at the right time allowed him to become much more. While you were gathering up your own people to send to war, he became a trusted friend of one of your High Councilmen. In time, every decision the old man made was discussed with my agent first. Through him, the Blackwatch were able to hear every secret the council had – secrets they never would have shared with someone like you. I know more about your country’s leaders than you do, Silas. When the old man died, he had already named his successor. The indispensable friend who had been so helpful to him in his final years.’
‘You have an agent on the High Council,’ said Silas. ‘Who?’
‘Did you not find it suspicious that a High Council member would arrange a meeting with one of your known associates at a place you just happened to be?’ said Bandermain. ‘It was a gamble, sending him there, but when he talked to your friend about Dalliah Grey you took the bait perfectly. Who do you think has been coordinating the deliberately incompetent search for you? Do you really believe the wardens would not have found you by now unless someone was intentionally leading them away from your trail? My men have been inside Fume for years, watching your people eat themselves away from the inside. You and your wardens have done more damage to your country than we ever could. All we have to do is sit back and watch you destroy yourselves.’
‘When I return to Albion, your man will be the first to die,’ said Silas.
‘I do not think so. You have already had a hand in the murder of one councilwoman. The wardens will not let you anywhere near the High Council again.’
The room flooded with Silas’s rage. He was about to challenge Bandermain when Dalliah stepped calmly between them.
‘We do not have time for your petty disagreements,’ she said. ‘We are all well aware of Silas’s history, and we know the fate that befell his former mistress.’
‘Da’ru is dead,’ said Silas. ‘As Bandermain and his men soon will be.’
‘She and I communicated many times when she was alive,’ said Dalliah. ‘There was a time when I believed she might eventually be strong enough to help me complete my work. You cannot deny what she did was impressive. She did not have the abilities of a Walker, yet she mastered Wintercraft enough to bind a soul to her own.’
‘I was there. I know what she did.’
‘Da’ru’s death was no surprise to me,’ said Dalliah. ‘I may not have foreseen it, but I knew it was inevitable. I followed her progress from childhood, and it was my research that first allowed her to locate the book hidden within a Winters grave. At that time, I believed all of the greatest Skilled families were long dead and that someone like Da’ru would be my only chance to regain what I had lost, but from the moment Kate Winters first entered the veil I knew I was wrong. Da’ru was a distraction. She was not ready for the world I planned to show her. Kate is different. She is the one we need.’
‘I do not need anything,’ said Silas.
‘It has not been long since your spirit was broken. You may accept it now, but in fifty, eighty years, when everything you have known has changed, you will not be so amenable,’ said Dalliah. ‘Only the two of us know what it is like to be feared by the living and turned away by death. Our fate
s are the same. We will be left to walk this world together long after the last of our enemies and allies are dead and gone. But fate can be changed. We can reclaim our spirits and free them from the dark. This is your chance to make things right.’
‘I am not interested.’
‘You will be.’ Dalliah reached out to touch Silas’s face and he snatched her hand away.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Opening your eyes,’ said Dalliah. ‘The veil will answer us more easily upon my land. With my help, you can see what has become of Kate for yourself. If she dies before her time, our hopes will die with her.’
Silas felt the energy of the veil gathering around Dalliah and saw frost creeping across her fingernails and along her eyelashes as the veil closed in. He had no reason to trust her, but, suspicious as he was, a part of him was interested in what she had to say. She was the only person who knew what it was like to live his life, and how much he wanted to undo the damage done to his spirit. He wanted to trust her, so he allowed her hand to rest against his face and let his thoughts lift gently into the veil’s cold mist.
Wintercraft: Blackwatch Page 14