The streets were deserted. Pale yellow moonlight fell on cobbles that were dark and shiny with the dampness of the night. Somehow it felt too obvious to walk boldly in the middle of the street, so I kept to the side, in the shadows cast by the houses.
It wasn’t that I wanted to be here. Tension made my chest and belly ache, and it was as if I could barely breathe properly. It felt a little the way I had felt before climbing onto one of the highest branches by the swimming hole in Birches, knowing that I didn’t really have the nerve to jump. And yet I had jumped. Because Davin had been there. “You can do it,” he had shouted. “Come on, Dina.” And so for a moment I had felt as if I was flying, wind in my hair, butterflies in my belly, all the way down. And he had been so proud of me afterward and had boasted to the Miller’s second-eldest son.
But the leap I was about to make now wouldn’t make anybody proud. Certainly not Mama. She would be beside herself if she knew where I was going.
The Golden Swan lay on the other side of town, as far away from the Foundation as it was possible to get and still be within the city walls. Walking back this afternoon with Mama I had carefully noted the way, so finding the inn was no problem. But when I reached it, it was as dark and shuttered as everything else in town. A solid-looking gate blocked my way into the yard, and for a while I just stood there, looking at it and feeling lost. Somehow I think I had been expecting Sezuan to be there, waiting in the open door. But he wasn’t, of course.
I knocked tentatively on the gate. There was no answer, not even when I banged it a little harder.
“Hello?” I called cautiously. “May I come in?”
Silent as the grave, I thought. Everybody must be asleep in there behind the white shutters. I walked around to the back, looking for another way in. And I found it. Not quite the convenient back door I had imagined, but still… A big chestnut tree grew by the orchard wall. And even though I didn’t climb like a squirrel the way Davin did, I thought I might be able to reach that big branch up there, the one that stretched across the top of the wall.
It was an old tree, full of cracks and furrows and knobs where branches had once snapped off. I slipped once and got myself a few scratches and a moss-colored scrape along one arm, but I did finally succeed in hooking my leg over the branch I wanted, so that I could pull myself up and sit astride it. Cautiously, I wormed my way along it, until I could see the orchard and the greenhouse, directly beneath me. There were no candelabra now, but the table was still there, with its white tablecloth gleaming softly in the darkness.
It was as if I was hearing Mama’s furious accusation against Sezuan once more. Your mother sent you to me the way they send a stud to a mare. Because she thought the offspring would be interesting. The offspring, that was me. Was that how Sezuan thought of me?
The branch shook beneath me. I held on tightly, thinking at first it might be a gust of wind. But then it happened again. And this time, I was certain there had been no sudden gust.
Somebody else was climbing the tree.
I twisted my neck, trying to see. But though the branch was trembling like a living creature, I could see no movement, only leaves and darkness and—wait. Wasn’t there a glint of something pale, eyes, teeth, or maybe… maybe a weapon? There really was someone.
I held still. Still as a frightened mouse. I knew it was stupid. I knew it would be better to make a break for it, slip down onto the wall beneath me and from there to the ground, but my arms and legs were frozen like ice. And he might not have seen me, he might simply have taken it into his head to climb this tree, not knowing that I—
Thunk! Something hit me hard between the shoulder blades, and I nearly lost my grip on the branch. I looked about wildly. Where—
Thunk. Once more, high on the arm, with force enough to numb. This time, I did lose my balance, swinging around to catch desperately at the branch with the arm that was still working, until I hung beneath it like some three-legged sloth. And now I could see him, above me, on a branch a little higher up. It was only the briefest of glimpses: black hair, white face, red shirt. Then he swung his powerful stick once more, hitting my hand. My fingers opened nervelessly. For a second I hung on by my legs only, and then I fell, plummeting like a stone, through the air, through the glass roof, and onto the table, which broke beneath me. Around me, broken glass tinkled against the tiles, a strange, crisp sound, like icicles hitting the pavement. I lay still. I couldn’t see, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. For the first few moments, it didn’t even hurt.
The glass shards crunched and tinkled. He was coming toward me, I could feel it, even though I couldn’t feel much else. Something touched my ankle—the tip of a boot, I thought. And then things began to hurt, not just my leg or any particular place, just everywhere. I moaned a little.
“My dreams,” hissed a voice. “Mine. Won’t let you take them!”
I had no idea what he meant, but there was so much hatred and fury in the voice that panic pounded through me at the sound. Away. I had to get away. He wanted to hurt me, I could hear it. I tried to sit up, but my arms wouldn’t work.
Cold, bony fingers touched my neck.
Then there were other noises, footsteps and voices. I could see light, light flickering among the apple trees.
“Who goes there?” called a commanding voice.
He hissed like a cat that didn’t want to let go of its mouse. His fingers dug into my neck for a moment, then he let go, and I could hear his tinkling steps for a moment before he disappeared into the darkness.
I should disappear as well, I thought dizzily. They wouldn’t be pleased when they saw what I had done to their greenhouse. I made it to my knees, but that was as far as I got before a tall, fat-bellied man in a nightshirt and bare legs showed up in the greenhouse door, a frying pan in one hand and a candlestick in the other.
Open-mouthed, he stared at the devastation.
“Holy Saint Magda!” he exclaimed.
Another man, thinner and younger, appeared beside him.
“What happened?”
“The thieving little brat has smashed the orangery,” said the fat one, picking his way across the broken glass. He dropped the frying pan, seized my arm, and hauled me to my feet. “Come here, you little vandal, and I’ll give you what’s owing!”
“I didn’t mean—”
But he wasn’t listening. He slapped my face so hard it made me even dizzier.
“She’s bleeding,” said the younger one. “She must have cut herself on the glass.”
“No more than she deserves, the little thief!”
It was only now that I realized that blood was streaming down my arm. Where was the damage? Somewhere at the back, close to my shoulder blade.
“I’m no thief,” I said.
“No?” said the fat one. “Then I beg her pardon. No doubt the Medamina has her reasons for climbing people’s walls in the middle of the night and smashing up their orangeries.”
“But I—”
“Save your excuses for the Courtmaster, girl. Adrian, lock her in the root cellar. Tomorrow, the city guards can take her.”
“No! I need to—”
“You need to go along with Adrian, that’s what you need. And be grateful I haven’t given you the hiding you deserve!” He cast a black look at the ruins of his beautiful orangery, and an even blacker one at me.
Adrian took my arm, the one that wasn’t bleeding.
“Come along,” he said. “It’s better not to make any trouble.” His hold on me was a lot gentler than the fat man’s, and his warning sounded more like well-meant advice, rather than a threat.
That was when I heard the flute. Very faintly, a soft and soothing melody. Both men stopped in their tracks, like dogs hearing the distant whistle of their lord and master. Then the melody stopped, and Sezuan came out of the darkness with soundless, gliding steps. He was wearing a long blue robe of some kind.
Blue robe.
I had seen only a brief glimpse of the man who had attac
ked me, but I had thought…
I pressed my free hand against my temple. It had looked like Sezuan. But now that I saw him, no. It hadn’t been Sezuan who had hit me with the stick. But who else, then?
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, in a quiet, courteous voice.
Adrian had let go of my arm. The fat gray-bearded man stood there holding the candlestick in front of him almost like a shield, but he suddenly sounded oddly subservient.
“Did we disturb Mesire’s sleep?” he said. “I am very sorry. It’s only a thief who—”
Sezuan laughed his soft laugh. “That is no thief,” he said. “That is my daughter.”
“Ohhh.” The graybeard looked as if the thief he had caught had suddenly turned out to be a princess in disguise. “I see. But then, we really do apologize…” He sputtered to a stop.
“Naturally, I shall pay for the damages to your orangery,” said Sezuan.
“Naturally,” murmured the graybeard. “Thank you kindly, Mesire. Is there anything else I may do for Mesire and… and… his lady daughter?”
“Bring me some hot water.”
“At once. Here, or—”
“In my room.”
“Of course. Yes. Adrian, take the candle and accompany Mesire and Medamina to the room.”
“Give me the candlestick,” said Sezuan. “We’ll find our own way.”
Adrian and the fat man withdrew, each with a formal bow. Sezuan watched me for a moment in the candlelight glow.
“I thought you might come,” he finally said. “But couldn’t you have used the front door?”
The bed did not look as if it had been slept in, so perhaps he really had been waiting for me. On the table was an open book, and the oil lamp was still lit.
“Sit,” said Sezuan and pointed to one of the three chairs by the table.
I sat. I still felt dizzy and battered by my fall, and the shoulder was very painful by now. I didn’t lean against the backrest; it would have hurt too much.
Sezuan did not sit down. He remained standing a little distance from the table, looking at me.
“You’ve come because of your brother,” he said.
I nodded.
“You heard everything your mother and I said to one another, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” My voice was hoarse and croaky, the way it often was when I grew nervous.
“But your mother does not know that you are here.”
“No,” I whispered. I didn’t even dare think about what she would do when she found out.
He smiled slowly. It was not a nice smile. There was a hard and glittering edge of triumph to it, as if he had won and Mama had lost.
“Poor Melussina,” he said. But it didn’t sound as if he was really sorry for her, and his tone made me angry. There just wasn’t a lot I could do with my anger, not if I wanted him to help Davin and Nico.
There was a knocking at the door. Sezuan opened it, and Adrian entered with a pitcher of hot water and some linen strips.
“For Medamina’s injury,” he explained, bowed to me and to Sezuan, and left.
“Wash yourself,” said Sezuan. “Both the wound and the rest. I cannot abide filth, it is so unsavory.”
There was no special weight to the way he said it. I couldn’t even figure out whether it was meant to be insulting. But he made me feel small and dirty and vaguely disgusting, and I was loath to loosen my bodice and take off my blouse while he was watching.
“Well?” he said, after a while. “Will you get on with it?”
“Not with you watching,” I said, embarrassed but also stubborn. I meant it.
He raised one eyebrow. “I beg your pardon.”
He took the book from the table, deliberately turned his back, and presumably began to read.
I took off my bodice and eased the blouse off the injured shoulder. The gray material was dark with blood and had a tear in it as long as my hand. I twisted my neck, but the wound was too far down for me to see it.
The blouse wasn’t worth much now. I took it off, soaked it in the hot water and used it for a wash cloth. It wasn’t easy to cleanse a wound I couldn’t see. It was harder still to manage some kind of a bandage out of the linen strips that Adrian had brought. I couldn’t help thinking that it should have been Mama doing this; she was always the one who took care of us when we were hurt or ill. It would be a long time now before I saw her again, and if Sezuan had his way, if I really did have the serpent gift and he managed to awaken it in me, would my mother still want me?
I sniffed back a couple of tears and tied the last knot on my clumsy bandage. Then I put the bodice back on, but without the blouse I still felt somewhat bare.
“May I turn around now?” asked Sezuan.
“Yes.”
He put down the book and studied me for a while. I couldn’t tell at all what he was thinking.
“Are you afraid?” he suddenly asked. “Are you afraid of me?”
The answer to that question was yes, of course. But I didn’t want to tell him that. I didn’t want him to think that he could make me jump just by saying boo.
“Will you help Davin?” I asked instead.
“Perhaps,” he said. “And if I’m willing, what then?”
“Then…” I had to swallow and start again. “Then I will do what you want me to do.”
For a moment, something showed in his face, some sort of deep emotion, but I couldn’t tell which.
“Do you even know what that is?” he asked.
“You want to see if I have the serpent gift.”
Again, he watched me for a long time, but this time his face was as expressionless as a reptile’s. Then he nodded. “Yes. I would like to know that.”
I don’t, I thought. But I couldn’t see any other way out of this for us.
“And if I let you do that,” I said as firmly as I could manage, “then you will pay the Foundation to let us go and you will help free Nico and Davin from the Sagisburg. Won’t you?” I looked him straight in the eye and wished like anything that I had my Shamer’s gift back, just for a moment, so that I could be sure he wasn’t planning to cheat me. Nothing happened. Now, when I needed to be my mother’s daughter more than ever, my gift failed me completely. It was enough to make you weep.
“If I pay off the Foundation, your mother will be at our heels in a moment,” he said. “Even if we do not, she will try to find us and stop us, but at least it will be more difficult.”
I bit my lip. “You told Mama you would pay.”
“Yes. And if she were here, doing her own bargaining, it would be different.”
Yes, I thought, because she would be able to tell if you were lying.
I got to my feet. “If you don’t do it, I won’t come with you.”
“Oh, really?” he said without batting an eyelid. “All of a sudden, you do not care about your brother after all?”
But I did. That was the hell of it. When you know you have to buy no matter how outrageous the price, you drive a lousy bargain. If only. If only I could make that man ashamed of himself, even for a moment. But my gift stubbornly refused to come to my aid.
“You may have the money after we get back,” he said.
I shook my head. “What if we don’t?” A lot could happen. And I had talked to people who had been at the Foundation for seven years, ever since it began. Seven years—it didn’t bear thinking about. “I want to free Davin and Nico, yes. But what good will that do if Mama and Melli and Rose are still trapped?”
“The Foundation is hardly as cruel a prison as the Sagisburg,” he said.
I didn’t answer. I just stared at him with the best imitation of a Shamer’s look that I could manage.
“Very well,” he said. “I will take care of the Foundation.”
I sank back onto the chair as if I suddenly had no legs. Had it worked? Had I succeeded in giving him just the tiniest pang of conscience? Perhaps there really was a bit of the Shamer’s gift left, even though I couldn’t quite
feel it myself.
He took pen and paper from a small chest by the bed and started writing. Then he pulled at a bell-rope by the bedpost, and shortly afterward Adrian appeared at the door.
“Mesire wishes?”
“Do you know how to read?” asked Sezuan.
“Yes, Mesire.”
“Good. Follow the instructions I’ve written here. Here are the monies for the Foundation, and this coin is for your trouble.” He gave Adrian a gray leather pouch and a silver penny. Adrian bowed.
“Thank you, Mesire. Thank you very much. Mesire may be sure that everything will be as he wishes.”
He turned to go, but I stopped him.
“Wait. I want to see the paper.”
Adrian looked questioningly at Sezuan, who gave a small nod. Adrian held out the paper. It said that the sum enclosed, twenty-five silver marks in all, should be used to ensure the release of Melussina Tonerre, her daughter Melli, and her foster-daughter Rose. And then it said: “This release shall take effect ten days from this day, the eighth day of the Harvest Moon.”
Angrily, I turned to Sezuan.
“No. It has to be now. Tomorrow!”
He shook his head. “No. These are the best terms you will get. Take it or leave it.”
I stared at the paper and wanted to rip it apart. Ten days. Ten days would be an eternity to Mama, Melli, and Rose.
“Well?” he said. “Do you want a deal with me or no?”
Tears burnt hotly at the corner of my eyes, but I had no choice. I returned the paper to Adrian.
“Is that a yes?” asked Sezuan.
I nodded. “Yes,” I whispered, though the word tasted bitter in my mouth.
“Good,” he said, waving Adrian off. He sat down on his bed and stretched like a pleased cat. “Now it is her turn to feel what it is like to sit there looking at a locked gate for ten days.”
Oh, I thought. This is his vengeance for Skayark.
He kicked off his boots and lay back in the pillows. “Put out the light before you sleep,” he said and closed his eyes. And very shortly afterward it seemed that he had fallen asleep himself.
The Serpent Gift Page 16