Instead of concealing it, I left Calder’s bag out on the table, hoping to give the impression it was an article of no importance. I set off from my room and hurried toward the Great Hall. From there I approached the entrance to Lord Fellstone’s anteroom. Four sentries stood guard, and blocked my way as I drew near.
“I request an audience with his lordship,” I said. The guards hesitated, exchanging glances, but then the one nearest the door knocked and received permission to enter. He returned shortly thereafter and ushered me in. Immediately he went back to his post, closing the door behind him, and leaving me alone inside the lord’s receiving room—a setting so lavishly appointed that even the most fastidious of visiting royalty would be hard pressed to find fault with it.
I sat on the edge of a plush chair to wait for him. A moment later he emerged from the inner chamber with Lady Harlan beside him. She kept her chin lifted and threw me a venomous look before she went out, leaving the door to be shut by the sentry behind her.
I paid her no heed, struck by the change in Lord Fellstone’s appearance. He looked a decade older than when I’d last seen him. His face was lined, and his posture bent as he turned toward me. He had another small infection on his neck, which I hoped would make him anxious for the return of his dreadmarrow, and therefore more likely to grant me concessions.
“I knew you'd come back,” he said. “You can't escape who you are.”
“I only came to offer an exchange,” I said. “I'll give back what I took if you agree to several small requests of mine.”
His eyes went cold at my mention of requests. He showed no curiosity as to what they were; it would not surprise me to learn he’d never conceded anything in his life. Nevertheless, I spilled out my list. “Release Ash's brother Lance from your army of wraiths. Restore Calder, who became a cockroach. Tell me the truth about what happened to my mother, and release her if she’s being held here.”
“You forget yourself.” His words cut like ice. “No one makes demands of the Conjurer Lord Fellstone.”
I tried not to squirm under his unsettling gaze. After a moment, his eyes shifted past me.
“You should have heeded my advice to forget your mother,” he said. “But since you insist on knowing her fate, I’ve decided there’s no harm in revealing it to you.” He led me to a corner of the room, where a covered bird cage hung, and lifted off the cloth to reveal a russet sparrow perched inside. I turned back to him in confusion.
“I believe you're familiar with the sparrow family,” he said. “Her name is Faline.”
A sensation of dread crept over me. “My mother's name?” I said hoarsely. I moved closer to the cage and tried to catch the sparrow's eye, but like any other bird, it had no interest in meeting my gaze.
“She won't know you,” Lord Fellstone said. “She's nothing but a sparrow now.”
“This is my mother? It's really her?” I didn’t believe him. If she was wearing a windrider, she had only to scrape her claw to change back. How could she not know who she was? I never forgot myself when I became sparrow-me.
“Once her transformation was complete, the windrider dropped from her, and she flew back here like a homing pigeon,” he said.
“I don’t understand.”
Lord Fellstone's eyes went to the windrider dangling from my neck. I had meant to leave it in my room, or at least hide it under my blouse, but somehow I’d forgotten. I did sometimes wonder if the windrider had a mind of its own, and did not wish to separate from me any more than I wanted to be separated from it.
“You've used the windrider,” he said. “Have you not sensed its power? Do you feel like a bird sometimes?”
“No!” I said. But my “no” trailed off and ended in a sound that resembled a chirp. I slapped my hand over my mouth. I didn’t want to listen to him, and I tried but failed to prevent the sudden realization from flooding my mind. The whistling, the nesting behavior, eating seeds and almost even a beetle… I had to admit he was right, even while I was Tessa I displayed all the traits of being a bird.
“It's remarkable, isn't it?” he went on. “But unless you give it up or learn to control it, the windrider transforms its owner into a bird, permanently.” He reached over abruptly, grasped my chain, and yanked it off my neck.
“Give it back!” I cried out.
“You see what a grip it has on you already? You can't bear to part with it. But I won't take the chance of my daughter ending up like her mother.” His tone softened. “I can teach you to control spells instead of their controlling you.”
I looked at the poor sparrow sitting in her cage. Mama, is that you? I leapt forward and unhooked the cage door, pulling it wide open. “Fly, Mama!” I cried out.
She fluttered out of the cage and swooped up to the ceiling, where she settled onto the chandelier.
“She'll return when she's hungry,” his lordship said.
“Change her back!”
He gave me a look that sent prickles down my back.
“Please,” I said. “My lord, I beg you.”
“I cannot change her back.” His face was pale as he sank into a chair by the door. “Leave me now. Return what you stole. Only then will I consider requests.”
I knew I would gain nothing by pressing him further. Before leaving, I glanced up at Mama. She seemed content resting on the chandelier. But I silently swore I would find a way to restore her, even if it took a lifetime.
ASH
He woke during the night, well after darkness had settled over the room. Gradually he made out the shape of the crib that was meant for Tessa but never held her. A disturbing thought flashed through his head: what if her mother had never taken her from the castle? He wondered how the insidious influence of her father might have changed her. It was hard to imagine her any different than she was, but who better than Fellstone to crush every ounce of virtue inside a person?
A stab of pain shot through his side when he shifted in the bed. Worse than that were the feelings of fatigue and weakness that enveloped him. But he knew he must get up and move to another part of the castle. He forced himself into a sitting position and began to contemplate his next steps. The darkness would help conceal him as he moved about, and with some effort, he hoped to keep himself from dwelling on the persistent throb of his wound.
He took out Calder’s map from his pocket and looked at it again. Before he’d been so intent on finding Ratcher, he hadn’t noticed Tessa’s bedchamber. Calder had marked it with a “T”, and used the words “DO NOT ENTER” to designate the nursery. The rooms were beside each other.
He wondered if she might be there. For her sake, he fervently hoped she’d made it out of the castle. If so, the room would be empty now. They would have searched for him there earlier; Ratcher would’ve thought of it, if not the soldiers. Hopefully they would not think to inspect it again. He could hide safely in her chamber a while longer, as he gathered his strength and formed a plan. If, however, she hadn’t managed to escape… he might put her in danger by coming to her. He would have to take that risk, because she could already be threatened, might already need his help. The more he thought on it, the more he realized this was not a choice. He must go to her room, must do everything in his power to learn her fate.
He listened at the crack to confirm all was silent, before opening the door and peering out. He glimpsed no movement or shadows. Holding Scarface’s dagger before him, he stole out into the hallway and crept forward until he reached Tessa’s room. He let himself in.
Though he knew it was for the best, heavy disappointment filled him when he discovered the place empty. No lamps were lit and the fire had gone cold; it did not appear that she would be returning. He slumped down on a chair by the table, and took a handful of walnuts from the basket. It came to him that the pang he felt at his waist was a result of hunger as much as the effects of his cut. The light scent of roast pork further stirred his appetite, and he looked up for any sign of the meat itself.
That was when he saw i
t. Calder’s bag, left right out on the table beside the fruit basket. It was a wonder he hadn’t noticed it immediately, but his mind wasn’t working at full force at the moment. His eyes shot around the room. “Calder?” he whispered. No answer came.
It gave him hope. Calder would never be far from his bag, unless it was taken from him, and if that were the case, they would not have left it here. Moreover, if Calder was nearby, perhaps Tessa was also. They were still a team, and his help would be wanted. He needed to be stronger.
Ash finished the walnuts, and ate a pear, an apple, and two oranges, briefly wondering where Fellstone could have gotten oranges this time of year, particularly ones that tasted so juicy and delicious. The food would hold him for now. He stood and walked toward Tessa’s bed, nearly stepping on a beetle on his way there. He sat on the bed, wondering at its softness. If one could float on a cloud, it must feel like this. He glanced once more around the room, feeling the soothing effect of its beautiful furnishings caressed by moonlight. This, then, was how it felt to be rich. It was like falling under the spell of an evil seductress who only wished to steal your soul.
It occurred to him then that Tessa was no longer the daughter of an ordinary locksmith. Her mother was a noblewoman and her father, one of the richest and most powerful men in the land. How can the son of the local sexton who earns his keep digging graves, ever presume to ask for her hand in marriage? When word got out regarding her true parentage, the suitors would form a line outside her door. They would come from far and wide to lay their wealth and titles at her feet.
He snorted at himself. How ridiculous he was, letting his mind wander to thoughts of marriage. He was a fugitive inside an enemy castle, a hopeful assassin planning to attack and kill its most formidable occupants. Whether he succeeded or not—and he was painfully aware how small his chances were—there was little likelihood he would leave this place alive.
He noticed the beetle moving across the floor toward the table where Calder’s bag rested. On second thought, it wasn’t a beetle but a cockroach, which he supposed was some sort of beetle too. But he’d been confused because it ambled in a very un-cockroach-like manner. The ones Ash had seen before had shot past him like oiled lightning. He watched it curiously and lifted the dagger, thinking of stabbing it, wondering if the flash of movement would get the bug running. He didn’t like insects, though a cockroach was better than a spider any day.
The cockroach paused and almost seemed to be looking up at the table. It would be easy—too easy—to kill this slow-witted, slow moving bug, but he had no good reason for it. The cockroach was a poor, miserable creature, which, like Ash, had most likely been hunted and harassed ever since entering this vile fortress. Ash set down the knife and lay back on the bed. He would close his eyes to rest for a few moments. Then he would decide his next move.
TESSA
Two sentries followed me from Lord Fellstone’s chamber and made certain I returned to my own. They positioned themselves on opposite sides of the door. “Thank you, I have no further need of your services. You may leave,” I said, as if I really were accustomed to having my commands obeyed, as the privileged daughter of their lord and master.
They stared straight ahead and remained fixed to the spot, making it clear they would not be following any commands of mine. I went into my room, shutting and bolting the door behind me. A soft breeze from the window drew me to it. As I gazed out at the sky, I touched the place where my windrider ought to be, before recalling Lord Fellstone had taken it from me. I glanced back at the door, frowning as I pictured the guards standing sentry all night in the corridor.
At last I turned toward the bed and froze at the sight of a man lying on the quilt. A second later, I recognized him as Ash. Who put his body on my bed? I approached him with heavy steps, as my chest grew tight.
He opened his eyes and turned to look at me. My jaw dropped… a gasp emerged. This must have amused him, because he smiled and sat up, and then I knew, without a doubt, he was not some ghostly visage, but Ash himself, alive as he ever was. It was Ratcher who had told me he was dead, and I should have known better than to trust anything she uttered.
I didn’t pause to think before I ran to him and threw my arms around him. He went rigid at first, probably from shock, but then he returned my embrace. I was so overjoyed to find him living, I just wanted to hold him, to feel his warmth and the life flowing through him.
“Ratcher said you were dead,” I whispered into his ear.
He pressed me closer, and again I wished that he would kiss me. I tried to hide my disappointment when he drew back from me a moment later. I understood why; this wasn’t the time to indulge our feelings. But for once I yearned for him to be less disciplined, to set aside duty and obligation for a little while.
Ash stood up. “She only—”
“Shhh,” I interrupted. “There are guards just outside my door.”
“She only wounded me,” he whispered. Keeping his voice low, he explained how he and Ratcher had dueled, and how he’d escaped later by killing the boarman.
“Thank the gods you’re alive,” I said. “How do you feel?” I looked at the cloth wrapped around his waist, with a small circle of dark red where his blood had seeped through.
“Better. I can manage,” he said. “Tell me how it went with you and Calder.”
With a heavy heart, I spoke of the spell that had transformed our friend. Ash gave an odd look as if there were something he wished to say, but he kept silent. I told him then how I’d used the dreadmarrow to bring Papa back from the dead. I didn’t say how different Papa seemed, because that might sound as if I were ungrateful for the gift he’d received of a second chance at life. Lastly, I described my encounter with Lord Fellstone, and the state of my poor mother.
Ash walked to the table and began to look around. “We can’t wait,” he said. “Fellstone isn’t going to bargain with you. Perhaps your mother is safe for now, but Calder runs the risk of getting eaten or stepped on. I don’t think he knows how to be a proper cockroach.” He looked into Calder’s bag. “Here he is,” Ash said.
I hurried over to his side. Inside the bag, resting on one of the many vials, was a cockroach. “Calder?” I said. Needless to say, the cockroach didn’t respond. “I suppose it must be him. Somehow he was drawn to his own bag.”
“I’m sure it is,” Ash said. “He didn’t run like a normal cockroach.”
“Well, good,” I said. “This makes things easier. We have one of them. We just need to get my mother.”
“We have to kill the lord. According to Ratcher, it’s the only way to break his spells.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. The man was evil, no doubt. And yet he was my father. Even if I’d never known him as such… even if he’d never filled that role for me… there seemed something terrible and unnatural in the thought that I might be the cause of his death. But I had no other ideas for saving Mama and Calder.
“How would we even go about it?” I said.
“The man is flesh and blood, isn’t he?” said Ash.
“He has powers that protect him.” I hesitated. “But he seemed quite ill when I saw him. I’m not sure why. Perhaps he needs to use the dreadmarrow every day.”
“You think he might die without it?”
“I don’t know. We have to keep it from him as long as he refuses to help us. We should leave here with it tonight. And we must take Mama and Calder with us, to keep them safe.”
Ash looked reluctant. Waiting went against his nature, yet he must’ve known how little chance he had of killing Fellstone, even in the man’s weakened state. After a moment, he nodded.
I felt about on the floor in the wardrobe until I found the invisible dreadmarrow. I brought it to Calder’s bag and tucked it on the side, trying not to disturb Calder the cockroach.
“What’re you doing?” Ash said, staring with a baffled look.
I remembered that he’d never seen—or rather, never not seen—the invisible Calder. “
Invisibility powder,” I said.
“I get it. One of his magic tricks.”
“Not magic,” I said. “It’s—”
“Alchemy?” Ash said, smiling. He picked up Scarface’s thick-handled dagger and stepped toward the door.
“Don’t forget the sentries,” I said. “And Lord Fellstone took my windrider.” I knew what we would have to do, but still I hesitated.
“I’ll kill them both,” he said, not looking quite as confident as he sounded.
“You might manage one, but not the other. And I wouldn’t be much help. In any case, I don’t think we can do it quietly, and the castle would be alerted. We’d have no chance after that.” My eyes shifted to the tapestry that hung from the wall beside the hearth. Strangely, I dreaded what I’d seen in my vision—myself bound and alone, at the mercy of a demon with a knife—far more than I feared any supernatural beings. Though both might reside beneath the castle, for all I knew. Still, the passage was our only chance for escape.
“I believe there’s another way,” I said, going to the tapestry. I lifted it from the corner, and found the door behind it. Ash came up behind me.
“It leads underneath the castle. There should be a similar passage to Lord Fellstone’s anteroom. But… it may not be safe.”
“No route is safe,” Ash said.
“I mean… I was told there were monsters,” I said.
Ash shrugged. “We faced one before. At least you did. My turn now.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” I turned toward the door.
Dreadmarrow Thief (The Conjurer Fellstone Book 1) Page 17