‘Stand back!’ She was speaking Fairy. ‘Stand back, o people!’
They parted to let her through. In her dream she could hear their thoughts, the jumbled needs, fears, spasms of joy. The masks hid nothing. She could see the real wolfmen, with the moon mark on their foreheads. And there were ghosts. The dead were walking. Walking as they’d walked in life, up Skuller, down Skuller, going about their business. The living passed through them unaware.
Then behind her she heard the hounds. They were coming for her.
Yanni. She must get up to the Precincts to Yanni. Then she’d be safe. But the crowds were all surging downhill. Knock-a-door, knock-a-door, Wolf Tide’s come! chanted the children. Mind the knife, mind the knife! She mustn’t kill anyone.
The rooftops. It would be quicker. And the dogs wouldn’t be able to hunt her up there. But as she tensed to spring, the blade winked out and vanished.
She collapsed.
Not a dream. The cobbles under hands and knees were real. So were the drunken crowds, tripping over her, cursing. She tried to haul herself up, but her strength was gone.
‘Help me!’ Her whisper went unheard.
Baying. Getting closer. No-one would help her. Thought she was drunk. She dragged herself through the thicket of legs to the road edge. A boot trod on her left hand. She felt the fingers snap. Pain knifed up her arm. Get up, she had to get to her feet. But a weight was pressing down on her. Like gravity had been turned up.
Oh God, the hounds. Squirming towards her through the crowds. No escape. They knew her scent. Somehow she hauled herself upright. Clutched at doorposts, windowsills, clawed her way uphill, away from the pursuing dogs. Where was she? Her bearings had gone. An alley opened to her left. She staggered into it. Climb. Get up higher. But there were no footholds low enough. On, on she stumbled, legs dragging like she was wading through water.
Too late. Snarling behind her. The pack erupted into the alley. She hammered on doors. Let me in, let me in! Nobody answered. All gone down to the river. Statue, up there in a niche. Last chance. She made a leap. Grabbed. But her injured hand couldn’t haul her on to the ledge. She tumbled back down.
The paran. Summon the paran! She gripped the amulet. Called in Fairy. Nothing. Wrong words? What words had she used before? The dogs circled. Wary. They remembered the weapon. No, wrong hand! It has to be your left hand! But her broken fingers wouldn’t make a fist.
‘Pelago, help me!’ she whimpered.
With a snarl the dogs fell on her. She fought them. Kicked. Snapped a punch. But there were too many. Her strength was spent. Stay on your feet! she heard Yanni’s voice urging. Keep your head, stay on your feet! Nothing left. Darkness closing in.
In the last moment before she passed out, she saw a big man. He waded towards her through the pack. Cursing. Kicking them aside. The dogs obeyed him. Golar. It was over.
Someone was saying her name. He shook her. Patted her cheek. Then he raised her head and shoulders. Picked her up in strong arms.
‘Ms Nolio? Anabara! What happened? Are you bitten? Speak to me! Speak!’
The Zaarzuk.
‘Ach, God’s love! You are so cold! Some witchcraft! Are you hurt?’
‘Yanni,’ she mouthed. ‘Take me to Yanni.’
‘Of course! I will do this. But the crowds, curse these crowds.’ He hugged her close, hesitating. ‘I have it. I will hide you here, and steal me a horse. My kinsman, he will guard you.’
The moon. The moon swung round and round the sky like an apple on a string. Then she was slumped over his shoulder like a sack. He was climbing a wall, trying not to jolt her. She heard him talk to someone in his own tongue.
‘Here,’ he said. ‘I lay you down. And the Chieftain, he will guard you, yes?’ Her head rolled. He shook her. ‘Anabara? Do you understand me? If the hounds return, the statue will protect you. He is charmed. Look!’
Her eyelids fluttered open. She was lying high up in an embrasure. Stone Zaarzuk. Like the one by the Slackey. He spoke to it again. A grind of stone: the statue drew its scimitar.
‘See? He will not fail you. Now I go for a horse. Down to the Causeway. Many, many fine horses, all Zaarzuk-trained. I talk with them this afternoon. Here, my cloak.’
She felt him spreading it over her, tucking her in. Tried to speak. To say, horses banned. Find Mooby, warn… Dhalafan… Golar… Loxi…
‘Do not fear, I will return. Word of a Zaarzuk.’ A kiss on her forehead. He was gone.
Far off the Minstery bell chimed. Chimed again. She tried to count, lost track. Howling. The flutes. Everything tilted. A moon rolled up the sky. Then another moon. And another. Then nothing.
‘Ms Nolio? Anabara!’ She opened her eyes.
A whinny. Jingling. Hooves skittered on stone. She heard the Zaarzuk speak to the horse. It minced closer, tossed its head. Stamped. Waited. The Zaarzuk raised himself in the stirrups, reached up a hand.
‘Come to me! I will catch you. Trust me!’
But she couldn’t move. Pressed down under a quilt of stone. Tears seeped from her eyes. Move, move! But her limbs would not obey.
Again he spoke to the horse. Next thing she knew, he was standing on the saddle. She was in his arms. The world reeled. Blackness.
‘Hah! It’s a brave horse! A fine horse!’ He clicked his tongue. ‘I have you safe, Anabara. Come, to the Precincts! I will take you to your brother!’ He spurred the horse, and they were away.
The world flicked on and off. Buildings. Blackness. The moon. She was jolting and lolling in front of him like a raggedy doll. His arm held her fast. Skuller was empty. Wolf Tide. Must be time. Clatter of hooves on cobbles. On, on.
Then a pounding behind them. More horses. And hounds at bay.
‘So! The filthy rivermen hunt me.’ The Zaarzuk laughed. Urged the horse on, sang to it. Zaarzuk war songs. Then came the whine of a crossbow bolt. Spark on stone. ‘Very good! We go the quick way. Let them follow if they are men!’
The world tipped up. She was falling. But he had her safe. Steep, steep. The horse turned. Turned again. Again. He spoke to it, yipped, whistled. It obeyed. Zig. Zag. The Fairy Teeth. He’s riding us up the Fairy Teeth. Blackness again.
‘Hah! Brave horse, brave horse!’ He patted its neck. ‘Nearly there, Ms Nolio. Now for it!’
Bloodcurdling Zaarzuk yell. The horse spurted forward. Galloping across St Pelago Plaza. Under the threshing chestnut trees. Leaves slapped their faces. The gatehouse was in sight.
Then more horses, coming from the right. Crossbow bolts sang. The Zaarzuk cursed.
‘Tss!’ He clapped a hand to his shoulder. ‘I’m hit. On, on!’
They passed under the arch. Safe! Oh dear God, safe. He reined the horse in.
But the door. The great door was shut. Locked, barred. Too late! Behind them came their pursuers. The dogs bellowed.
‘Sanctuary! Hold your fire!’ The Zaarzuk’s cry rang round the Precincts. ‘I am Tadzar dal Ramek, and I claim sanctuary!’ His bloodied hand gripped the great sanctuary knocker. ‘I claim the protection of St Pelago! Open up!’
Behind them the charmed portcullis clashed down. Anabara saw the Tressy hunters, thwarted behind the white-steel bars. The pluming breath of the horse.
Then the great door opening.
And light streaming through.
And Yanni, running towards her.
CHAPTER 21
She was on a long dark desert road. The wind howled. A huge orange moon pursued her. She tried to run, but her legs didn’t work. She wouldn’t get there in time to warn them. It was all her fault. She’d done something terrible. But what? What?
Suddenly she remembered: She had hidden some creature, some feral Fairy child, in her cellar and let it starve! And the money. She’d forgotten to pay. Every day the debt doubled.
Or was it just a dream? It had to be a dream. There was no debt. There was no starving creature. She didn’t even have a cellar, for God’s sake! But no matter how she fought and fought, she couldn’t wake up and e
scape.
She’s suffered some major charm-related trauma, Master, a woman was saying. All we can do is keep her quiet and comfortable, and let the body and mind heal themselves.
How long will she be like this, doctor? Will there be any lasting damage?
It was Yanni! She tried to call out to him. But she was locked up inside her body.
Well, her condition is compatible with exposure to some powerful psychic device. But unless we locate the source, I hesitate to make any predictions.
Then find it! For the love of God, find it! She’s my little sister. Pause. Forgive me, doctor.
Yanni, Yanni, I’m awake, I’m fine!
Master, I know, I know. But she’s young and strong. We’re optimistic.
Is there nothing else you can do?
I’m so sorry. By all means sit with her. She is sedated. If she becomes distressed, summon the nurse to administer more mandragora.
Afterwards Anabara couldn’t say how long she spent on that dark road, chased by a terrifying moon, drenched with dread, fighting to wake up. Each time she struggled close to consciousness, someone tipped another draught between her lips. Sometimes nurses forced a tube down her throat and fed her. She heard them gossip as they bathed her.
Still so cold, poor child! Doctor says she’d be dead if it wasn’t for the Zaarzuk.
He’s discharged himself.
No!
Yes. Says it’s only a flesh wound.
Typical. Wouldn’t mind giving him a bed-bath.
Doxy! Well, fingers crossed, he’ll be back in with a fever by the end of the week.
Huh, he’ll be back before then, trying to see this one. Matron’s thrown him out I don’t know how many times. Ssh, dragon alert! Morning, Matron!
Morning, Matron! Time for your medicine, lovey.
No! I’m awake! Anabara shouted. I can understand you! I’m awake!
That’s it. There’s a good girl.
And back on the dark road again. Why had she let it starve? Why hadn’t she paid up?
There were times when she was aware of her brother sitting there. She tried to talk to him, but her lips wouldn’t move. Once she heard the Zaarzuk outside her room, demanding to see her. They sent him away. Sometimes the Patriarch was by her bed, keeping vigil, saying Last Prayers.
Then one night she dreamt there was a tapping at the window. Her uncle was there again. He got up and opened the casement. Well! Where have you come from? she heard him ask. Something flew whirring round the room. It hovered over her face. She felt the draft of its wings.
Hush, all is well. You have no need to fear, whispered a voice in her ear. Sleep is a great healer.
Oh! Everything was new shoes, her birthday, fresh baked honeycakes! Larks sang over the salt flats in an endless summer sky. Yes, here it came, the black velvet wave. And finally, finally she was rocked to sleep in the arms of a gentle sea.
‘Feck off!’ She knocked the draught out of the nurse’s hand. ‘Feck off and get me some proper food. I’m fecking starving!’
‘Aha!’ The doctor loomed over her bed. ‘The patient is awake. Fetch the Master. Get a message to the Patriarch. Quick!’ She gripped Anabara’s wrist and checked her pulse. Then she leant forward, pulled up her eyelids, examined the pupils. ‘Do you know where you are? Can you tell me your name?’
‘Take this fecking tube out,’ croaked Anabara, ‘and I’ll tell you anything you want.’
The doctor smiled. ‘Very well. Nurse?’
Anabara felt a horrible rubbery slither, gagged. Her throat was sore. ‘My name is Anabara Nolio, and I’m in St Dalfinia Infirmary Charms Unit.’
Bare feet on tiles, robes swirling. Yanni. Ah, nobody could hug like Yanni. He rocked her. Pressed his face to hers. She felt his tears. Then he held her at arm’s length and gazed into her eyes. Searching.
‘I’m fine, Yanni,’ she whispered.
He turned to the doctor. ‘Is she?’
‘Well, she’s cursing and being uncooperative and demanding food, Master. I’d say the signs are good.’
‘Yes, that sounds like my little sister.’ He took her hands and kissed them. ‘You had me worried, you,’ he said in Gull. ‘I’m going to tie a sheep bell round your neck, eh. Get the Gullmothers to butter your feet so you never run off again.’
‘Master, if I may?’ The stethoscope was cold on Anabara’s chest. ‘Breathe in. Good. And out. Excellent.’
‘How long have I been here?’ whispered Anabara.
‘Three weeks,’ replied the doctor. ‘Do you remember anything of the night you were brought here?’
She groped in her memory. A desert. No, that was a dream. The moon was on fire. Of course! ‘It was Wolf Tide. Dal Ramek… He stole a horse and brought me here. There were slavers after us.’
‘Yes, very good. And before that?’
‘Dogs. They were hunting me. Golar’s dogs.’
‘Anything else?’
The moon looking down through a net. Blood. A white hand tumbling to the floor. Panic welled up. Her fingers hunted round her throat. The amulet—where was it? ‘I’ve lost Mum’s necklace!’ she sobbed.
‘Ssh! I have it safe,’ said Yanni. ‘Doctor?’
‘Loxi!’ She struggled to sit up. ‘Oh my God! Golar, he’s going to get Loxi!’
‘Loxi’s fine.’ Yanni gripped her hands. ‘Don’t be scared. Everyone you love is safe. Doctor!’
‘But Paran’s gone!’ she wailed. ‘He abandoned me. I called, but he never came. And the slaves were dead. They were all dead. Oh God, Yanni! It’s my fault! Then the charms came and killed the Tressies—Mooby! I’ve got to warn Mooby it was Dhalafan all along. It wasn’t Charlie—’
‘Hush. Mooby knows,’ soothed Yanni. ‘It’s all under control. Don’t distress yourself.’
‘No! I’m not drinking it! No!’
But the doctor tilted the potion down her throat. Yanni continued to hold her hands as sleep crept over her once more.
‘Well, your sister is making a good recovery, Yannick.’ Her uncle and brother were sitting at her bedside a week later. ‘I believe it’s time for us to allow visitors, and for you to resume your duties as Master of Novices.’
‘No! No, my lord Patriarch. Not yet.’
‘“No” and “my lord Patriarch”!’ Her uncle laughed. ‘Well! It’s not often I hear those words together in the same sentence.’
Yanni bowed his head. ‘Forgive me, but no. She’s still too frail.’
‘And forgive me, brother, but I was not making an observation. It was an order: return to your post. There are twenty-three novices who need your guidance. Anabara will be well looked after here.’
As clearly as if the letters were daubed a yard high, Anabara saw her brother think Don’t fecking tell ME what to do!
But then he bowed his head again and made the threefold sign. ‘Very good, my lord Patriarch.’ He kissed her brow and padded softly from her room.
The Patriarch beamed at her. ‘He is the best of brothers. But I thought you needed a little breathing space, my dear.’
‘Thanks, uncle.’
Her strength was returning little by little. Her left hand still throbbed, but the broken bones were mending. When she flexed them, the fingers nearly made a fist. She was able to eat, and get out of bed to sit in a chair by the window. Sleep was less harrowing now they’d stopped doping her with mandragora—why anyone took that stuff for kicks she had no idea—but she was still haunted by fears she didn’t dare speak about.
‘Is there a secret burdening your soul, my dear?’
So he’d spotted that there was something she wasn’t saying. Her eyes searched round. Was it safe to talk? Lord, it would be a relief.
‘As you know,’ he said, ‘I am spied upon and tracked wherever I go. My apartment bristles with vigilance devices—for my own protection, they assure me. But this room’s clear. While you were still unconscious young Butros swept in with a couple of very fierce gentlemen in dark glasses who conducted exhaustive
checks. You can speak without reserve.’
She allowed her mind to venture back to that night. Felt again that horrible squirm as the stone writhed in her fist. Her heart began to race. ‘Look, if I get worked up, promise you won’t let them drug me again?’ He nodded. She took a deep breath. ‘All right then. That amulet of Mum’s—it’s actually a paran.’
He leant back. ‘Ah! Is it indeed.’
‘I accidentally summoned it up. When Golar caught me. I was screaming for Paran—you know, my associate, the Fairy. Then this… thing, this white blade appeared in my hand. I couldn’t get rid of it.’ She was trembling. He touched her arm. ‘Please don’t get the nurse, uncle! I’ll be fine.’
He waited.
She took another shaky breath. ‘It kind of took me over. I did things. Killed some of the dogs. Then I cut off—Oh God. I cut off Golar’s hand. He must have bled to death! Uncle, it slices through everything! And I could see all the charm-work. Like it was all visible. And I was super-strong. I thought I was dreaming. But suddenly the paran just vanished, and all my strength was totally used up. And then the dogs came. That’s when Dal Ramek rescued me.’
‘Ah, Dal Ramek.’ The Patriarch smiled. ‘I regret to say that in the course of rescuing you he committed seven offences indictable by City law, two of which—aggravated horse theft and common assault—carry a custodial sentence.’
‘But he saved my life!’
‘I know. He rode his stolen horse into the Precincts as bold as you please, and claimed sanctuary. Nobody has tried that for over two hundred years. So, an interesting legal conundrum has arisen. Technically, if he remains in the Precincts he’s under the protection of St Pelago and immune from the law. At least, until his fate is determined. Traditionally that’s the Patriarch’s job.’
‘Seriously? Then you’ve got to get him off, uncle!’
‘I will urge clemency. I’m very glad my niece is alive and well.’ He smiled again. ‘Don’t worry. I daresay there will be insufficient evidence to press charges. Larridy has always had a soft spot for an impudent rogue.’
‘Thanks. Uncle, you won’t tell Yanni about the necklace, will you?’ she whispered. ‘Or he’ll never give it back to me.’
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