Brimstone

by Skinner, Alan

  Jack started, then laughed. ‘I’m going to enjoy this!’ he crowed.

  Jenny slashed at him. He twisted aside easily and scored her wrist with the tip of his knife. The dagger dropped from her fingers. Jack bared his teeth in a wicked smile.

  The sound of the kitchen door shattering as it was torn off its hinges stopped him in his tracks. He looked towards the kitchen and at Milly. He nodded and turned back to Jenny.

  The front door seemed to explode as it burst open. Rayker and Ewan were in the hall before Jack or Milly could move. Rayker’s sword was out and Ewan’s staff was in his hands.

  Rayker didn’t hesitate. His sword snaked out and Jack parried it wildly with his knife. He flipped his weapon in the air, and while it was still arcing above him, he drew his sword. He caught his knife with his left hand and slashed at Rayker.

  Milly ignored the sword at her hip. The hallway was narrow and crowded. Instead, with her left hand, she drew a basilard, a long triangular dagger. With its double-edged blade, it was more a short sword than a knife. She thrust Antrobus aside and advanced on Ewan.

  Seth and Walt were just coming down the stairs into the kitchen when the door crashed open. Splinters of wood showered the room. Harcourt was nearest them. Seth threw his pack at him, then leapt past Walt, drawing his sword. He attacked Harcourt with fast, strong swings, forcing him back through the doorway. Seth didn’t believe in finesse. He knew he lacked skill. But he also knew the effectiveness of brute strength and relentless hacking.

  Walt was slightly slower, but Pitch had over balanced. He stumbled and righted himself – and found himself staring at the open barrel of Walt’s pistol. He saw Walt’s left hand reach across his body and pull back the hammer, then Walt’s finger move on the trigger. The pistol barked and Pitch felt himself spun round as the ball hit the soft flesh of his left arm. He slumped to his hands and knees.

  Pitch heard the clatter of the pistol as it hit the floor. He knew what was happening behind him. Walt had tossed away the pistol and had drawn his dagger. He was hurrying to Pitch, not wanting to give him time to recover. He would not want to do anything fancy; just finish Pitch quickly with a dagger blow to the neck.

  He heard Walt’s steps coming towards him. He felt the club in his hand. He forced his weight on to his injured arm, freeing his club hand. Walt was just behind him. Pitch whirled and swung the club hard into Walt’s knee. He heard it crack and he heard a scream of pain. Walt collapsed to his knees beside Pitch and screamed as his shattered knee hit the floor. Pitch’s heavy club thudded against Walt’s temple and the outlaw fell.

  Harcourt was too old and too irritable to play Seth’s game. He let Seth swing fiercely, each time angling his blade to deflect the force of the blow. Then Seth swung too wildly, and with far too much force. Harcourt angled his blade even more and Seth was thrown by the lack of resistance. He stepped awkwardly, off balance. Harcourt didn’t think. His sword flicked out and its point ended Seth’s life.

  *

  John turned. He gave a glance at the saddle pouch near Perroquet’s body. For a moment it looked as though he was going to pick it up, but then he saw his father move towards him. Walt’s terrible scream decided for him. He took to his heels and fled. Jenny saw Antrobus lurch after him and she crawled over Perroquet to follow her master. She cast a glance at her father, then went still, horrified as she saw the look on his face.

  He was watching Milly, not afraid, simply not willing. Perhaps her father could see what she had seen in Milly’s eyes, but maybe that wasn’t enough to make Ewan fight her to the death. Perhaps he hadn’t seen it and he didn’t realise how dangerous she was. But Jenny was sure of one thing. If her father didn’t take Milly as seriously as he would Jack or Kurt or Seth or any of the other outlaws, in a few seconds he’d be dead.

  Milly feinted with the basilard, then took a step towards Ewan. Her right hand, holding a short throwing knife, flashed at his ribs. Faster than Jenny’s eye could follow, Ewan spun the staff, knocking the knife from Milly’s hand. He spun it back the other way, blocking another thrust from the basilard. In the same movement, he hit Milly hard on the jaw. Her eyes glazed, her legs buckled and she fell to the floor. Ewan dropped his staff and swept his daughter into his arms.

  In the end, Jack fared no better against Rayker. Their fight carried them out the front door and into the square. It was not an elegant fight, with gleaming, dancing silver blades. It was brutal and savage. Jack was like an ancient Viking berserker. His rage turned to madness and his fury might have prevailed, but Rayker’s anger was calculating and patient. Eventually, Rayker saw his chance. His sword streaked, straight and fast. Jack saw it, a momentary glint in the moonlight, then he felt it pierce his throat. Jack, the lost man, Queerwood’s Jack-o’-Lantern, lay dead in Fenwick Square.

  Chapter 19

  The Pledge

  The sun burst into the room as Jenny drew back the curtain. It was the first day of spring and the brilliant bright morning and the deep blue sky seemed to promise a year of rich and bountiful rewards. As she looked out of the window, the horrors of the other day disappeared like the few wisps of cloud that smudged the endless blue. The memory was still there, but without the sharp edge of terror that had given rise to strange, half-remembered dreams.

  ‘Jenny, you beast!’

  The muffled complaint came from the mound of bedclothes on Emily’s bed. The mound wriggled and Emily’s face appeared in a small blanket cave. She squinted and blinked before withdrawing back into her lair.

  ‘You horrible beast! Close it!’ rumbled the bed clothes.

  ‘Come on, lazy head!’ Jenny teased. She pulled back the blankets. Emily lay huddled in a ball, her head buried in her arms. ‘It’s my Pledge day today. You and Frida promised to come with me to the Mystery.’

  Emily peeped through her arms. ‘I lied.’ She made a grab for the blankets but Jenny was quicker and threw them off the bed. Emily sat up and glared at Jenny. ‘You didn’t tell me you were going to wake me in the middle of the night.’ She shivered and rubbed her arms. ‘Besides, it’s cold.’

  ‘The sun’s been up for ages,’ said Jenny. ‘It’s after seven o’clock.’

  ‘Ages! The sun doesn’t rise until seven!’ protested Emily. She slipped from her bed and threw on a robe. ‘You don’t have to be there until ten o’clock. It might take you hours to get ready but I can get dressed in a flash.’

  Jenny laughed. She had not known it was possible to take as long to get ready as it did Emily, who refused to face the world until she was satisfied that her efforts left no room for improvement. Jenny stole a glance at her friend and wondered whether all pretty young women did the same.

  While Emily stared, undecided, at her wardrobe (as she did every morning), Jenny went to fetch a bucket of hot water from the kitchen. When she returned, she was just in time to see Emily slip back into bed and reach for the blankets. Quick as a weasel, she took hold of Emily’s ankle and pulled her from the bed. Emily muttered things under breath (most of which Jenny thought were curses), but she stayed out of the bed and washed.

  Jenny opened her wardrobe and took out her colours, together with a small box that had been delivered with them. She laid them on her bed: a long white cotton shift, a sleeveless tunic of dark blue wool and a black woollen cloak with gold, silvery-grey and red embroidered trim. She had never had clothes made of such fine material and she ran her hand lightly over the fabric. Finally, she opened the box. Inside was a pair of simple black shoes made from soft calf leather. She took one out and felt the leather between her fingertips. It was almost as soft and supple as the cloak.

  Bertram Humbold was indeed a fine tailor.

  Jenny thought back to the ride through Queerwood two weeks ago. She thought of herself riding through the forest, stricken with sorrow and resentment. The girl she saw in her mind seemed a different person. There was still pain and grief in her heart, but where there had been resentment and anger there was now fondness. Looking back at her life in
the cottage with her parents, she knew it was possible to have happiness without purpose; now, though, she had been renewed by purpose. She was not content as she had been in the forest – pursuing one’s purpose created its own kind of discontent – but she also knew that she could have happiness without contentment.

  She listened to Emily, singing as she readied herself, and she treasured the new horizon friendship had given her. Maybe that was one of the reasons her mother and father had not fought harder to keep her locked in the cottage, hidden away among the trees.

  The past few days, since that evening in the corner house in Fenwick Square, had allowed them all to recover. Pitch’s wound was not serious and once Jenny had patched him up, he said he couldn’t even feel it. Milly and Walt, with the rest of Jack’s brigands, were locked in the palace dungeon and would appear before Chief Magistrate Trickett in time.

  John had got away. They had found Antrobus sitting in the room off the hall, staring blankly at an open panel in the wall. Rayker had immediately sent Harcourt to gather some men to find John, but though they’d scoured the city, there was no sign of him. Jenny was sure Antrobus was relieved that John had escaped, despite what he had done. And she was relieved for her master’s sake.

  Cleve denied that he had returned there, or any knowledge of Perroquet’s plot. Relations between Vale and Cleve worsened. There were few people from that rival city at the Gates on market day and trade between the two cities dropped away to almost nothing. There was much diplomatic activity and even more rumours in both. Many of the citizens of Cleve came to believe that Vale had treacherously murdered their best alchemist, who became more revered in death than he had ever been respected in life.

  John’s mention of the Duke’s uncle, Charles, who had not been heard of in years, caused a great deal of consternation in the palace. Emeric and Montebray spent hour after hour together in deep discussion. David, Charles’s brother, was recalled from his diplomatic travels and his poor wife, Margaret, despaired of ever having being able to share the burden of being a parent to a wilful twelve-year-old girl.

  Dr Styche decided Tom was well enough to recover at home and he left Antrobus’s room. Antrobus took to his bed, and for two days would see no one except Annie, whose pottage and game pie helped him regain his strength.

  On the evening of the second day he had come down from his room, told Annie he was not to be disturbed, and had gone into his study and locked the door. Poor Annie had been frantic with worry when he had not emerged by the next morning. She had been much relieved when she had knocked timidly on his door to hear him roar at her to go away. He sounded so much like his old self that she smiled, despite the awful words he yelled through the door. Shortly after, he had come out, asked Annie for some porridge, then to find Pitch and ask him to fetch Jenny. Then he had shut the door and retreated again to the study.

  Jenny, Emily and Frida had spent the time discussing the events and reliving them. The girls seemed to have been forgotten by everyone. Only Frida had been remembered briefly. The day after that terrible evening, as they chatted in the sitting room, Rayker was ushered in. He asked to talk to Frida alone; the young woman told him that anything he had to say he could say in front of her friends. Rayker told her enquiries had been made and it was found that Horn had entrusted his money to a private banker in Vale. The money was at her disposal whenever she wanted it. Then he had bowed to the three girls and left.

  Apart from that, no one had said anything to them and no one had mentioned the part they had played in the whole affair. They were slightly irked, but knew that there were other matters on everyone’s minds and had contented themselves with congratulating each other. Emily didn’t say a word when she had learned that Kurt had been found on the other side of the city, quite dead from a broken neck. Then she had looked at Frida and the guilt she felt evaporated.

  Jenny’s birthday had come and gone, marked only by a letter from her mother and father, accompanied by a small packet. Inside was a delicate figurine, carved from pale ash. It was a woman, her head held high, clutching a cluster of flowers and herbs to her breast. The finely carved face was her mother’s.

  Several times the girls had called on Antrobus but he had refused to see them. They had also visited Tom, who did receive them, gladly. He was recovering rapidly and his great regret was that he had been unable to take part in the raid on the house. Lying in bed, he had often imagined it was his sword that entered Jack’s throat and ended his life.

  Jenny had been surprised and relieved when Pitch had come to fetch her to see Antrobus. She had gone to Fenwick Square and knocked on the study door.

  ‘Come in, Jenny. Come in.’

  She had entered and found Antrobus with the astrolabe, manuscript and star chart open in front of him.

  ‘It is a comfort to know that there are greater fools in the world than oneself,’ he said. ‘Morien was a fake and a fraud and, in all likelihood, an idiot.’

  He had deciphered the manuscript and found Morien’s process to be nothing more than one Antrobus had tried and discarded years earlier.

  ‘All that happened did so because of this nonsense. William’s death, and Laylor’s, what happened to Tom, John’s betrayal, Perroquet. All for nothing.’ He seemed very upset by the damage it had caused, but not at all that he did not have the secret of the stone.

  It wasn’t the time to ask too many questions, but there was one Jenny had to ask. ‘Why did you write down everything you knew? You wrote the truth. And you thought then Morien really had discovered the secret. Yet you were prepared to give that away. You knew they would kill you anyway, so why did you tell them?’

  Antrobus didn’t tell her the full reason: that he realised her life was worth more than keeping the secret. He simply said, ‘It was all I could think of. I knew I was close to Fenwick Square. It was the site of all the potters when the city was young. The earth walls of my prison were dotted with pieces of old pottery and stained from the glaze. I counted on my captors being seen when they went to the house to retrieve what was in the alcove. I hoped the house was still being watched and then someone would see them come or go and become suspicious and follow them. I feel quite smug that I turned out to be right.’

  He looked at her with some amusement.

  ‘And now it is my turn to ask a question. How on earth did you think you could fool John into thinking a holly berry was a rosary pea? That was a dangerous bluff.’

  ‘It was all I could think,’ Jenny answered. ‘I thought of it as I passed the holly bush in your courtyard. They look very similar, if you don’t look too closely, and I just blackened one end with dirt.’

  Antrobus laughed, and then sent her away.

  ‘I’ll see you at the Pledge. I’ll be there. Don’t worry,’ he promised.

  And now, the day of the Pledge had arrived. Jenny was brought out of her thoughts by a knock on the door. She opened it and saw Frida frowning at her.

  ‘You’re not even ready! I promised to come to the ceremony but I won’t be seen with you if you’re going like that!’ Frida declared. She came into the room and sat on Jenny’s bed. ‘I shall just have to stay here and watch until you’re both dressed!’

  As it was, they were in plenty of time. Jenny took her place outside the huge hall doors. There were two others (boys, of course) in her guild, as Kneeler had said. It was evident that some word of what had happened had spread through the city, for the other two stared at her wide-eyed. Frida and Emily went inside through the guest doors and found their seats.

  The moment came for all the apprentices to file into the hall. They would then take their seats on the benches marked with the flag of their guild. The doors opened. The apprentices, all in the same tunics, blouse, breeches and cloaks, though each trimmed with their guild colours, made an impressive sight. The enormous hall echoed with their footsteps and the swish of the cloaks. Jenny kept her eyes fixed on the back of the boy in front. She was determined not to make any mistakes. Whatever he did, sh
e would do.

  She became aware of a hushed, excited whispering among the other apprentices. Something was up. Jenny looked around the hall. Her eyes went to the guests’ gallery, and she nearly tripped in surprise. There, in the middle of the gallery, sitting with Antrobus, Emily and Frida, were the Duke, Chancellor Montebray, Earl David and his family, and nearly every other important person in the palace. And behind them, looking very much like a wolf among the flock, was Rayker. And beside him, sat Ewan and Lucy Swift. As Jenny came into the hall, every single one of them stood and clapped. When her name was called, she walked to the front of the hall and confirmed her pledge. When she had spoken the words, everyone – guests and apprentices alike – cheered the Guild of Alchemists and Astronomers’ new apprentice.