Tarnished City

by Vic James

  ‘Heir Bouda.’ The voice was male, crisp and clipped. Scottish. Perhaps a Crovan relative? Abi’s heart lurched again. Maybe it wouldn’t be so simple after all.

  ‘Such a pleasure,’ the man was saying. ‘You look quite refreshed from when I saw you last. One might almost say you look two years younger. The resemblance to your lovely sister is uncanny. And Heir Meilyr. Happier circumstance than when we met last. How are you bearing up?’

  In her ear came a low, appalled ‘No’ from Renie. But Abi had worked it out, too.

  ‘Lord Arailt,’ said Dina, her chin high, still persisting with their pretence. ‘I was under the impression from our conversation this morning that you would be travelling to London.’

  ‘I lied,’ said Crovan – because that was who this was, Abi grasped, as every organ turned to concrete inside her. ‘Just as you are lying now, Bodina. But I applaud your brazenness. There’s just one thing that puzzles me.’

  Abi saw Crovan’s head swing between the pair of them.

  ‘I never attend meetings of the Justice Council – not even emergency sessions. Your sister knows this. Every member knows this, Meilyr included.

  ‘So I’ve really only one question: Meilyr, what on earth were you thinking?’

  11

  Luke

  ‘Champagne o’clock,’ Jules called it. The hour before dinner at seven.

  The guests were gathered in the billiard room, and from where he sat at a table in the library next door, Luke could hear the clink of glasses and bubbling laughter. His friend was telling a convoluted anecdote about a romantic punting trip with his Equal girlfriend, Athalie, during which Jules had discovered that he had no knack at all for steering the flat-bottomed boat. He had chivalrously persisted in attempting to navigate Oxford’s rivers, and mishap after disaster had ensued, from all of which Athalie had used her Skill to extricate him.

  Luke wished he could be in there with them. It sounded almost as funny as last week’s yarn about how they had kidnapped a stuffed dodo from the University Museum and driven it in Athalie’s sports car to parties around the colleges.

  But no, here he was, in the library. Doing an Abi. Who would have thought it?

  From his conversation with Coira, it was plain there was one major obstacle to escape: it wasn’t getting out of the castle or leaving the island, it was the loch boundary.

  Sitting down with Silyen Jardine for a nice cup of tea and a chat about how such a thing might work wasn’t a possibility, so Luke was trying the only way he could think of to find out more – his sister’s preferred option of simply hitting the books.

  He’d also started keeping a journal – something else Abi had done, and for which he had once teased her, imagining her egghead tribulations recorded in obsessive detail. (Looking back, Luke wished he’d been a less annoying little brother.) He’d swiped a book from a dusty cabinet, some old one on heraldry that had lots of blank pages on the reverse of the coloured illustrated plates, and scribbled a few notes in it daily. Luke wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, but he was getting a lot of headaches these days, and sometimes his thinking felt muddled. Writing things down really helped.

  He was jotting down a final thought, ready to join the others, when he heard it – a distant juddering sound. There was a stir from the billiard room next door. His fellow guests were crowding at the window. Luke closed his journal, stashed it in the usual place behind a low shelf of obscure books, and went to see what was causing the fuss.

  It was a helicopter.

  ‘Other than Crovan’s, I’ve not seen one of those in the three years I’ve been here,’ Julian said next to him. ‘No one ever visits. That’s our gossip for the next few weeks taken care of.’

  Luke pressed his face to the glass as the chopper set down. So helicopters never came to Eilean Dochais, but now, just weeks after his own arrival, here one was. Was it because of him? A pardon, secured by a confession from whomever had used him to murder Zelston at the ball?

  He didn’t dare let himself hope.

  The chopper’s passengers disembarked. There were three of them. Discerning more than that was impossible, because the glass in the billiard room window was centuries old, in thick, small panes. Wordlessly, they all watched the visitors’ progress across the heath and down to the lake shore.

  ‘Two women and a man,’ someone called as the trio neared. ‘He’s got a stick.’

  ‘How are they going to get across?’ someone wondered. The answer came a minute or two later, when the boat sailed into view.

  ‘That’ll be Skill,’ Julian said. ‘They’re Equals. Come on.’

  Jules shouldered his way through, and led the twittering group of guests into the stair-lined central atrium. Glasses of champagne still in hand, they hung over the banisters, gawping. When two heavy raps came on the Door of Hours, a hush descended. Devin passed below, hurrying through to the entrance hall.

  Luke’s hearing was pretty sharp, but he couldn’t make out the conversation, only that it was a woman speaking. After a brief exchange, Devin returned. Seeing the assembled guests bannister-hanging, he gestured impatiently. Then his eyes caught Luke’s and lingered, before he passed into the deeper part of the castle. A prickle went up Luke’s spine. This was about him. He knew it.

  Devin returned with Crovan.

  ‘Hadley,’ their master said, halting and looking up. ‘Your presence is requested. Come.’

  All eyes swivelled to him. Luke’s legs wobbled, but the compulsion of his master’s instruction was irresistible. The huddled guests parted to let him through, and he descended the staircase.

  In the entrance hall, Crovan went to the Door of Hours – which had magically materialized and stood ajar – while Devin laid a hand on Luke’s wrist, keeping him back.

  ‘Heir Bouda,’ Crovan said. ‘Such a pleasure. You look quite refreshed from when I saw you last. One might almost say you look two years younger. The resemblance to your lovely sister is uncanny. And Heir Meilyr. Happier circumstance than when we met last. How are you bearing up?’

  Meilyr. Luke started to shake. He’d known this man by a different name: Doc Jackson.

  So who was the woman? The blood rushing in his ears drowned out her response. Luke craned for a glimpse, but could only make out a gleam of white-blonde hair.

  Angel. They’d come for him. Just as he and Jackson had rescued Oz.

  ‘I lied,’ Crovan told Angel. ‘Just as you are lying now, Bodina. But I applaud your brazenness. There’s just one thing that puzzles me.’

  He turned to look between them and Luke shifted again for a clear view. There they were, side by side, just as they had been in Kyneston’s ballroom the night his world had fallen apart. Immaculate and impressive, Equal authority personified, although – Luke felt a churn of horror and pity – Jackson looked a shadow of himself. His face was hollow and grey.

  ‘I never attend meetings of the Justice Council – not even emergency sessions. Your sister knows this. Every member knows this, Meilyr included. So I’ve really only one question: Meilyr, what on earth were you thinking?’

  ‘Luke, is that you?’ Jackson said urgently.

  The voice of this man – the one who had taught Luke that he could dream bigger and do more, but who had broken Luke’s trust by concealing his true identity – drew him forward. Devin didn’t try and stop him.

  ‘It’s me,’ he said, standing beside Crovan within the doorway.

  What would happen if he bolted for it right now? Why had the pair of them simply come to the front door like this, like they were his mum and dad picking him up after school?

  And what lies had they told, that Crovan had apparently seen through?

  ‘Meilyr?’ Angel turned to the Doc. ‘What is he saying? You knew he wouldn’t go to London?’

  ‘I knew there was a chance, yes. Among parliamentarians, Lord Arailt is somewhat infamous for attending only once a year. Most of his peers like it that way.’

  Incredibly, Jackson – Meilyr �
�� smiled at Crovan like they’d shared a joke. Crovan gave a small huff of amusement. What was this?

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Angel insisted. ‘Why take that risk?’ ‘There’s no risk.’ Meilyr squeezed her hand, which was when Luke noticed that he now held a cane. Was the sick look just an act, and any minute now he would whack Crovan round the head with it so they could all escape? ‘We’re just standing here having a conversation.’

  ‘Long way to come for a conversation,’ Crovan said. ‘And I’m afraid I’ve no room for two more for dinner. So you’ve had a wasted journey.’

  The door began to swing shut, when Meilyr thrust the cane inside.

  ‘You know he’s innocent.’ Meilyr pushed the door back wide, so Luke could see them both plainly. Three people had come over in the boat. Where was the third person? Was it another Equal? Maybe even Silyen Jardine?

  ‘If you haven’t seen it in his memories already, you will. He was used, then Silenced – we believe by Lord Rix. Luke is innocent. Let him go. We’ll take him back to London and keep him under house arrest while investigations continue – at a Matravers property, so Dina’s sister and Jardine are satisfied he’s secure. But he doesn’t belong among the sort of people you have here.’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not my decision to make, Meilyr.’ ‘Since when were you a stickler for the rules, Arailt?’ Angel said. ‘People die here in your custody and you notify no one for months. The man you twisted into a dog for Hypatia Vernay, the one who murdered Heir Ivarr and his family, you didn’t do a good job there. After her death at Kyneston, he escaped.’

  That cut through even the panic Luke was feeling now, as his future was debated on Crovan’s doorstep. So Silyen had kept his word and freed Dog.

  Would Silyen keep his word to Luke? A promise that was conditional on Luke not trying to escape.

  But this wasn’t escape, was it? This would be a perfectly legitimate release.

  ‘The answer is still no,’ said Crovan, maintaining the weirdly polite tone of this conversation, as if the three of them were friends debating where to go for dinner. Even when the Equals hated each other, they had more in common than they did with those not of their class. ‘Now please leave.’

  Jackson and Angel – Meilyr and Dina – didn’t move. Luke held his breath.

  ‘Let’s try this another way,’ said Meilyr.

  And he stepped over the threshold into the castle.

  At Luke’s side, Devin stirred and disappeared back inside. Was he going to get backup to restrain Meilyr? Then a voice called from outside the castle, and Luke’s blood ran cold.

  ‘No, don’t go in!’

  He would have recognized it anywhere, but he needed to see her to believe it. Over Meilyr’s shoulder, Abi had darted into view.

  The third person on the boat.

  Luke had no idea how his sister had got here, and with this pair. Silyen had said she was going to Millmoor with their parents, so plainly he did lie after all. Abi shouldn’t be within miles of this place. What were Jackson and Angel thinking of, bringing her here?

  ‘Oh, Luke.’

  His sister saw him, and came to a stop, as if the mere sight of him winded her.

  ‘Abi.’

  ‘You’re . . .’ her words trailed off as she checked him over, just as she’d been doing her whole life, after playground scraps, or when he’d fallen off his skateboard. In one piece, he wanted to say. Surprisingly untortured. But also, scared witless.

  Thank you for coming for me, he wanted to say. And, Mum and Dad are going to kill you.

  He didn’t say any of it, but Abi nodded, and turned to Meilyr. ‘You shouldn’t have gone in. We don’t know enough about how these doors work.’

  ‘We’re out of options, Abigail. We hoped he’d be gone; he isn’t. We hoped he’d see reason; he hasn’t. But there’s one more thing to try. You got the gist of it in those books you read, the mormaer histories. I discussed it with my mother, and she confirmed it. As law lords of the sea, the Trescoes did something similar.’

  He braced his cane against the floor and lifted his chin. At Luke’s back, there was movement, but he was transfixed by the scene unfolding as the Doc spoke.

  ‘I claim the right of honourable exchange. I offer myself as hostage in Luke’s place. May my life be forfeit as bond of my good faith.’

  ‘Meilyr, what?’ Dina’s voice was panicky.

  ‘It’s how this castle was used for centuries,’ Meilyr said, without taking his eyes off Crovan. ‘Your ancestors built these doors for their own security, but they became a test of honest intent. Truces were forged here, because someone who entered could only leave with the say-so of the lord or heir. The Crovans are hostage-keepers. So I’ll stay. Luke goes. Take him to your sister, Dina, and tell her everything. Luke must be examined – she can do it herself, if that’s what it takes to satisfy her. Then when he’s proclaimed innocent, I will be free to go.’

  Silence fell. Luke looked at Jackson, his friend and mentor, and their eyes met. The Doc smiled, eyes crinkling, and his face was full of its familiar determination.

  How could Luke have ever doubted him? Doc Jackson left no man behind.

  So it took a moment to register the sound he was hearing as laughter. Crovan’s laughter. It began as a snicker, but grew into a full-throated guffaw. Luke stared in astonishment. They all did. Meilyr was visibly incensed, and his fingers curled tight around the head of his cane.

  Crovan wiped the corner of each eye theatrically.

  ‘Oh, Meilyr. What happens here isn’t diplomacy; it’s punishment. And even if it wasn’t, we live in the twenty-first century, not the twelfth.’

  ‘The laws still apply.’ Meilyr stepped forward, furious now. ‘You have to — ’

  He reached out to – what? Strike Crovan? Shake him? They never discovered, because Meilyr’s skull blew apart.

  12

  Luke

  Someone screamed, and Luke wasn’t sure if it was himself, or Angel. For a mad moment he thought it was Meilyr, until he saw the gore spattered over the walls. Saw the slumped body, half the skull missing, slopping blood and brain onto the cold granite floor.

  He turned. They all did. Devin lowered the gun in his hand. It was a long-bored hunting rifle, doubtless a Crovan family heirloom.

  ‘Nobody threatens my master,’ he said.

  Something inside Luke broke at that. He leapt at Devin, fists flailing, hardly hearing his sister scream his name.

  But his blows never landed. Instead, he was thrown sideways against the wall, striking the stone hard and sliding to the floor. A loud sound made him look up. The gun in Devin’s hands had broken in two. Crovan’s Skill at work. The man was snapping a reprimand at his servant, but one more exasperated than angry, as if murder was no worse than a broken dish or spilled soup.

  Luke was dazed with the horror of it. Meilyr – Doc Jackson – dead. And in such a way. No heroics. No chance. Luke howled as if his heart was breaking.

  His heart was breaking.

  Look at the world, Jackson had told him once, in Millmoor. Not at the ground.

  But Luke looked at the ground now. Jackson’s blood was pooling there, the dark puddle of it widening across the flagstones. Crovan had stepped back fastidiously to avoid it. In the doorway, Angel was crouched on the threshold, as close as she could get without crossing over. Abi stood alongside, one hand on the Equal’s shoulder, comforting or restraining her. Perhaps both.

  It felt to Luke that nothing would ever happen. They would all be trapped in that instant forever, unmoving, save for the expanding pool of blood. It would creep outward, and outward, and eventually swallow them all up, just as he had imagined himself drowning in a bed of blood at Kyneston, after Jardine and Crovan had interrogated him.

  That had been a delusion, though. This was all too real.

  Then movement broke the spell. Coira.

  She came forward and knelt by Jackson’s body. From the belt at her waist she pulled the white cloth she always c
arried, and gently wiped the ruin of Jackson’s face. The cloth crimsoned immediately, so she turned it and found another clean corner, and another.

  She folded the towel and tucked it back in her belt, then reached for Meilyr’s hands, laying them across his breast.

  ‘Take your last look,’ she said softly, to anyone that needed to hear.

  Luke didn’t want to. He wanted to hide his face and never look again at the ruined thing that had been Jackson. But he did.

  Beneath the devastation of his skull, the Doc’s beard and serene expression looked like nothing so much as the statues you saw on the cracked and neglected tombs of the kings from centuries ago: those Henrys and Richards and Edwards from a time before the Equal Revolution. This fierce, flawed, honourable man. Luke let himself weep.

  ‘Help me,’ Coira said.

  She motioned for him to take Meilyr’s arms, under the shoulders, and stood waiting by the feet. Luke picked himself up, staggering against the wall, and obeyed. Moving was better than thinking.

  The Doc was surprisingly heavy.

  ‘What are you doing with him?’ Angel choked out between great gulping sobs. ‘Give him to me.’

  ‘There’s only one door anyone can leave by,’ Coira said. ‘Equals and Condemned alike.’

  And she led Luke away from the open Door of Hours, where Angel and Abi were silhouetted against the glowing sunset, towards the closed Last Door. She set down Jackson’s feet and put her hand to the latch.

  Luke cried out when she pulled it open. The sun was a ball of fire so bright he had to shield his eyes.

  ‘Luke?’ Abi’s voice was panicked. ‘Luke, are you okay?’

  His sister hurried to the other side of the Last Door, Angel with her, and the two of them stood side by side, watching them.

  The shock of seeing Abi here was incredible. Luke had a million questions for her. How had she found Doc and Angel? Had they rescued her? Where were the rest of the family? Were they safe?

  He started towards them, but Coira laid a warning hand on his arm.