by Vic James
He could see scuffing along the dirt trail that led off the track and into the woods. He followed, noting that the track had been trodden either by several feet, or by one person several times. Inside the tree cover, the picture was more confusing. What had been a clear trail turned instead into a churn of movement among the trees, across a wide area. Whoever had come here must have walked back and forth for ages – maybe even hours.
Luke’s skin prickled to think of Silyen’s Skill causing this, with Silyen himself nowhere near. His resolution yesterday had been correct. Far Carr was no place for him, even if he and Sil had reached a strange understanding. And his conscience wouldn’t allow him to sit safe behind the estate walls, while everyone he loved was still somewhere out there and in danger.
He turned to give the car a final check, then to head back and tell Silyen what he intended, when something smacked him in the face. A branch, hanging down at an odd angle. As he tugged it out of his way, he realized it was broken already. It had been fastened in place.
By a hair tie.
Luke wasn’t sure if he was imagining things, because frankly any teenage boy paid as little attention to a sister’s grooming routines as he possibly could, but it looked a lot like one of Abi’s. You’d find them all over the house. They were good for pinging at annoying younger sisters.
He must be imagining it, though, because why would Abi have come here to Far Carr?
Unless she had been looking for him. And looking harder than he had been looking for her.
That settled it. He was going, as soon as he’d packed a few things. He’d tell Silyen – he owed the Equal that much – and hoped he wouldn’t object. Sil would have much more time to research the mystery of what Rædwald had shown them without Luke under his feet.
He was relieved to still see the gate, and let himself back in before hurrying to the main house.
Silyen wasn’t there, of course. He was always inappropriately close when you least expected, but vanished without trace when you needed him. Luke went and packed a bag of all the things he might need, and slung it over his shoulder. Once he’d alerted Silyen to their visitor, and explained his own departure, he’d be off.
When there was still no trace of the Equal in the house, Luke went down to the beach, frustrated to see that the light was already beginning to fade. He staggered up and down the stones, calling for Silyen, then nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice spoke into his ear.
‘Going somewhere?’
When Luke was done with his half a heart attack – how was it possible to walk soundlessly on shingle? – he whipped round.
‘What?’
‘You went out of the gate earlier.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Skill, mostly, but the travel bag is a bit of a giveaway.’ The Equal tweaked the strap. His face wore an uncharacteristically neutral expression. ‘Listen, have you seen Dog? I haven’t seen him since before the king came. That was two days ago now.’
‘I haven’t. He must be off somewhere hunting. Silyen, someone’s been here. I went outside the gate. There’s been another vehicle. Someone in the woods . . .’
Silyen’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Why didn’t you say so earlier?’
And Luke rolled his eyes and followed him. Evening was drawing in as they circled back to the gate. Sil laid a hand on it and closed his eyes.
‘Dog,’ he said. ‘You, recently, but Dog before you. I must not have sensed it because we were . . . elsewhere with the king.’
‘Look.’ Luke led Silyen to the vehicle tracks. ‘Someone came for him.’
They stood side by side, staring in silence at the marks in the dirt, Luke debating whether to tell Silyen his theory about Abi.
‘You can leave if you want to,’ the Equal said quietly. ‘There’s nothing keeping you here. I can try and unpick that thread of ours, too. I improvised it in a hurry, so it’s a bit messy, but if you want, I’ll have a go.’
Oh.
Oh. Luke touched his stomach, where there was, of course, no outward sign of his connection to Silyen. It flared sometimes, when they were in one of their mindscapes, trying to see if they could open a door to somewhere that wasn’t either the mind of the other, or the conscious world where their bodies slumbered. It had disturbed Luke at first. But not now. Now it felt almost a part of him.
He remembered Crovan’s golden collar at Eilean Dòchais. The sickening moment when he had touched it and found it was barely distinguishable from his flesh. That had made his skin crawl. This connection with Silyen was the opposite. The less obtrusive it became, the more comfortable he was with it.
Or maybe he was just, finally, comfortable around Silyen. Because amoral and frankly alarming though the Equal was, he was also just another teenage boy, with a ferocious sense of humour and a willingness to eat whatever unidentifiable thing they fished out of the freezer each night.
There was still the not-so-small matter of him having allowed Luke to be taken by Crovan. But even with what the Equal had discovered about Rix’s role in the murder, could he have prevented Luke from being Condemned? Luke doubted it. Someone had to pay the price for Zelston’s murder, and that person was Luke. When a Chancellor died, there had to be consequences.
‘You’ve gone very quiet,’ Silyen said. He put a hand on Luke’s shoulder. ‘I’m almost concerned.’
And Luke wasn’t quite sure what he intended to do next when, rather than step away, he turned to Silyen and –
‘Ahh!’
The Equal’s face twisted, and now it was Luke’s turn to reach out.
‘Are you okay – does something hurt?’
‘Not hurt, exactly, but . . .’
Silyen took a deep breath and exhaled, rubbing at his temple.
‘What it is?’ Luke said. ‘Something to do with the king?’
‘I have no idea. I don’t think so. It’s someone using Skill. One of my family. It’s very strong.’
‘Your family is hundreds of miles away, in London. You’re telling me you can feel every time they use Skill?’
‘No. Only rarely. I felt Aunt Euterpe, the night you shot the Chancellor. It was what brought me back to the house. And again, when Gavar did that thing in Millmoor. You remember.’
Luke did remember. That thing where Gavar had taken down an entire square full of people with one horrifying blast of pain.
‘Just the big stuff then,’ he said, and Silyen nodded.
‘When Gavar caught that bomb on the balcony at Aston House, too. I visited him after, when he was recovering. Sat by his bed and told him how remarkable he’d been. I’ve always been aware of my family’s Skill. I don’t know if that’s because of . . . the way I am.’
‘You mean, what the king said – that you have his ability to take more? That’s why Jenner’s the way he is, isn’t it?’
‘I believe so, yes.’
‘You believe so?’
Silyen sighed. ‘I have no memory of it. None at all, though I would have been a baby, so that’s maybe not surprising. He’s asked me so many times. But I can’t remember, and neither can he. Which only makes it worse. The defining moment of his life – the moment that wrecked it forever – and it happened without either of us knowing.
‘I have theories. Maybe I was seriously ill, or injured, and somehow needed more Skill than I had to heal myself. Maybe I simply took it because I wanted it. Because that’s what babies do, and Mama hadn’t yet trained me that nice children don’t just take – and certainly not things that you can’t give back. And I have tried to give it back, or to provoke some sort of Skillful response from him, but nothing works. Each failure only makes it worse.’
Luke thought about that for a moment. Then thought about it some more.
‘I wouldn’t want it,’ he said. ‘If you offered me Skill right now, I wouldn’t want it. I know it’s only a tool, and not good or bad in its own right. But it’s power, and power always seems to get abused.’
‘Someone’s always got to h
ave power, Luke. If it wasn’t Skill, it would be money. Or intelligence. But you know what they say: the only ones who should be trusted with power are those that don’t want it. Ahh!’
‘Again?’
Luke peered at Silyen’s face. And dammit, he was packed and ready to go, so ready to leave this boy and this place.
But he couldn’t. Not with Silyen like this. With Dog gone, too, he’d be entirely alone. The Equal could barely operate a microwave and didn’t know how to drive. He’d starve or something.
No. Luke’s departure could wait one more day. He might even persuade Silyen to forget about the king’s mysteries for a while and come with him. If Dog really was with Abi, Sil might have a way of finding them.
‘This calls for a cup of tea,’ he said. ‘Let’s get you back.’
In the great hall, he steered Silyen towards the sofa and covered him in a blanket, despite the Equal’s protests – ‘I’m sensitive, Hadley, not sick.’ Then Luke made a pot of tea and settled in the armchair opposite. It was just how they had been after Silyen exhausted himself renewing the Farr Car boundary.
The strange spasms came through the night, and on the fourth one, Silyen gasped ‘Bouda’. Then, ‘I always knew she had it in her. Ever since Gorregan.’
‘But she’s not your family,’ Luke objected.
‘She is. That’s part of the marriage ceremony. Your Skills touch and entwine. She’s a Jardine, now – for better or for worse, as they say, though I think Bouda mostly signed up for the better.’
‘What on earth is she doing, using so much Skill in the middle of the night?’
‘Who knows.’ Silyen pressed those deft pianist hands to his forehead. ‘Maybe the mother of all rows with Gavar. I’ll call him in the morning.’
But just like two days ago, the morning was half gone by the time they woke, Luke uncurling awkwardly from the armchair. While he made coffee, Silyen tried telephoning Gavar, but there was no response. Then he tried Jenner, who also didn’t pick up.
‘Your mother?’ Luke suggested, after further calls to Gavar didn’t connect.
‘I guess. But she worries so much about them already. I don’t want to alarm her.’ The Equal peered into his coffee cup as if the answers might be swirling blackly in there.
Luke was checking the dismaying transmutation of frozen bread to charred cinders in the toaster when something smashed behind him and he almost jumped out of his skin. He turned to see Silyen’s coffee cup in bits on the floor, and the boy himself doubled over.
The Equal’s dark eyes were wide and large in his sharp, pale face. When he moved his mouth, for a moment words didn’t come out. Was he having a stroke?
‘Something just . . . broke.’
‘Broke? Our boundary?’ Could whoever had been at the Farr Carr gate have come back? ‘The Kyneston wall?’
Sil shook his head. ‘Bigger.’
But what was bigger and more brimful of Skill than Kyneston? Nothing, apart from the House of Light, and Luke couldn’t imagine anyone attempting – let alone managing – to break that. What was going down in the world outside Far Carr’s walls?
‘Tell you what, never mind the phone calls. Let’s just get you to London. I’ll drive. I presume you’ll handle the explanations if anyone stops us for driving a stolen vehicle. Or me for being an escaped murderer.’
Sil nodded. Luke found his bag, grabbed the boy’s jacket, and steered him towards the door.
They’d barely made it over the threshold when Sil screamed and collapsed to his knees.
‘Bloody hell!’ Luke fought down panic. That wouldn’t help either of them. He crouched at the Equal’s side.
‘What is it now? The same thing?’
‘Not something. I think . . . someone. One of my family.’
Shit. Silyen’s family was about the worst pack of people Luke could possibly imagine, and the Equal himself wasn’t keen on most of them, apart from his mum. But this sounded serious. Luke hauled the boy up and wound one of his arms around his shoulder. The three miles from the hall to the estate gate had never felt so long.
Luke bundled Silyen into the car, where he rested his head against the window, either lost in thought, or recovering from the pain, or motion-sick, or all three at once. Luke didn’t want to disturb him, but if this was something big, it might be on the news. So as they left the cover of Rindlesham Forest, he stabbed on the radio and tuned it to one of the talk channels, keeping the volume low.
At the announcer’s words they both reached to turn it up.
‘And if you’re just joining us,’ the announcer was saying, ‘here’s what we know about the shocking events of the past hour. That is, the destruction of the seat of parliament – the House of Light – by Heir Midsummer Zelston during a large-scale protest. And the fatal shooting, at that protest, of Chancellor Whittam Jardine.’
26
Luke
Luke nearly ran them off the road he recoiled so hard. Horrified, he looked over at Silyen, who was hunched forward in his seat.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he croaked, but Silyen held up a hand for silence.
‘After the shooting, Lord Jardine’s son and heir Gavar addressed the assembled protesters, claiming responsibility for the act. No move was made to arrest him at the scene. However, he and his mother, Lady Thalia, the late Chancellor’s wife, have just been seen apparently voluntarily entering the parliamentary compound, without any escort. Security has now established an exclusion zone around the parliament buildings, so joining us live from the other side of that in Gorregan Square is . . .’
Luke’s heart was pounding. Lord Whittam dead. Gavar Jardine responsible. The House of Light destroyed. That answered the question of what Silyen had felt earlier. Luke held the steering wheel in a death grip as the on-location reporter took up the story.
‘Yes, that’s right. It is not known at this time whether Gavar Jardine is being detained, or is merely providing information of his own free will. Here’s what we do know. The individual who has moved to take charge of the situation is Bouda Matravers. Matravers is known to be a member of the late Chancellor’s inner circle, and only earlier this year she married his heir – and now self-proclaimed killer – Gavar Jardine. Given this potential conflict of interests, we understand that Matravers has already summoned to Westminster other key figures, including Lord Arailt Crovan, who is expected to arrive in a few hours’ time.
‘Lord Crovan, a senior member of the Justice Council, is the man responsible for the incarceration of Britain’s most dangerous political prisoners. For example, in his custody is the Millmoor terrorist responsible for the slaying of Chancellor Zelston.’
Shit. Luke knew who that was. Though Crovan had evidently kept quiet about Luke’s disappearing act.
‘Will Lord Crovan soon be taking into custody another – wholly unexpected – murderer of a Chancellor? Or has he been summoned to begin talks about the future direction of this country’s government? We’ll be keeping you updated as the picture here develops.’
‘The House,’ said Silyen, snapping off the radio and throwing himself back in his seat. ‘That’s what I felt. We’re lucky that London even still exists. I don’t know what Midsummer was thinking.’
He sounded almost angry. No – definitely angry.
‘And your father?’
‘Had it coming. I’m only amazed Gavar didn’t do it earlier. That anyone didn’t do it earlier.’
‘That’s it? That’s your response?’
‘Oh, I’m sure in five years’ time I’ll have some sort of delayed breakdown, and hit the bottle and cry about my lost father. But you know, he really was a complete bastard. And besides, I’ve always been more of a Mummy’s boy.’
He attempted a half-hearted smirk, then huddled against the window and didn’t say another word. What was going on inside that head of his? Luke didn’t want to imagine. For all that Silyen had said, he must be feeling his father’s loss. Luke would be in bits if anything happened to his parents or
his sisters, though admittedly his kind and somewhat dorky dad wasn’t a psychopathic dictator.
A three-hour drive had never felt so long. Crovan would have flown from Scotland in less time than that. And when they finally approached the outskirts of London, it was to the unwelcome sight of a flashing sign warning of Security vehicle spot checks ahead. Luke didn’t exhale until they were through, not having been pulled over.
‘Where are we heading?’ Luke asked. ‘Aston House? That place of yours? Westminster?’
‘Westminster. Bouda will have everywhere sealed off, but let’s park and we’ll go through on foot.’
‘On foot? Did you hear that special mention earlier for “the Millmoor terrorist who shot Chancellor Zelston” et cetera? I won’t be able to cross a Security cordon.’
‘Yes, you will. And it probably won’t even take Skill. People rely on what they’re told, rather than their own common sense. That way it’s always someone else’s fault if things go wrong. They’ve been told that the naughty young man is under lock and key. Therefore, he can’t be walking into Westminster. You’ll see.’
Luke did. The Security line was at the top of Whitehall. Silyen went straight up and pushed the crash barrier aside.
‘I’m pretty sure you know who I am,’ he said haughtily, when three officers hurried over. He spread his palms in a show of having no weapons, but actually to let Skill writhe and crackle intimidatingly around his hands and wrists. ‘Though I’m happy to demonstrate, if you need.’
‘No need, my lord. But . . . who’s this?’
One of the Security men tapped Luke’s chest with his rifle butt, and Luke was thrown suddenly, hideously, back to Millmoor and Kessler and the baton smashing his ribs. He could feel his pulse race at the memory. There had been no Skilled people in Millmoor, but there had been people who abused their power all the same.
‘He’s with me.’
The camera crews had caught on to the arrival on the scene of another Jardine, and Luke could hear reporters shouting questions as they hurried over from their fixed positions by Nelson’s Column – right where the Blood Fair had taken place. He swayed on the spot, momentarily paralyzed by awful memories.