Angel Arias (5 page)

‘Give me the sheet,’ said Charlonge.

Naif could barely see her or Markes in the dark. She began to move but Markes barked at her.

‘Stay on the beam!’

She felt the width of the wood beneath her and steadied herself before she untied the sheet.

‘What do you want me to do with it?’

‘Fix it over the hatch. There are nails all through the ceiling. Hook it around some of them, so they can’t open it. Pass me the other end, I’ll do the same on this side.’

Naif reached out in the dark for the sheet and her hand glanced against Markes’s shoulder.

He gave a cry.

‘What is it?’

‘M-my shoulder. I think I dislocated it,’ he gasped.

Naif moved her hand carefully to one side to avoid touching him.

Charlonge took the sheet from her and began to scrabble in the dust of the ceiling.

Naif copied her until she found some nails jutting from the side of the beam. She forced the cloth onto them.

‘Done,’ she whispered.

‘Now we find Mesree,’ said Charlonge. ‘I’ll go first. Markes, can you crawl?’

Naif was relieved to hear her voice sound steady, as though some of her fear and shock had abated.

Next to her, Markes sucked in a deep breath. ‘I think so. But I won’t be able to climb.’

‘You got us up here,’ Charlonge said to him quietly. ‘We’ll get you down.’

T
hey moved painstakingly along the thickest beam. Charlonge, in the lead, counted off the rooms using the crossbeams as her guide. Muffled cries and the sound of slamming doors below dogged their progress. Rajka was searching for them. Naif could hear his angry shouts to his friends.

‘It should be near here,’ Charlonge said.

Naif’s knees were scraped raw but she was more worried about Markes. Every movement caused him to shudder or give an involuntary cry. ‘Where’s the hatch?’ she asked, desperate to get him out of the filthy, dark ceiling space.

Charlonge felt around carefully. ‘Ugh. What’s this?’

She held up an object that Naif couldn’t see properly.

‘It’s a dead rat,’ rasped Markes.

Charlonge bit off a scream and Naif heard a clunk as the rat hit a joist.

‘Let me look,’ she said. ‘Maybe it’s on the other side.’

After long moments of running her fingers through the layers of dirt, she touched a seam. She traced the outline and found it to be reasonably square. ‘This is it.’ Leaning sideways, she grasped the edges with her fingertips. It came loose with a begrudging crack, and light flooded into their crawl space.

Naif peered down. ‘It’s Mesree and Long-Li’s room. I can see her apron on the bed. She’s not there, though.’

‘Probably gone to see what the noise was,’ said Charlonge.

Getting down was easier than climbing up, though Charlonge twisted her ankle as she dropped the distance to the floor. Wincing slightly, she got up and helped Naif push the bed directly underneath.

As Markes lowered himself, holding on only with his good arm, the door was flung open and Mesree stormed in brandishing a huge carving knife. ‘What in the frossin’ sea eels –’

Naif and Charlonge froze but Markes’s arm gave way and he crashed heavily onto the bed. He gave a loud cry and then went silent.

‘Mesree,’ said Naif, spilling the words out quickly. ‘Rajka came for us with knives. We escaped through the ceiling. Markes hurt his shoulder pulling us up.’

The cook locked the door, then barged past her and Charlonge and over to Markes. He moaned as she rolled him onto his back.

She leaned close, listening to his breathing, touching his brow, watching his chest. ‘It’s just a faint,’ she pronounced, ‘brought on by the pain. I’m goin’ to fix his shoulder now before he comes out of it. Hurry and lift him.’

Under her instruction they laid Markes out straight on the floor.

‘Now get behind him, both of you. Sit him up.’

Markes was coming to, moaning to himself. Every sound made Naif wince.

‘Brace and stay still as you can. Understand? You move, and I’ll have to go again. Each time the damage is worse, and so is the pain,’ said Mesree.

She forced Markes’s lips apart and stuffed a piece of cloth in his mouth.

Charlonge put her arm around Naif, and Naif reciprocated so that they held Markes in their wide embrace.

Then Mesree loomed up at them and smacked Markes in the shoulder with her full force.

Naif and Charlonge rocked at the impact but pushed back against her.

There was a click as his shoulder slipped back into place. He opened his eyes, spat out the cloth and sobbed, then fell limp in their arms.

Mesree wiped her brow and panted. ‘There, that’s done. It’ll be sore for a while. I’ll find something for the hurt while you two go and wash up.’ Naif followed Charlonge into the tiny separate washroom. While Char doused herself with water, she peered back through the door at the cook.

Mesree rifled through the drawers of her night stand until she withdrew a small box containing a bundle of dried leaves. She broke one from the rest and then closed the box. Crumbling the leaf in her fingers, she returned to where Markes lay and slipped the pieces into his mouth, rubbing them around his gums with her finger.

‘Ugh, I can still feel the rat,’ Charlonge said, as she soaped her bleeding hands. ‘Naif?’

Naif moved hastily to the basin and washed her hands and grazed knees on a cloth.

Soon the pair were back in the room, hovering over Markes. He seemed to be asleep now, his breathing deep and regular.

‘Leave him be. He’s too big to get up onto the bed. Sleep will help him recover now,’ said Mesree.

‘You drugged him,’ said Naif.

‘I’ve made the pain go. Isn’t that what you wanted?’

Naif glanced at the door. ‘But what if Rajka comes here? We won’t be able to move him.’

‘That poisonous strip of worthlessness won’t be troublin’ me.’ She picked up a large carving knife from the desk. ‘And if he thinks to try his tricks on . . .’

‘But it’s not just him.’

Mesree’s deep-set eyes narrowed so much Naif could hardly see them. ‘I’ve sent word to Ruzalia and Long-Li on a draculin.’

‘A draculin!’ Naif exclaimed.

‘They make fine message carriers if you feed them good raw meat. We just need to sit tight now till they return and do for these mutineers.’

‘How long will that be?’ asked Naif.

‘Hard to be exact. Hours, dependin’ on the winds.’

‘But they’ll find us in here before then.’

‘That’s why we won’t stay. Before light we go to the caves. Stay there until Ruze’s back. Now, you tell me why you think that waste of spit, Rajka, came after you.’

‘They think we’re one of you,’ said Charlonge.

Mesree scowled as Naif explained more. ‘That’s why he drew a knife on Markes in the hall. They believe we’re important to Ruzalia and plan to hold us as ransom to get what they want.’

The cook’s expression became quizzical. ‘And why would they be thinkin’ you’re special?’

‘Because we’re staying in the south wing, not the north, like everyone else. And because . . . Ruzalia talked to me.’

‘You’re speaking nonsense there. Ruze confides in no one. Not even my man Long-Li.’

Naif hunched defensively. ‘I didn’t say she confided.’

Mesree stared at her and then nodded as if coming to some silent conclusion. ‘The reason don’t really matter, I s’pose. I’ve seen you wittering in her ear on occasions. Now, you two get on the bed and rest. Soon as he’s awake, we’ll head to the caves.’

Naif realised how tired she was. She nodded and without protest went over to the bed and sank down onto the mattress. It was sprinkled with plaster from the ceiling but she barely noticed. All she registered was that Charlonge’s weight was next to hers, her back resting against her own. She’d never slept so close to another person before, she thought vaguely as she drifted. It was comforting.

Mesree woke her too soon. Or at least it felt as if she’d barely been asleep. Charlonge was already awake, kneeling next to Markes, who sat propped against one leg of Mesree’s bed. He looked pale but otherwise hearty. His face and hands were clean.

Naif felt a stab of jealousy that someone else had tended him even though it would have embarrassed her to do so.

‘It’s quietened down out there. Eat this, so we can move,’ said Mesree. She handed Naif some cheese and some small biscuits. ‘Just as well I brought supper to bed with me.’

The sight of the food made Naif ravenous but the soapy cheese and hard biscuits barely took the edge from her appetite. She nodded her thanks to the cook anyway.

‘On yer feet now, lad. We go out the door and that way.’ She pointed in the opposite direction to the way they’d come. ‘At the end of the corridor there be some stairs that no one uses. Straight down to the basement they go. Through there’s our way to the caves.’ She went to her drawers and withdrew a cloth, which she unwrapped carefully. She selected three long-handled silver forks like the ones she used in the servery. ‘Take these. Brought ’em up here to clean. Never figured to be getting them dirty like this.’

Each of them took the proffered weapon, though Naif doubted she could – or would – ever use it. She glanced at Charlonge. Her friend had paled as she slipped the fork into the pocket of her tunic.

‘I’ll go first. You come last,’ Mesree said to Naif. ‘You help him.’ Her last order was directed at Charlonge.

Naif wanted to disagree and argue that she should help Markes, but she stopped before the words came out. Mesree was being sensible: Charlonge was taller.

Outside the room all was quiet, no sign of Rajka or his friends. Mesree led them along an unlit corridor where the air smelled stale and damp from disuse, and their path was littered with broken furniture and discarded clothing.

The stairwell at the end was equally filthy and neglected.

Markes, still woozy, stumbled several times and was saved from falling by Charlonge. At every step, Naif thought she heard voices, or the sound of footsteps behind them.

When they reached the ground level, the sounds she’d been imagining became real; screams and shouts outside the stairwell and in the downstairs corridors.

‘What’s happening out there?’ whispered Charlonge.

‘No good,’ said Mesree grimly. ‘Ruze’ll want blood for this.’

Naif trembled at the thought. What would the pirate do?

When they reached the bottom, Mesree felt along the wall until she located another handle. This door opened into an even darker stairwell and Naif smelled the briny tang of the sea.

‘Basement,’ Mesree whispered loudly. ‘Stay close and move slow. Hold onto each other. Damn light at the top’s broken but there’s one at the bottom should be right.’

These stairs were narrower and felt loose underfoot. Naif hugged the wall, concentrating on each step and keeping her hand on Markes’s uninjured shoulder.

A muffled thump came from the top of the stairs, followed by a scraping noise.

‘What was that?’ whispered Markes.

‘Someone’s coming. Quick.’ Mesree snatched the lamp at the bottom of the stairs from its rusted iron holder.

With a sure sense of direction, she headed deeper into the basement. The lamp threw a small pool of light ahead of them to a wall that was lined with old shelves.

‘What’s in here?’ shouted a voice from the top of the stairs.

‘It’s a cellar,’ said another.

‘They might be down there!’

‘Frossing lamp’s broken! Get one from the portico.’

Footsteps faded.

‘Hold this,’ whispered Mesree. She gave Naif the lamp and began feeling along the empty shelves.

After a few moments she hesitated and crooked her finger at Naif. ‘Here.’

At the very back of a deep shelf was a small iron hook. She twisted it but nothing happened.

Footsteps returned and this time the stairs flooded with light. ‘Those with knives go first!’

Naif’s stomach knotted at the sound of Rajka’s voice and she felt in her pocket for the kitchen fork.

Mesree gave a low, angry hiss and tugged with more insistence on the ring. A section of the shelves jerked open. Naif quickly went ahead of them through the narrow gap.

On the other side, the lamp showed more stairs, which had been cut straight into the rock this time. One set led up, the other down.

Markes and Charlonge joined Naif on a flat rock that made a natural landing for the stairs, while Mesree tackled the lever from the inside. This time the secret door moved more easily and clunked softly as it closed.