Rebel's Cage (Book 4) (29 page)

The cold suddenly bit into Micah’s flesh, making him shiver. Almost all his worst fears had just come to life. Sairead came forward and placed a cloak over his shoulders. Her touch was enough to make him move, though his voice emerged rough and unkempt. ‘Sairead, may I present His Grace, Andrew, Duke of Ayr. My lord, this is Sairead … my wife.’

Andrew froze for a moment, then, barely blinking, he reached out and took Sairead’s hand. He brought it to his lips and didn’t shudder with the courtly greeting. Then he straightened up, his eyes blank. He handed Micah the bag of food. ‘Forgive me for disturbing you.’

Before Micah could say anything, Andrew spun on his heel and walked away, treading the snow he’d already trampled down on his long journey here. Breathing heavily, Micah turned to Sairead, searching her eyes for acceptance, though he knew he could never have it. ‘Wait for me, please.’ Then he was running after Andrew, as much as the snow would allow him.

‘My lord, wait!’

Andrew pushed his body harder, picking his way between the trees where the snow was more shallow. Micah ran to catch up with him, nearly falling as he reached out to grab Andrew’s arm.

‘Andrew, let me explain!’

The boy turned and faced him, panting, air coming out in sharp jabs, hot and angry. ‘Why? What is there to explain? Why you didn’t tell me before? Well, I’m sure you’ve got a very good explanation, but since I wasn’t supposed to know, I don’t think there’s any point in you telling me, is there?’
Andrew twisted his arm, trying to get away, but Micah held on firmly.

‘You don’t understand. It’s not what you think.’

‘Oh?’ Andrew stopped struggling, his eyes opening wide, his eyebrows rising in an expression that was far too like his father’s for Micah’s comfort. ‘You know what I think? I think I’ve been taught all my life that Malachi are a mortal threat to Salti, that Malachi work hand in hand with Nash, that they fought alongside Selar at Shan Moss and tried to kill a lot of people I care about. I know that the Malachi would do anything to destroy the Enclave and kill my
mother
to get the Key so don’t you
dare
tell me that I shouldn’t be angry, Micah or so help me—’

‘I’d never tell you not to be angry.’ And he wouldn’t, by the gods, he wouldn’t! Yes, too much of the father in this boy. The father who had exiled him without a word raised in question. The father who had turned his back on more than twenty years of friendship for the sake of that single question. And now he was about to get the same from the son.

Andrew’s gaze narrowed as he struggled to regain control of his feelings, doing the same thing his father had done all his life, suppressing his anger. Though Micah could see it happening, he could do nothing to stop it.

‘You should have told me,’ Andrew pulled his arm free, but didn’t appear ready to run off again.

‘And what could I have said? Would your reaction have been any different?’

‘Does anybody else know?’

Micah nodded. ‘My mother knows I married, no more.’

Andrew searched his eyes. ‘Could you not have told
me
that much?’

‘I did not dare.’

For a moment, Andrew stared at him. Then he turned and took two steps away, his gaze dropping to the colourless ground. ‘I can’t believe you … married a Malachi, Micah. I mean, after everything you went through with … with Duke Robert. I know you’re not friends with him now …’ Andrew stiffened, his head coming up. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? Why he banished you from his side? Because of Sairead?’

‘Because I didn’t tell him about her when I could.’

‘And that’s … that’s why you hate him?’

Now it was Micah’s turn to stare, to remain frozen to his place, trapped, as he had been for eight years, between two worlds that would never meet in peace. Could he say the words now? After so much time had passed?

‘Tell me, Micah,’ Andrew pressed, moving closer. ‘Do you hate him?’

‘Yes,’ Micah breathed, releasing something in the process, though it made him feel no better.

‘How can I trust you when he didn’t?’

‘But he should have.’ Micah pushed his voice to communicate as much confidence as he could, all that he felt. ‘Sairead is no threat to you.’

‘No? How can you be so sure?’

‘Because I know her. We’ve been married nearly seven years. Don’t you think that if she’d wanted to betray me, she would have done so before now? She knows why I live here, she knows who you are. I’ve told her nothing – as she’s told me nothing about her people. We see each other only every few months, for a few precious hours. That’s the only way we can do this, until … until it’s all over. Please, my lord, don’t distrust me because of her. She won’t harm you.’

Andrew remained unblinking throughout this plea. Then his gaze drifted over Micah’s shoulder, back in the direction of the cottage. Abruptly, he took off for it, leaving Micah to once more hurry after him.

Sairead was waiting for them inside, her bags packed, the fire blazing to dry the building out after months of winter emptiness. Andrew waited on no formalities this time. He just walked up to her. There was wariness in her eyes, but she didn’t spare a glance for Micah. He could only stand there and watch the exchange.

‘You are Malachi, aren’t you?’

‘Yes. How did you know?’

‘I can’t answer that any more than you can tell me where your people come from.’

‘The same place as yours, I believe.’

‘So where are they now?’

‘You must be Salti in order to ask that.’

‘Micah says you can be trusted.’

‘I will not betray my people.’

‘But will you betray him?’

‘Never! He is my husband! I have pledged my heart and soul to him.’

‘Then will you betray me?’

‘Why not? What are you to me?’

Micah took a step forward, ‘Sairead …’

But Andrew held up his hand, silencing Micah. He’d never seen the boy like this before and while a part of him trembled at the sight, another part of him rejoiced.

‘She’s lying, Micah. I can see that much.’

‘You can tell I’m lying? How?’

‘I think I’ve already told you enough.’

‘I’ll say you have. More than I’ve learned about Salti in all my life. A little foolish, don’t you think?’

‘So?’ Andrew shrugged. ‘Better I test you now with only my life at risk, than discover later that you have lied even more – and to Micah.’

‘But you won’t kill me, will you, Salti Duke?’

Andrew kept his silence for long, terrible moments. Then he shook his head. ‘No. I’ve never killed anyone. I don’t think I could start with Micah’s wife. Besides, he wouldn’t let me, would you?’

Micah didn’t get the opportunity to reply. Andrew turned and left then, only pausing once he got outside the door. His shoulders squared, Micah prepared to hear the verdict.

‘So, what have you decided, my lord?’ He swallowed hard against the inevitable. ‘Will you banish me as your … as Robert did?’

‘She stabbed him, didn’t she? Before he fought Nash.’

‘She was trying to protect me.’

‘Of course.’ Andrew didn’t turn around. He just kept walking.

‘My lord?’ Micah called after him, but stood his ground. ‘What will you do?’

Andrew kept going, but his words echoed around the clearing and up to the cliff above. ‘I don’t know, Micah. I really don’t know.’

The constant slow tapping of steel against stone rang around the lower caves. Martha found it difficult not to pace her walking to the rhythm, nor to hum a tune along with it. These days, it was a constant within the Enclave, almost a new and vibrant heartbeat to the underground community, even if it did stop at nightfall and gave the air to the lower levels a distinctly dusty smell.

‘How much more work have they to do?’ came Jenn’s voice from behind her.

‘They’ve almost completed this cave – but there’re another three to be done,’ she finished as she reached the open doorway where the noise was loudest. Lady Margaret, Fiona and Jenn crowded beside her, looking in.

Two men looked up at their arrival, smiled and continued on; the tapping resumed. Chips of stone fell to the floor from an alcove the older man was working on, while the other set iron pitons into the wall, from which would hang shelving. The cave still had furniture to be brought in, rugs for the floor and a bed built into the alcove. But once done, it would be as comfortable as any other couple’s dwelling in the Enclave, even if it was three levels further down than the rest of the accommodation.

‘How much of this was here before they started?’ Jenn said clearly over the noise.

‘Most of what you see. The stonemasons refine the caves enough to make them livable. They Sense into the stone a little way, to make sure the support structure is strong, before doing any enlarging. Most of the Enclave caves are natural.’

‘Natural for what? Who put them here in the first place?’

‘I have no idea – although some of them were caused by water and gases. About half the tunnels between the caves were added later, by our ancestors.’

‘And where are the new caves?’ Jenn asked, stepping back. Martha gestured down the corridor and led the way.

Here the ground was rough. The natural tunnel had been partially widened to allow the workmen access, but it was far from complete. It came to an unsteady halt, leaving a drop of six feet or so. There was a temporary stepladder down, which Jenn took without hesitation. Margaret and Fiona stayed with Martha at the top.

This cave was bigger: wide and a little flat, one end coming to a halt in a stubborn wall of rock, the other tapering down until there was barely enough room for a man to crawl through.

Jenn inspected it thoroughly, running her hands over the rock, bending down to look at the dark crevice where shadows formed by the workers’ lamps did not reach.

‘We can’t put a family in here,’ she announced finally. ‘Not unless we wall that area off. Children would find it too tempting. It looks like somebody has already been playing around here as it is. Has anyone followed the crevice along? To see where it goes?’

‘These lower caves were surveyed about ten years ago.’ Fiona replied, her tone as ungraceful as it always was with Jenn. ‘I don’t think it goes anywhere useful.’

‘How far are we from the fire pools here?’ Jenn stopped her inspection and faced them with her hands on her hips.

Martha let Fiona answer. She knew these caves better than anyone. Fiona pointed towards the opposite side of the cave. ‘About twenty feet in that direction, another level or so lower.’

Jenn looked around again, as though for inspiration. ‘And these are the best we have left?’

‘The best we’ve discovered,’ Martha spread her hands. ‘Until we organise another survey party to go lower, then yes, this is all we have left.’

‘It’s not enough.’

‘No.’

A silence folded in around them then, set to the constant rhythm of the workers. Then Margaret shifted her footing, going closer to the stepladder. ‘This cave could be divided with
a wall. We’d need to bring wood up from the valleys, but it could be converted into a school room, or library – then we could use the existing library as housing.’

‘It’s not big enough for the library,’ Fiona replied, her tone much more gentle with the older woman. ‘And we have no idea of the strength and stability of the rock this far into the mountain. We don’t dare start enlarging these caves as we have done others further up.’

Martha looked at her, at her handsome face and careful, watchful eyes. There had always been some degree of conflict between Jenn and Fiona. They’d never become friends and, for the most part, appeared only to tolerate each other because of their respective connections to Finnlay. Lately though, there was a deeper undercurrent.

Margaret continued, ‘Are you sure we can’t build on the field? There’s plenty of room. I know we’d need to get more materials – but we have to do that anyway, don’t we?’

‘Can you see anyone willing to live up there when the mountain gets snowed in for the winter?’ Jenn asked. ‘Even if we could spare the grazing land, we’d have to bring in far too much fuel. No,’ she sighed, ‘I think we need to consider the possibility that Salti have finally outgrown the Enclave.’

‘What are you saying?’ Fiona said.

‘I’m saying that since Vaughn created a Bresail, it’s been impossible for any Salti to live in Lusara without being in danger. Now more than ever. As long as Nash and Kenrick are in power, and the Malachi want the Key, our people need to stay here – only we have no more room here. So …’

‘So?’ Margaret asked, smiling a little.

‘So,’ Jenn continued, her tone speculative, ‘perhaps we should look at finding another home.’

‘What?’ Fiona’s voice echoed around the harsh walls. ‘We couldn’t possibly find a place bigger than this, or move everyone without drawing attention and what about the Key …’

Jenn raised her eyebrows and her hands at the same time. ‘I didn’t say we should all move – but why not found a second Enclave somewhere else? I know we’d have to consider how the
Key protects us – but there might be a way we can duplicate that. I mean,’ Jenn smiled a little, including them all in her glance, ‘Haven’t you ever wondered why those Salti, six hundred years ago, decided on the Goleth as a likely spot to live?’

‘No,’ Fiona said decidedly. ‘What difference does it make how they found the place?’

‘So, you believe they just climbed through the mountains, heading for this peak, saying to each other, I’ll bet there’s some juicy caves we can settle in up ahead?’ Jenn could barely keep the disdain from her voice. She made for the stepladder and climbed swiftly up to their level. ‘I also think it might pay us not to have everyone in the same place. After all, the Key only protects us against being discovered – not against being attacked. So if somebody
were
to find out where we were—’

‘Why?’ Fiona snapped back, the flare in her eyes giving away more than she knew. ‘Are you planning something we don’t know about?’

‘You know that’s not what I said. And what if we lost the Key’s protection? Wouldn’t it be good to know we had another place already organised?’

‘And wouldn’t we be splitting our strength if we divided ourselves so? And—’