Shadow Magic (5 page)

Clearly a LOT worse.

Someone had won, but who? Slaver or executioner?

Knowing his luck, which had been bad since the day he’d left home and had grown worse with each mile, it would be Lukas. By tomorrow, he’d be back in chains working down in the mines with no eyes.

A silhouette appeared at the top of the ridge.

Tyburn looked down at him, bruised but very alive, and holding a blood-spattered branch. “Need a hand?”

“You…you killed ’em all?”

“How many were there?” asked Tyburn.

“Seven.”

“Then yes, I killed them all.”

Seven armed men killed with nothing but a stick. No wonder everyone’s afraid of him.

How could he act so…normal? When he had so much blood on his hands? “Don’t it bother you none? Killing those men?”

“Does cutting down trees bother you?”

“It ain’t the same.”

“One day you might think differently.” Tyburn reached down. “Grab hold, and I’ll pull you up.”

“No. I like it down here,” said Thorn.

“Don’t be foolish. Come take my hand.”

“Then what?”

Tyburn frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I ran off. I ain’t coming up if you’re just gonna bash my brains out.”

“You came back. That’s…not what I expected.”

“I ain’t gonna let a man be murdered in his sleep.”

“Even a man like me?”

Was Tyburn smiling? If so, then it was the scariest smile he’d ever seen.

“So you gonna let me go?” He’d tried to save Tyburn, even if the executioner hadn’t really needed saving. “That would be fair.”

“Unfortunately, life’s not fair, so I’ll be hanging on to you a while longer.” Tyburn tossed the branch aside and raised his empty hands to show he was unarmed. “How’s that? Make you feel better?”

“No, not really.” But what choice did Thorn have? He did as Tyburn asked, and a moment later, they were standing side by side at the lip of the trench.

Tyburn faced him, his hands on his hips. “Planning to run away again the moment I turn my back?”

“No, Master. No, I ain’t.”

Tyburn snorted. “You’re a poor liar, boy.”

All those months of misery boiled over as Thorn glared at the executioner. “Yes, I’m going to run! You might have bought me, but where I come from, men are free. And that’s where I’m going. Back home.”

“How?”

“I’ll get a ship. Sail across the sea.”

“Which sea?”

“There’s more than one?” Was the world that big?

“You’re brave, I’ll give you that. But you’re stupid. You barge into trouble with no idea of how to get out of it.”

“So?”

“So what’ll happen is this: even if I gave you a bag of gold and a fond farewell right now, you’d be robbed or end up back where I found you. These are lawless times, boy.” He eyed Thorn curiously. “They can make even good men desperate.”

“Then what can I do?”

“Tell me the truth.”

Thorn bit his lip, unsure if the truth would make things better, or worse. Was Tyburn his friend or his foe? “Give me one reason to trust you.”

Tyburn jerked his thumb over his shoulder, back toward the campsite. “I can give you seven. If I were your enemy, you’d be over there, with them.”

He had a point.

“All right,” said Thorn, “I’ll tell you the truth.”

Where to start? Then he saw Tyburn’s blood-spattered branch. “I did something bad—real bad.” He closed his eyes, and he could picture the day so clearly, as if he was standing there again, the blood fresh and wet on his hands.

“I did it, but my dad took the blame. I should have said something. I should have told ’em it was me what did it.” Thorn wiped his face of the tears he’d held back for months. “But I was afraid. I…was a coward.”

“Then what?”

“They were gonna hang him.” Thorn gulped as he remembered the soldiers throwing a rope over a tree bough. “But my dad got away. That’s why I left home. I had to find him. I went from village to village asking, but no one had seen him. Then one night the slavers got me. They bundled me on a ship, and that’s how I ended up here.”

Tyburn’s gaze didn’t leave his. His dark eyes were two pieces of obsidian, giving nothing away.

He’s waiting for more. He knows I ain’t telling him everything.

“That’s the whole story,” said Thorn, crossing his arms defiantly.

“So now you’re going home, without finding your father?”

“I weren’t meant to be gone this long. I thought I’d find him before the end of summer.” Thorn felt the cold wind upon his neck. It was autumn already. He was the oldest of six children, and if Dad wasn’t back by now, it was his job to look after them. Mom had her hands full looking after the little ones. He’d promised the local farmer he’d help bring in the harvest in exchange for five sacks of flour, enough to make bread throughout the winter. But the harvest was last month and he’d not been there.

“I’ll make you a deal,” said Tyburn. “There are no slaves in Gehenna. You serve as my squire for a year and a day, and I’ll give you gold and safe passage home.”

“A year?” Way too long. “Six months.”

“A year and a day.”

“Eight months. Eight months is fair.”

“A year and a day.” Tyburn started walking back toward their camp.

Thorn kicked a pile of leaves in frustration. “Why me?”

Tyburn called over his shoulder. “I have my secrets, too.”

“G
et up, Lily.”

“No.” Lily pulled her heavy quilt over her head. “I’m sleeping.” She nestled down deeper into her cocoon, deeper into the comforting darkness.

“It’s late,” said Mary, her nanny.

Lily peeked out. “It’s dark.”

“Ha! Of course it’s dark. This is Castle Gloom. Listen to me, Lilith Shadow, you will get up
right
now.” The nanny tossed the quilt onto the stone floor.

“Mary!”

“Up. Now.”

Lily thrust her head under her pillow. “Don’t. Want. To. Get. Up!”

“I swear by the Six Princes, you’re getting up if I have to drag you by your hair,” said Mary. “You know what day this is?”

“Don’t care.”

Lily felt a scrabbling on her pillow and something wet—a nose—pressed against her own. A pair of big brown eyes gazed at her.

“And what do you think, Custard?” asked Lily.

Now that he had her attention, her three-month-old black Labrador puppy began wagging his tail and jumping up and down on the bed. Lily gathered him into her arms. “You’re right. Mary is a mean old woman.” Custard yapped and licked her cheek.

“Get that slobbering beast off the bed,” said Mary as she examined Lily’s tangled hair.

“Ouch!” cried Lily, shying away. “What are you doing?”

“Tsk. Will you look at this?” Mary brandished a twig she’d just pulled from a snarl. “You’ve been climbing the apple trees with that servant boy, what’s his name…Wade?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And what if you’d fallen out and broken your neck, my girl?” Mary sighed. “It’s not that I’m bothered in the slightest, but a lot of people depend on you.”

“Don’t care.” Lily rubbed Custard under his chin. He really was a silly dog with a silly name.
“Ow!”

Mary inspected a second twig. “‘Don’t care.’ ‘Don’t care.’ That’s all I ever hear from you nowadays. You have responsibilities.”

“Really? I thought all I had to do was sit still, look pretty, and keep my mouth shut,” said Lily. “My responsibilities are stupid.”

“You? Keep your mouth shut? That’ll be the day.” Mary drew a lock away from Lily’s ear. “People look up to you. What you do, what you say, matters. They want to be proud of you and now, with…with your father and brother gone, it’s up to you to bring them into better days. The Six know how much our realm has suffered.” Mary stroked Lily’s arm. “It’s your job to look after the people of Gehenna, and it’s my job to look after you.”

Lily took Mary’s hand. She knew her nanny was right. “You shouldn’t worry about me.”

“Not worry? Child, I’ve worried about you since the moment your cries first filled this very room. If I don’t look after you, who will?”

Mary’s skin was thin. Lily drew her fingertip along a blue vein. She gazed up at the lined face, into the sparkling eyes that now sat deeper within the wrinkles. Lily brushed a strand of silver hair aside. “And who looks after you, Mary?”

“I don’t need looking after. Anyway, who’d want to look after an old crone like me?”

“I would,” said Lily, deadly serious. “I’d never let anything happen to you.”

Mary laughed.

“What’s so funny? I am descended from the Six Princes. I have the blood of the greatest sorcerers flowing through—”

“And what’s this doing on the floor?” said Mary, picking up her dressing gown. “I’ve only just washed it, and it’s got paw prints all over it.”

“Mary! You’re not listening!” snapped Lily. “I might have awesome magical powers, and you’re just—”

“Magical powers? Don’t talk nonsense. A girl with magical powers. I’ve never heard such a thing.”

“I
could
have magical—”

“Sulking is not a magical power.”

Lily glared.

Mary was not impressed. “Your father—may the Six Princes guard his soul—looked at me with those same eyes whenever he had to do something he didn’t like. As gray as storm clouds, with a lot of lightning behind them.” Mary snapped her fingers. “Rose, lay out Lady Shadow’s clothes.”

“Yes, miss.”

Rose? Lily hadn’t seen her maid working quietly in the corner. The girl was—had been—Lily’s best friend. Back when she was plain Lily Shadow, with no prospect of becoming a future leader. The two girls would dress up in each other’s clothes and pretend to be sisters. That friendship had ended five months ago, when Lily became Lady Shadow, ruler of Gehenna and mistress of Castle Gloom. Now all she got from Rose were curtseys and “Yes, m’lady” and “No, m’lady.”

“Rose, are the clothes ready?” asked Mary.

“Yes, miss.”

“What about the Mantle?”

“Yes, miss.” Rose nodded to the corner where, lit by two huge iron candelabras, there stood a mannequin wearing what looked like swirling black smoke.

Lily groaned. “The Mantle of Sorrows? But it’s itchy.”

“Don’t care,” mimicked Mary as she carried a taper from candle to candle, shielding it from any stray draughts.

Soft amber light blossomed, illuminating the corners and the carved niches in the ancient walls, the faded tapestries and cobweb-coated statues. Mary blew out the taper. “There. That’s better.”

“I don’t belong here,” Lily said to herself. This was her parents’ bedroom. The table was where her father used to sit, the old armchair creaking as he moved to dip his quill in his inkpot. Her mother would stand in front of the full-length mirror with its frame of black iron. Lily had loved to watch her mother get ready, weaving a string of black diamonds into her hair. She’d told Lily that one day those diamonds would be hers. A day Lily had thought would be far, far in the future.

The cold gems now lay waiting for her on the dressing table.

Lily didn’t want to wear any of her mother’s jewelry. It felt as if Lily was robbing her tomb.

“Will you hurry up and just sit in front of the mirror?” said Mary, waving a silver-handled hairbrush. “I’ve still got to get the rooms ready for our visitors and sort out tonight’s feast.”

Lily did as she was asked and threw herself down on the chair.

Mary set to work.

“
Ow!
That really hurt!” Custard growled on his owner’s lap. “I don’t know why I still have you, Mary. I’d be better treated by a…a zombie!”

“Oh, is that right?” Mary snorted. “Like the one your grandfather had? What was his name?”

“One-Eyed Ron.”

“More like One-Eyed, One-Legged, One-Armed, and finally No-Headed Ron. I was always sweeping up pieces of him.” Mary gave Lily’s hair another violent, eye-watering yank.

“I said, ‘
Ow!
’”

“Just sit still. Your mother never fussed like you. Honestly, child, think about who you are, what you represent, before you open your mouth. How many times have I told you? You’re Lady Shadow now.”

“I’m not.” It still hurt, remembering what had happened to her parents and brother. “I was never meant to be.”

Mary put her soft, warm palm against Lily’s cheek. “I know, child. But you are, and that cannot be changed.”