The Forgotten War (16 page)

‘Oh, thank you, no,’ she said demurely and moved on.

Dylan turned to her; she knew her five minutes were probably up.

‘Come on, Cheris, it is time to go...’

‘
Dylan! Sir Dylan!
It
is
you, you old dog. Come and say hello.’

A man was saluting them, frantically waving his arms as he came towards them.

‘Say nothing,’ Dylan growled to her through gritted teeth. He then launched into a convincing fake smile.

‘Sir Adnan, you are looking so well. Have you put on weight?’

‘Am I fat, you mean?’ He seemed a man preternaturally disposed towards jollity. He slapped his stomach. ‘This is what two years of guarding merchant caravans does for you
– minimal risk of violence, maximum risk of gout!’ he laughed. His round face was somewhat reddish, especially his cheeks. Then he noticed her.

‘Well, Dylan, you old... Come on then, introduce me.’

Dylan hesitated. ‘Oh! This is ... is...’

‘My name is Miriam, sir.’ Cheris made a vain attempt to look coy and maidenly. ‘In service to Sir Dylan and the Knights of the Thorn.’

‘I am enchanted, Miriam.’ said Adnan. ‘But let me tell you: Dylan is a man of piety and honour and as a result earns much less than I do. If you ever feel the need to find out
what really fine living is about, look no further than me. Some flowers need a lot more care and attention than others and I see a no more delicate bloom around here than your good self.’ She
caught the lascivious look in his eye and wondered how many hapless serving girls he had tried that line on before.

‘You are too kind, sir,’ she said, looking shyly at the ground. ‘But, alas, you are mistaken. I am far more the salt-resistant rose, which can grow even by the sea so
impervious is it to the elements than the fragile delicate flower you just alluded to.’

‘Well bred for a serving girl, aren’t you? Family hit on hard times, eh? Well, I would not expect Dylan to be slipping it to any old slattern, eh, Dylan, eh?’ He nudged Dylan,
whose smile was weakening by the minute. ‘If you ever change your mind, Miriam, come to the Armourers’ Guild on Artisans’ Hill; mention my name and you will have a job with half
the work and twice the pay. And
other
benefits!’ He pointed to his crotch, laughing uproariously.

‘Adnan,’ said Dylan, at last finding his voice. ‘We really have to go; I am back on duty very shortly. I will come round and see you when I can. I am sure you still owe me an
ale.’

‘I owe everybody an ale!’ he laughed. ‘But come on round by all means; we can discuss your recent development of an incredible taste in women!’

‘I will do that. Now farewell, Adnan. The Gods keep you.’

Both Dylan and Cheris turned to start back the way they came. She stiffened in shock as she felt a hand impacting firmly against her rump. ‘See you both soon. Very soon!’ She turned
in shock, enraged.

Adnan winked at Cheris before disappearing back into the crowd.

Dylan looked sheepish. ‘Sorry!’ he said. ‘He is more an acquaintance than a friend.’

‘Just be grateful for him that I am under your protection. Otherwise, he would just be a greasy puddle on the floor.’

They headed back down People’s Street, but when they got to the bridge Dylan went to its left, down on to the broad street between the hills where the warehouses were.
‘Busier...’ he said, ‘but quicker. Keep your eye out for carts and horses.’

They hugged the side of the road, keeping to the thin shadows thrown by the warehouses. Dylan was right; they made excellent progress amid the clattering of wheels and hooves on the stone, as
barrel-laden carts and barrows raced past them in both directions. Eventually, they reached the city wall and turned southward; they could see their tower not five minutes away when Cheris stopped
dead.

Opposite them, by the small grassy bank that hugged the city wall, a horse had collapsed. It was still tethered to the wagon it had been pulling, which was laden, overladen even, with trunks and
barrels. The horse was something of a bony old nag and did not look as if it was up to pulling such a heavy cart in the first place. And over the horse stood a man sweating profusely; he was
swearing at the horse and in one hand held a cruel-looking switch that he was using to thrash what little life was left in the beast out of it. Cheris walked slowly towards him leaving Dylan
standing.

‘Get up, you little bastard, get up! I will sell your useless carcass to the glue man. Fuck you! Get up!’ He started hitting it again.

‘Can you not see that the horse is sick, man?’ Cheris said calmly. If you keep hitting it, it will die, and what happens to your precious goods then?’

He swung round to face her, his face a mask of anger and amazement.

‘And who in the name of Keth’s rancid guts are you? You think I am going to listen to some silly little serving tart? Stick to what you know – bending over for your
betters...’ he indicated Dylan who was walking slowly towards them. ‘...and leave my business to me.’

She coloured but remained calm. ‘I will say it again: leave that horse alone; it needs to be freed from that wagon and then we can see if we can help it.’

He snarled at her. ‘Piss off, slut!’ He turned to the transfixed Dylan. ‘You, man, learn to gag your little whore and teach her that her mouth has one use and one use
only.’ He turned back to the horse, raising his arm to strike it again. Cheris dug her nails into her palm.

‘Hit that horse one more time and you will be sorry.’ Her calmness was evaporating; there was steel in her eyes.

‘You know what?’ The man’s voice was hoarse from screaming. ‘I think I
will
stop; I would much rather use this thing on you.’ He raised his arm to strike
her.

‘Stop!’ Dylan shouted, but it was too late.

Before the man could land his blow Cheris raised her hand and said something almost under her breath. Immediately the man was thrown backwards, slamming violently against the side of his own
wagon, Dylan heard his head crack against the wood. Groaning, he slumped to the ground, leaving a thin trail of blood against the wagon. Cheris stood over him, as he regarded her with horrified,
uncomprehending eyes.

‘All actions have consequences,’ she said. ‘I hope you have learned that. I will send some men to help you with the horse.’ She felt Dylan bristling beside her as he took
her hand roughly and pulled her away from the scene. ‘For Artorus’s sake, come on!’ He sounded panicky.

By the grace of the Gods there appeared to be no witnesses to the incident. The buildings overlooking them were empty warehouses and the few wagons that passed took no notice of them. The sound
of the wagon wheels pounding the cobbles meant that the man’s shouting was heard by no one and the men driving them were seemingly intent on their own progress, giving an injured man and a
lame horse barely a second glance. Once they were sheltered behind the curtain wall, Cheris spoke, her heart full of misgivings.

‘You will send some men to help that poor horse, won’t you? And the man for that matter.’

He put his face right next to hers. ‘We were that close!’ he said angrily, gesturing with his thumb and forefinger. ‘We might still be in the mire; just pray that there are no
witnesses and that no one believes the man’s words.’

‘He slipped and banged his head,’ she said. ‘His concussion made him see things.’

Dylan breathed. ‘Maybe!’ he said tersely. ‘Maybe... Now let’s get back.’

Dylan opened the gate, leading the way as they shot along the dark corridor and up the stairwell until finally they stood outside her door. Nobody saw them.

‘Stay there while I get changed and give the dress back to you; I won’t be a minute.’

She slipped into her room and shut the door. Leaning back against it, she was about to let out an enormous sigh of relief when she saw the chair by the bed.

Marcus was sitting on it.

She had never seen him looking so furious, but before he could speak she raised her hand.

‘Say what you will, but please let me change first. Dylan is waiting outside.’

He grunted and turned his back; she was back in her red robe faster than she thought possible. When she had finished she opened the door, handed Dylan the dress and bade him on his way.

Time to face the storm.

‘I don’t know where to begin with you!’ His voice was angry, though controlled. But it was not that which disconcerted Cheris the most, for his words were shot through with
something else.
Disappointment
... disappointment in her. ‘Do you have any idea what trouble you could have put that man through in your stupid, selfish hot-headedness? He could end up
in prison, disgraced... even disowned by his family, and, yes, you could see that he came from a good family. That is partly what made it so easy for you to make him dance to your tune. He has been
brought up to always try to give a lady what she asks for.’

‘It’s OK; we weren’t seen or caught,’ she said, not entirely truthfully; she had already decided not to mention the incident with the horse.

‘Well, if you weren’t, it is down to the grace of the Gods and no other reason, and what about you? You could have ended up dancing on a gallows if people knew what you were; one man
could not stop a lynch mob. Was all this to try to see your parents?’

‘No, mentor, I just wanted to see the city as a normal person would.’

His voice was all cold fury. ‘Get this into that rock between your ears.’ He stood and came over to her. She backed away a little; she had upset him many times in the past but never
like this. ‘You will never,
never
be a normal person in the eyes of the people here. To them, you are a freak, a dangerous aberration; you spoke lightly about being a monster to me the
other day; well, to them that is
exactly
what you are. You are the demon that haunts men’s souls, a night horror...’

She swallowed. ‘That is a bit unkind; not all...’

‘Is it?’ he said. ‘Think about it, why are you here? Is it because you are a graceful dancer, or have a lovely singing voice, or is it because you can kill men
effectively?’

Her mind flashed back to the look of horror on the man’s face after he had crashed into the wagon. It had been easy, too; she barely had to concentrate to do it.

Marcus sat back down again. ‘And now you have drawn that poor boy into your web; we were his first major command, you know; most of the senior knights are out in the country chasing mages.
I have told you before: the knights exist to keep the people and ourselves apart, to keep the hanging crews from us and to stop us frying them in fear, or in temper. Instead, the two of you traipse
off hand in hand into the city like two lovebirds going on a picnic. If this gets out...’

‘I already said that no one found out.’

‘That is fortunate but beside the point. He has been brought up into a world where the ladies of his class are taught to blush demurely and be meek and coy. And then this boy comes across
a woman who is smart, beautiful and, for once, even better educated than he. And of course she is extremely manipulative. I should have seen the danger signs a mile off.’

‘He is a grown man; perhaps the fault is partly his?’

‘Oh, I do not doubt that, but
he
is not my responsibility –
you
are.’

‘Are you saying that I was too forward with him?’

Marcus rolled his eyes in exasperation. ‘Of course, I am saying it! This is not the island, and he is not Mikel!’

‘But, mentor,’ she said softly. ‘I am sorry, yes, but I had no idea my behaviour was really that untoward.’

‘Untoward!’ he snorted. ‘If he gets out of this in one piece, you owe him the biggest of apologies. Perhaps I should have listened to the others about you.’

Cheris screwed up her forehead. ‘What do you mean?’

‘When I told the Grand Magister I was taking you with me, he and some of the other senior council mages tried to talk me out of it. ‘It is folly,’ they said. ‘She is too
young and has no idea of life in the outside world. Her head will be easily turned; you may not think her flighty but the mainland changes people. It would be like finally giving a child the key to
a sweet shop that he or she has spent years looking longingly through the windows of.’

She stared miserably at her feet. ‘I am sorry I have let you down.’

‘I am glad you can see it. Do you know what the punishment is for breaking the rules here?’

‘No, mentor.’

‘You would be put on the next ship back to the island under guard and upon arrival you would serve a time in solitary confinement as determined by the Grand Magister. You should
never
be allowed to leave the island for the rest of your life.’

She felt her cheeks burning and her eyes watering. She respected Marcus more than any other person and the shame she felt in letting him down so badly was finally beginning to register with her.
When she spoke her voice was hoarse. ‘Is that what you intend to do to me?’

‘Believe me,’ – his voice softened a little on seeing her tears – ‘I was sorely tempted, but, if I do that, your good friend the knight will be implicated in your
disgrace. It is possible that a knight with such poor judgement deserves it... But then I thought better of it. If people never make mistakes, how will they ever learn, and that applies to both of
you.’

She looked at him, brushing tears from her reddening eyes. ‘What will you do then?’

‘The plan is unchanged, but you owe me, my girl... You owe me a lot!’

‘Thank you, mentor. I will learn from this, I promise.’

‘I know,’ he said gently. ‘Tell me: was your transgression worth it?’

‘Yes, I suppose so. We went to the market – it was like nothing I have ever seen.’

‘You went to the most populous place in the city? Even I am forced to admire your boldness. Now come.’ He lifted a cloth covered object off the bed and pulled the cloth away to
reveal a platter with bread, cheese and apples. She noticed a goblet on the dresser. ‘Your food – it is why I came here in the first place.’

She thanked him. ‘What is happening on the morrow?’