The Inner Circle: The Knowing (11 page)

Curiosity gave Ilgrin the strength to
push through his shock and continue down the street. There he
discovered the place where the destruction had come to an end.
People sobbed and prayed, but many had wounds that couldn’t be
stopped in time. Onlookers began to gather. Some gave a hand.
Others simply watched, shocked to the point of inactivity.

It was then that Ilgrin noticed him, an
old man in foreign clothing making his way through the crowd,
touching people on the shoulder or otherwise gesticulating at them.
He stared in open curiosity, but a moment later the man turned
sharply in his direction with eyes so penetrating that they stole
Ilgrin’s breath.

‘
Elglair.’ The word
rattled out in recognition of the white pupils. Ilgrin backed into
the crowd and was relieved to see the stranger return his attention
to the situation at hand.

Disturbed by such a close encounter,
Ilgrin took another step back without paying attention to the
placement of his foot. His toe got caught in a dead man’s shirt and
when he tried to leap away he fell off balance. Instinct took over
and just for a second his wing flicked out to assist in
stabilisation. He carefully removed his foot and glanced about,
fearful of anyone having noticed. Surely with such chaos
surrounding them, nobody would have been watching the disfigured
giant in a hood.

Ilgrin pulled his coat tight against
the wind. Most people were busy with the wounded, but one man
stared, pale-faced and shaking all over. He turned and ran away,
quickly vanishing into the milling crowd.

CHAPTER Seven

No More Hiding

By the time Ilgrin reached the front
door, darkness had long since fallen. He slammed his fist several
times against the wooden surface.

‘
It’s me. Let me in,’
he hissed urgently.

‘
Oh, thank Maker.’
Urelie dabbed at puffy eyes as she opened the door and ushered him
inside. ‘Did they see you?’

‘
What?’

‘
Listen to me.’
Urelie put her hands on Ilgrin’s shoulders and stared penetratingly
into his eyes. ‘Tell me it’s not true. Tell me they didn’t see
you.’

‘
No one saw me,’
Ilgrin replied with more certainty than he felt. ‘What’s wrong? Has
something happened?’

‘
Some
creature--they’re calling it a demon--attacked the city,’ Urelie
murmured in dismay. ‘I thought . . . ’

‘
Urelie,’ Baen
addressed her as he entered the room. ‘Calm yourself.’

‘
You thought it was
me?’ Ilgrin pulled away from his mother, unable to keep the hurt
from his voice. ‘I could never have done what that thing
did.’

‘
I knew it couldn’t
be true.’ Urelie threw out her hands. ‘People always exaggerate,
but surely it’s not impossible for you to see why I’d fear rumours
of a demon swooping about the city. You mustn’t blame
me.’

‘
You didn’t see it.’
Ilgrin put a hand to his forehead. ‘Whatever it was, it wasn’t a
silt. It killed so many people. It must’ve been from a whisp,
right?’ he asked. ‘That’s what they do isn’t it? Silts caused this.
Maker, it all makes sense now. Some Elglair fellow was sniffing
around after it happened. That must be why he’s here.’

‘
Slow down,’ Baen
ordered. ‘Elglair, you say? How do you know they’re not here for
you?’

‘
I don’t know.’
Ilgrin paced the room. ‘I don’t know what to think
anymore.’

‘
You do realise what
this means, don’t you?’ Urelie enquired.

‘
Not now,’ Baen
warned her.

‘
You mustn’t leave
the farm anymore,’ she continued in a very serious tone.

‘
What?’ Ilgrin’s jaw
dropped. ‘You can’t be serious.’

‘
Ilgrin,’ Baen said
sympathetically, ‘they’ll be looking for you now. People don’t see
what they don’t expect, but now they’ll be watching for silts. Your
disguise won’t work.’

‘
I can’t stay here
forever!’

‘
The Maker-damned
Elglair are involved,’ Baen said though gritted teeth. ‘You need to
stay here where we can protect you.’

‘
I’ll go insane.’
Ilgrin raised his hands and backed away. ‘You can’t take away the
only freedom I’ve got.’

‘
You’re being a
little dramatic, don’t you think?’ Urelie asked
patronisingly.

‘
I’m tired of being
your prisoner.’ Ilgrin narrowed his eyes. ‘I’ve done nothing
wrong.’

‘
That’s how you
see this place, as a prison?’ Urelie cringed defensively. ‘This is
your home. And they’ll
kill
you.’

Ilgrin sighed and looked away. ‘Maybe
it’s time I returned to my people. You always said silts are evil,
but it seems to me the real evil is right here in Sitnic.’

‘
I can’t deal with
this,’ Urelie choked through tears and hurried off to the
kitchen.

‘
Now look what you’ve
done. You must be very proud of yourself.’ Baen shook his head
disapprovingly and followed after his wife.

Ilgrin took the opportunity to escape
to his bedroom. He shut the door and picked up an old leather-bound
book. It was at least a hundred years old, having been written at a
time when the very existence of silts was in question.

The book was entitled
Mythological Creatures,
and contained sketches of almost every being
that anyone had ever dreamt up. Demons were listed not far before
dragons, but there were also elves and trolls and other silly
creatures.

Ilgrin flipped through the pages until
he found the one he was looking for. Aside from its size, the scaly
dragon on the page didn’t much resemble the creature he’d seen
earlier. The page allocated to demons fell open on its own, the
spine having become accustomed to doing so through wear. The sketch
bore hideous fangs covered in green drool. Its eyes glowed red and
it had a tail that flared at the end. Its legs were hairy and
instead of feet, it boasted hooves. Ilgrin shook his head, freshly
astonished by the author’s ignorance.

He closed the book and put it away. The
illustration failed to disturb Ilgrin, who instead took great
comfort in it. It served as a reminder that he was not really a
demon at all. If humans could get their idea of a silt’s appearance
so terribly wrong, it made sense that they’d gotten everything else
wrong, too.

Ilgrin moved over to the window and
rested his fingertips on the peeling frame. He stood there for a
long time gazing at his reflection. There were no bony ridges along
his spine, no evil glowing eyes or scales. He didn’t have claws or
a tail. His inspection came to rest on his purple eyes, but
movement beyond them quickly caught his attention.

Ilgrin put a hand up to the glass to
block out the reflected lantern light so that he could better see.
A small band of men argued across the street, their cloaks
billowing in the wind. One of them shouted animatedly and pointed
at the house. After putting out the lantern, Ilgrin returned to
find the group of men staring up at his window. One of them looked
familiar. Ilgrin felt a knot in his chest and wondered if it was
the man who’d seen him stumble earlier that day. He stepped away
with an overwhelming sense of dread. But Ilgrin had been through a
lot. Surely his mind was playing tricks on him. He was just being
paranoid. Ilgrin sat on his bed, tucked his knees up beneath his
chin, wrapped his wings about himself and fell asleep in an upright
position as he customarily did when feeling insecure. Perhaps a new
day would bring with it fewer concerns.

When the morning arrived, Ilgrin
decided that he’d been foolish to worry about the men on the
street. He was clearly shaken by the events that’d unfolded earlier
and had been worrying about nothing. The men could’ve been there
for any number of reasons. He headed for the kitchen and scrounged
together some bread and eggs for breakfast.

‘
Mother?’ Ilgrin
called when he was done, but there was no reply. ‘Father?’ Only
silence answered him. They must’ve been working the farm. He picked
up an inkwell and pen, scrawled a note explaining that he’d be back
sometime after noon and left it on the table.

Ilgrin felt bad so blatantly ignoring
his parents’ wishes, but he was old enough to make his own
decisions. He needed time to think and after what’d happened
yesterday, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to return to the
city and see how things were going.

Unfortunately, when Ilgrin reached the
city, he found that there really wasn’t all that much to see.
Except for a few spots of dry blood, even the street in which the
massacre had taken place had been swept clean. One could say a lot
about Abnatians, but they certainly knew how to pull together in a
crisis. Not wanting to go home, Ilgrin spent the day wandering.
Most of the time he avoided people, but eventually got hungry
enough to approach a market stall. He pulled his coat tight and
yanked the hood as far forward as it would go.

‘
May I have a loaf?’
Ilgrin asked, keeping his face toward the ground.

‘
Um . . . certainly.’
The baker’s feet twitched uneasily. ‘My very finest.’ People tended
to be intimidated by Ilgrin’s daunting figure.

‘
Thank you,’ Ilgrin
replied when the bread was placed on the bench and he reached out
to pay. A firm hit in the side caused Ilgrin to miss his target and
the coins bounced onto the road. ‘Hey!’ Ilgrin cried, spinning to
face his aggressor. A brutish looking man stared back with a
challenging smirk on his face. ‘Watch what you’re doing,’ Ilgrin
grumbled. He was unable to bend over and collect the coins without
revealing his wings, so instead he reached into his pocket to
retrieve some more. This time the man slapped his hand and yet
again the coins were lost. ‘What’s your problem?’ Ilgrin
snapped.

‘
You’re my problem.’
The man laughed, revealing an odour of alcohol and vomit. Another
two thugs grinned from their position behind him.

‘
Look.’ Ilgrin raised
his hands and backed away. ‘I don’t want any trouble.’

‘
Get back here.’ The
aggressor grabbed a handful of Ilgrin’s coat and pulled him close.
‘You see him?’ He pointed at a man standing off to the side. It was
the same man from the night before. ‘He’s a crazy old bastard that
one,’ the thug laughed. ‘He paid me ten gold pieces just to do
this,’ the words abandoned his lips before Ilgrin had the chance to
pull away.

The man slapped his hand over Ilgrin’s
head and with a sharp jerk yanked back his hood. It was such a
simple gesture, requiring so little energy, but nothing would ever
be the same again. The moment passed quickly and at the same time
seemed to drag on forever.

The thug’s eyes bored into Ilgrin’s,
going from nasty to surprised to fearful. The man stumbled and
landed heavily on his backside. His jaw worked up and down but no
sound came out. His friends abandoned him, turning to flee. Even
the stranger who’d paid for the job now ran for his life. The baker
fell back, shaking uncontrollably. Finally someone peddled through
their shock and found the word Ilgrin had hoped so very desperately
not to hear.

‘
Demon!
’ a woman screamed from
across the street. Even to those who’d never seen a silt before,
Ilgrin’s angular features, the colour of his eyes and shock of
bluish black hair were unmistakable. ‘Demon!’ Other voices joined
the woman’s cry. ‘Silt!’

Ilgrin gazed about his surroundings,
looking . . . searching for a way to reverse what’d been done.
People dashed in every direction, but a brave few began to brandish
makeshift weapons: a farmer with pruning shears here, a hunter with
a bow over there. Even peaceful Abnatians would not think twice
before slaying a silt. Still, Ilgrin remained fixed to the spot.
They’d only seen his face, but that was enough. They knew what he
was. All was lost.

In one fluid motion, Ilgrin threw away
his coat and flared wings, easily with a span of six strides from
wingtip to wingtip. Such a gesture achieved its intended purpose. A
disbelieving hush fell over those that’d refused to run. They were
paralysed by fear, allowing Ilgrin the opportunity to bend his
knees. Rhythmic screams and terrified howls rose up, reaching a
feverish pitch as he beat his wings and ascended into the sky.

Something zipped passed Ilgrin’s face
and it didn’t take long to realise that he was being shot at. He
tore off his shoes and allowed them to fall as a second arrow
passed beneath his feet. Ilgrin had a choice to make: he could fly
higher than arrows could go and live off the hope that no one had a
pistol, or he could fly low over their heads to prevent them from
taking the risk of shooting. Even the death of a demon wouldn’t be
worth the loss of human life.

Ilgrin pulled in his wings and
dove. He caught himself sneering at the site of the scattering
humans. Anger born from years of discrimination boiled to the
surface and Ilgrin screamed in fury. They wanted a demon? They’d
have their demon. He swooped over the terrified people, dragging on
clothing and knocking off hats. He snatched up a man’s bag and
tossed it into the air, sending papers scattering everywhere. They
were all so scared. Ilgrin laughed even as tears ran down his
cheeks.

‘
Is this what you
wanted?’ he cried, swooping over a group of young men, forcing them
to dive for cover.