Voice Of The Demon (Book 2) (10 page)

George’s eyes went instantly to Rosalind. She sat there white-faced and rigid, her nails digging into her palms. The children, seated beside her, didn’t take their eyes from the spectacle in front of them.

Then they were cutting Blair down moments before the last breath had gone from his body. All the while the crowd jeered and yelled, waving their hands in fruitless menace as Blair was laid out ready for the next stage of his sentence. A massive blade was wielded and displayed to the crowd before being slashed across Blair’s belly. Red blood spurted from the gaping wound. The noise rose to fever pitch as Blair’s entrails were dragged from his body and held up for the crowd to see. And then there was a piercing scream – a child’s scream.

No one but the royal party even heard it, let alone took any notice. George darted to Rosalind’s side. In her arms, cradled against the terror, was Galiena. She screamed again and again, begging her father to stop it, to stop killing Blair, and there was nothing Rosalind or anyone else could do to silence her.

‘Get her out of here!’ Selar hissed, but as Rosalind rose he
turned his full glare on her. ‘Not you, madam. You stay and look after my son.’

Rosalind was about to protest when George gently touched her shoulder. She turned to him with eyes full of tears.

‘Let me take her.’

Gratefully, Rosalind handed him the terrified child and instantly Galiena clung on to him. Without pausing, he turned and made his way through to the back of the yard, taking long strides in his hurry to get her away from the horror. The child’s screams had gone hoarse as she tried to gulp in air. Abruptly, before he could even get her indoors, she slumped in his arms. He paused only long enough to make sure she was still breathing, then hurried on.

By the time he reached Rosalind’s apartments the nurse had been warned and was ready for him. However, George was not about to give up Galiena. Instead, he kicked a comfortable chair closer to the fire and sank into it, shifting the girl around until her head rested against his shoulder. The nurse hovered in the background, but said nothing. George sat there unmoving until Rosalind finally returned.

Selar was with her – along with what seemed like half the court. Still George kept hold of the child until Rosalind herself took her from him. Then he rose, stretched the kinks out of his arms, bowed and left the room. He waited alone on the landing, standing still and facing the netted window. Suddenly, his hands began to shake and he stared down at them as though from a great distance. With a bemused smile, he clasped them together and waited.

It wasn’t long before Selar came out with Vaughn, Eachern and Nash all murmuring their pleasure that Galiena was well. Selar merely grunted. George said nothing but met, without hesitation, the steady gaze of the King.

After a moment the gaze shifted away and Selar replied to something Vaughn was saying. Without even addressing George, Selar led the others down the corridor, leaving him alone. Slowly, George turned back to Rosalind’s door. He stood there for a long time, studying every line of the oak panel, every nail and stud holding it together. Then, with a
deep sigh, he wandered away down the long corridor towards his own rooms.

*

‘You can’t be serious!’ Valena blurted. ‘And what happens if Osbert comes back with evidence to the contrary? What will you say to Selar if Osbert proves you were underplaying the situation? You’ll go the same way as Blair!’

Nash sat across the table from her and steepled his fingers together. The little house was quiet now that the crowds outside had finally drained away. The celebrations had gone on for hours, affording little peace for those who craved it. Now, in the dead time before dawn, only the church bell could be heard, calling the religious to morning prayer.

‘It’s not a matter of evidence, my dear,’ Nash replied evenly. ‘What matters is that I convince Osbert not to present it to the King. I believe I can do that. He’s anxious for my support – I think he’ll play along. There’ve already been a few arrests across the country, charges of sorcery. After Vaughn’s defiant speech last week, we could be looking at a holy war against sorcerers. I can’t allow this thing to get so big I can’t manage it. If Vaughn has his way, none of us will be safe. We’ll be frozen, unable to move or act with folk watching our every move. No. There’ll be no presentation of evidence. If I have to, I’ll Bond Osbert to make sure – and chance the consequences.’

‘And if Osbert comes back without evidence?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What if Dunlorn is telling the truth and his brother is not a sorcerer? Assuming Finnlay is dead, then it must have been another man those woodsmen caught – a sorcerer strong enough to escape prison without detection. Finnlay or not, we still have a rogue sorcerer of unknown ability roaming the land and we don’t have a clue who it is. How do we catch him? How can we carry on with this doubt? How do we know that the Enemy won’t turn up at the next corner, ready and able to stop us?’

‘We don’t,’ Nash replied simply. It was very difficult to think clearly with Valeria leaning over the table in such a manner. The black gown she wore suited her colouring too
well, setting off the pure softness of her skin, the glints in her eyes. Even after all these years, she was still a distraction to him. It was always such a challenge – controlling his reaction and yet still allowing himself the pleasure of her. A careful balance, a delicate combination.

A dangerous choice.

‘How much longer is this to go on?’ Valena stood, walked over to the window to open the shutters. A bleak blue-black sky greeted her. ‘When you first brought me here you told me it would take you only a year to get what you needed. That time passed months ago and still it seems you’re no closer to Vaughn’s secret library. How can you hope to find the Key if you cannot get near those books? What good will Selar’s support be if, once his armies are at your disposal, you have no idea where to start looking?’

Nash smiled, calm and serene. ‘There’s plenty of time to find the library – and more important things to pursue first. You despair too easily, my sweet. Yes, perhaps this will take longer than I anticipated, but we’ve come a great distance. Vaughn needs me as his spy to Selar. Selar needs me as his spy to Vaughn. Neither have any idea what’s really going on. When I’m ready to move, neither will be able to stop me. Besides, I may even be able to remove Vaughn and put Osbert in his place. After that, the whole thing will be easy.’

‘But when is that going to be?’ Valena snapped, turning to face him. ‘I’m sick of this place, these people. You allow me no company other than your boys – and you won’t let me touch them, either. I’m growing to hate this house and the way you must come in secret every night. When are we going to do something, Nash? When?’

‘What would you suggest? These things can’t be hurried, you know that.’

‘Then let me do something. If you can’t get close enough to Vaughn to find out where this library is, let me work on him.’

Nash shook his head, a small laugh escaping. ‘He’s taken the Vow, my dear. He wouldn’t let you close enough to seduce him.’

Valena waved her arms in frustration. ‘Then let me go to
Elita. You’ve said enough times that there’s a lot of ground work you need to do before she can take her place. I can start that for you. She’s never seen me before. She wouldn’t suspect anything. I could befriend her, talk to her.’

‘No . . .’ Nash’s voice trailed off as he felt a sudden brush against his senses. Unfamiliar and alarming.

‘What’s wrong?’ Valena murmured.

Nash stood and wandered to the window. Focusing, he sent his senses out into the dawn-fresh morning, trying to locate the origin. It was still there, pressing and releasing, testing, no more. Somebody was Seeking, and they knew what to look for.

‘I think we may have found our rogue,’ Nash smiled, withdrawing. Abruptly, the brush vanished – or rather, moved on. ‘Did you feel anything?’

‘No.’

‘Then it wasn’t one of your Malachi brethren. This is wonderful!’ Nash laughed. ‘He’s made it easy for us. Now I don’t have to go out looking for him. He’s right here, in Marsay.’

‘But you didn’t get a location, did you?’

‘Not an exact one, no. But I know where to start looking. Besides, I don’t need to go far. I’ll just wait until the next time he tries it.’ Nash laughed again and caught Valena up in his arms. ‘Unless I miss my guess, he’ll probably try again at dusk. Then I’ll have him!’

*

Rosalind sat by the bed and kept hold of Galiena’s hand. Only now, as the dawn began to filter through the window, did the child sink into a peaceful sleep. Her face was beaded with sweat, but her brow was clear of the dark and terrible agony her nightmares had induced. Her fair hair was laid out on the pillow, tangled and matted with her tossing in the night. Rosalind would brush it later, in the warmth of the morning. Until then, she would let the child sleep on.

Feeling no tiredness herself, Rosalind watched the sun rise over the distant hills. This was no way to treat a gentle, sensitive child of nine. But Kenrick, although only seven, had suffered no ill-effects from witnessing the execution. He’d
watched the whole thing, glowing afterwards at the delight his father had shown for his strength. The more Selar praised him, the more Kenrick grew within himself. Soon the two would be inseparable.

There was a soft knock at the door and Samah crept in. The veil which usually covered her long, auburn hair was gone. Her lovely face glowed in the morning light.

‘She sleeps peacefully now?’ Samah whispered, coming closer.

‘For the last hour. And Kenrick?’

‘He’s fine. I should think he’ll be awake soon, ready for the day’s adventures.’

Rosalind sighed. ‘I wish you didn’t have to leave. I understand your vocation – but I’m selfish and I would much rather you could stay here, with me. I wish you could help me with the children. They have such need of your love, your kindness.’

Samah knelt beside her and took her other hand. ‘They already have a loving mother, Sister.’

‘By the gods, Samah,’ Rosalind breathed. ‘How long is this to go on? In a few years, he will have Galiena betrothed and sent away. Kenrick will move from the nursery and out of my influence. Then Selar will bully and mould him into the very image of himself. How will our beloved Lusara fare with another King who cares nothing for her people?’

‘But Kenrick is also Lusaran. Perhaps he will not be like his father.’

‘Selar will make it so, believe me – we have his father to thank for that. A vicious bully will always sire another. Selar’s father was the making of him. Where does that leave my little boy?’ Rosalind paused and brushed a strand of hair from Galiena’s eyes. ‘I should have worked harder to keep Selar’s favour. Back in the beginning when I had the chance. Dunlorn was the perfect example of what could be achieved by those methods. If I’d had any wits, I would have done the same. But I was young and innocent, with no knowledge of survival. Now it’s too late for me to do anything to stop Selar.’

‘Perhaps you won’t need to,’ Samah replied, searching for
hope. ‘Perhaps the people will rise up against him. They would – if somebody they trusted would lead them.’

Rosalind shook her head. ‘There’s only one man they would follow – and he’ll never break his oath. And even if they did remove Selar – where would that leave my beautiful son?’ Squeezing Samah’s hand, Rosalind sighed, ‘No. I fear there is no hope for any of us.’

*

Godfrey wandered out of the cloister on to the sun-warmed grass. With slow footsteps, he reached a stone bench and sat, by habit bringing his hands together within the sleeves of his robe.

Hilderic was getting worse. Even now, an hour later, Godfrey could still hear his angry ravings about Brome’s discourse at mass. He’d spoken about the evil of treason in the wake of Blair’s execution – enough cause to send Hilderic into a flaming rage. More than a few of their brothers had heard the curses and threats as they’d echoed through the corridors. It was now only a matter of time – and very little time at that – before Hilderic would find himself arrested. That once-formidable mind was now entirely consumed with a hatred that would in turn consume him.

And there was nothing Godfrey could do to stop him. The more he tried to calm Hilderic, the colder the distance grew between them. After today it was unlikely Hilderic would even speak to him.

Godfrey sighed and tilted his head back to gaze at the frail clouds streaked across the sky. If only there was some way to get McCauly free – but there’d been no word from Payne yet and even if there had, Hilderic couldn’t be trusted.

Damn him! Why, after so many years battling Selar alongside Domnhall, did Hilderic choose this moment to falter under the strain?

‘Forgive me, Deacon. I’m sorry to disturb you.’

Godfrey turned to find Father John standing behind him, quiet and tentative.

‘Is something wrong?’ Godfrey murmured, waving him closer.

John came around the bench and stopped before Godfrey,
his hands clasped together. He paused before speaking, as though trying to sort his words. ‘No, Deacon. But . . . Father Hilderic. He’s causing some concern amongst the brethren. I’m worried.’

Godfrey nodded. ‘Me too. You know I’ve tried to stop him – and he won’t listen to me, let alone anyone else. In some ways, I think he’s courting disaster deliberately. Guilt will do that to a man.’

John frowned. ‘Is there no possibility that Selar will release McCauly? After all this time, without charges being brought against him, Selar could believe Brome sufficiently secure in his position not to worry about opposition from McCauly.’

‘Opposition is not the issue, John. The simple fact is that McCauly was anointed Bishop and legally holds the position until he dies. There’s nothing Selar can do to change that. The best he could hope for is for McCauly to voluntarily renounce his vows of priesthood, and we all know he’d never do that.’

‘Then why hasn’t Selar done something before now?’

Godfrey shrugged. ‘Because he doesn’t need to. Why stir up the pot when it’s bubbling away nicely on its own?’