Voice Of The Demon (Book 2) (11 page)

John was silent for a moment. Then he came and sat beside Godfrey, his expression enigmatic. ‘Deacon, may I make a humble suggestion?’

‘If you have any idea how to silence Hilderic, I’d be delighted to hear it.’

John met his gaze steadily, his usual meekness for once absent. ‘It has been many years since Hilderic went on retreat.’

Godfrey’s heart almost stopped. It was the most he could do to prevent himself from jumping up.

‘Archdeacon Francis,’ John continued, ‘spent six months on retreat last year and only came back for Domnhall’s funeral. Archdeacon Ohler was gone for four months the year before. Hilderic refrained because he said his workload was too heavy in Domnhall’s last years. Now, however . . .’

‘Brome’s directing more of Hilderic’s work to others every day. By Mineah’s heart, Father, you’re a genius!’ Godfrey sat
up straight. ‘Tell me, where did Hilderic spend his last retreat?’

‘St Austell’s, in the west.’

Godfrey nodded slowly and even smiled. ‘Perfect. I agree, Father. Hilderic is long overdue for a long period of rest and contemplation. After all these years, I should think six months would settle him down – or at least. . .’ No. Best not to mention anything of Payne to John.

Coming to his feet, Godfrey beamed his approval at the young priest. ‘I’ll have a word with Ohler. He can put the proposition to Hilderic and leave him no room to refuse. With your support, we can have Hilderic out of the capital within a couple of weeks!’

As John joined him on the path, Godfrey added, ‘Father John, I think you’ve just saved our friend’s life.’

*

Murdoch held the cloak for Ayn as she slipped beneath its warm folds. With summer drawing to a close, her old bones needed the extra protection. She tied the laces up under her chin and turned to face him. ‘I won’t be gone too long. The city is still excited after the execution yesterday. There’ll be too many people roving around and that will hamper my work.’

‘Perhaps you should rest a couple of days before you do too much,’ Murdoch replied. ‘I know you’re a powerful Seeker, but even you need your sleep. Ben is still washed out and he’s thirty years younger than you.’

‘Ben is washed out because he was in the taverns last night, drinking,’ Ayn murmured with a gentle smile. ‘I don’t blame him with this being his first trip to Marsay – but while he was out, I was asleep. I admit I was up early, but I’ve done nothing all day, so please stop worrying, Murdoch. This morning’s effort produced nothing, so I can hardly stop, can I? I’ll be back in a couple of hours, no more.’

Murdoch held the door open for her and she left the warm comfort of his tailor’s shop. She turned left and walked up the slight incline towards the main avenue. On the brink of evening, the streets were almost empty. They would fill again later as people ventured out in search of entertainment.

Ayn crossed the avenue and took a busy street which wound along the city wall. This was a favourite haunt of traders and hustlers and consequently filled with every type of establishment possible. This was just the kind of area an unknown sorcerer would keep to, his identity hidden in the constantly changing crowds. Although Jenn had apparently sensed this presence within the castle walls, there was no need to assume the man belonged there. Besides, Ayn was in no real hurry. It took some time to scan a city of this size from wall to wall.

The street dipped down towards one of the lesser city gates, then turned up again, towards the castle. There was a branch off to her right which opened out on to a small courtyard. In the centre was a well and on each side, a tavern. Neither was particularly busy, though there were plenty of people about. Yes, this would do nicely.

Ayn wandered into the courtyard and paused by the well. With her back to the wall, she dropped her left hand and allowed her
ayarn
to slip from her grasp. Her foot nudged it close to the well where it would remain unnoticed. Then she entered the nearest inn. With a silver coin she took the only private room which looked out on to the courtyard. The innkeeper brought her ale and a bowl of stew, but Ayn was not interested in eating. The moment he was gone she sat within the shadows of the window and focused on the
ayarn
below.

How many years had she been doing this? How many had she brought into the fold in this manner? It had always been so easy for her to reach out to the small stone, to channel her senses through it and create a vibration only a sorcerer could feel. Affected so subtly, that sorcerer would come looking for the source of the vibration. They would find nothing – but their search would reveal them to the one who watched. Even as she extended her senses now, the faces of those she’d found in this way came to her, one by one. More than fifty. All except Robert. She hadn’t found him by Seeking him – he had found her – and that was only because he’d had that accident.

Dear Robert. If only he’d listened to her, believed her,
trusted her. Then he wouldn’t have taken that terrible load on to his shoulders alone. She would happily have shared it with him, helped him, supported him.

But now it was unlikely she would ever see him again. Not that Robert was likely to go along with the banishment if his purpose was strong enough. Wilf was the Jaibir – but in reality, he had no power to stop Robert from entering the Enclave. The gate could be tuned to prevent entry of a particular sorcerer, but that wouldn’t keep Robert out.

No, the one thing that would keep him away was the Key. He saw it as his enemy. He was convinced it was working against him and had been since he was nine years old. He would not go near it again.

Ayn sighed and, keeping her link to the
ayarn
open, reached over for the ale. She took a deep swallow and turned back to the darkening courtyard below. A mother was herding her two children towards the well, carrying buckets. They drew water, argued about who would carry it back, then disappeared into the house opposite. Then a man approached the well, drawing the glove from his right hand. He pulled on the rope and brought the ewer up to his mouth. He sipped the water, then let it fall back with a splash.

Before he replaced his glove however, he bent down and picked up the small stone.

Ayn leaped to her feet. How could he know what it was? He was gazing at it intently, turning it over in his hand. She could feel him now, bearing down on her senses, making her heart pound, her head spin. This must be him!

He turned to face the tavern. Unremarkable features were graced by a neatly trimmed beard and eyes of coal black. His blue cape was enormous, falling from a tall, lean frame. He smiled.

Ayn shrank back into the shadows. The stench of evil invading her senses was almost overwhelming. Robert had warned her, but she hadn’t listened. Well, it didn’t matter now. Now she knew what this man looked like. With Murdoch’s help they could find out who he was and with the council’s help, decide what to do about him. Either way,
she had to get away now. If he was powerful enough to sense exactly where the
ayarn
was hidden, then he was stronger by far than Ayn could ever hope to be. Perhaps even stronger than Robert.

She gathered her cloak up and headed straight for the door. She pulled it open, but there was somebody there, standing before her. A young man, handsome, fair, but without any expression. He moved forward, making her back away into the room. She stumbled against the table, but the young man said nothing. He just waited.

Seconds later the dark stranger came to the doorway. He stood in the frame for a moment, his mocking smile making her stomach turn. He shut the door gently, then turned to face her. Moving slowly, he crossed the room. Ayn moved too until her back was against the wall, her chest heaving for denied air. The dark stranger dropped his smile and instead raised his hand. There was her
ayarn
, held between his fingers.

In panic, Ayn thought of the window. If she could throw herself out, perhaps she could get away . . . but his gaze held her frozen, like a tiny bird. Then he smiled again and brought his fingers together, closer and closer until suddenly, her
ayarn
cracked. He kept squeezing until it was nothing more than dust falling through his fingers.

Ayn screamed. Pain like lightning flashed through her, driving the life from her body. Desperately she tried to hold on, but blackness fell in upon her mind and she sank to the floor as consciousness slipped away.

Jenn sat on the grassy slope and watched the cows as they grazed in the midday sun. Huge clouds danced overhead, disappearing behind the needle rocks hemming the Goleth field. Here and there, the grey rock was interrupted by a
black tunnel entrance, each one framed with a double wooden door.

Jenn brought up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. The stone at her back was cold and, even with the sun shining, she couldn’t help feeling chilly.

She glanced over her shoulder to find Finnlay approaching, full of purpose and energy. ‘You’ve been avoiding me,’ he said.

‘Have I?’

Jenn’s lacklustre response slowed Finnlay down. He sank to the grass beside her, turned his gaze to the contented animals before them. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘No, not really.’

He paused, not looking at her. Then, ‘Look, Jenn, I’m sorry, all right? I’m sorry I dragged you into this, but really, I had no choice. Robert. . .’

‘Robert told you to trust me, yes I know.’ Jenn frowned. A long journey, a very late night, a terrible battle with Wilf and a rotten sleep had left her drained. The last thing she wanted right now was an argument with Finnlay.

There was another long silence. It seemed Finnlay was determined to have this conversation. ‘Jenn, I probably shouldn’t ask but – is there something going on between you and Fiona? Something I should know about?’

‘Such as?’

This time Finnlay didn’t respond. Instead, he turned and faced her, waited for her answer.

Very well. ‘Yes. There is something going on, but I don’t think you want to hear about it.’

‘Yes, I do.’

Jenn had to glance at him. Where did he suddenly get all this patience from? A gift from heaven? ‘I’m sure Fiona is a talented teacher and very successful in her own way, but to be honest, she drives me crazy.’

She was rewarded with a smile. ‘Me, too. What else?’

Jenn shrugged. ‘She’s shown me how to place a warning and sharpened up my short-range Seeking, but she can’t teach me anything important. Like setting a Seal or making
a Mask. With things as they are, I’m getting to the point where I really need to know.’

Finnlay nodded calmly. ‘I’ll have a word with Patric, later. He’s the best teacher I know. Or perhaps I could try. Is . . . er . . . is that the only reason you came here, now?’

‘Yes.’ She tried, but she couldn’t hold his gaze. Instead, she closed her eyes and turned her face back into the cool breeze.

‘We need to talk about this, Jenn.’

‘What’s the point? Will it change anything? The Key has spoken, Finn. Why should anything I have to say make a difference?’

‘Do you blame me?’ This was asked so quietly, Jenn thought for a moment she’d misheard.

‘Blame you?’ She turned and looked at him and for the first time, saw the hesitation in his face, the respect in his eyes. It was most disconcerting. ‘Why would I blame you? I came here of my own free will. Sure I trusted you about not going to the Key, but nobody forced me to make that oath to Wilf.’

‘Then why did you?’

‘Oh, hell, Finn, I don’t know. Look, what do you want from me? I’ve already said I’ll Stand the Circle. Can’t you just leave me alone?’

‘Is that what you want?’

‘By the blood, Finnlay,’ Jenn suddenly snapped, ‘I want to understand! I don’t know what the hell is going on here. Everybody’s watching me. What am I? A piece of flesh to be torn apart by everybody who comes near me?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Yes, sure. That’s what your brother said, too. I believe neither of you!’ Jenn turned away, afraid her bitterness would turn to tears. She wouldn’t – couldn’t – give in that easily. ‘I seem to be involved in a prophecy nobody understands – and only your secretive brother knows anything about it. I’m an ally? He’s an enemy? Of what? And what’s Bonding? Your experts have all talked about it, but are you any closer to an answer?’

‘I—’

Jenn ignored the interruption. ‘But there was something else the Key told Robert alone. Something dangerous that he’d never tell anyone even if he could. But, I have to say that the way he’s behaved, you’d think the entire bloody thing was dangerous.’

‘Perhaps it is.’

‘Oh? How?’ Jenn took in a deep breath and turned to look at him. A look of confusion flitted across his face and disappeared as quickly as the clouds.

‘If Robert was told – at nine years of age – that he was Bonded to somebody, then, as a child, he was bound to believe it. I think until now, he believed that person was Berenice. And she died.’

This was getting nowhere. ‘Yes, a fever killed her. So what has that to do with me?’

There was that look again. Pained, this time.

‘You know something, don’t you?’ Jenn demanded, a memory of something tugging at her. ‘Or are you going to tell me that stupid rumour of him killing Berenice is true?’

Finnlay glanced away to the grazing cattle and shook his head slightly. ‘Robert is convinced the Key intends no good with its prophecy. Your life may be in danger, I don’t know. We all have a lot of questions and no answers. All I do know is that we have to work together – you and I. If we don’t, we’re all lost.’

Without meaning to, Jenn smiled. ‘You know, Finn, sometimes you really surprise me. I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but if you keep talking like that, I may even be able to have a civil conversation with you more than once a year.’

Finnlay fought to control a smile. His head dropped while he glanced sideways at her, almost shyly. ‘I was practising all morning, while you were asleep.’

‘Now don’t go and spoil it, please.’ Jenn shook her head, stretched her legs out again on the soft green grass. For the first time since she’d left Elita – since Robert had sent her that last message – she began to relax a little. Maybe it was Finnlay’s honesty, maybe it was just the sunshine and the
nice honey-coloured cows munching away. It didn’t really matter.