Voice Of The Demon (Book 2) (8 page)

‘Mineah’s teeth!’

‘My thoughts exactly. Now, tell me where I can find my mother. Then I want you to go down to Daniel and the others. Tell them I’ll be with them shortly. After that, go to
the chapel. Stay there until I come. Don’t let anyone – and I mean
anyone
but me in.’

‘Aye, my lord.’ Micah had to wipe the smile off his face before he left the room, but for comfort, held it inside, where no one would see it.

*

She was in the solar, just as Micah had said. Robert stood in the doorway and tried not to flinch at the look Margaret gave him. Three of her ladies were with her and they all stood at his appearance, their hands together, their eyes downcast.

‘Please leave us, ladies,’ Robert’s voice sounded harsher than he’d intended, but it was done now. Slowly the women filed out past Robert and he closed the door behind them.

Margaret wore the black of mourning, her face pale against such heaviness. She was clutching a trium, the one Trevor had given her for her birthday, only weeks before Selar’s invasion. It was that even more than the look on her face which made Robert pause.

‘I’m glad to see you’re back in one piece, Robert,’ Margaret said quietly and stiffly, ‘but if you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk today, now that you’ve brought Finnlay home.’

‘I’m sorry, Mother,’ Robert took a tentative step forward, his hand reaching out to her. She stepped back and he tried again. ‘But what I have to say can’t wait until tomorrow.’

‘No, Robert, not today.’ Her voice dropped to a murmur. ‘I don’t want to know how it happened or what you were doing up there on that mountain. Lady Jennifer’s letter said there’d been a fall, but – ’ Margaret lifted her chin, ‘ – all I know is that my son is dead. He was in your care . . .’

Her words petered out as she gazed at him. That one single look was like a knife in his chest, cutting him in two. If only she knew how much he was to blame, how greatly he had failed her and his father. Since his father’s death, her great comfort had been the Church. One breath of sorcery now would only make her hate him.

Slowly now, to calm her reservations, he moved forward until he stood before her, until he could whisper the truth and not be overheard by the ladies waiting outside. ‘I know
you blame me, Mother. It is my fault. But I can’t let you go on suffering. Finnlay was . . .’

‘No!’ Margaret moved to turn away from him, but he caught her hands and held them tightly between his own.

‘Mother, Finnlay is alive.’

For a long moment she stared at him, her eyes wide with incomprehension, shock and horror. She didn’t understand – and then she did. Slowly, like an autumn leaf, she fell into his arms. He held her tight, not wanting to let go. When she looked up at him again, her eyes were full of questions.

‘Where is he?’

‘Safe, Mother. He’s safe.’

‘Then why all this . . . Why say he’s dead? I. . .’ Her voice trailed off again. She was suddenly uncertain, afraid that she couldn’t trust him. She stepped back. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘I’m sorry I can’t tell you any more. I just couldn’t bear you thinking he was dead when I knew he wasn’t.’

‘Then this has to be kept a secret? From everybody? For ever?’

‘Yes. Or at least until it’s safe for him to return.’

‘And when will that be?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps never.’

Margaret’s mouth became set in a line, anger now tumbling over the rest of her emotions. ‘Why won’t you tell me the rest of it? Your father trusted me with the truth. Why do I not deserve the same respect from my own son?’

She knew exactly where to hit him, to cause a wound as deep as her own. She waited for his answer, refusing to move until she got one.

‘I . . .’ Robert murmured and shook his head. This was much harder than he’d dreamed possible. Even if he could tell her the whole truth – even if he
could
Seal her and protect her without an
ayarn
– what would she say about the sorcery? It went against every precept she believed in. A part of her was still attached to Saint Hilary’s, a part of her soul still longed to take vows. Could he live with her hate?

And all the while, the Guilde was getting closer to Dunlorn, ready to strike down the sorcerer’s household.

‘Sit down, Mother.’ He drew her to the window seat and sat beside her. ‘I know how this must seem to you, but I beg you to trust me. I keep the truth from you because it’s not safe for you to know.’

Wasn’t this the same argument he’d used with Jenn?

‘I don’t want to hurt you, Mother, and I do trust you. You deserve the truth – but I won’t risk your life in that manner. I just wanted you to know that Finnlay is alive and safe. In fact, he’s probably safer now than he’s ever been before. I beg you not to ask me any more questions.’

Margaret watched him steadily. ‘I believe that much. But it’s not enough.’

‘Mother, if I could tell you . . .’

‘You would? I doubt it,’ Margaret interrupted bitterly. ‘You were always too good at keeping things to yourself, no matter the damage it did you. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. You’re my son.’

And what could he say to that? He’d already destroyed her faith in him.

Robert stood and pulled aside the drapes over the window. This part of the castle faced south and gave him no view of the approaching Guildesmen. Instead, there was just the edge of the moor and the rolling green farmland that stretched for leagues.

‘I don’t suppose it would do any good if I promised to tell you one day. I’m not sure I could keep my word.’

‘And you never break it, do you?’ Margaret replied, her tone under complete control.

Break it? No – only in ways that no one would ever notice.

‘You must keep up the pretence of mourning, Mother.’

‘There will be no pretence.’

Robert turned away from the window, away from his mother and all the closeness they had ever shared. ‘The Guilde will be here very soon to investigate these rumours of sorcery surrounding Finnlay’s death. Even though there’s no truth to the rumours, we must continue to pretend Finnlay is dead – for our safety as much as his. They may want to speak to you. I’ll try to stop them, but I may not have a choice.’

‘They will have no satisfaction from me, Robert. If nothing else, I can promise you that. I suppose we will go through a pretence of burying Finnlay? Once everything has calmed down, I will return to Saint Hilary’s for a few days.’

Robert made it as far as the door before he paused. ‘Will you come back?’

Margaret didn’t answer. Instead she stood and turned her back on him, held her trium and gazed out the window.

*

Down the stairs Robert went, trying to keep his pace even, steady, sombre. He ignored the pain, ignored the demon. He had to concentrate now.

Only minutes outside of Dunlorn waited his most dangerous challenge yet. The Guilde. Coming for blood. It would require all his skills to get through this. Lies and deception. They were the best tools he had now, his only useful weapons.

Daniel and the others were waiting in the winter parlour. Daniel, Harold, Sir Walter Mauny, Kem Raskell and Hal Talbot. They each looked at him with a strange mixture of sorrow and expectation. Harold frowned – as usual – but it was Daniel who came forward and spoke first.

‘Robert. You look exhausted. Was it a difficult journey?’

‘The rains didn’t help any and my own injuries slowed me down,’ Robert replied, keeping his expression carefully closed. ‘It was good of you to come.’

Daniel nodded, ‘We wanted you to know how sorry we are about Finnlay. It was a great tragedy.’

‘We also wanted you to know,’ Harold added with a glance at the others, ‘that should you need any . . . help, we’ll stand by you. All of us.’

‘Help?’ Robert frowned. What – exactly – were they offering?

‘What he means,’ Daniel murmured, ‘is that we will stand by you. Regardless.’

Of what?

Oh, yes. They must have heard the rumours. But – were they serious? Did they believe that Finnlay was a sorcerer – and
would they really stand by Robert if they found out the truth?

Yes. That was exactly what they were here for. To tell him they didn’t care. Genuinely touched, Robert said honestly, ‘I thank you for your words of kindness and your offer of help. I shall pass on your good wishes to my mother. As for the rest?’ Robert shrugged. With any luck, they might see nothing more than his refusal to take the rumoured allegations seriously.

It didn’t work.

‘You’re in trouble, Robert.’ Harold grunted, his gaze penetrating. ‘We’re here to help. Remember that.’

There was a movement behind and Robert turned to find Deverin waiting, Alard Bain hovering behind, obviously agitated. ‘Forgive me, Your Grace, but representatives of the Guilde are here to see you.’

‘Thank you.’ His time was up. He returned his gaze to the others. They were watching him, waiting for him to tell them what to do. There was only one way out of this – but the risks were so high he didn’t dare think about them.

‘Daniel, would you do something for me?’

‘Of course!’ Daniel’s eyes lit up.

‘Would you keep my friends company for a few moments. Deverin will show the Guilde in here. Will you tell them I’ll see them soon?’

‘Delighted!’ Daniel smiled and so, oddly, did the others.

‘I must go and speak to my mother,’ Robert added faintly. Where did they get this enthusiasm from? Why were they all so . . . pleased?

‘Don’t you worry about those Guildesmen, Robert,’ Harold beamed. ‘We’ll look after them until you get back.’

‘Thank you.’ Robert nodded, still bemused – but he didn’t have time to worry about it now. He had to get to the chapel before the Guilde arrived. Gesturing for Deverin and Alard to join him, he strode out of the parlour and down the corridor to the guard room. From there they took the narrow spiral staircase to the chapel.

The doors were open and muted daylight softened the incense-filled air. The long wooden box was laid out on
biers, draped with the Douglas banner and surrounded by tall candles. An armed guard stood at each end of the bier, solemn, their eyes downcast. Micah waited by the door.

Robert glanced once at Micah, then turned to the two men accompanying him. ‘Alard, I want you to keep watch on the rest of the Guilde soldiers. Let me know if they decide to look around at all.’

‘Should I stop them if they do?’

‘No,’ Robert replied with a smile. ‘Just tell me what they see.’

‘Aye, my lord.’

He disappeared down the passage as Robert turned to Deverin. ‘Have these two men stand guard at each end of this corridor. Then I want you to go back to the hall. Wait ten minutes, then bring the interrogator up here. Make sure he brings one other with him – no more.’

Deverin paused a moment, then nodded. ‘As you wish, my lord.’

Once the guards had left, Robert closed the doors and turned to Micah. ‘We haven’t got much time so we’ll have to be quick. Here, help me take this off.’

They removed the banner and placed it to one side. Then Robert took out his knife and gently levered the lid from the box. Inside was a layer of rocks and some old sacks. As they lifted the lid clear, Robert glanced up at Micah.

‘I need your help and I can’t ask anyone else to do this.’

Micah said, ‘I’ll get into the box, my lord – but I don’t look anything like your brother.’

Robert grinned. ‘No. But Jenn did something when Finn was in that prison. I’m not exactly sure how she did it – and I know for certain I can’t reproduce it. The only way to get rid of the rumours of sorcery completely is to prove to the Guildesmen that Finnlay did die and that his body is here – right where it should be. With any luck, they’ll put the rest of the story down to superstition.’

‘Then what can you do? Without your
ayarn?
’

‘I think I can make you look like Finnlay for a few moments. I think if I twist the Mask concept around and
instead of projecting a blank wall, I put his face on your body, then that might be enough to satisfy them.’

‘You
think?
’ Micah murmured, climbing into the box to settle himself gingerly over the layers of rocks. There was just enough room for him. ‘Does that mean you’re not sure?’

‘Yes, that’s exactly what it means.’ Robert lifted the lid back into place.

He could just hear Micah’s voice through the wood. ‘And if you pass out from the strain it will just be from grief, right?’

‘Right.’ The lid was firmly in place, the banner laid out again. Footsteps came along the corridor and Robert leaned down towards Micah’s head. ‘Just don’t move a muscle when I open this thing, I beg you.’

There was a creak from the door and the candles jumped and flickered. Robert waited until Deverin had brought them in before turning a composed face towards the Guildesmen. Osbert! Thank the gods. For a few moments there, he’d thought it might be Vaughn himself.

‘Good day, Governor.’

‘Good day, Your Grace. This is a sad occasion. You have my sympathy, of course.’ Osbert moved around the bier, his eyes glancing over the black eagle banner. He’d put on weight over the last three years, but not so much that he had become cumbersome and awkward. His sanguine face belied the sharp intellect and determined conservatism he was known for. His dull grey eyes and thinning hair tempted some to see him as a man beyond his best, but, at only forty, Osbert considered himself to be in his prime.

‘I am honoured you’ve come all this way, Governor. Surely a letter of condolence would have sufficed? And in such weather?’ Robert stayed by the bier, glancing once at Osbert’s companion and then at Deverin, who stood by the door, his beard masking his face and hiding whatever thoughts he might have on this matter.

‘Yes, the weather has been unseasonable, I admit. You must have had difficulty, yourself, returning with such a load?’ Osbert was watching him carefully – and trying to
appear otherwise. In fact, he was trying to look as casual as possible.

Oh, yes, he was definitely suspicious.

‘I returned only today,’ Robert replied evenly. ‘I was forced to stop several times – and my own injuries kept me from travelling too fast.’