Darien, page 8
‘Short and treacherous,’ Nancy muttered to herself, though he heard.
‘And then I tried it myself. I tell you, that tomb is a terrible place, guarded by wards that no one alive today even understands. Not all the magicians of Darien could force their way in. No one can.’ He paused. He wanted to keep his secrets to himself, to appear mysterious to a young woman who seemed less impressed with every passing hour. Yet Threefold was caught up in the excitement he had felt ever since Basker’s retirement clock had stopped. ‘But I could, if I had you standing at my side.’
Nancy looked at his wide eyes and heard the awe in his voice. She could not help feeling a tremor of excitement herself, for all her doubts. What if he was right? Her life had not been a garden of delights around Fiveway and the Red Corners. Before the plague had frightened her into running across the river, her world had been a small patch of tight-packed roads and alleys that sweltered and stank in the sun and stole away the old men and women in the winter. Basker’s place meant she had left all of that behind, but what if there could be more than just survival? What if Daw Threefold had not gone completely mad? She imagined herself owning one of the big narrow houses on a clean street, with a glossy, black-painted door and a maid or a doorman to scatter the street boys.
‘I will need a half-share – and the packhorse,’ she said. ‘For my cooperation.’
‘Last night you were ready to steal coins from a sleeping man’s bags,’ he said.
Nancy pursed her mouth at him.
‘I wouldn’t have taken it all, Daw, just a couple. Poverty is a hard mistress. Still, that doesn’t matter now, does it? Today is a different day – and I find myself in possession of something you want very dearly indeed.’
‘Something you did not even know existed last night.’
‘Which is why I have offered you half. It is a partnership, Daw Threefold. Imagine the mountains of gold and jewels there might be inside, just waiting for us! We’re here now. Would you rather I went back to Darien and asked around for someone else to take me out to the tomb in the desert? Do you think I might find someone who’ll give me good terms?’
‘No one you could trust,’ Threefold said. ‘They’d probably leave you for dead, whereas you know Basker is expecting me to bring you back. You have that man’s threat as your guarantee, and that is no small thing.’
Nancy nodded.
‘I think you’re right. A partnership then. Half for you and half for me.’
‘You know, you were not even conscious when you stopped Basker’s clock, barely inside my room. Half for what? Being born with a country knack that does more harm than good? A bit of hearth magic? Your “cancelling” is a local effect – a circle around you. Imagine you are a shuttered lamp. The light …’
‘Yes, I understand,’ she said. ‘Your plan is to watch for physical traps and spells, all the while keeping me close to you – Goddess knows how far into this tomb of yours. But if you stray more than a few feet from me, you believe you could be killed. That sounds … dangerous. Can’t you see it would be easier for you to have my full-hearted, half-share cooperation? Why is it so hard to promise a fair part of anything we find? I am vital to you in this.’ She waited for a time, but he only stared, his jaw set. ‘I can’t believe you won’t make a gesture of goodwill. You might need me on your side before this is over, Daw Threefold. You might need a willing partner.’
Threefold tugged her reins and let her ambling packhorse catch up so they rode side by side over the black sands.
‘Dear, sweet Nancy,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘If I tie you up, I can drag you along the ground as I go into the tomb. I will have all the benefits, with none of the cost of cutting you in.’ He gave a sour smile. ‘Though I may be short, I am yet strong enough for that.’
‘You would be taking a risk,’ Nancy grumbled, frowning. ‘You don’t know what’s in there. What if you need both hands? I am surprised at you, Daw Threefold. You won’t offer five parts of ten? Without me, you have no chance at all.’
Daw Threefold clamped his mouth on his reply, considering that a full night and day lay before him and that talking dried the throat. She would surely not continue the conversation the whole way there.
Tellius felt his stomach clench in fear as guard whistles sounded, first on the balcony above and then quickly echoed in the street outside. There were still small groups of shocked people milling around by the huge outer door. Even as he had the thought of pushing through them, two of Aurelius’ students moved to block the only way out to sunlight and freedom. They were ready for him to try and run, he could see that much.
He bent down to speak to Arthur, keeping his voice low.
‘You should go, son. Just stroll out now, nice and easy like a walk in the park, all right? If they try and stop you, run all the way back to the workshop. Ask Micahel what to do. Understand?’
Arthur looked up at him and slowly shook his head.
‘Go on, boy! Before it’s too late.’
Tellius glared at him until the moment had been lost and the door to the street was closed and guarded.
‘Damnation,’ he said softly. Tellius took a deep breath and went back to where he had stood before, settling himself on the low stone wall to wait for the guards. He adjusted his coat collar and tried very hard to look as if his heart wasn’t threatening to burst through his breastbone.
He and the lads above the apothecary avoided any contact with the King’s Men, because nothing good ever came of speaking to them. The guards settled no justice on those who didn’t pay their wages. All they brought was fear and retribution, beatings and the cells – and in the end, the rope.
Arthur came to sit by him when Tellius patted the rail at his side. The boy stared over at the body lying on the rushes and Tellius could see strain on Arthur’s face for the first time.
‘Golem?’ Tellius murmured, sensing Arthur look up. The old man had heard of them, of course, though he’d never thought he might meet one. The legends described them as untiring soldiers, terrifying killers who would march right through an enemy army, obedient and merciless, with a sword in each hand. Tellius shuddered. His people had been responsible for some abominations, it was true, but nothing like this, not that he’d ever heard.
No one even knew how to make the things any more. Like all the great spells, the knowledge had been lost. Yet it did not answer the question. Who would make a golem the size and shape of a little boy? Tellius reached over and ran his thumb across Arthur’s cheek, feeling the pliancy and give of flesh. The lad did not flinch or move away, though Tellius realised he could have. It was astonishing work. He would never have known.
‘I thought you could not speak,’ Tellius said softly, too low for Aurelius’ pupils to hear.
Arthur did not respond, not even to shrug. Tellius raised his eyebrows in rebuke.
‘I heard you, Arthur, with these ears, you see. You cannot go back to silence now.’
The boy looked afraid, he realised. From instinct, Tellius began to talk, to calm himself as well as the golem watching him.
‘I suppose I should thank you, Arthur. Hmm. I imagine you have another name. Do you know it?’
The boy shrugged.
‘Well, I’ll call you Arthur … Quick, until you tell me another. You saved my life, sunshine. Master Aurelius would not have been satisfied with my humiliation, not this time. Yet I am the one to blame. I am sorry, lad. I … should not have let you show what you can do, not to him. I should not have come here today. I am too old to have so much pride, and so the blame for this is all on me. It was my fault and not yours. Do you understand that?’
Arthur nodded slowly, then patted him on the arm. As he did so, Tellius guessed why a golem would be made in the image of a boy, perhaps a boy who had died centuries before.
‘Did you have a mother once?’ Tellius asked.
Arthur looked up at him with huge eyes. After an age, he nodded again.
‘Ah, lad. I am sorry.’ A grieving mother of the old empire, perhaps one who cared nothing for cost. For all Tellius knew, Arthur Quick had been created to replace the lost child of a queen or some great lady. Yet golems did not age or change. Their animating force could not grow with them. To make a child! Tellius had never even heard of such a thing.
It was a great sin to have done so, he thought, however it had come about. Tellius could only close his eyes at the thought of the boy watching all those he knew age and wither. Perhaps they had looked after him at first, for a lifetime even, doted on him as a beloved son. Yet after a hundred years, after two, he would have been utterly alone, forgotten by those who had made him, left to wander the world.
The captain of the king’s guard paid no attention at first to the old man and the boy sitting in patched clothes on the low wall. Tellius watched as two brutish-looking fellows were sent to stand over him, while the captain removed his peaked hat to speak respectfully to the pupils of Aurelius. No doubt they were the sons and daughters of noble families, paying fortunes for their instruction. Certainly the guardsman seemed very eager to please. The captain actually bowed as they replied to him.
Tellius could feel the man’s gaze flicker over in his direction as the students described and mimed what they had seen, making sharp jabbing motions in the air and pointing to Arthur. The old man kept his gaze low as the captain strode across the yard at last, filled almost to bursting with his own importance.
‘The boy was defending me,’ Tellius said before the captain could manage a single word. ‘This is a tragic accident, not a crime.’
‘So you may desire me to believe,’ the man replied with scorn. ‘Now. My name is Captain D’Estaing of the King’s Men. I have three witnesses who say you knew Master Aurelius and taunted him to rage – then had this boy stab him from behind.’
Tellius felt his heart beat even faster. Was it possible they had not heard Arthur’s words in the scuffle and grunt of the attack? He could find a way out if they had not.
‘Not boy,’ Arthur said firmly. ‘Golem.’
‘Oh, really, Arthur,’ Tellius snapped. ‘You could not have picked a worse time.’
‘Whoever or whatever you are, you are both under arrest for unlawful killing,’ Captain D’Estaing said. ‘You will be searched and taken to a cell. A legal representative will be summoned for you, if you cannot afford one. You will be brought to trial no later than one week from the date of your arrest.’
The captain spoke the words in a dulled rush, as if he had said them a thousand times before. Yet as he spoke, his eyes gleamed with fascination at the golem who looked like a young boy.
‘You cannot arrest a child less than twelve years old,’ Tellius said. ‘He is below the age of criminal responsibility.’
‘Unless he is not a child,’ D’Estaing went on, peering.
Tellius waved his hand.
‘It is just a game, sir. Arthur is my son, I will vouch for him.’ He sensed the boy looking over at him, but Tellius kept his gaze on the captain, willing him to agree.
D’Estaing shook his head.
‘Whatever he is, three upstanding subjects say he stabbed Master Aurelius and killed him. I do not think I will let him go, no. I suspect my superiors will want to see this boy.’ The captain lost his wondering stare, his manner suddenly brisk. ‘Come along, meneer. Make this easy on us all. Master Aurelius lies dead, Goddess take his soul. The city will be in mourning and I suspect I would have to take you into custody to protect you from the mobs. Do not make this difficult for me, especially in front of … your son.’
Tellius made a slight bow and the guards swept in around him as he walked out to the street. The news was spreading quickly and hundreds of eyes turned to see. Tellius felt Arthur reach for his hand and he almost pulled away, but then took it. Together, he and Arthur left the Masters’ Court behind, without looking back at the man they had killed.
7
Elias
Elias put his feet down again as the cage was upended, so that he stood upright, on a floor of thick matting. He recognised the general’s command tent from the few moments he had spent in it before. The soldiers trooped out and only Deeds remained, looking at him through the bars.
‘I promised you a single day,’ Elias said. ‘And yet here I am, still a prisoner.’
To his surprise, Deeds looked away, flushing slightly.
‘That does not sit well with me, meneer. I prefer to keep my word. You know there are times when it is impossible. I am sorry, as I said.’
‘What news of my wife and daughters? Can you at least tell me that much? Did the doctor get out to them? Come on, Mr Deeds. You must owe me that.’
Deeds clenched his fists in a brief spasm, though whether it was in anger or embarrassment, Elias couldn’t tell. The gunfighter was not an easy man to read. Deeds stepped closer and Elias thought he might have said something more if not for the sound of others approaching the far side of the tent, some forty feet away across the damp interior. Instead, Deeds stood back, his expression blank.
Elias forgot everything else when he recognised the voice of his youngest, Alice, six years old and busy explaining an endless story to the general walking at her side. The small group came to a halt some dozen paces from the cage. His two daughters were gazing up at General Justan and he was listening to them, fully aware of Elias watching.
Elias put his hand through the bars, helplessly. He could hear a roar in his ears that drowned all other sounds. His oldest daughter looked up and her eyes widened.
‘Daddy!’ Jenny said in surprise. She rushed up to the bars, the general forgotten. Elias took hold of the hand she put in his, enclosing it completely. It broke his heart to feel how small it was. ‘What are you doing in there, Dad? Are you a prisoner?’
‘Well, perhaps General Justan can tell us,’ Elias said. His voice was as light as he could make it. He forced a smile so as not to alarm his girls, though it was not a kind expression. He had been a hunter all his life and the gaze he turned on General Justan held a promise of bloodshed. The general nodded as he watched, as if he had finally confirmed something he had doubted before.
‘Jenny, dear. Come back and stand with little Alice, would you? Your father and I are playing a game. He has to guess what I want him to do – and I can’t let him out until he does. That’s it, dear. Stand with your sister. Goodness, what charming girls you both are.’
‘Where is my …’ Elias began. He broke off as General Justan shook his head sharply, almost as a conspirator. To Elias’ astonishment, the general raised a finger to his lips.
‘She is back at home, Meneer Post. My doctor was able to treat these dear girls, bringing them to the hospital in camp while they recovered. They left your wife asleep. I will … send word when she wakes.’
His expression was dark and Elias knew then that his wife had been dead when the doctor reached her. He gripped the bars, wanting to roar or weep or strike someone. First Jenny, then Alice sensed the rage and grief in him, for all he tried to hide it and beam at them through tears. Jenny began to sob and would have rushed to him, but the general took her by the arm. She struggled wildly to pull away then, like a cat finding its paw caught. General Justan swore as she scratched him. The youngest, Alice, began to wail in fear, standing alone and making a noise to fill the entire tent.
Elias felt his grief burn off in the heat of his anger. The rage was more immediate and he had to struggle not to fight the bars. He knew he was helpless. He was just feet from his own daughters but could do nothing to save them. That was what the general wanted him to know.
Elias understood Deeds had been right that a bargain would be made. His service, for the lives of his girls. He realised then why Deeds had looked so ashamed of himself.
‘Come now, Jenny, Alice. Settle down,’ Elias called over the noise of his weeping girls. ‘We are guests here. Anyway, I think I can guess the answer now.’
General Justan clapped his hands, startling both of the girls to silence. Alice stared red-eyed at him, still on the edge of sobbing.
‘How clever your father is!’ the general said, though his eyes glittered. ‘I should open the cage door then, of course!’
The two girls began to smile and snivel once more. Alice held out chubby hands to her father. Still babyish, she wanted to be picked up. The sight of it made Elias hollow with pain.
‘Come on, Daddy. Say it!’ Jenny called to her father. The general no longer held her arm and she looked from one to the other in confused suspicion, trying to understand.
‘I’m afraid it is a secret, girls,’ General Justan said. ‘Run along now. Mr Deeds here will show you the camp kitchen and find something for you to eat. Why, you must be starving! Your father will see you later on, when we have finished our game, of course.’
‘No!’ Jenny ran to the bars. Alice would have followed her if Deeds hadn’t swept her up. She bawled in his arms, shrieking and struggling, going red. The gunfighter winced at the high sound close to his ear.
‘It’s all right, girls!’ Elias said. ‘Settle down. I’ll be along in a while. Honestly, what would your mother say if she could hear you? Come on now. No more caterwauling.’
‘You’ll come later? You promise?’ Jenny asked him.
He nodded, though he could feel Deeds watching.
‘Of course, love. I promise. I’ll come for you.’
Deeds cleared his throat and ushered her away, though Alice clawed the air over his shoulder, her screaming like a saw blade in green wood. Still, they went and silence returned.
General Justan approached the bars.
‘I am sorry about that – and sorry about your wife, meneer. You must know I would have saved her if I could, if only to have her look after the girls. As it is, one of the women in camp will have to be a nurse to them.’
‘What do you want from me?’ Elias Post said. ‘What could ever justify threatening my daughters?’
‘I did not intend them to become distressed, meneer. They have no sense of being in danger, I promise you. They will not be threatened. I just wanted you to see that I had them. You do not know all the orders I have given. Perhaps you would not want to. Yet when I let you out of this cage, you will know you can’t kill me – and you can’t run. Do you understand that? My intention was to find a way to hold you still, a man who can step aside from anything. Iron bars have their uses, but you are not much good to me in a cage, do you see? I need you to be able to move, to travel. Wherever I send you, your daughters are your bars, your guarantee.’
