I have not felt so at home since … since before Dirk and Sholto went away, Rye thought dreamily. At the same moment he felt the armour shell freeing itself from his fingertip. It had sensed that he had relaxed. Quickly he caught it and stuffed it back into the brown bag, twisting a little aside so that no one would see.
As he turned back to the table there was a stir. Chieftain Farr was leading his smiling lady into the circle of dancers. Benches quickly emptied as people jumped up to join the widening ring.
‘Oh, imagine dancing with Farr!’ cried the cheery woman, looking hopefully at Dirk. And in a moment Dirk was on his feet, gallantly offering her his hand.
‘You too,’ he hissed at Sholto over his shoulder. ‘Talk as you dance! This is our chance to find a few things out at last!’
Dirk had not thought to ask Rye, and for this Rye was profoundly grateful. He sat unnoticed on the end of the empty bench, smiling as Sholto bowed stiffly to a young woman with yellow bows in her hair and led her away with a sour look on his face. Sholto hated dancing.
Rye wondered how Sonia felt about it. He wondered if she had woken. He called her softly in his mind but received no reply.
Leave her be, he told himself. You do not need Sonia at your elbow every moment. He slid round on the bench, turning his back on the dancers.
The other side of the square was now almost deserted. The chieftain’s son, Zak, was solemnly inspecting a solitary peddler’s collection of brightly glazed pottery animals while his old nurse vanished into the little maze of stalls in a side street. As Rye watched, the boy suddenly made his choice and proudly handed a coin to the peddler.
His last sale made, the peddler closed his tray and departed. Zak was left alone. For a moment he stood patiently waiting for his nurse to return, then his attention seemed to be attracted by something nearby. Rye squinted to see what the boy was looking at. At first he could see nothing, then, suddenly, he caught a glimpse of something extraordinary.
A shining bubble was floating in mid-air, an arm’s length from Zak’s nose. The boy stretched out his hand, but the bubble moved a little away from him. He hesitated, then ran after it. The bubble drifted again, towards a shadowy doorway, and again the boy followed.
A creeping chill trickled down Rye’s spine. Instinctively he rose, then realised that he should not approach the boy alone. However he felt about this place and its people, he was a stranger. He should not draw attention to himself. He looked around for help, looked back at Zak, and felt a surge of relief as he saw someone he recognised moving out of the darkness of the doorway.
Then sweat broke out on his forehead. As the familiar features emerged from the gloom, they were changing. They were melting, and reforming. The skin was thickening, bulging and splitting till the head, limbs and swollen body were shapeless masses of rough bark sprouting fat tongues of white fungus. The eyes were dark green holes. The hair was brightening, standing out from the head like crackling flames. Great, thorny claws were sprouting from the outstretched hands. And Zak screamed like a baby goat in peril as the shining bubble burst in his face and the monster leaped at him, claws reaching, wide jaws gaping like a trap.
Rye leaped at the same moment, with all the power of the speed ring behind him. His only weapon was the bell tree stick, but the stick was in his hand as he threw himself between the beast and the child.
Dimly he heard screams of alarm and the sounds of running feet. He thought he felt Sonia wake and cry out to him. He felt a great thud as the monster collided with him. He was blinded by a flash of white light …
Then his head struck the ground, and there was only darkness.
7 - The Stranger
Rippling. Chugging. The feeling of movement. A narrow bed. A blanket, soft beneath his fingers. Two voices murmuring, one low and husky, the other older and harsher. The smell of warm metal mingled with a faint lemony scent …
He struggled to remember what had happened to him, but memory would not come. His head ached. His mind was a maze of shadows. Injured, he thought. I have been injured. But how … why?
‘Zak is with Farr on deck,’ the husky voice said. ‘Already he has almost recovered from his fright.’
‘It’s all my fault,’ the harsher voice answered. ‘I’d never have left him, only he was taking so long to choose, and when that lying messenger came saying there was another buyer for that shawl I wanted, I. …
‘Do not blame yourself, Petronelle,’ the husky voice whispered. ‘How could you have known it was a trick to lure you away at the right moment?’
‘I should have known. I should have guessed—’ The harsh old voice broke off in a sob.
‘That is foolish talk!’ the husky voice chided gently. ‘None of us thought that Zak was at risk in Fell End. Perhaps there was danger for Farr—he and I were prepared for that. But Zak—why Zak?’
There was a moment’s silence. The boat chugged. It was a boat, the listener in the bed knew. He did not know what had happened to him. He did not even know his own name. But somehow he knew he was in a boat—and not on the sea, but on a river. A long, narrow river …
The chugging sound deepened. The boat was slowing, stopping.
‘Riverside,’ the husky voice whispered. ‘Farr is leaving us here. I wish he was not, but it is necessary after what happened. He must be the one who tells the story or rumours will spread like wildfire.’
‘I don’t understand why we aren’t leaving the young stranger in Riverside with the other wounded,’ the harsh voice rasped. ‘While he is with us, Zak’s memory of that horror will stay fresh. Better the child forgets.’
‘Zak is not so fragile, Petronelle. And Farr and I want to keep the stranger close. He risked his life to save our son. He deserves our every care.’
‘He’d get good care at Riverside. You can’t fool me, Janna—I’ve known you too long. Farr wants the boy under his eye—you might as well admit it!’
There was a low, rueful laugh. ‘You are right, of course. Farr wants to question him when he has recovered. He may have seen something before the attack—’
‘We all saw what happened, Janna! The beast spat white fire. It felled all who stood against it, and then it vanished. It was a thing of sorcery! You saw what it looked like! You know who sent it perfectly well!’
The beast …
Hideous images flashed into the mind of the listener in the bed. Hide like bark, hair like fire, craggy jaws gaping like a trap.
With the flashes came hot, pounding pain. He groaned.
There was a rustle of skirts. A soft hand touched his forehead. The lemony scent wafted over him.
‘You are safe,’ he heard the husky voice say. ‘But your head is injured, so you must try to keep it still.’
He felt a thudding jolt, heard rough shouts and the sound of wood squeaking on wood.
‘Where …?’ His voice was a thin croak.
‘You are in our barge. We are taking you downriver to where you can be cared for properly. Do not try to talk any more. Rest now.’
Noise outside. Chain rattling. Voices …
‘Gently now … badly burned …’
‘… the worst of them with us. Another thirty or so still at Fell End.’
‘… straight for young Zak! In another moment he’d have been …’
‘… the last straw for Farr. Has to be.’
The soft hand was taken away. The skirts rustled. The scent faded a little.
‘I will ask for the shields to be lowered early. That will keep some of the noise out. Look after him, Petronelle. He is not to be left alone—not for a minute.’