Angel Arias (16 page)

When none came she let out her breath and looked around. In the glimpse she got into the downstairs rooms, the furnishings were sparse: bureaus and chairs lined in rows.

Where would they have Markes? Upstairs or in the cellar?

A noise on the landing above decided her to try the cellar. The stairway down would be near the kitchen, so she tiptoed along the dark hall, fearful that each creak of the floorboards would bring someone from the rooms. But the house seemed empty; everyone gone to watch the Deope house.

She’d made a truly huge distraction of her own without meaning to. But where was Jarrold? Did the wardens have him here as well? Had it been his faint shout she’d heard? The cellar door was locked from her side, so she slid back the bolt and began to descend. It was unlit and she held tight to the rough wood banister so as not to trip. As she reached the bottom step, hands grabbed her roughly and pushed her hard against the wall.

‘Stay still or we’ll stick you,’ said a voice she recognised instantly. ‘We’ve got a weapon.’

‘Jarrold!’ she whispered.

‘Naif?’

‘Naif!’ The second voice to utter her name sent her pulse hammering.

‘Markes!’

The hands that had knocked her sideways now reached for her and helped her upright.

‘Are you hurt?’ asked Jarrold with apology in his tone.

‘No. We have a chance to get out now or not at all. Quick. Follow me,’ she replied.

‘But how did you get in?’ asked Markes, in a quavering voice. ‘Did they see you?’

‘I don’t think so. Do you hear that noise? The house we were hiding in, Jarrold – it’s collapsing.’

‘Fross!’ exclaimed Jarrold.

‘Sssh!’ she said fiercely. ‘Come.’

They followed her up the stairs and along to the front door. With their help, Naif pulled it ajar just enough to see out. The warden was still there, speaking to someone, with his back turned to them.

Just as she’d known Jarrold’s and Markes’s voices in the dark, so she knew the figure.

Emilia!

Naif withdrew and looked at the others. Even in the gloom of the hallway, she could see the bruises on Markes’s face and the shadows under his eyes.

‘Emilia’s outside talking to the warden who should be guarding the door. If we go the other way quickly, we have a chance. Don’t stop.’

‘Emilia?’ whispered Markes. ‘She’s here?’

‘She knew we were coming through Deope. She must have seen me in the crowd and realised what I was doing. She had said she would help.’

‘She’s all right, my sister.’ Jarrold grinned. ‘Sometimes.’

Naif made an impatient face. There wasn’t time for their marvelling.

‘We have to go. Now!’ She put her finger to her mouth to signal they should stay quiet and then she beckoned them forward. This time when they opened the door, she stepped out and slid back along the wall and around the corner.

Markes and Jarrold followed, staying close to her and keeping silent until they were a short distance away.

They huddled together inside the door of a building whose occupants, Naif guessed, had gone to watch the collapse. She took in the shelves of tools, the hides stretched on racks and the stench.

‘Over there,’ said Jarrold pointing to a pile of uncured skins. ‘The racks are full, so they won’t be collecting any more today. And no one will come near it for the stink.’

Naif nodded. It was a good idea, though her eyes were watering and she had to swallow to stop gagging.

They scrambled over the moist pile and slid down the other side into a dark corner.

Naif could feel the greasy animal fat and blood on her skin. She placed her hand to her nose trying to filter some of the smell.

The three of them crouched in the corner to talk.

‘Emilia saw us leave,’ said Markes. ‘I’m sure she did. She wanted to come.’

‘How could you know that?’ said Naif.

‘I saw her face and I know her.’

‘We can’t go back, it’s too dangerous. And we’re running out of time,’ said Naif. ‘There’s a secret meeting of the Elders in a few hours. And Ruzalia will be back tonight before the moon rises.’

‘I told Markes what Em found out from Father,’ said Jarrold.

‘Why are they meeting in secret?’ asked Markes.

‘It has to be about the Ripers.’

‘What if it’s about something else? We promised Ruzalia we’d find out about the beads. We can’t go back to her without knowing.’

‘What are beads?’ asked Jarrold.

‘The Ripers give them to you on Ixion. They make you feel . . .’ Markes tapered off.

‘Strange,’ Naif finished for him. ‘You act strangely when you take them.’

‘Sounds cool,’ whispered Jarrold.

Naif thought of the slavering demons she’d imagined. And how she’d danced for Markes, embarrassing herself. ‘Not really.’ Naif turned to Markes. ‘Do you know where Oracion is?’

‘No. I’ve never heard of it.’

Naif couldn’t see either of their faces in the gloom but Markes’s voice sounded shaky.

‘Gurney will know,’ said Jarrold. ‘He lives close by. I know a way there where we won’t be seen.’

‘Can he be trusted?’

But the wardens’ whistles started up outside before Jarrold could answer.

Jarrold led them through several alleys to a penned area full of bleetles and rang-chicks.

‘The hounds won’t be able to scent us through here.’

They scaled the back of a low-roofed produce building and walked across it, descending further along.

Naif wished Jarrod had been with them when they’d arrived. He knew the city so well.

Markes struggled to keep up. He was bruised and covered with cuts and weak from lack of food or water.

‘Jarrold!’ called Naif.

The boy looked back. Markes had dropped a way behind and Naif was caught between them.

‘You have to slow down. He can’t keep up,’ she whispered as Jarrold came back to her.

He went straight to Markes and hooked his shoulder under his friend’s arm. The older boy tried to push him off but Jarrold was stocky and strong and having none of it.

‘It’s not far,
fero
. Just this alley and one more. Be clever for once.’

Markes cuffed Jarrold across the back of the head but then leaned into him gratefully. Naif went to his other side and the three continued down the alley.

Jarrold stopped them just short of the end.

‘Go and see if anyone is about,’ he said to Naif.

Reluctantly, she let go of Markes to creep forward and peer around the corner. At one end of the next alley was a dead end full of crates and sheets of wood. The other side led to the back entrance of a building and, eventually, a sett street.

The building’s back entry was a splintered double-door affair, made even less appealing by the strong smell of horse manure. Naif saw piles of droppings at intervals along the alley, and the moving black layer of dung beetles crawling atop them.

‘The alley’s empty,’ she said over her shoulder.

‘The doors are unlocked. If you go and open them, we’ll come.’

Naif did as he told her.

The iron latch was heavy and took all her strength to lift. Once she shifted it though, the two doors fell easily open on well-oiled hinges.

Jarrold and Markes stumbled across the alley and straight inside.

Naif pulled the doors closed, then turned.

Markes was lying on a large workbench. Jarrold was nowhere to be seen.

She looked around. ‘Where’s he gone? Where are we?’

‘The Deadtaker’s,’ said Markes. ‘Can you find me some water?’

Naif searched the room slowly, feeling her way. The walls, even in the gloom, were plainly lined with coffins of all sizes. She’d never seen inside one before, except in Toola’s burial chamber, and then she’d been thinking only of her friend.

Under one of the work benches she spied a wooden keg. She turned the small tap and fluid trickled onto her fingers. A sniff told her that it was water so she tipped some chisels out of a container on the bench, poured some water into it and took it to him.

After a sip or two he seemed less distressed, and after several more was able to sit up.

Naif leaned close to him so that they could whisper.

‘What did the wardens do to you?’

He closed his eyes and shuddered. ‘I told them where you were. I tried not to but they . . . they . . . used the prodders and . . . other things . . .’ He shuddered. Tears trickled down his face and splashed onto her hand.

She put her finger to his lips. ‘I know what they do. I would have told them too.’ Naif didn’t blame him. Strangely, she felt closer to him now that he’d tasted the wardens’ punishment.

He wiped his face dry with the back of his hand. After a moment he spoke again. ‘Emilia helped us.’ His face was so pinched that she wanted to reach out and stroke his cheek; soothe the lines around his mouth.

‘Yes. She talked to her father. Then she snuck out and told us what she’d learned. She was frightened.’

‘She’s always frightened,’ he said bitterly.

‘Why does her father go to her room at night?’ Naif asked.

Markes put his face in his hands and his whole body trembled. ‘Emilia and her father . . . it’s not right what he does. I-I didn’t know what to do when I found out . . . how to stop it. So I left.’

Naif felt a cold shiver of realisation. ‘You mean her father . . .?’ She couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. Such a thought was unbearable.

Unthinkable.

‘I mean I’m a coward for deserting her.’

‘No!’ said Naif. ‘What could you have done?’

‘What I’m going to do this time. Help her.’

‘You . . . must care for her a lot?’ Naif said softly. The words were hard to say but suddenly necessary. Their future was so uncertain and she had to know.

‘We were . . .
are
friends. She’s clever. When we first met she was so cold and distant but over time it got better. She trusted me. We met alone sometimes in the clock shop.’

‘Jarrold and I escaped through there. She gave us the key.’

Markes shifted position, bringing his knees up and resting his hands on them. She saw the bloody marks on his forearms where the wardens had cut him.

‘She’s not like she seems. Underneath she’s sweet.’

‘Like Cal on Ixion?’ Naif couldn’t keep the edge from her voice.

He looked at her but in the gloom she couldn’t quite make out his expression. ‘People are sometimes really different from what you first think. You have to give them a chance. Like you.’

‘Me?’ she said, startled.

‘You seemed so timid and . . . closed off. But you’re not like that at all really. You’re strong and brave, and when it’s important you say what’s on your mind. But you don’t waste words. I like that.’

Warmth surged through her body. She moved a step away from him to offset the charge of emotion she felt.

‘Would you have stayed and married Emilia if . . . if not for her father?’ she asked.

He took his time before answering. ‘I suppose so. But I didn’t . . . it didn’t happen that way. I went to Ixion and met you and Cal and now . . . I just want Emilia to be safe. I left her because I didn’t know what to do.’ He levered himself slowly off the bench. ‘Your brother and Dark Eve stand up for what they think is right. So do you. This time I’m going to stand up for Emilia.’

Naif nodded, though she doubted he could see it in the dimness. So she walked back and placed her hands on his. ‘I’ll help you.’

He gripped her hard. ‘Why would you do that?’

She took a deep breath. ‘I know what it’s like . . . to be controlled. To be frightened.’

‘Like now?’

She let out her breath. ‘Like now. But like before as well. At home. When the warden came. I was scared of what he’d do to me. I washed with my clothes on.’