16

Treachery and Temperance

The night was old when Delen woke her quietly. Midnight was passed and it was at least two hours before the next twilight. The room was dark and cold, the stone floor of the dormitory frigid. They dressed silently and quickly, trying to expose as little skin to the air as possible in the process. Candle shrugged on her new gambeson, which was at least two sizes too big for her, fingers fumbling in the dark. The quilted cotton felt strange and stiff beneath her fingers, but it was wonderfully warm.

"Wait till you have to wear it in the summer," whispered Delen. Once dressed Candle tiptoed after her through the dormitory without waking the rest of the women.

"We'll meet the others in the mess to pick up breakfast," said Delen, in Candle's ear as they entered the darkened passageway outside, "then we head out to the watchtower."

The Keep was quiet at this hour, and those people who were out and about were either yawning early risers or those coming in from the Black Watch looking for their beds. The corridor, like the dormitory, was chilly and dimly lit. At the top of the great stone staircase, Candle paused, one foot suspended over thin air.

From the hall below a loud, familiar voice floated up the stairwell. A voice that struck fear into her very bones. There was no mistaking that voice. Rasmus was here. Her brother had come to find her.

Candle shrank back against the wall, desperately seeking the deep shadows. Delen carried on down the stairs, not noticing Candle had stopped.

"I said I'm looking for my sister," Rasmus's voice was strident and commanding, floating up the stairwell with alarming clarity. He sounded in control of himself but Candle could hear the edge, just under the surface. Who was he talking to? "She's about this high," Rasmus continued, "thin, with light brown skin and black hair. Her eyes are blue, like a wight, so she's hard to miss. She's sixteen but looks younger."

"Why in the Night would you be expecting to find your sister here, Lord Rasmus?" came the clear and unruffled voice of Lady Dantalion. Candle's heart lurched in her chest. Carefully, inching forward she peeked over the stone bannister. There they were, the figures that haunted her nightmares: Her brother and his demon blending into the shadows of the night. The Mester stood in front of him with a face like stone, her enormous demon at her shoulder. Candle drew back and sat with her back against the comforting stone of the wall, her heart thumping.

"Has your sister committed a crime?" asked the Mester, her voice ringing up the stairwell.

"No, of course not-"

"Then why would you expect to find her here? Now, if you'll excuse me I am very busy..."

There was a strained silence and Candle couldn't resist the urge to peek over the bannister again to see what was happening. Rasmus was blocking the Mester's exit, one angry arm against the wall. The Mester's expression could have turned a wight to stone. Candle wondered if Rasmus had finally met his match.

"She's ill," said Rasmus, controlling his face with some effort. "She ran away from home about a week ago and we are all very worried. She imagines things sometimes ...and gets a bit hysterical." Candle tensed. Rasmus sounded so reasonable, he always did. The Mester would put two and two together, and she would be sent back to Hanternos. And everyone would think they were doing her a favour, saving the poor, confused, mad girl.

"I assure you, syr," said the Mester, and her tone would have cut through ice. "There is no one here going by the name of what was it? Candle Enys. Now, if you will excuse me," she pushed open the door and gestured towards the moongate in the courtyard. She stood there waiting, polite and unmoving, until Rasmus turned on his heel without a word. The Mester waited for him to disappear through the gate and then walked back into the keep. She glanced up the dark stairwell.

"Meraud Loveday," she said, quietly, "a word in my office."

Delen appeared at the door looking confused. She must have got halfway down the path before realising Candle was missing.

"Delen," said the Mester. "Please tell Jory that Meraud is with me."

"Yes, syr," said Delen, and ran off, looking worried. The Mester turned on her heel and Candle slunk after her, heart thumping.

The Mester ushered her into her office and shut the door behind them. She gestured for Candle to be seated in one of the chairs and turned to take off her travelling cloak, a subdued witch light bobbing overhead. Candle sat and tried not to look at the demon. It stood behind the Mester like a deadly shadow. The edges of it rippled gently in a breeze Candle could not feel, its face - its face melted and indistinct. What she could see was terrible.

The Mester turned, leaning on her desk wearily.

"Do I have the pleasure of addressing Lady Enys?" she said, not unkindly. "Lady Candle Enys?" Candle nodded. "Aetheling daughter of Border Lord and Lady Enys?"

"Yes."

The Mester collapsed in her chair with a sigh, rubbing her eye.

"Your brother is a charmer."

Candle's response was a barely audible gasp of air as she tried to speak. She wanted to tell the Mester that Rasmus had a demon, that he might be going to kill someone. That he might have already killed someone, that he wanted to kill her... The Mester might be able to help if she could get the words out, but the pain of her brother's spell was too intense. Even here, he managed to control her. She stopped trying to speak and the pain lessened.

"What a mess," said the Mester, looking up. "I assume then, that you are not at all blind?"

Candle shook her head.

"Show me," she said, and such was her tone that Candle dared not refuse. She removed the blindfold with one shaking hand. She looked up at The Mester, briefly, and then stared at the floor like the Candle of old, hugging her knees.

The Mester whistled through her teeth. She got up with exaggerated casualness and stood leaning against the door, her arms folded. Her movement was nonchalant but Candle did not miss its significance. She breathed deeply, trying to keep her mind clear from the mist of fear.

"Those eyes are rather striking," the Mester said, musingly. She drew out a small silver dagger and started cleaning her nails. Candle looked at the blade with wide eyes, then quickly looked back at the floor. "I can see why you keep them covered. Now listen to me, my lady. I am perhaps the only living expert in demonic magic outside of the Teurek Territories. I love Havi with all my heart and my life's mission is to protect it from all and any that would bring harm. Now, with that in mind, answer me this, and have a care that you answer me truthfully." Candle nodded, eyes wide. "Are you a demon worshipper?"

"No."

"Have you ever used moon silver as a drug?"

"No."

"Have you ever given anything to a demon?" Candle shook her head. "Answer me."

"No!"

The Mester paused, waiting, Candle knew to see if her pet demon would tell her Candle lied. To her relief it said nothing.

"Have you ever killed or intentionally hurt another human?"

"No!"

"Hmm," said the Mester, relaxing, her face breaking into a smile as she looked down at the miserable girl. She pocketed the blade and leant back against the door, her friendly manner back as if it had never left. "Interesting. Did your parents really name you Candle? I know Lord and Lady Enys are incredibly ...um 'creative' but really-"

"No," said Candle, "they didn't name me anything."

"Why not?"

"There's something wrong with me." It was hard to say it out loud.

"What do you mean?" asked the Mester. "The eye colour is a little startling, I admit but still-"

"It's not just my eyes," said Candle, her voice low. "The Ancestor's don't hear me. I cannot do magic. I can't do anything. I don't even know if I have a soul." The Mester crouched down next to her rested a hand on Candle's arm. Candle couldn't stop herself from shuddering at the touch. "Please don't send me back," said Candle. "I like it here." Despite your demon.

"Of course you have a soul!" said the Mester. "I've seen soulless creatures...I've seen plenty and while it is true that some of their eyes are blue, they are hollow inside, mere puppets of flesh, mockeries of life. You have a soul, child, believe me. I would know." She squeezed Candle's arm and then withdrew it when she realised it was making Candle uncomfortable.

Neither Candle nor the Mester spoke for a while, the Mester lost in thought, Candle drawing strength from the older woman's proclamation of her humanity.

"How do you know that your gift of magical sight is not from the Ancestors?" asked the Mester, at last.

"D-do you really think it could be?"

"I'm no priest," said the Mester, "but if all magical ability is a gift from the Ancestors then surely it follows...Perhaps your Ancestor's possessed different gifts."

Candle sat, dumbstruck as she pondered this idea.

"I don't know," she said slowly. "I want it to be true but it doesn't feel the same. My devotions don't have any effect on what I see."

"Are you sure?" Candle nodded. "Well it's a mystery to be sure, and one that needs more time and consideration than I currently have-"

There was a knock at the door. Arthwg stuck his head around seeking the Mester anxiously. There were several people crowded behind him in the dark hallway. Dawn was still at least an hour away.

"Sorry to disturb, syr," he said. "We heard you were back and wondered if you had word from the Kenning?"

"Yes," she said, her expression grim. "We are not to engage. But I'll be finished with...Meraud...in a moment. Please wait for me in the green training room, I'll be with you shortly."

Arthwg shut the door with a click, and the Mester turned back to Candle, frowning.

"Your abilities warrant further examination," she said, "and I hope to put them to good use. But time is short. Let me be blunt. Your ladyship puts me in a difficult position. Your father is a prominent member of the Kenning whose bidding I am duty bound to obey. Your brother claims that you are not of sound mind-" She held up her hands as Candle made to protest. "However, I did not rise to my current station in life by being bullied by aetheling lordlings, I shall draw my own conclusions, but I must do it quickly as there is much work to be done. Tell me now, why did you run away from home?"

"They don't care about me," said Candle. If she didn't talk about Rasmus she was fine, she wouldn't choke. And her parents didn't care. "I wasn't wanted. They kept me locked up all the time. They are ashamed of me." Candle stopped, embarrassed by her passionate confession.

"Was that the only reason?"

"Yes."

"Liar. Burn her."

The Mester paused to consider. Candle knew she could not admit to Candle how she knew she was lying... The Mester tried another avenue of questioning.

"And why does your brother say you are not of sound mind?"

Candle stilled. This was dangerous ground.

"Because...because of the things I see."

"And what do you see?"

Candle didn't answer. How could she with the demon staring at her? It was all she could do not to make eye contact with it. Her eyeballs felt dry from the effort of not looking. She felt the sweat trickle down the back of her neck despite the cold.

"Candle? What do you see? What do you see that makes your family accuse you of madness?"

Candle looked at her hands.

"I see magic in the runes and the walls, and when people burn their devotions," she said.

"Is that all? Answer me, please?"

"Yes."

There was a pause.

"Liar," came the soft, sibilant hiss. "She lies."

The Mester exhaled softly.

"There has been some trouble in Hanternos recently," she said, speculatively. "Missing livestock, increased wight activity. Missing children. Now I have found one of the missing children," her lip twisted into a semblance of a smile. "Tell me Candle - have you ever seen a demon?"

"Yes," said Candle. Evasion was pointless, she would know if she lied.

"More than once?"

"Yes."

"So you can see-" the Mester's knuckles turned white, and two red spots of colour appeared on her pale cheeks. "-You can see demons?" Candle nodded, afraid to lift her eyes.

"Oh dear," said the Mester, glancing up at the demon next to her. "I'm afraid this changes everything."