17

Violence and Visitation

The Mester locked the door in one swift motion. She leaned against it, sighing, then pushed her hair back with one hand. Candle could see the telltale sparkle of glamour in her hair and around her eyes. She wondered how far gone the Mester was. She didn't act erratically like Rasmus, and no one here seemed to have noticed the signs, despite being trained wight hunters.

"Have you told anyone about this?"

"No," said Candle, at once, backing away slowly. She bumped into the desk. "And I never will."

"I can't take that chance," said the Mester, straightening up. "I can't let you tell anyone. I don't expect you to understand, but everything I do, I do to protect this country and its people. I can't have you messing that up..."

"Are you going to kill me?" asked Candle. She felt surprisingly calm.

"Just a geis," said the Mester, "just a drop of blood, and then everything can go back to normal, with no one the wiser-"

She moved faster than Candle thought was humanly possible, grabbing one of Candle's wrists in a vice-like grip and slashing at her palm with the silver dagger she had been hiding behind her back. The shallow cut welled red as Candle cried out in shock, crashing backwards against the stone wall. The Mester's eyes flashed a vivid, unnatural blue as the great demon bent and delicately licked Candle's blood from the blade. The midnight cloud of him expanded briefly, ink-like tentacles of darkness trickling across the room.

"Bind her, Moloch," said the Mester, tears glimmering in her eyes. "Bind her so she is unable to speak of you to another." She paused, looking down at Candle, her eyes glassy and amended. "She may speak to me of your presence but only when we are alone."

"It is done, Mistress," hissed the grotesque creature and Candle gasped as a greasy black web of magic hissed into being and sank into her skin. She tried, ineffectually to brush it off but it did no good.

"If you want to leave I won't stop you," said the Mester, sinking into her chair, and brushing her hair back over her forehead. "I wouldn't blame you. I have given you no reason to trust me. But please understand, I work for good, for the protection of Havi and I would like you to stay. I think you would make a valuable member of the Ancestors Own."

Candle was too shocked to say anything. She could barely understand the Mester's words. Her ears were ringing and her legs felt weak. She kept staring at her skin where the sickening net of foul magic had vanished. Was this what Rasmus had done to her? When she had been too young to remember?

"I won't hurt you," continued the Mester, "and neither will my demon. I keep him for people who truly deserve to die horrible deaths." She exchanged a glance with the demon, which smiled at her, its mouth leaking shadow, drooping like melted wax.

"I mean it," she said, to Candle, who was still curled up against the wall, making herself as small as possible. "This place is a place of atonement, yes, but also of refuge. You have a home with us as long as you wish it. Please consider staying."

Candle didn't have the courage to reply. The Mester finally lapsed into guilt-stricken silence and they sat together in the dimly lit room, the demon drifting between them like an ominous cloud.

"Well you don't have to decide right now," said the Mester, resting her head in her hands. "I really am sorry, you know. One day maybe you will understand. But I must protect this place, this country by any means...now more than ever. I know it sounds...hypocritical. But when this world is purged of all evil you can hold the knife that ends my life."

Candle shuddered and the Mester stared at her, guilt-stricken.

"Be on your way, child," she said, awkwardly, "and blessings of the Ancestors upon you, whatever you decide." She unlocked the door and swung it open wide, moving away from it so that Candle could go past without getting too close.

"I will keep your secrets Candle Enys, as you shall keep mine. Now I hope we will speak again soon, under happier circumstances." Candle ran for the door. "Don't forget your blindfold-"

Candle stumbled down the hall, her mind reeling. She had to find somewhere to hide. Somewhere she could be alone. It had been a mistake returning to Gwavas. The hallways were full of the Ancestors Own making their way to breakfast before the dawn bell. It was all too oppressive, there were too many people. She wanted to be somewhere quiet and somewhere safe. Somewhere far away from any demons. She needed to be outside. She ran through the throng of people. Distantly she heard someone calling for her but she ignored them and ran.

She burst out of the keep into the night startling the Gate Guardian, who yelled something after her. She ignored him too and kept on going, trusting her legs to take her somewhere safe. She skirted around a storage building and the large forge, down the hill away from the curtain wall and ducked at last behind a small disused shed. She scaled the wall of one of the stone storerooms in easy bounds and huddled herself into a corner under the eave, her breathing noisy in her own ears as panic still flooded her veins.

After some time her breathing slowed a little and she crawled out and stretched out with her arms behind her head. Lying on the cold slate roof no one would be able to see her and she could look up at the dimming stars. The great iron bell of the Keep tolled out the warning for twilight. Candle didn't move.

She should be fine up here, she was within the protective walls of the compound. She stared up at the first flush of dawn staining the sky purple and concentrated her entire being on the view before her, losing herself in the great dome of the sky. Her hand was stinging so she absentmindedly tore off a strip of cloth from her shirt and wrapped it around her palm. The twilight was cold and the wind snatched at her hair as she lay, tickling its icy fingers up and down her cold face. She took off her blindfold so she could see better and slowly relaxed as she watched the stars fade away into the silver of the morning.

A rush of wind made her sit up. She nearly fell off the shingles at the sight of Jotham standing over her and grinning from ear to ear.

"Hello darling," he said, "I see you found the other humans."

"Night," she said, vehemently, lying back down on the roof. Maybe if she closed her eyes he would disappear. She squeezed them shut for a while and then cracked one open again. He was still there, head on one side like a very large, very curious cat. Annoyance was writ large in every line of his body.

"This isn't a social visit," he said.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, sitting up. "What can I help you with this time? Do you need me to sew on a button? Or make you a sandwich?"

He handed her a small dagger, hilt first, which she took out of reflex. She held it up, awkwardly.

"What do you want me to do with this?" she asked, then drew in a breath as he twisted to show her his side. It was a mess of torn and bloody flesh. Three small balls of metal were buried in his flesh. He was losing a lot of blood. How was he still smiling?

"Get them out please," he said.

"I don't want to hurt you," Candle murmured as she bent over to get a better look. She could see better with every passing moment as the sun rose steadily from behind the Enchantments.

"Having them in hurts more than anything you can do to get them out," he reassured her. "Fortunately they are lead, not iron, as I first thought. I'll heal up quickly once the metal's out."

"Alright then," said Candle, "sit still-"

She approached him cautiously, putting one hand on his shoulder to steady herself. She drew breath for courage then, using the tip of the blade she dug out the first. It made a sickening thud as it landed on the slate. Jotham snarled, and she jumped back, wobbling at the edge of the roof and clutching the bloody dagger. He gestured for her to continue, sweat trickling down his brow, the wide smile turned into a grimace.

"Go on!" he said through clenched teeth. Bracing herself she dug out the second, and then rapidly moved on to the third. Veins of magic mottled his skin, knitting it together as soon as the last ball left his flesh. He sighed in relief and stretched his arms up over his head, looking as relaxed as if he'd just woken up from a nap.

"That's better," he said, cracking a shoulder.

"That's two you owe me," said Candle, handing back his dagger, carefully, as if the blade might bite her.

"One!" he said, affronted. "Barely even one. Not only did I lead you out of the mountain but I found you this glorious herd of humans to live with." He spread his arms wide, encompassing the whole of Gwavas in their sweep.

Candle snorted.

"So how did it happen..." she waved vaguely at his torso, where the skin was now clean and unbroken. The bloody rags of his shirt were the only visible evidence of the wounds that had so recently been there.

"There is a singularly aggressive breed of human camped at the bay in the south," he said, glancing in the direction of Sterlester. "I got too close to one of their airships. I won't make that mistake again." He grinned a wild, feral smile. "And neither will they."

"Airships?" asked Candle.

"They fly through the air," he said, "in great dirty vessels belching smoke and ash. Their weapons, however, are quite effective. Especially against other humans. You would be wise to avoid them."

"I heard they killed everyone at Sterlester," said Candle shivering. "Why would anyone do that?"

Jotham shrugged.

"Why do humans do anything?" he asked philosophically.

The great bell boomed, signalling the end of twilight. Candle and Jotham watched the sunrise in silence, Jotham sitting on his haunches, Candle leaning against the chimney stack. After a while Candle lay back down with a sigh of satisfaction as the sun reached her.

"It's a good spot for a nap," said Jotham.

"It is," she said, and shut her eyes. She had had enough excitement for one day and it had barely started. She wasn't planning on moving for a while. She heard a thud and opened one eye to see Jotham stretched out beside her, like a starfish, nearly filling the roof. He prodded his newly healed side cautiously then lifted his head.

"Have you got any snacks?" he asked.

"No."

"What a pity."

The roof was a good sun trap and Candle fell asleep with the sun warming her. When she woke up Jotham was gone.