36

Spies and Lies

Candle and Locryn stepped through the moongate into the courtyard at Gwavas Keep and into a circle of iron-tipped spears, every one of which was aimed at their chests. Candle bumped into Locryn's back as he raised his hands, palms out.

"Our Own!" shouted the Gate Guardian, and the spears were lowered. "Welcome back!" said the Guardian, wiping a weary hand across his forehead. He looked anxious, Candle thought, more anxious than she had ever seen him. Who or what had come through the gate in their Absence? Or was it just a precaution? What was going on? "We are doubly grateful for you safe return," the Guardian was saying to Locryn. He nodded at Candle.

"Thanks, Breock," said Locryn. "We are glad to be home. Are the others back?"

"The Mester, De and Goron returned some time ago," said Breock, leaning on his spear, while the other men and women stepped back into position. "They said the barbarians might know how to use the moongates? So now so we are doubly careful about who comes through. We still await Pasco's arrival." Candle's heart dropped. "Please make your way to Lady Dantalion's old office. You are commanded to present yourselves at once."

"What do you mean, Lady Dantalion's old office?" asked Locryn, "and since when do we call her that?" Breock shifted his feet uncomfortably and opened his mouth to reply but the gate ignited behind him and he sprang to attention, motioning for them to get out of the way. "At once," he repeated, over his shoulder, before turning back to the gate in time to accost another surprised member of the Own.

Locryn and Candle walked up to the Keep.

"Don't worry," said Locryn, looking at Candle sideways. "Pasco will be fine, I'm sure of it." Candle nodded but could not help the cold kernel of dread that curled in her stomach. She knew Pasco knew what he was doing but she would be so much happier knowing he was safe. As their path took them past two worried looking convicts, Candle looked back at them. Something was wrong, and it wasn't just Pasco's absence. Everyone they passed looked...strange. There was no banter, no laughter. The atmosphere of the place was completely different. What had happened while they were gone?

Inside the Keep, the hallways were bustling as usual, and Candle began to think she was overreacting. The mess was humming with the usual boisterous levels of activity, as thirty or so convicts went about their luncheon. She walked past it with great regret, inhaling deeply as she went. Her stomach rumbled. Soon, she promised it. It was only natural that the Mester would want to see them at once. She could wait a few minutes before she ate.

They reached the Mester's office and knocked. Arthwg opened the door, looking even more distressed than usual. He looked older and smaller, shrinking into his robes and he didn't look particularly happy to see them.

"Your Lordship, syr," he said, over his should as he beckoned them in. "Meraud and Locryn have returned from their mission." Your Lordship? wondered Candle as they stepped into the room. She came to a sudden halt, bumping into Locryn's chest. Rasmus was sitting behind the Mester's desk, Belias at his right shoulder.

He smiled triumphantly at the sight of his little sister, his eyes glacial.

"Welcome," he cried. "I've been waiting for you." Candle's reflexes were slow after the night in the fell and as she turned for the door, it clicked shut. Two convicts moved to block it, staring down at her with folded arms and grim expressions. She didn't recognise them and their faces were stony as they looked at her. There was no other way out of the room. She turned to face her brother, fear running like electricity through her veins.

"Where is the Mester?" asked Locryn, his voice harsh. He looked around as if she might suddenly appear, but there was no one else in the room except Arthwg and the two guards. And the demon. Rasmus' eyes were as wild as the last time Candle had seen him and his hair and eyes were glamoured to high noon, but of course, no one else could see that. Unless she could get her hands on some water, she suddenly thought. There was no obvious, visible evidence of his corruption. His clothes were clean and his beard neatly trimmed. He looked the picture of eccentric aristocracy, apart from the crazy look in his eyes.

"Where is the Mester?" repeated Locryn, seemingly unaware of Candle's rising terror. Rasmus looked at Locryn as if he were a snail before he deigned to answer.

"Mind how you speak to me, peasant," he sneered. "Dantalion has gone before the Kenning to account for her crimes. The Kenning has appointed me as Commander of the Ancestor's Own."

"What crimes?" demanded Locryn.

"I said, mind how you speak." He stood abruptly and Candle flinched back, bumping into Locryn again who stood like a rock, his dislike of Rasmus written clearly on his face. Candle looked back at the door again, wishing she could run. This wasn't good. "As a direct result of Dantalion's actions," Rasmus was saying, "the barbarians have razed another village."

"Another? Where?"

"Nanjizal," whispered Arthwg, from the back of the room. The old man's eyes were haunted, his hands shaking slightly. Candle swallowed. Another village was gone.

"How is that the Mester's fault?" demanded Locryn. "The Lochlanach have a Teurek shaman and two demons, they wouldn't listen to anything-"

"Silence!" said Rasmus. "This is none of your concern, peasant! Leave these matters to your betters. Dantalion will be dealt with in due course. There is another reason I am here." His gaze shifted to Candle and he smiled again. She had a horrible premonition. What lies was he about to spin? She was too scared to move. "The Kenning has intelligence that the Ancestors Own has been infiltrated by a barbarian spy."

"What?"

"I find that unlikely," said Arthwg, stiffly, from the doorway.

"Nevertheless," said Rasmus, "I assure you it is true. The Kenning want me to remove the person at once - before any more damage can be done."

"Now wait just a minute," said Arthwg. "This is the first I've heard of this, how would the Kenning know any such thing? The Mester-"

"Careful old man," said Rasmus, his voice clipped and cold. " Don't test me. Or I'll send you to the Lizard to be with your mistress." Arthwg went silent.

"Who is it?" asked Locryn.

"I don't know what name she goes by," her brother smirked, although his eyes were agate hard, "but it's your companion here." He pointed at Candle. Time seemed to slow and Candle thought, sluggishly, does he know? Does he know our mother is a barbarian? A Lochlanach? Or is it just a lucky lie? Spun to explain the colour of my eyes?

"Meraud?" said Locryn. "She's not a spy, what a ridiculous thing to say! And I know for a fact that she is your sister."

"I see you have been taken in by her deceit," said Rasmus, sighing theatrically. "I have a sister, her name is Ishbel and she is at home in Hanternos right now and looks nothing like this ...creature." Locryn looked at Candle anxiously and opened his mouth again. "Think about it," said Rasmus, his voice low and persuasive, "when did she appear? Where did she come from? Was it not right after you sighted a barbarian airship?"

"Yes, but-"

"If she was coming from Hanternos, what was she doing all the way over to the south of the Serpent Path?" Locryn frowned, considering.

"How did you -"

Rasmus strode forward.

"It doesn't matter," he declared, "I can prove it! Right here and now." He reached out and ripped the blindfold from Candle's face. She cried out, trying to cover her eyes, but Rasmus pulled her hands away with an iron grip. Locryn took a step back, shock written all over his face. Candle thought she might throw up, her stomach roiling. It was worse than she could have possibly imagined.

"I'm not a Lochlanach spy," she said, her voice shaking. "I'm from Hanternos, you know that Locryn. Rasmus- " Rasmus made a small gesture that only Candle saw and the words stuck in her throat. She choked and clutched her hands to her neck, trying desperately to get words out. Behind Rasmus, Belias stretched and stood up, his ink-black shadows filling the room, a hungry look on his face.

"That explains why she can't do magic," said Locryn, and his voice was so cold that Candle could almost feel her insides shrivelling. She opened her mouth again, to try and protest. Rasmus casually clapped a hand over it, pinning her arms to her sides with his other arm. Tears started in her eyes.

"I don't think she's dangerous," he said, his breath tickling her ear, "but best not to hear any more of her lies." She could hear the laughter in his voice and cringed away from his touch but it did no good. He had her fast and he was so much stronger than her. There was nothing she could do and Locryn... Locryn was standing there looking at her like he had never seen her before...

"Lord Rasmus," said Arthwg, "I would like to hear the girl speak. We only have your word and-"

"And the word of the Kenning," Rasmus interjected smoothly.

"-that any of this is true. The Mester herself trusted her, I know."

"Hardly a glowing recommendation," said Rasmus, "in the circumstances."

"Either she is a spy, Arthwg," said Locryn, his voice hard, "or a blood witch who has sold her soul to a demon. Either way, she should be locked up. I always knew there was something strange about her..."

Hearing Locryn say those words snapped something in Candle's head. The tiny flame of anger that burned beneath her breast exploded into a raging inferno of despair and fury. She clamped her teeth down hard on Rasmus's hand, twisting in his grip as he swore. She stamped on his foot and rammed an elbow into his stomach, hitting him with every ounce of strength she possessed. Thank you, Jory, she thought, sadly, as her brother crumpled with a cry of pain.

"You little bitch-"

The two men at the door lumbered forward to grab her. She kneed the first in the groin and darted around the second, pushing through the door before anyone else could react. She ran, not looking to see if anyone was chasing her. She ran like she had never run before, fleet-footed and sure. She had to get away. She had had the element of surprise against her brother but there was no way Locryn would fall for such simple tricks. Trying to fight him would be pointless. She didn't want to fight her friend. Speed was her only ally and Ancestors knew, she could run. The weeks of food and training gave her strength. They would not catch her. Not now, not ever.

She sped down the slope and through the courtyard toward the moongate, rooting in her pocket for her pin and a packet of soil. Any soil that wasn't Gwavas, it didn't matter. Anywhere that wasn't here. Her fingers closed on one at random and she jabbed herself with the pin in preparation.

Breock the Gate Guardian watched her coming with doubtful eyes and commanded her to halt. She sidestepped him nimbly, ducking under his arm and flinging the blood-soaked soil across the threshold of the moongate in one smooth motion. She slid through the gate on her side as it ignited, leaving her friends and enemies behind.