I was also confused. I wasn’t sure what was going here and, even if I didn’t appear to be in immediate mortal danger, I wasn’t sure that I liked what was happening. Maybe the physical sensations that de Florinville’s touch aroused were different to what I was used to because of the physiognomy of a Dark Elf. After all, I’d never met one before now.
‘You need to rest.’ He drew up a blanket from the foot of the bed, pulling it over me with such gentleness that I almost cried. Almost. ‘Get some sleep,’ he said. Then, with a last long look at me, he turned, picked up Marrock’s dagger and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
The moment I heard the door click, I sprang up, kicking the blanket away. No matter how much sleep beckoned, I couldn’t close my eyes even briefly. I darted to the door and examined it with practiced eyes. He’d not locked me in.
I pressed my ear against its cool surface and listened. I could just make out the conversation beyond.
‘We need to get rid of the wraith,’ de Florinville was saying. ‘Now. It’s not safe. Not with Saiya here.’
That confirmed it: he didn’t realise that the wraith and I were one and the same. Maybe the Dark Elf wasn’t as intelligent as I’d believed. When he’d touched me, I could have sworn that he’d recognised me. The strange jolt of electricity had to have something to do with it. But this wasn’t the time to muse on it. I was on a rescue mission to save myself and even the bizarre antics of Gabriel de Florinville and my own body weren’t going to get in my way.
‘What should we do with him?’ Rymark asked.
‘Pass him over to the goblins,’ came de Florinville’s rejoinder. ‘It’s not what I’d normally suggest but it’s the best option now. Circumstances have changed.’
‘There’s still the possibility that it was the goblins who sent him here to kill you.’
‘Unlikely. Besides, it doesn’t matter now.’
There was a pause. When Rymark spoke again, he was hesitant. ‘What exactly is going on?’
‘My Fior Ghal.’
I pursed my lips. What?
Rymark’s voice rose. ‘No! Her? Are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure.’
‘That’s…’ Rymark stopped. He was obviously astonished.
‘I know.’
There was some shuffling. I wished I could see what the pair of them was doing. Was de Florinville going to drag my shadow to the Filits right now? In that scenario I’d have no choice but to spring out and attack, even if it was sure to spell disaster.
‘We should leave the wraith here,’ de Florinville continued. ‘We know he’s safely bound within the circle. I’ll go and tell Ghrashbreg what has happened and get him to deal with the vile creature.’ His voice hardened in a manner that made me shiver. ‘At the same time I can ask him exactly who hurt Saiya and why.’
Rymark’s answer was quiet. ‘And what if it was him? What if it was Ghrashbreg that broke her hands?’
‘I’ll kill him.’
I blinked.
‘I should go to Ghrashbreg,’ Rymark said with an audible gulp. ‘You can stay here with Saiya.’
‘The goblins will listen to me.’
‘Because you’re a Dark Elf and I’m a mere human?’
‘Sorry.’
There was another long pause. Rymark shouldn’t feel too bad about the blood running through his veins. He couldn’t help it – and at least he was only visiting Stirling. He didn’t have to live here. He should count himself lucky; avoiding contact with goblins was always a good thing.
‘You’ll have to tell Prime Minister James about her. This could have implications for the peace process, Gabriel.’
De Florinville snorted. ‘We both know that whatever they’re after, neither the Gneiss nor the Filits want peace. Stay here and don’t let anyone through that door. Saiya must be kept safe at all costs. With any luck I won’t be long.’
‘As you command.’
I heard more shuffling, then the sound of another door opening and closing. I turned, leaning my back against the door. Snooping around and listening in to secrets often raised more questions than answers but rarely were the questions so varied – or so personal. Why was my safety so important to Gabriel de Florinville? The promise I’d extracted from him didn’t extend this far. And what exactly was the Fior Ghal? Marrock would probably know. I wondered if he’d tell me, given what happened at our last encounter. I wondered if I’d survive long enough to ask him.
Rather than let my mind whirl with the permutations of my new circumstances, I left the door and headed for the large, heavy wardrobe in the far corner. De Florinville didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who lived out of a suitcase when he went visiting. When I opened the wardrobe doors, wincing slightly at the creak, I smiled. His clothes were hanging up in neat rows. With my poor dress well and truly done for, I needed something to wear even if it was for warmth rather than modesty.
I selected a white shirt and pulled it off its hanger before shrugging it on and doing up the buttons. It was massive on me, the shirt tails reaching down my to knees. It might have been freshly laundered but there was still the lingering scent of the Dark Elf’s masculinity clinging to the cotton. I paused to inhale before realising what I was doing. Shaking myself irritably, I nabbed a belt and hooked it round my waist. From the long mirror in the corner, the overall effect wasn’t too bad. I examined myself for a moment then retrieved my shoes. I didn’t have all night; Gabriel de Florinville would be back before too long and he’d have Ghrashbreg in tow. I had to vamoose.
Feeling better now that I wasn’t virtually naked, I returned to the door and listened carefully again. When nothing was immediately forthcoming, I twisted the doorknob as quietly as I could then opened the door an inch so I could peer out.
Rymark was sitting in the same chair that I’d seen de Florinville in earlier. It directly faced my trapped shadow, which he appeared to be eyeing with wary malevolence. Given that the shadow was motionless and had been for hours, that seemed fairly pointless to me but I guessed he was taking his guard duties very seriously.
Leaving the door slightly ajar, I considered what to do. In truth, I had very little choice. Sighing, I walked back to the centre of the bedroom, stopped at an antique bureau and scooped up a vase. I hefted it in my hands. It was probably priceless. Hey ho. The base was heavy enough to suit my purposes, even if the rest of it felt fragile. I held it in my right hand and scooted back to the door. Once I was in position, I closed my eyes briefly and sent my consciousness the few metres back to my shadow.
I needed Rymark to face away from the bedroom so, as soon as I felt the familiar joy of stretching into my shadow self, I twitched and turned in that direction. With both shadow hands, I pushed out towards the edge of the circle, feeling the barrier holding me in place.
Rymark let out a loud exclamation and sprang up, fear widening his eyes. ‘What are you doing?’ he yelled. ‘Stop that!’
I pushed at the barrier again. I was never going to break it – Gabriel de Florinville’s magic was far too strong for that – but I made it appear as if I were testing it for weaknesses. My actions had the intended result: Rymark strode in front of me, although he was smart enough to keep his body well away from the edge of the circle.
‘You can’t escape,’ he said. There was a nervous tremor in his voice. There was no question as to why de Florinville was the supposed hero whilst Rymark was the sidekick. I had to hand it to him though: he was putting in every effort.
I raised my hands in a jab, as if to attack. At the same moment, I yanked my consciousness away to my real body. While Rymark jerked back in an involuntary spasm, my physical self opened the bedroom door, sprang forward and smashed the vase down on the crown of his head. He groaned, momentarily freezing, and for a horrifying heartbeat I thought I’d not hit him hard enough. Then he crumpled, falling to the floor like a sack of old potatoes.
I bent over and checked his pulse. It was steady; he’d have an egg-sized
lump on his noggin when he woke up but he would wake up. Maybe de Florinville would heal it for him, as he had healed my broken fingers. Just to be sure Rymark wouldn’t choke on his own tongue, I manoeuvred his body into the recovery position and began kicking away the candles and the salt.
My shadow might not be able to break out of the magic circle but my body could break in. Scant moments later, I stretched my fingertips, feeling the delighted ripple run through me as my shadow reattached itself. I jiggled around, enjoying the sensation. It was almost as glorious as de Florinville’s touch on my skin had been.
As soon as that thought flashed through my mind, I slammed it away. My shadow and I had been apart for too long; I was clearly feeling some ill-effects and I needed a few seconds to reacquaint with myself. Then I made for the door so I could get the hell out of there.
I had one foot in the corridor when I heard the voices. It was unmistakably de Florinville and Ghrashbreg. I pulled back into the room as they turned the corner. Screaming inside, I scanned around for a hiding place but there was nowhere. I headed for the only place I could think of and made it back to de Florinville’s bedroom. I was clambering inside the wardrobe while pulling the door shut behind me just as he and the goblin entered. Hell. Bloody hell.
The wardrobe door might have been closed but the bedroom door wasn’t and I had a clear line of sound to the other room.
‘I managed to find Lord Ghrashbreg along the way,’ I heard de Florinville say to his unconscious buddy. This was followed by a brief pause before the inevitable explosion. ‘Fuck!’
‘Dear me,’ Ghrashbreg commented, with what sounded like a hint of amusement. ‘It appears the wraith you were talking about has escaped. And killed your travelling companion at the same time.’
I wrinkled my nose in disgust. Idiot. Rymark most definitely wasn’t dead.
‘How the hell did it get free?’ Footsteps sounded and through the chink in the door I spotted de Florinville enter the bedroom. He stared round, his gaze falling on the bed with growing horror. He was genuinely appalled at my disappearance.
‘It’s taken her. The damn wraith has taken her.’ He balled up his fists, rage lacing his words and rippling through his body. I shrank back. The Dark Elf had been angry when he’d caught my shadow but that was nothing compared to what he looked like now.
Even Ghrashbreg, following on his heels, appeared concerned. ‘Taken who?’
‘Saiya,’ de Florinville ground out.
Ghrashbreg’s forehead furrowed at the familiar name. ‘Saiya Buchanan? The girl from the kitchen?’
De Florinville whirled round, grabbing him by his lapels. ‘You know her.’
‘I met her tonight for the first time. Skinny thing.’
De Florinville’s eyes glittered with the promise of violence. ‘Are you the one who broke her fingers?’ His grip tightened and he shook the goblin. I was enjoying this. ‘Are you the one who hurt her?’
Apparently deciding that he couldn’t lie convincingly, Ghrashbreg answered the Elf’s question with another question. ‘Where would a wraith take a human woman and why would he bother?’
De Florinville emitted a low growl. For a moment it seemed as if this could go either way and the goblin could end up in a body bag but eventually diplomacy won. With a deep snarl, de Florinville released Ghrashbreg and stalked back to the outer room out of my sight.
‘Of course, that’s if there is a wraith at all,’ the goblin called after him. ‘We have excellent defences. I don’t see how one could breach the city walls and get inside the castle without any of us realising.’ Despite his casual words, he looked worried. Ha.
There was a loud groan that could only have come from Rymark. ‘What? What happened?’
‘I was about to ask you the same thing,’ I heard de Florinville say.
‘The wraith. Shit.’
De Florinville bit out his words. ‘How did it get out? How did it escape from the circle?’
‘I don’t know. It was trying to break free and I walked over to it and then…’ Rymark’s voice trailed off. ‘I feel like I’ve been hit by a damn truck.’
‘I’m going to see that wraith strung up.’ The Dark Elf’s tone was equal measures adamant and harsh. ‘I’ve barely been gone ten minutes. They can’t have gone far. The bastard won’t be able to move quickly with Saiya in tow.’
Ghrashbreg stroked his chin and walked out of the bedroom towards them. ‘I don’t understand. Why does this girl have such significance?’
I strained to hear the answer but whatever de Florinville said was lost to me. Both he, Rymark and Ghrashbreg were leaving the suite of rooms, no doubt to search for the supposed wraith and his ‘kidnap victim’.
I breathed out. I’d miraculously managed to escape their notice. Go me.
Chapter Nine
By the time I crawled back down to the town centre, Gabriel de Florinville’s once-pristine white shirt was dirty and torn. He’d certainly done a good job of persuading Ghrashbreg to raise the alarm. It had been easier to get myself out of the castle than it was to wend my way back through the city now that patrols and search parties were all over the place. More than once I’d been forced to cower behind various piles of rubble as goblin soldiers marched past with their heavy boots scuffing the cobbled streets. The only reason I escaped detection was because I got lucky.
I didn’t dare go home. Enough people knew my name now that to head for my own bed would be tantamount to suicide. At least I had a list of potential hideouts, tucked away in the back of my mind for just such an eventuality. There were more than enough abandoned houses and blocks of flats where I could cower.
I even treated myself, sneaking into one of the upmarket buildings which had once been used by a family of Irish immigrants who’d owned a jewellers out by Mercat Cross but who had long since abandoned the dubious delights of a city under siege for their home country. Judging by the array of rubbish littering the once-gleaming parquet flooring, I wasn’t the first to hide here. But the smell lingering inside held a hint of decay so I knew I’d be alone here for a while. I took full advantage of the situation and curled up and slept in one of the smaller bedrooms. Goodness knows, I needed the rest.
When I came to, it took a while to remember where I was. Bright sunlight was filtering in from the window, making my eyes itch, and it felt as if there were several layers of dirt on my skin. My stomach grumbled loudly. It was quite some time since I’d had any food. I should have asked de Florinville for a slice of chocolate cake, I thought ruefully.
I sat up and stretched. Having my shadow back with me felt damned good and I gave it a little self-conscious wave. I also flexed my fingers. There was a brief tingle in both pinkies but, other than that, no sign that either of them had been broken. De Florinville’s magic was definitely strong.
It occurred to me that I’d achieved the impossible – I’d broken into Stirling Castle and stolen back what was mine from under the noses of a thousand goblins and one strange Dark Elf. If I didn’t have more important things to do, I’d be composing ballads about my heroics. I’d saved myself; now I had to save Becky’s mum.
I raked through cupboards for five minutes in search of food but there wasn’t so much as a dented tin of Pedigree Chum. That was hardly surprising but the search was worth the effort because I found a wardrobe full of clothes. I stripped off the grubby shirt in favour of more suitable attire. The designer black trousers and grey jumper were ridiculously large for me but the muted colours would help me blend in. I unearthed a narrow leather belt to stop the trousers falling down.
I suspected that the Filits would do their best to conceal that they’d been infiltrated by a wraith so, despite last night’s searches, once de Florinville had gone things would probably die down. There was every possibility that I’d get away with my adventures scot-free – after all, the Dark Elf was on a ticket out of here this evening. I remembered the odd look of tenderness in his expression as he’d tended my wounds then I pushed the image o
f him away. He was no longer my concern.
Jamming an old baseball cap onto my head, I glanced briefly in a dusty mirror. I reckoned I could pass for a bloke unless under close inspection. Deciding that my appearance would have to do and that I couldn’t afford to hide until nightfall, I shoved my hands into my pockets and left the house, trying to appear casual and unworried. All I had to do was to blend in with everyone else and I’d probably be safe. Probably.
I was making a beeline for the Tolbooth via the narrow back streets when a crowd of about fifty people passed in front of me, all of them chattering excitedly. I jogged to catch up and fell in beside one of the friendlier-looking faces. ‘What’s going on?’ I asked.
The woman beamed at me, her eyes crinkling. ‘There’s a Dark Elf in the city! He’s on a tour right now. We’re going to see him. I knew the Prime Minister hadn’t forgotten about us. I just knew it!’
I bet that if I’d spoken to her yesterday, she’d have cursed Prime Minister James and everyone else who had made the decision to let Stirling rot under both goblin rule and goblin siege. If this woman was expecting Gabriel de Florinville to save us all now, then she was sorely mistaken – he was leaving in a few hours. I didn’t have the heart to destroy her hopes, though.
‘A tour where?’ I asked carefully.
‘All around! He’s at Mercat Cross now.’
Ah; that confirmed why the goblins had removed the gallows. It was a temporary measure to make it appear that they didn’t execute their citizens when the mood took them.
Hearing her words, a gaunt man leaned across. ‘I heard it’s Gabriel de Florinville. He’s important, you know. He’s bound to help us.’ Optimism laced his every word, making my spirits sink. This is what we did, I thought despondently; we clung fiercely to every scrap of hope. Time and time again we were disappointed but hope always remained even though it didn’t put food in anyone’s belly or keep people like Ange Horrocks safe. I sighed while pasting a smile on my face.