‘I have absolutely no idea. I sent a soldier of mine to find out what he could. A very good, trusted soldier who frequently acts on my behalf.’ Marrock’s eyes narrowed. He gestured over my shoulder and, as I glanced round, a stocky woman appeared carrying a box. She was holding it in front of her as if, despite its weight, she couldn’t bear to have it near her body.
Marrock and I watched as she walked up. When she reached us, she held the box out to me, her face pale. Unfortunately I already had a very good idea about what was inside it.
‘Open the box, Saiya.’
I licked my lips. ‘No, thanks.’
Marrock’s voice hardened. ‘Open the fucking box.’
Realising he wasn’t going to give me a choice, I steeled myself and reached across, flipping the lid to reveal the contents. The unseeing eyes of Marrock’s minion Bear, who had scorned me just yesterday, stared up at me. His face was covered in bruises and wounds but someone had taken the time to clean off the blood. Sickened, I wondered whether that had been Marrock or the goblins.
‘This has never happened to me before, Saiya.’
I refrained from pointing out that it hadn’t happened to him; it had happened to his servant. I drew my eyes away from the gruesome head and looked at him. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered.
Marrock folded his arms; only the twitch above his eyebrow showed how brutally angry he was. ‘Did you ask me to look into this Ange because you knew this would happen?’
I shook my head vehemently. ‘No. I don’t know why she’s been arrested. She’s a nobody. She lives upstairs from me, that’s all. She keeps her nose clean and stays out of trouble.’
Marrock snorted. ‘Clearly, you are mistaken.’
The woman next to us shifted her weight and almost lost her hold on the box. She stared at Marrock with frightened eyes and he jerked his head irritably at her. She scuttled off, clutching her horrifying cargo.
Marrock’s eyes flickered; he was far more afraid than he was letting on. ‘I will have nothing more to do with this. You are on your own, Saiya.’ His voice hardened. ‘But if I find out that this was a deliberate act on your part to bring me down…’
I held up my palms. ‘It wasn’t. I promise.’
He watched me for a long moment. ‘I hope for your sake you are telling the truth. I suggest that you forget Ange ever existed and walk away as fast you can.’
That was all very well but I had Becky to think about. The grief of a nine-year-old kid was far more terrifying than anything Marrock could conjure up. ‘Your advice is noted.’
Marrock turned on his heel and returned to his chair. ‘Is there anything else you would like to barter for?’
Unfortunately, yes. ‘I need a weapon. A gun preferably, though a sharp knife will do. The one I have is next to useless.’
‘You ask a lot.’
I shrugged but we both knew that the gesture was anything but nonchalant. ‘I have some of the information you requested. As you changed the terms of our bargain when previously you were prepared to get Ange released…’
‘Careful, Saiya,’ he growled.
I continued anyway. ‘Then I think supplying a weapon is the least you can do.’ I hesitated. ‘I know the identity of the Dark Elf. He’s only here for another day or two but he wants to get into town to have a look around. The goblins have taken down the gallows, no doubt because of that.’
Marrock rubbed his chin. He obviously knew about the gallows being removed but, like me, hadn’t been foolish enough to think it was permanent. He absorbed this information before speaking. ‘Given recent events,’ he said finally, ‘I think it would be wiser for me to stay out of any investigations for the time being. If the Elf is only here for another day or two then it no longer concerns me.’ I opened my mouth to argue but he forestalled me. ‘However,’ he continued, ‘there are other parties who would be interested in this information.’
I knew something of the ‘other parties’ he was referring to. There was a reason I usually dealt with Marrock instead of them, though, so I was hardly in a position to protest. The Dark Elf was not someone whose well being I had any interest in – not now he held my life in his hands. Literally. I tilted my head to one side. ‘So?’
‘I cannot give you a gun.’
I waited.
‘A knife I can manage.’
‘I’m not looking for a bread knife here, Marrock.’
‘Don’t worry, it will be lethal enough for you. It’s certainly valuable enough to me. What is the Dark Elf’s name?’
It only took me a split second to decide. ‘Gabriel de Florinville.’
Marrock blinked. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive.’
‘That is news indeed,’ he murmured.
‘The goblins don’t want him here but they don’t want him hurt either.’
‘I’m hardly surprised at that.’ He scratched himself. ‘Why come here now, I wonder? And why him of all people?’
I didn’t bother speculating. Whatever I guessed would doubtless be wrong. ‘The knife, Marrock.’
He pursed his lips then snapped his fingers. The same woman appeared, this time with a far more slender box. She walked up the long alley and held it out to me. I opened it up. A gleaming curved blade nestled against a bed of purple velvet. It was small enough to conceal against my body and dangerous enough to kill just about anyone. Maybe even a Dark Elf.
‘Thank you.’
Marrock inclined his head. ‘You should go now. It would be wise for you to stay away for a while, Saiya.’
I nodded and turned to go. I knew when I wasn’t welcome.
‘One more thing,’ he called out after me. ‘Friend to friend.’
I paused.
‘Stay away from anything to do with Ange Horrocks.’
I raised my hand to acknowledge I’d heard him then I strode out, sliding the dagger underneath my dress and snagging the hilt against my bra to hold it in place against my ribs, before adjusting the material so it was wholly concealed. Who knew? It might work.
Chapter Seven
The decapitated head made zero sense. I didn’t like all of Marrock’s minions but I knew they weren’t stupid. They ingratiated themselves with the Filits on a full-time basis. There had been nothing in Marrock’s behaviour to suggest that his man had been a hothead who might have said the wrong thing and pissed off the wrong goblin. Everything pointed to Ange having done something very, very wrong. So wrong that even asking questions about her would result in immediate death.
It baffled me. How could she have erred so disastrously? Becky seemed equally clueless. If I’d had my shadow with me, I’d have thrown caution to the wind and sneaked into the Tolbooth to see what was going on.
I’d originally gone to Marrock to discover the truth about Ange’s arrest before negotiating her release. I’d assumed that she was curled up in a cell somewhere. If Ange were dead, however, there was no point continuing any of this. I rubbed my hand over my skull and sighed. What a damned mess.
Priorities, I reminded myself. I couldn’t do anything to help Ange until I helped myself. That meant retrieving my shadow from de Florinville and not dying in the process – but I could only do that if I knew where my shadow was and what the Dark Elf had done with it while my consciousness was elsewhere. With that in mind, I skirted the quiet streets until I found a corner where my physical body could safely hide. Hunkering down behind a pile of rubble from one of the Gneiss goblins’ many bombardments, I did my best to ignore the knot of anxiety in my stomach and snapped my consciousness away to my shadow self.
I was in a bedroom, one that was in Stirling Castle judging by the stone floor and roughly hewn walls. My shadow had been bound into a circle held in place by salt. Damn the Dark Elf for knowing enough about magic to trap me like that. Just beyond the ring of salt were carefully placed candles, each one designed to highlight my darkness. Clearly, he was taking no chances.
Taking care not to move a muscle so I didn’t alert ei
ther de Florinville or his companion to the fact that my shadow was no longer an empty vessel, I glanced around. The goblins had pulled out all the stops. Vivid tapestries, hundreds of years old, adorned the walls; antique mahogany furniture, burnished to within an inch of its life, was artfully arranged in corners. To my right, barely visible in the room beyond, there was a gigantic four-poster bed with a vibrant red bedspread. In the other direction, I noted closed windows and a heavy oak door with an iron key in its lock. It was impossible to tell where this suite was located; no doubt that had been done deliberately. Alas, Gabriel de Florinville wasn’t born yesterday.
There was a rustle over to the left but I couldn’t see what – or who – was making the noise without moving and giving myself away.
‘You’re back.’
Goddamnit. How did he know? I twisted towards his voice and bared my teeth, even though he couldn’t see my expression. Perhaps some of my malevolence would leak through.
De Florinville put down a leather-bound book and got to his feet, taking long, deliberate strides towards me before stopping outside the circle of salt and candles. ‘I’ve come across several wraiths in my time,’ he commented. ‘Each one has possessed exactly the same trait which has led to their downfall. It must be in your genes, just as skulking in shadows and performing callous acts of murder are.’ He paused.
I needed some clue about where I was. While de Florinville talked, I cast around for anything useful. The far wall, where the window was located, was curved. If I were right and we were in the King’s Old Building in the Inner Close of the castle, then I already had a scrap of useful information.
De Florinville leaned towards me, his shadow falling across the floor into my circular, salty cell. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me what it is?’
I shrugged to give the impression that he had my full attention. As I did so, I forced my hearing to sharpen, hoping I’d make out any distant sounds that might help me pinpoint the room’s location.
‘Arrogance,’ he said softly. ‘You’re all so damned arrogant.’ An unpleasant smile played around his mouth. ‘I can’t imagine why. You’re a dwindling race – and with good reason. Nobody wants or trusts an assassin. Not for long anyway.’
I strained my ears. There was nothing, no sound of clinking plates, no murmur of distant voices. I filed away the silence because that provided a clue as much as noise would have. I shifted my weight carefully so that I was angled a degree or two away. A different vantage point might help, even if that difference was only slight.
‘Do you know that your kind weren’t always the despicable killers you are now? There used to be more to wraiths than simple murderers for hire. You might have forgotten over the years what you were capable of, but there are plenty of old books at Holyrood which detail your capabilities.’
I inched my way further over. Gabriel de Florinville really did like the sound of his own voice.
‘Wraiths possess the ability to render objects utterly useless. If you concentrate, you can detach the shadow not only from yourself but from anything inert that you come across. You could defuse bombs with a flick of a wrist. You could turn deadly nightshade into a living but entirely harmless plant. You could do so much good. Instead, you skulk in shadows and kill.’
Firstly, he might be right about other wraiths but he wasn’t right about me. I didn’t kill anyone. I’d grown up far enough away from any wraith influence, apart from my now-dead parents, to not live the sort of life he was talking about. Secondly, I’d never separated a shadow away from anything other than myself. I’d never heard a whisper that it was possible. The Dark Elf, I decided, was talking out of his arse. And he still hadn’t finished.
He circled round, ending in the same position where he’d begun. His satisfied expression remained unchanged. ‘I’ve made arrangements with the goblins at the front. When you arrive there to hand yourself over, ask for me and give your name as Thomas Iscariot. I’ve told them you’re an old school friend who’s still living in Stirling and has come to see me. Of course, no wraith is actually within the walls of this city. Death might stalk Stirling but there is no need for your kind here. Not now.’ His eyes grew intent and thoughtful. ‘Someone deliberately put you onto me. I want to know who.’
Thomas Iscariot? I supposed Judas Iscariot was too obvious. But I’d hardly betrayed Gabriel de Florinville; he wasn’t mine to betray, even though I might be here to stab him in the heart.
I dismissed his poor excuse for black humour and continued surveying. In the far corner there was a small table with some papers on top of it. I spotted an elaborate document that bore the Prime Minister’s seal and frowned. I already knew the Elf was here as an Envoy but was there more to it than morbid curiosity about how Stirling was faring? Was the government finally taking an interest in our predicament? If so, the Prime Minister was a bit late. Even the most optimistic Stirling citizens had given up believing he was ever going to ride gallantly to our rescue.
‘As long as the goblins don’t notice the absence of your shadow, you should reach me without trouble.’ De Florinville’s gaze flicked up and down. ‘Unless you’d prefer to tell them the truth and deal with the Filits’ own brand of justice rather than mine. I’m not saying I won’t kill you – I’ve not yet made up my mind – but I am prepared to be swayed.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Under the right circumstances.’
Yeah, yeah. I raised myself slightly onto my toes, hoping to get a better look at the papers. Unfortunately I was far too obvious about it and de Florinville half turned, spotting the table and its contents.
‘So,’ he said with a cold murmur, ‘you still think there’s a way out of all this. You’re still trying to sneak around and see what you can find, no doubt so that you can pass it on to your master.’ He moved so his body blocked my view. ‘You do realise how much I can make you hurt, don’t you? Perhaps you require a little demonstration.’
Without warning, he lashed out, his fist catching me in my stomach. I doubled over in pain. With one arm clutching my middle, I thrust upwards with my other arm, hoping to punch him back but the salt and candle circle was too strong, and the original binding was still in place. My hand flailed around uselessly. I had just enough time to hear a short laugh before the Elf hit me again. This time I fell to my knees.
‘Like every other wraith,’ he commented, ‘you’re useless in a man-to-man fight. You only do your dirty work from the shadows and you only stab your victims in the back. You’re more coward than anything.’ He snorted. ‘No doubt that’s why you’re not yet here in person.’ He crouched down. ‘Time is ticking, little wraith. If you’re not here by nine o’clock tomorrow evening, then all bets are off.’
I groaned aloud, although de Florinville wouldn’t have heard it. I twisted my head and prepared to concentrate enough to pull away but it was just my luck that he took that opportunity to smack me again. Talk about hitting someone when they were down. Who was the coward now?
I yanked myself away until I was against the outer edges of the magical circle and as far from the Elf as possible then I curled up into a ball to protect myself. I had to get out of here but I was terrified of letting him to torture my shadow self while my consciousness was absent. But what choice did I have?
As I lifted my hands to shield my head, I noticed the nearest window. There were fifteen panes of glass in total, framed by a criss-cross of old lead that looked as if it had been there for generations. Someone had screwed up, however: one of the glass panes was different to the others. At some point in the not-too-distant past it must have been broken and replaced. I memorized it carefully, the second pane on the right, three down from the top, just before de Florinville loomed over me once again. Without waiting any longer, I pulled my consciousness away from my shadow and back to my real body.
My return didn’t stop the pain. Agony ripped through me once more and I was forced to stuff my fist into my mouth to stop myself from crying out loud. Lights danced in front of my eyes and it felt as if my teeth
were rattling around in my skull. I wobbled upwards, breathing hard, and waited for the next shock of pain. De Florinville was no fool; he obviously knew that whatever damage he did to a wraith’s shadow would manifest itself in its physical self too.
I wondered whether he’d tortured other wraiths he’d come across. Had he been the target of their assassination attempts or was it someone else? Someone he loved? I braced for more agonizing blows.
No more pain flashed through me. He must have worked out that my consciousness was no longer with him. Perhaps he was lulling me into a false sense of security and he’d start pummelling me again when I least expected it. Then I remembered what he’d said and started to relax. He considered me and my kind to be cowards. In de Florinville’s opinion, unless you attacked your target head-on you were a despicable being. That was all very well when you had a Dark Elf’s innate power. The rest of us had to grasp every advantage where we could, even if people like de Florinville believed us to be sneaky and under-hand. On the plus side, he probably wouldn’t continue to attack me, not until I showed up in person.
I breathed out through my mouth; there was the faint bitter tang of blood in my mouth and I spat on the ground. Technically, I still had eighteen or nineteen hours before my shadow would give up the ghost but my encounter with de Florinville, had knocked off some of that time. There was no point in dilly-dallying any longer. Besides, I already had almost everything I needed. All I wanted now was Lady Luck on my side and I’d be quids in.
***
I limped towards the castle, the gentle breeze blowing my shabby dress around me. Rather than sneak in, I was taking the main approach that was well lit by twin rows of torches. With no shadow, I had to be very careful. My best option was to appear utterly cowed. Frankly, that wasn’t hard.
After what seemed like an age, particularly when I had to weave in and out of giant potholes in the road that were undoubtedly caused by Gneiss shellings, I heaved myself towards the trio of goblin guards standing in front of the gaping maw of the original castle entrance. My heart was in my mouth as I approached, willing them not to notice that I was shadowless. What happened next was truly in the lap of the gods.