13
Cirq Zorros
As she strolled alongside the old girl and her fractious donkey, Alyssa could not remember a time when she had felt happier, other than when she was with Tor. Initially he had rarely left her thoughts and often during those first weeks, from Twyfford towards Mexford Cross, she had thought about swallowing one of the old girl’s lethal confections and ending her misery. More recently though, as the summer lengthened into autumn, she had come to think about him without tears. Alyssa had made a deliberate effort to keep Tor her own. His memory remained a tender hurt but it was his silence which was the most maddening of all; whenever she tried to cast to him it felt leaden. Alyssa believed he had simply shut her out and that had shocked her into not trying again for a while.
Now, however, as she poked around at the thick nothingness, she began to believe it was a veil not of Tor’s making. It did not feel like one of Tor’s shepherding tricks, as he liked to call them. Tor’s were powerful, with a strong, unmistakable signature to them. This seemed infinitely more subtle; its neat, almost fastidious trace nothing she could actually get hold of. The scent always trailed away. Was someone deliberately blocking communication between the two of them? She suspected it was the old man who had made Tor behave so strangely, but how did he know of their link and why would he want to block it?
Leaving Mallee Marsh so suddenly and with a complete stranger had been uncharacteristic for her too. Sometimes she could barely believe she had done it. But if she recalled the moment when she had begged Sorrel to allow her to go with her, Alyssa knew she had been distraught. She also knew that without this distraction of being with Sorrel and hopefully embarking on some sort of new beginning, she would have fallen apart. With a father like Lam Qyn, getting through each day was hard enough, but without Tor to give her hope there would have been no point to life at all. Alyssa knew there were other young men who would happily marry her but she would not happily marry anyone but Torkyn Gynt. They were meant to be together for ever.
And so she had taken her first steps alongside Sorrel and immediately had begun to feel released from the dead weight of her own life. They walked far each day and she loved listening to the old girl’s stories of life on the road. She especially liked to learn the herblore which Sorrel shared. Alyssa learned how whistlewort could calm the rage of a sore throat and, when boiled and mixed with honey, made a useful linctus for a cough. Teppenny pasted on a wound or ulcer would ensure it healed faster; nettle, mint and dandelion made the best infusion for bronchitis whilst the oil of the lemonbark mixed with that of lavender would soothe earache quicker than anything. She loved the new world which Sorrel offered to her, not just her plants but walking the Kingdom itself. Alyssa’s furthest trip to date had been to Twyfford Cross once with Tor and his father.
She liked Tor’s parents. They were firm but kind and so loving towards their son and indeed her. Alyssa showed more open affection for them than for her own father, though she loved him dearly. She just did not understand him. Tor was lucky. He was loved. She had no love in her life but his and she had clung to that love fiercely. How could he have left her? She knew her act of leaving the Marsh sprang mostly from anger. The fury she felt at his loss had given her the courage needed to walk off with a stranger to who knew where. She admitted quietly to herself that she was really just treating him in the same manner he had treated her. Alyssa hoped he might come looking for her, which is why she deliberately had left no word for him. She hoped he would worry himself sick over where she might be; and now he would never know because she had no idea herself where they were going.
Her mind rolled these thoughts over, day after day, as she walked alongside Sorrel, her hand resting loosely on Kythay’s shoulder, while the curious trio made their slow journey north west, away from the Kingdom’s capital.
‘Where did you say we were headed?’ Alyssa said absent-mindedly as she chewed on a grass stem.
Sorrel did not answer immediately. Her attention had caught on a cluster of small blue and white flowers nestling in the thick grasses beneath the trees.
‘Aha! Jolliker petals make a wonderful tonic for bellyache. Remember them, my girl, they’re hard to come by and best picked early autumn, like now.’
She motioned for Alyssa to help. Kythay ceased his ponderous tread at the same time as Alyssa stopped walking. She had the animal totally under her control and he never needed more than a polite word from her to co-operate. It regularly frustrated Sorrel that this stubborn, grumpy animal made himself so easy to get along with where Alyssa was concerned.
‘Wretched animal,’ she muttered for the umpteenth time as she bent her weary back to gather her precious petals.
The two women worked quietly whilst Kythay chewed on whatever treats he could find nearby. When the midday sun began to bite into their skin Sorrel straightened with a groan.
‘We’re headed for Ildagarth,’ she said finally, settling down to rest awhile. She eyed the girl who was still busying herself with the flowers, throwing them into a tiny sack.
‘Oh? What’s there for us?’ Alyssa swatted at a gnat and dragged the back of her hand over her dry lips.
She had blossomed in the three weeks they had been together, Sorrel noted, filling out with the regular meals they shared. She had been such a skinny thing; now she had curves. The brisk walking along these roads had made her stronger too and encouraged a honeyed glow to her lovely skin.
At first she had been quiet; she had stayed close to Kythay and said little other than to answer Sorrel’s gentle questions. Now, weeks since that afternoon when she had manipulated the girl into joining her, Alyssa was talkative and lively with reams of questions of her own. She laughed a great deal more too. Perhaps the loss of Tor was less keen…or possibly not—it was just that the girl had more interest in her life now, walking the roads of Tallinor. Whatever it was, it was doing her a power of good. The girl looked radiant.
She was sharp too. Sorrel noted how quickly she absorbed the lore of herbs and plants; she would easily be able to earn money alongside her. Not that they had needed any money yet, however. Merkhud had seen to it that Sorrel’s purse was heavy, though she had not revealed her wealth to Alyssa. She continued to mutter that they would have to look for work soon but at each village put it off until tomorrow. Alyssa seemed to be looking forward to putting her new skills to work. So far they had spent much time gathering useful plants and herbs but they had not attempted to sell any remedies yet. All in good time, Sorrel said.
She did not want to draw attention to herself or Alyssa. She needed time to get to know the girl better, especially as Alyssa had begun slowly to drop her guard, probably because of the tranquil pace and outdoor life. If they were to locate themselves in a village and begin working, it could be a different story.
Sorrel realised she had still not answered Alyssa’s question about why they were headed for Ildagarth. ‘Well, I’ve not been to that part of the Kingdom for a good many years and it seems as good a place as any,’ she lied. She stretched in a deliberately casual manner. ‘Besides, near Ildagarth is Caremboche. Have you heard of this place?’
Alyssa shook her head. She returned to sit beside the munching Kythay, pushing away golden wisps of glinting hair which had escaped her loose plait. The donkey turned and nuzzled her and she whispered something to him.
Sorrel continued. ‘Caremboche is the ancient place where the Seat of Knowledge was located—once an opulent city filled with sorcerers and academics, artists and craftsmen, where their skills were openly encouraged and passed on. Two centuries on, it is a mere shadow of its former glorious self but the Academie remains. I’d like you to see it.’
She noted Alyssa’s lack of interest and decided not to pursue the conversation further. Instead she veiled and cast.
Greetings, my love. How do you fare? replied the smooth voice.
We are both well, Merkhud, approaching Fragglesham. With luck we’ll reach Mexford by the next moon.
There was a sigh of relief. That’s good news. Does she know?
No. She is barely interested. Are you sure about this?
I am. He comes. We’ll talk soon. Before Sorrel could respond, the link was sharply closed.
Sighing deeply and wondering at the seeming pointlessness of her life, she suggested to her companion that they should push on to Fragglesham which was now within a few hours reach. They did better, reaching the bustling town much sooner than planned, and immediately found themselves a room at The Wheatsheaf.
The famous travelling show, Cirq Zorros, was encamped on Fragglesham Green. Tiered benches had been erected and the wildly coloured pennants which lined the arena lifted and flapped in a lazy breeze. The northern fringe of the Green was a maze of small tents and awnings which housed the performers and their animals. At the southern end, brightly painted sideshow stalls had been set up close to the main entrance. In between roamed what looked like a town within a town: dozens of travelling performers, keepers and stall owners preparing for the evening’s show.
Alyssa was enchanted by the scene. ‘I’ve only ever heard about Cirq Zorros. I can’t believe it’s here!’
Sorrel was not impressed. This would slow them down for sure. In fact she was surprised that The Wheatsheaf had even had a room available. Then she remembered the innkeeper had mentioned that some of the King’s men were staying at the inn. ‘Inquisitor Goth,’ he had whispered apologetically.
Sorrel had never feared Goth. Her ability to link was well beyond his weak senses which relied upon an enchanted stone to scry out sentients. It almost made her laugh. But Alyssa would fear him, as did most people, sentient and otherwise. She could not risk the girl becoming nervous and perhaps getting herself noticed. Nevertheless, she had taken the room and paid in advance and was now wondering how in the name of Light she was going to avoid taking the happy young woman at her side to the circus. There was no way out of it. Alyssa’s heart and mind was lost to the colourful regalia, the strange-looking people weaving in and out of tents and even stranger beasts feeding and sunning themselves.
Sorrel resigned herself. ‘Perhaps we could go to the show,’ she said kindly.
Alyssa looked as though someone had just handed her a precious jewel. It seemed impossible her expression could show more delight and yet her smile stretched wider still, her eyes laughed their pleasure and the shriek which escaped her as she threw her arms around her friend was worth the four royals it would cost Sorrel.
Inquisitor Goth was furious. His fine stallion had stumbled and lightly sprained a leg as his imposing troop had cantered into town and now the horse was being rested, much to his disgust, in the Fragglesham stable. What a piss-poor excuse for a town this was and, to add misery to woe, the hated circus had arrived yesterday—a carbuncle on society with its flea-ridden beasts and freakish gypsies.
He banged his mug on the table in another empty show of wrath. His company was making its way back to Tal whilst he lingered in the town, refusing to leave without his prized stallion which was two days from being fit enough to travel. The noise, he knew, would get him nowhere but he liked to see the fat sod of an innkeeper sweat and, even better, it unnerved the serving girls. It might help to soften them up for his games later, he thought viciously. He leered at one young woman. She had large breasts and he imagined himself pinching them hard and making her scream. Yes, he’d make them pay all right for this delay.
The tic on the left side of his face twitched erratically but he cared little. He was powerful. No longer an orphaned, penniless noble’s brat but a man to be respected. That fire which had ripped through his family’s home had served a purpose. A painful one but nonetheless it had rid him of his useless parents: one a drunken skirt-chaser, the other a whimpering wreck; both headed for the debt courts having squandered his grandfather’s fortune. Tallinor’s Great Fire had simply sped them on their way. After their useless, pathetic lives, death must have felt like a welcome embrace, or so he liked to tell himself.
The small child left behind had been maimed by the flames but breathed still. With the inspired healing ministrations of the famous Physic Merkhud, Almyd Goth had rallied, then strengthened, and finally walked from what had seemed his deathbed straight into the arms of the royal family, who had taken pity on the ruined face of the boy from noble parents.
‘You must rue the day you clapped eyes on my twisted face, Nyria.’ Goth giggled into his ale. ‘And your despised servant, that old man, would poison me now as soon as spit on me. He must long to be able to turn back the years and snuff out the life of the child he fought so hard to save.’
His mouth was twisted into an ugly smile when he turned to see a startlingly beautiful young woman talking excitedly as she entered The Wheatsheaf, an old woman following her.
‘Tonight then?’ The girl was talking about the circus, he realised with a snarl.
‘Anything to stop you twittering, Alyssa,’ her companion replied.
They had not noticed him but he watched the old woman push the girl towards the steps. Goth licked his undefined rubbery lips—another legacy of the fire which had smudged almost every feature of his face into the other. Only the cold, slate-coloured eyes, with their icy hatred of anything and anyone handsome or gifted in any way, were whole. Now, as those eyes followed the shapely rear of Alyssa Qyn disappearing up the inn’s stairs, he decided she would be his sport for tonight and help take the edge off his crippling boredom.
Alyssa’s stomach clenched as she descended the stairs to look for Sorrel. There was only one man in all of Tallinor with a face like that. Although she had never before seen Chief Inquisitor Goth his reputation was legend and she had no doubt whatsoever that it was him sitting at the table between her and the inn’s door.
His narrowed eyes, fixed on hers, made her feel instantly cornered. He could not be chasing her. She had used no Power since leaving her village. Her mind raced to check and double-check this fact. As she moved from the bottom stair into the main inn she felt certain he was not looking for her, so why was he staring at her so intently?
Goth grinned. To Alyssa it looked like a snarl and she stopped. Goth loved it when people recoiled from him. Yes indeed, that fire had done him a good turn. If she was scared her pale, lovely skin would flinch all the more when he touched her. She really was a beautiful creature, with her hair polished to gleaming. Beneath the battered clothes she wore he sensed a fragile body on the verge of womanhood. A virgin for sure. He shivered with delight. This would make it all the more delectable.
He licked his ghastly lips in anticipation and this time Alyssa took a step back.
‘Er…may I help you, sir?’ she stammered, looking around uselessly for the innkeeper who was nowhere to be seen. She could see Sorrel, though, through the open door, out in the street and deep in conversation with someone; as good as a league away.
He smiled horribly. ‘Most certainly you can, my dear. Firstly by letting me feel between your legs and later perhaps on your knees.’ It was said so sweetly.
Alyssa’s bile rose at his words and sugary voice. Trapped, she watched paralysed, as he stood and slipped his cloak from his shoulders then undid the sword from his hip. Where is everyone? her mind shrieked. And then he was walking towards her. Though not tall he was powerfully built and she could see the cruel glint in the eyes staring out of his expressionless, twitching face.
Alyssa was unable to utter a word. She did the only thing her body was capable of at that terrifying moment. She smashed the guard she had built around herself and, raising her head, sent a terrified scream across the link she had opened to anyone who might be listening.
Goth was bemused by her strange action but grabbed her slim arm strongly, with the intention of hurting her. As he did so, he was incensed to see the girl’s companion suddenly burst through the doorway screaming the girl’s name. Goth had no care for what people might think of his actions carried out in private but it would be another case to answer should any commoner bring complaint to the King about him performing anything but his duty. He dropped Alyssa’s arm. He had seen that look of hate which was now spread across the old woman’s face many times before. It had no effect on him yet there was something more there, though he could not tell what.
‘What brings you rushing in here like this, old woman?’
Goth was fuming. He had paid the innkeeper an outrageous sum to stay away until he had met with the young woman and taken her to his room. In fact, he had spread enough coin in that pig’s sweaty palm to pay off all the serving staff and to ensure someone stopped the old girl in the street and kept her busy.
Sorrel was breathing heavily, more from the shock of hearing Alyssa’s scream in her head than having to move so swiftly. She fought to compose herself.
‘Ah. There you are, my girl.’ She sucked in more air to calm her nerves and steady her voice. ‘What took you so long?’
Goth answered for Alyssa. ‘She slipped on the stairs and I was helping her, madam.’
Sorrel could see Alyssa was trembling.
‘Oh, how kind of you. Inquisitor Goth, isn’t it?’ she asked courteously, hating the very space he occupied. ‘My granddaughter is such a clumsy young thing. Beautiful, yes, but could trip over a bread crumb. My thanks for your kindness, sir.’
Other people were moving into the inn now and Goth knew he had lost the moment. He would find another one though. This girl would be his.
‘Don’t mention it,’ he replied curtly and, without looking back, he returned to the table where he picked up his sword and cloak and disappeared into the street.
An almost audible sigh of relief swept through the inn.
‘How did you know?’ Alyssa had finally found her voice.
‘Know what, child?’
‘That I needed your help. He was…he was about to—’ She choked back a sob.
‘Hush, Alyssa. Not here. Let’s go now…it’s safe outside,’ said Sorrel tenderly.
They walked in silence towards the Green, both shaken. People were strolling in small bunches towards the circus tent. All around them was excited conversation and eruptions of happy laughter but the women’s earlier buoyant mood had burst with the incident at the inn; neither knew quite what to say.
Just before reaching the entrance to Cirq Zorros Alyssa stopped, puzzlement creasing her forehead. ‘You didn’t answer me. How did you know I needed saving from that…that monster? How is it that he did not scry me out the instant I cast? Why am I not already bridled?’
Sorrel knew she would have to be careful. ‘We must talk, Alyssa, but not now. People are watching and this is a conversation best had in private.’
So…talk to me privately, Alyssa thumped into Sorrel’s head. Her eyes blazed their anger and Sorrel was caught unguarded by the strong cast.
They moved in awkward silence to an empty bench beneath one of Fragglesham’s elms and sat down. It would not have mattered if anyone else had shared it for no one could hear their conversation.
How long have you known? Alyssa demanded.
There was no point in trying to appease her anger, Sorrel decided. It was easier to allow it to spend itself.
Since the beginning, she answered.
Why the secrecy?
Well…I was afraid at first, she lied.
Alyssa snapped at her. Of what?
Of discovering someone else empowered. I have avoided the few sentients I’ve met in my life…we don’t last long in Goth’s society if we admit what we are. Better to remain anonymous. But you were different. You…well, you touched something in me. The daughter I’ve never had, perhaps. I sensed your pain. The careful way you’ve hidden your power all your life. Your need for someone to love you.
Sorrel reached out and touched Alyssa’s face. You looked so forlorn and helpless that day I stopped by your cottage, my heart just melted for a child I knew I could help. She stopped talking and dropped her hand back into her lap, despising her ability to lie so easily.
Alyssa did not try to hide the tears. Why did you come to my cottage?
One of the folk in the town mentioned you dabbled with the potions and as I was low on my stores I thought I might be able to replenish some of my staple herbs.
She hated herself for hoodwinking the girl so effortlessly.
Alyssa sniffed. And so we’re going to this…this…Academie because we are sentient?
Ah, so she was listening, Sorrel thought to herself. Clever girl.
We’re going there to protect you, my child. You are strong with this power. I have not felt you use it until that moment when you screamed. I too am shocked as to why that butcher Goth cannot detect your or my skills but we have to be careful. In the Academie we can be safe for a while and you can find the peace you want.
Alyssa stood and looked out across the colourful pennants, watching excited Fragglesham folk filing in through the theatrical awnings. Why are you doing this for me? Her tone was no longer aggressive.
Sorrel paused. She took a noticeable breath. Because I once had a son. I will not discuss him with you apart from now. He was found to be sentient. Powerful. He was punished at the start of his life for it. I lost a son I worshipped, a husband I adored and the happy life I led. Now I roam Tallinor, nothing more than a gypsy myself, offering cures for people’s ailments but not getting involved with their lives. I grow older and ever emptier. Perhaps before I die I can put an end to my bitterness and open up my heart once more to someone. Maybe the gods chose you for me, Alyssa.
The girl shivered. She recalled a saying her father had quoted whenever he shivered unexpectedly—that the gods were walking on his grave. She understood that sentiment now as she listened to the old woman’s serious words.
She turned towards Sorrel and bent to clasp her hands. She kissed the woman softly on the cheek and whispered Thank you.
Sorrel smiled, her sharp eyes softening. Now let’s get you to this circus, child, before we become too maudlin. We beat Goth today—there are few, if any, who could claim that. We must celebrate!
The famous horns of Cirq Zorros which had been calling its audience to order suddenly blasted even louder, as if in answer to Sorrel’s cry for a celebration. This time both women laughed as they picked up their skirts and made their way to the large tent. They pushed through the theatrically draped curtains to the main arena and squeezed into a small space still available. Sorrel silently cursed the hardness of the bench but Alyssa barely noticed it.
Her sense of the girl’s power, and knowledge that her magic was undetectable by the vile Goth, confirmed in Sorrel’s mind that they were doing the right thing. She fought her anxiety at blindly following Merkhud’s orders as he orchestrated the capture of these two bright young people. Deep down she detested herself for manipulating the girl so adeptly, and she knew Merkhud would have toyed with the young scribe with even greater subtlety. But their purpose was far bigger than the lives of these two youngsters; far bigger than all of them. And she trusted Merkhud. They had suffered so much to come this far. He was totally committed to his quest and Sorrel believed that while his carefully plotted plans to ‘own’ these two people might appear cruel and calculating, his efforts were true to his cause of finding the One.
Sorrel grasped that Alyssa was important to that cause but she would have to be patient before she found out why. This girl, who was on the verge of blossoming into an astonishingly beautiful woman, would have her part to play when the time came, of that Sorrel was now sure. What that was and when it would be, no one yet knew.
She was dragged from her thoughts when the horns stopped blaring and a hush smothered the loud voices. The sconces were doused and only a few well-placed lanterns remained lit, throwing the vaulted tent into a broody dimness. Music struck up—all of it discordant which suited the first act. A troupe of oddly dressed dwarves scuttled into the arena, tumbling and twisting and throwing things at one another. They attempted to dance gracefully but it soon fell into buffoonery and their balancing acts ended just as unsuccessfully. Running through the audience they knocked off hats, stole food, sat on people’s laps and made the children squeal.
As fast as it had begun, it stopped. This time all the lanterns were doused and the arena plunged into darkness. A single candle flame revealed the gleeful, painted face of one of the dwarves. Then another was lit to show the leering face of a second dwarf standing on the shoulders of the first. And so it went until ten candles were flickering and a column of eerily lit, ugly faces punctuated the dark. The audience showed its appreciation.
The dwarves, as one, put their stubby fingers to their mouths to quiet everyone and they were obeyed. A voice boomed into the darkness and six torches were lit in unison to reveal the Kingdom’s tallest man, higher than the column of dwarves and balancing expertly upon enormous stilts.
He began to take great strides as he bellowed loudly: ‘Welcome, good folk of Fragglesham, and our thanks for coming to our humble show.’
Ringmaster Zorros paused and was rewarded with the applause he knew would come. He resumed his striding, waving his arms and explaining what strange and colourful sights they would behold this evening.
They would see brangos, painfully shy, cave-dwelling creatures that had been tamed and taught an elegant dance routine; fearsome, horned jubbas from the north with women riding their backs; posturers who would contort their bodies into impossible positions; and strong men who could support weights that no single man should be capable of lifting.
The audience thrilled at the woman whose piercing scream could shatter a looking glass; a pair of men who, blindfolded and balanced on a spinning wheel, hurled knives at a third, their blades barely missing him. But it was the snake swallower, a young lad, who brought the most applause as he allowed the creature to slither deep into his throat.
Finally, Zorros introduced the act which most had heard about and come to witness. The Flying Foxes were a family of acrobats and trapeze artists, ranging from a scrawny five-year-old girl through to a stunning man, Saxon, who looked like the father of the troupe.
Alyssa fancied that whenever Saxon cast his eye over the audience he appeared to look directly at her…into her. She watched him run gracefully along a tightrope while balancing three of the smaller children on his shoulders and head. The audience loved it. He was certainly a fine-looking man with golden hair that touched his broad, powerful shoulders. His body was lean and oiled to make his muscles all the more impressive. He wore only black pantaloons, pulled in at his waist by a gold plait, and soft gold slippers.
The Flying Foxes’ feats became more and more dangerous and occurred at higher and higher levels. Alyssa held her breath each time any one of the family leapt into the air, trusting that Saxon would catch them. He was deft and confident. He never missed. To Alyssa they looked like angels flying around in their sparkling costumes with their wild blond hair streaming behind them.
The music changed to become more dramatic and the elder members of the family began to climb a scaffold high into the peak of the tent. There came a drum roll as Saxon swung strongly on a swing. He launched himself into the air, turning somersaults before catching his colleague who came flying from the opposite side of the tent in a huge arc. The three males performed a number of death-defying passes, their movements becoming more complex and frightening. Then Zorros reappeared in the arena’s centre.
‘And now we require someone from our audience tonight to fly with the Foxes,’ he invited.
Hands flew eagerly into the air, desperately trying to catch the maestro’s attention, while parents desperately tried to ensure they went unnoticed.
‘I think we should ask Master Saxon to choose, don’t you?’ asked Zorros.
‘I wish he would choose me, Sorrel,’ Alyssa yelled, recklessly throwing her own arms into the air with all the other would-be trapeze novices.
‘Sit down, child, I beg you. Truly that’s the last thing we need. I don’t think my heart could bear any more excitement today.’
Saxon descended, graceful and strong, down the ropes which his wife—as Alyssa guessed she must be—began to spin harder and harder from the ground. In doing so the woman moved him in an ever-widening arc around the tent until he was circling wide and low above the audience.
‘Choose!’ commanded Zorros.
The audience picked up the chant. ‘Choose…choose…choose…’ they chorused.
Alyssa was yelling along with everyone; she dug Sorrel with her elbow to encourage her to join in, and drummed her feet on the boards.
Saxon Fox continued to fly through the noise. With almost imperceptible adjustments the woman slowed the rotation of the ropes until he skimmed just above the audience’s heads. Just when it seemed unthinkable that he could slow down any more without falling out of the air Saxon made one final, impossibly low pass and grabbed Alyssa’s outstretched hand, lifting her smoothly with him. Alyssa knew it was Sorrel shrieking below.
‘He chose!’ bellowed Zorros and the audience roared its approval.
Alyssa looked down and almost gagged.
‘Don’t look down. Look ahead, or at least at me,’ Saxon said. And when she turned to look at her captor’s handsomely lined face with its dark violet eyes, he smiled widely and whispered across a link he sliced open in her mind. Don’t be scared.
Then they were climbing into the highest reaches of the tent. Alyssa was disorientated by the height and the fact that Saxon had slung her over his back like a sack of flour. She must be mistaken. Surely he had not spoken using a link? She must have imagined it in all the excitement.
Saxon plonked her next to his two strapping lads and then swung off towards a distant platform. Trust me! he called into her head.
She was not mistaken. Fox had linked with her. Goth was sitting in an inn five hundred steps away and this madman was using magic on her.
‘Don’t look down!’ Oris, the eldest, repeated, steadying her as she swayed.
His brother Milt, who looked disarmingly like his father, squeezed her arm. ‘He won’t drop you. Just make your body go slack and look forward to wild applause.’
Alyssa’s fear caught up with her. ‘Are you all mad?’
Both boys laughed. Just like their father, she thought.
‘We do this in every town. There’s always one empty-headed victim like you who wants to fly. Just don’t panic and he…’ Oris pointed to Saxon, who was some way below them now and swinging furiously on his beam, ‘…will catch you.’
‘Catch me?’ Her voice had become squeaky. ‘You’re going to throw me to him?’
‘What did you think we were going to do?’ they said in unison, each grabbing one of her arms and jumping off their platform on a large swing.
Alyssa screamed her protest. Below, the audience echoed her terror. The drums were rolling loudly and she could smell the wax of the candles and soot from the sconces. She dangled from the boys’ arms, feeling them pulling her hard and forcing her body to swing to precisely the right momentum.
‘Get ready!’ Milt called to her ominously.
Come, Alyssa, whispered Saxon oh so gently in her head. Trust me, I’ve been sent to protect you.
Alyssa wondered in that sharply held second what he meant but before she could reply Oris and Milt swung her hard, upwards and outwards. They let go. Her body began to spin into helpless somersaults and so she tumbled, shrieking and plummeting to certain death she was sure.
Tor! She cast out wildly but the noise of the audience lifted towards her, she felt strong arms plucking her from the air and cradling her, then she and Saxon were swinging back and then forwards together.
He was upside down, hanging onto his beam by bent legs. She had no idea which way up she was but she looked into his eyes and the terror stopped.
Who are you? she pressed into his mind.
I’m yours, he replied, deliberately vague. Now take your applause, my lady.
Miraculously Alyssa found she had been lowered to the ground and watched Saxon being pulled back upwards, hanging now by his feet.
Curtsy for the people, he reminded as he drew away.
It was true, the crowd had gone wild. Even Sorrel was on her feet and clapping. Alyssa curtsied but when she looked up all she saw was Goth’s ruined face twisted into a scowl. He knew she had seen him so he licked his lips deliberately. She felt a chill crawl across her body and all the excitement shrivelled in her stomach.
She cast, no longer afraid of him scrying her out. Goth’s here, Sorrel!
Sorrel was careful not to whip her head around too quickly. We’ll be careful to get lost in the crowd. Calmly come back here now, she said.
Alyssa nodded. As she turned to watch the family taking its applause, Saxon caught her look and winked, making her blush. In her embarrassment she did not notice the three people pushing into spaces behind Sorrel, eyeing Alyssa rather than the entertainment.
‘Let’s steal out now,’ Alyssa whispered as she found Sorrel again.
‘Once we’re through the curtains put this on,’ the old girl said, handing Alyssa a large shawl. It was drab and brown. ‘Cover up as much of that dress as you can and hide your hair with this.’ She gave Alyssa a thick leather thong and a bonnet.
‘Where did you have all these hidden?’
‘In my bag of tricks.’ Sorrel patted the battered cloth bag she habitually carried. ‘Now, let’s go.’
Alyssa felt less nervous once her hair was safely hidden beneath the bonnet and the surprisingly large shawl was draped to disguise her yellow skirt. She stopped trying to glimpse that terrifying face and allowed herself to relax and walk amongst the crowd, even chatting to strangers about the evening’s entertainment.
Sorrel too began to feel less threatened now that they were anonymous in the crowd. At the yell of ‘Fire!’ though she felt a claw of fear grab her. She turned to see the sumptuous awnings of the circus tent, just steps behind them, licked by flames. People began to scream and those still trooping out from the tent began to panic, and then they all began to run, shoving and trampling those in front. In seconds the southern entrance was ablaze and in the space of a heartbeat Alyssa’s hand was torn from Sorrel’s grip and the girl was pushed sideways in a surge of people.
Get to the inn! was all Sorrel could think to say across the link in the panic, though she realised that Alyssa’s retreating back was being carried away from the town as people desperately tried to escape the fire which was eating its way ferociously towards the tent’s peak and across its ropes. The crying of terrified animals joined the panicked screams of people. Sorrel saw a child fall; when she tried to grab the small girl she was pushed over herself. Feet trampled her.
Light preserve you, Alyssa was her last thought before something hit her head and she plunged into darkness.
Sorrel awoke groggy. She looked around and could not place where she was. It took a moment or two before she recognised the concerned face of Saxon Fox peering into hers.
‘Welcome back,’ he said gently. There was no bright grin on his face any more.
She sat up as quickly as her old bones would allow and was rewarded with pain. She winced.
‘Easy, old woman. I’m Saxon Fox, from Cirq Zorros. What’s left of it anyway.’
‘I know who you are,’ she croaked. ‘Where’s my granddaughter?’
‘I hoped you’d tell me.’
She shook her head gingerly. ‘We became separated in the panic. What happened?’
The performer sighed. ‘Who knows? One minute we were taking our bows, the next the tent was on fire.’ He shrugged in the distinctive manner which could belong to only one race of people.
‘You’re Kloek,’ she said, now recognising the height, golden hair and light eyes so common to that race. Hearing the gentle brogue in his voice, she felt sure.
He looked offended. ‘Of course. Which other race is this handsome?’ It was an attempt at humour he did not feel. ‘We’ve lost almost everything tonight. Many of our exotic animals perished. The tent is ashes, though our caravans are safe. A small generosity from the gods. Six of our troupe are dead.’
He stopped talking as Greta—the woman from the act—arrived with a tray of cups.
‘Here, drink this.’ She was angry, which, under the circumstances, Sorrel considered fair enough.
She took the cup. ‘What is it?’
‘It will soothe,’ was all the woman said before turning and walking away.
Sorrel looked around. There were many people sitting or lying on the ground, dazed and confused. She could see one of the beautiful brangos lying dead, its body twisted and charred. She sipped the concoction and recognised the herb rimmis within the fiery liquid. It was the right choice and would help.
‘Is that woman your wife?’
Saxon laughed harshly. ‘No. She is my dead brother’s wife.’
Sorrel sat up properly. ‘She makes a good tea. I must leave to find Alyssa.’
‘I will help you,’ he said firmly.
‘Why? You seem to have enough chaos here to deal with.’ She looked hard at him. What was his interest in Alyssa?
‘She is a beautiful girl…and she flies nicely,’ he replied with no guile in his voice that she could detect. ‘I am no use here for a while. Let me at least walk you back to your dwelling.’
‘We don’t live here, Master Fox. We are travellers. But you may walk me back to The Wheatsheaf. I would be grateful for the assistance.’ Her head hurt horribly.
‘I prefer Saxon,’ he said, helping her to her feet.
At the inn, people were milling around in confusion. Fragglesham was in shock. Nine townsfolk had lost their lives in the fire as well as the six circus performers. Alyssa was not in the inn nor had anyone who might have recognised her seen her.
Sorrel noted that Goth was nowhere around either. That alarmed her most of all. She cast to Alyssa but there was nothing. It did not surprise her. Like most sentients, she could only communicate on a link if she was relatively close to the person she wanted to talk with—unless she was bonded, of course, as she was to Merkhud. She had never heard of anyone other than them casting over great distances.
She pulled the circus man aside. She would have to trust him.
‘Saxon, are you familiar with Inquisitor Goth?’
The man spat through two fingers onto the ground. It was another peculiar habit of the Kloeks. ‘Who isn’t!’
‘Well, he’s in town and has shown more than a passing interest in Alyssa. This afternoon he contrived to…er…well, shall we say, compromise her.’
Saxon’s violet eyes blazed and told his companion more than he wished. So, she thought, there is more to this than just helping a stranger find her family.
‘You think he has her?’
It was her turn to shrug. ‘Perhaps.’ Sorrel could not allow herself to believe Alyssa had been killed in the panic, though that had already crossed her mind. But with no body as evidence she clung to the hope that her precious cargo was alive.
‘Then I will find him. Stay here, old woman, I’m faster without you.’
‘Find her! You must keep her safe,’ she said harshly as the rimmis took its effect and her mind began to blur.
She did not hear Saxon mutter under his breath: ‘That’s what I’ve been sent to do.’
When the panic began and Alyssa was pulled from Sorrel she realised it was no use fighting against the tide of people. It was easier to run with them. She was shocked by the flames which jumped so rapidly, consuming the tent they had all been sitting under minutes ago. She heard Sorrel telling her to go to the inn but for now that was impossible. She would have to run to the safety of the fields surrounding Fragglesham first and then walk back around them into town. She slowed to a walk within the small group around her; although dazed they seemed to know in which direction they were heading.
She heard a single rider cantering up behind them. The four people she was walking alongside parted and stepped back to the side of the road. As they did so the rider came into view and stopped.
He looked down at her. ‘Is this her?’
Alyssa’s brow wrinkled as she tried to make sense of it. One of the men she had been walking with moments earlier stepped up and, before she could react, pulled her arms behind her back where a woman tied them together. Struggling, she yelled but they ignored her and addressed the rider instead.
‘The money?’
The rider tossed a pouch of coins at the man who then turned to face her. ‘Enjoy your night,’ he said. His mirth was infectious for they were all laughing now.
She swung around to the woman she had been talking with. ‘Help me…’
The woman smirked. ‘She needs help, Fil.’
The man grabbed Alyssa by her waist and hoisted her up onto the horse behind the rider. Then they were moving fast as he whipped the horse into a gallop, riding not back towards Fragglesham Green but out into the darkness of the countryside.
It suddenly became clear to her. Alyssa knew that Goth would be waiting for her at the end of this journey.
‘Welcome, my dear.’ His voice made her feel ill. ‘Thank you, Drell.’
The rider nodded and left. She listened to the sound of his horse disappearing, along with her only hope of escape. Alyssa felt the cold touch of despair and allowed it to consume her before she turned it into hate. Hate for this filth, who poured himself some wine as he contemplated what horror to visit on her for his pleasure.
He sipped, allowing the dry wine to roll around his deformed mouth. ‘Come, drink with me. We have a long night ahead together. Why not make it enjoyable?’ The mouth contorted into its hideous sneer.
She found her voice and was proud it did not sound thin. ‘Is this the only way you can ever get to touch a woman, Goth—tie her up and force yourself on her?’
She surprised herself at how strong she felt. Her contempt was powerful. ‘You pitiful, scarred wretch. Get on with it then and kill me or I will surely kill you for it.’
She watched the twisted flesh twitch and the eyes become black dots. Goth was confused. This was not how it was meant to be. Usually they snivelled and begged and then tried to be charming, hoping it would make it easier on them. That made him all the more cruel. He loved to see them terrified. And he did not like his sport being spoiled like this. So yes, he would rape her and then kill her, but not before hurting her and soaking up the agony in her eyes. Then, just to lay rest to any doubts about the depth of his hatred, he would hunt down the grandmother, who was probably scurrying around the smouldering town right now hopelessly searching for her beloved girl.
The firing of the circus had worked well. He loved fire. It had been an inspired piece of skullduggery. In one move he had singled out the girl and had devastated the circus-dwellers he despised so much. If he could kill every gypsy he would, but they were protected by the stupid ancient law of sanctuary.
He realised his mind was wandering and that she was smirking at his apparent hesitance. That would never do. She must die knowing fear, not triumph.
‘As you wish, my sweet young thing. I shall certainly take my pleasure from your delicious, ripe little body. And if death is what you lust for rather than me, then you shall have it. It is the least I can do as thanks for your services.’
He put down his glass and was glad to see her flinch. ‘And afterwards, Alyssa—that’s your name, isn’t it? Afterwards I shall torture and kill your beloved grandmother. I owe her some special thanks for her interruption this afternoon.’
He wanted to howl with laughter when he saw her resilience crumple. What a silly young fool she was to lock swords with him.
‘Now let’s get those peasant clothes off shall we, my dear?’
In two strides he was across the room, pulling a blade from his belt. He sliced through her blouse and everything beneath it, including her skin. Blood oozed from the wound. It was a surface cut but it hurt and he knew it. Alyssa bit down hard on her lip to prevent herself crying out loud and instead cried out silently across the link she opened to the one person she knew would hear it.
Leaving The Wheatsheaf, grim-faced and ready in his anger to tear the head from Goth’s shoulders, Saxon Fox heard Alyssa scream into his head. It stopped him dead in his footsteps.
Where? he bellowed into the night, sweet relief at hearing her panicked voice mixed with dread.
While Goth expressed fake sympathy at the blood and stooped to lick the trickle between her breasts, Alyssa told Saxon, as best she could, how to find her.
Be quick, flying man, I’m as good as dead.
The searing pain as her captor bit into the soft flesh surrounding her nipple snapped the link shut and she forced herself to go in search of the Colours.
Tor had taught her how to do this. He could put himself into a trance-like state, delving deeper into himself until the blinding Colours surrounded him. Though she had never achieved more than floating in a serene, sensual Green, Alyssa loved going there and she fled there now. She had to escape Goth. It was no use hurling her powers at him; he was protected by the scrying stone on his ring which deflected the magic back to the sender. Yet it seemed he had not been able to detect her powers. She did not understand it but now was not the time to ponder it. Instead she floated through the Green, praying that Saxon would reach her before Goth tired of her. She spared one last thought for Tor, wishing it had been him there to share the loss of her virginity.
Goth had become excited at the taste of her blood. He had thought to make a long night of teasing and torturing the girl but she had annoyed him and the blood-letting ensured he was lost to lust. His own desires allowed no further time for games. She was beautiful in her nakedness though, he had to admit that.
He ripped off the band which tied her hair and let the golden locks fall every which way as he pushed her down onto the straw mattress.
‘Now, my lovely,’ he said, irritated beyond belief that he suddenly found her limp, with no fight to titillate him further. Her eyes were closed. He slapped her hard.
Somewhere in the Green Alyssa knew her body was being hurt but her senses were mercifully disconnected and she floated on, hoping for delivery one way or the other.
‘Bitch!’ He punched her hard in the stomach. He stood and kicked her repeatedly, his boots inflicting terrible blows. But the girl did not wince. She was as dead to him as if he’d choked the final breath from her. The violence Goth delivered made his body throb all the more with lust. He must do it now. Risk waiting a moment longer and he would lose that lust onto the grimy coverlets he had her slumped on.
He pulled off his clothes hurriedly, smiling as his badly burned chest was exposed. Women hated the sight of it. He wished this bitch had seen it too. The fire had not touched what throbbed between his legs though. He grabbed it now and slammed himself deep into the girl’s body, hardly noticing the token resistance. He poured into his sexual frenzy the fury he felt at being robbed of her screams.
As Goth stole her virginity, the safe Green dissolved and Alyssa found herself staring at a scene.
There were two creatures—not quite men, not quite beasts—something strange in between. They were laughing. One was reaching into…what was it? A woodland? No, a brilliantly beautiful glade where exquisite flowers bent in a soft breath of wind and sunlight bathed their petals. She could almost smell their sweet fragrance. A brook, its waters catching on smoothed stones, sparked with light as it gurgled around the mighty trunk of a tree. And to one side there was a man and woman holding each other close. They were beautiful. One pale-skinned and flaxen-haired, the other darkly handsome.
One of the man-creatures was lifting something from the ground; as it pulled its hand back she could see it held a baby. She flinched. The baby squealed. Its pitiful cry tore into Alyssa’s heart. The thieves were laughing and running away, the baby was shrieking.
She watched as shock registered on the couple’s beautiful faces, but they did not give chase. Why not? Alyssa tried to run after the baby but her legs were pinned. She began to scream and scream and scream.
Ah, now that’s more like it, thought Goth, pushing himself still further into the girl. Now she could really feel what a powerful man he was. He enjoyed hearing her calling out in fear like that. It excited him more.
Goth should have heard him. Instead, his first indication that someone else was there was when he was lifted off Alyssa and flung savagely against the wall. His body slumped there, weakly pumping its liquid as he wilted with shock.
Alyssa was back in the safe Green when she heard it, as though from a great distance—someone calling her. It was a voice she trusted; it belonged to the one who had been sent to protect her. She rushed towards the voice. She knew she would be safe if she could reach it.
Her eyes opened and she looked into the face of Saxon Fox, then saw the crumpled brute splayed against the wall. Saxon buried his head in her hair and held her tight as she shook with fright.
You’re safe now, he spoke gently into her mind.
Saxon covered Alyssa with his cloak as she clumsily pulled herself to her feet. Confused, she watched Saxon pull a mask over his face then she backed away as the Inquisitor shook himself slowly to consciousness.
‘I’m glad you’re awake. I did so want you to see this,’ Saxon said.
Goth had no time to protest. Saxon grabbed between the man’s legs and a blade swung and blood spilled across the floor. Alyssa ran out of the hut, away from the chilling screams and the sight of what Saxon had done. She dragged in air with deep sucks as the evidence of the Inquisitor’s lust slid down her legs.
Inside, Goth whimpered and drooled in a pool of his own blood. He was as good as dead, he was sure, but dared not spit out what had been stuffed into his mouth by the enraged madman towering above him. He could take a terrifying guess at what the soft bundle was. The only hope he held in his dimming, dying mind was that through the doorway he thought he glimpsed a distant, swinging lantern.
‘Die slowly, Goth. May you rot in darkness eternal,’ spat the stranger.
Saxon had also spotted the lantern. He made his escape without being seen, galloping the borrowed horse into the black of the woodland behind the hut before beginning the journey back towards town. Alyssa sat in front of Saxon, his long arms wrapped around her body. She was naked still, save for his cloak.
‘Did you kill him?’ she said aloud.
‘Yes,’ he answered, his voice flat. He could feel her trembling beneath the cloak. ‘We must disappear tonight. You and your grandmother must travel with us.’
‘She’s not my grandmother.’
He kissed the back of her head. ‘I know.’
‘You killed him?’ Sorrel’s eyes blazed her shock. ‘The gods preserve us…’
She had been frantic until their return and now paced the tiny room while Alyssa wrung her hands and Saxon maintained a stony silence.
Alyssa had washed herself as best she could behind a screen while haltingly explaining to the old woman what had occurred. She felt herself failing now.
‘This is why we must move ourselves as far from this town as possible,’ Saxon finally said.
‘To where, you fool?’
He flinched at Sorrel’s fury.
Alyssa shushed her, speaking gently. ‘Sorrel, we can’t stay here. They will start looking for Goth’s killer soon and who knows what might implicate us. My shawl was left behind, my shoes…’
She looking imploringly at Saxon, pleading with him to try again, unsure of whether she could stand a moment longer.
Saxon did try but was not gentle. ‘Listen to me, old woman. Your only hope is to disappear into this night now. Knowing Zorros, he will be salvaging everything he can this very moment, with plans to head out as fast as he can move everyone.’
‘It’s you who committed murder, friend Fox. Not I and not this girl. We have nothing to be frightened of.’ Sorrel hardly believed it herself.
Saxon spat. ‘Then it’s you who is the fool! If you won’t save yourself, let me save Alyssa from his companions. They will track you down and they will hang or stone you both. And no magic will save her!’
Sorrel looked as though someone had punched the wind from her. She swung around on Alyssa, a look of genuine fear and disbelief on her face.
‘I…I told him,’ the girl admitted, covering Saxon for his indiscretion.
Alyssa didn’t see it coming. Sorrel’s hand slapped the side of her cheek so hard she stumbled and fell. ‘Then you are more of a simpleton than he,’ Sorrel whispered in a frail voice, all the fight gone from her suddenly.
Saxon was at Alyssa’s side in one step. He picked the dazed girl up and lifted her into his arms.
His voice was cold with anger. ‘We leave now. You can come with us or you can stay here but I’m taking her from this place.’
He turned and climbed nimbly through the window with Alyssa clinging weakly to his neck.
Sorrel watched as he ran sure-footed along the rooftop of the inn before disappearing behind another roof. She shook her head to clear it of the anxiety and fear. Alyssa, a critical piece of this frustrating jigsaw puzzle, had just been removed. How could it have happened so fast? Merkhud would kill her himself, she felt sure.
No, she must go with them, and whoever this strange Saxon Fox was, he was part of them now. He was privy to their secret.
It took her just a few minutes to gather their few belongings before paying the innkeeper. She fetched Kythay from the stable and let him carry her back to the smouldering ruin of the circus.
Even Goth had to marvel at his ability to thwart death, which had now made two visits and failed. As the rimmis drug was slow to perform he took another sniff of the krill pod to dull the pain. The physic, pale and perspiring, worked on his patient’s mauled crotch. The man’s voice shook from fear at the atrocity of the wound.
‘You are fortunate, Inquisitor Goth…er, if that is possible under these circumstances. A while longer and we would not have been able to staunch the bleeding. You will be weak for many days but you will live.’
The doctor nervously began to clear away his instruments.
‘And my—’
‘I can’t save it,’ the physic interrupted, his tension spilling over.
Being in the same room as this man was frightening enough. He was known to kill without conscience. Still, he was being paid well. All he needed to do now was to finish and leave swiftly; but his nervousness betrayed him.
‘Your days of siring are over.’ And then his nerves betrayed him and the frightened thoughts tumbled out before he could stop them. ‘You’ll have to squat like a woman to piss.’
Goth felt the fury course through his body. The bitch and her accomplice, whoever that strong bastard was, would pay for this. He would hunt them down and he would kill them. In spite of his weakness, he reached over and grabbed the sweating doctor by the throat, squeezing just hard enough to choke the breath from him.
‘If you breathe a word of this to anyone I’ll slice you into small pieces, after you’ve watched me slice open each member of your family and feed them to the town dogs. A handsome wife and two pretty daughters, I believe?’
The doctor stared into the mad black dots of his patient’s eyes. He felt his bladder release as Goth let go of his throat.
‘I have nothing to say to anyone, sir,’ he croaked, hoping it was the right choice of words this time.
Goth’s stare gave no quarter to the petrified man.
‘Go now, doctor, and find yourself some fresh breeches. Is my man out there?’ The rimmis was finally beginning to make him fade. He must hold on just a while longer. He saw the man nod tentatively. ‘Send him in immediately. And remember your promise, for I am a man of my word.’
The physic fled. Moments later an Inquisitor appeared at Goth’s side. It was Rhus. He bent low to hear his chief.
‘Those people who brought me here…’ The man nodded. ‘Do you know who they are? How many?’
‘Yes, Lord Goth. There are four who saved you. A family named Horris. The parents laid you out and the son was sent to fetch that physic. His baby sister remained here. They await your pleasure.’
No wasted words; he knew not to raise the Chief Inquisitor’s ire.
Goth sighed with relief. ‘Good man. Kill them all, including the doctor and his family. Do it now and let there be no trace.’