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Authors: Stephen Hunt

Tags: #Fantasy, #Science Fiction & Fantasy

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BOOK: Foul Tide's Turning
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Leyla nodded with satisfaction.
And you, my odious brute, are going to make sure of it
.

SIXTEEN

WHAT YOU CAN DO IN A TANNERY

Willow woke up, her head spinning. She was inside a works hall, a tannery, filled with great bubbling oak vats of foul-smelling chemicals; each smelt as though year-old carcasses were being rendered inside the tubs. She sat bound painfully to a chair with rope, and opposite her she could see Paetro, feet and legs secured against a similar wooden seat, his arms tight behind his back. A third chair lay between the two of them, unoccupied.

‘What—’ Willow tried to speak but coughed, retching and only just holding back the vomit.

‘Take a minute, lass,’ said Paetro. ‘We were poisoned. Do you remember? Inside the rooms your so-called friend found for us. We were studying the layout of the city hall Purdell sketched for us when supper arrived. The food was obviously laced with something.’

‘Where are the others?’ Willow gasped.

‘Inside these vats,’ said Paetro. ‘I woke up in time to see Purdell sliding my boys’ dead bodies into the chemicals. The murdering turncoat bastard has other plans for you and me. Our dose wasn’t strong enough to kill us.’

Willow retched again, twice as strong. ‘Why? Why would he do that? Tom’s a friend of Carter; he said he’d help us?’

Paetro spat across the floor. ‘Purdell’s sold out to the locals rebels, I would say. We’re his ticket off that wanted poster you showed me.’

‘Right idea but wrong side, Vandian.’ A voice growled behind them. Thomas Purdell strode into view. Willow shivered. His voice had changed. Even his walk was wrong. It was as though the guild courier had been possessed and replaced by someone entirely different. Purdell came closer and inspected Willow as though she was meat for his table. ‘You two are my ticket to so much more than a mere pardon.’

Willow struggled in the chair but her bindings were too tight. ‘Mister Purdell! You don’t have to do this—’

‘No, I rather think I must. A trap needs to be baited with cheese, and you’re all the cheese I currently have.’

‘I don’t understand. You’re Carter and Jacob Carnehan’s friend? You said you would help me free them; trade Lady Cassandra for their liberty!’

Purdell reached and stroked her cheek gently. Willow flinched away from his icy fingers.
Why are they so cold?
‘But they are already free, you little fool. Jacob Carnehan escaped King Marcus’s cells with the assistance of a vagrant hedgerow magician called Sariel Skel-Bane; and Carter fled north with Prince Owen when the assembly was outlawed. You don’t believe me? Ask your Vandian friend here. I’m sure he knows the truth. He was watching you like a hawk in case you ran into any of the Carnehan clan inside Midsburg. I spotted one of his soldiers tailing you the morning we met.’

Willow glanced at Paetro, but he just spat on the floor again, staring in hatred at the guild courier.
For nothing. So this was all for nothing?
Willow felt sick to her stomach. She had been betrayed and duped by her own family.
And not just me. My unborn child, too. How could they do this to us?

‘If you’re really one of King Marcus’s hirelings, then you had better let us go,’ said Paetro. ‘Haven’t you heard, man? Emperor Jaelis and your King Marcus are allies now.’

‘Do I look like I care, imperial? I was dispatched to the north to find and free Lady Cassandra,’ said Purdell, pacing between the prisoners like a cat choosing which mouse to devour first. ‘You might say we are hunting the same stolen treasure, although only one person can claim the reward for finding it. If it is any consolation, you had failed in your duty from the start. The emperor’s granddaughter was never here – she was packed off to Rodal by Father Carnehan.’

Willow groaned. ‘Then Sheplar and Kerge aren’t prisoners in the city?’

‘Your two mongrel friends never even set foot in Midsburg,’ laughed Purdell. ‘After my agents failed to capture Lady Cassandra in Northhaven, Jacob decided to move the girl to safety in Hadra-Hareer. The brat the pretender has imprisoned here is some northern maid masquerading as the imperial for the benefit of the king’s spies. Prince Owen recently dispatched Carter to retrieve the Vandian brat from Rodal; Carter doesn’t know he’s bringing Lady Cassandra back to
me
. He was walking out of Midsburg when your caravan came rolling into town. If you hadn’t been hiding under your cloak you might have spotted him. How differently might things have worked out for you, then?’

Willow sobbed in frustration and impotent rage.

‘Don’t give this bastard the pleasure of your tears,’ said Paetro.

‘Shut up!’ yelled Willow. ‘You and my brother tricked me into this. Everything you told me was a lie. I expected as much from Holten and my father, but
you
, I helped you—’

‘Helped me?’ snarled Paetro. ‘How did you do that? You lied to me in Vandia, Willow Landor. I allowed you to escape from the Castle of Snakes for just one reason, to take my daughter to safety with you. And in return you got Hesia killed.’

‘I didn’t know Father Carnehan had shot Hesia, not until Duncan came home and told me,’ said Willow. ‘I thought she had chosen to stay in hiding in Vandia.’ It was the truth, but her words sounded like the feeblest of excuses, even to her ears.

‘She died true, at least, attempting to protect the little highness,’ grieved Paetro. ‘Hesia is at peace with the ancestors, her betrayal of her house forgiven. Lady Cassandra was under my daughter’s protection, as she was mine, as precious to me as one of my own. I’d cut a deal with a thousand demons if it meant saving the little highness.’

‘Then fate smiles on you, Vandian, for this day you only have to deal with one,’ said Purdell. He lifted up a hand-sized radio. ‘Your people possess such amazing crafts. An entire Guild of Radiomen’s hold squeezed into a single device as small as a tinder-box. I require you to surrender your pass phrases to arrange your escape from the city. When your soldiers come for me, I will tell them how valiantly you died trying to free the fake hostage, and how the real Lady Cassandra will shortly be returned to your people from Rodal’s peaks. Both our assignments will be complete.’

‘Yet only one of us will be alive to benefit from it,’ Paetro snarled.

‘Quite so, but the manner of your departure is still under your sway. I understand that employment as an imperial torturer in Vandia gives the practitioner great status. Shall I show you how the craft is practised here? We must seem like savages to you, but I may yet surprise you with my talents.’

‘I’ve already glimpsed your foul handiwork. I caught sight of my soldiers’ bodies before you rolled them into the vats. They knew nothing you needed, did they? Does your king pay you more to skin enemies alive before you murder them? I knew creatures like you in the legions,’ said Paetro. ‘No honour, broken in every way a man can be broken. You’ll take what you want and carve us up anyway. Die in the siege, you hound; you’ll hear no secrets from my lips.’

Purdell shrugged. He didn’t seem bothered by the soldier’s defiance. ‘A challenge given is a challenge accepted.’

There was a noise from outside the hall of vats and two thuggish-looking men in grey uniforms entered, dragging a body between them, an old woman hobbling behind. Willow cursed. It was Mrs Sackville, the landlady of the accommodation Purdell had arranged for Willow and the raiding party. The man the soldiers clutched swayed as they dragged him, and Willow groaned out loud as she realized it was Jacob Carnehan. This at least, had been no lie on the part of the treacherous courier.
The father’s really here, not in Arcadia. What Purdell said about Carter is likely true, too. They were free in the north all this time. I could have escaped the viscount and joined Carter. Damn them all: my family, the king, Holten and my so-called husband.

‘It’s getting hairy outside,’ announced one of the bruisers, a short, stout soldier with a long ginger moustache. A large hunting knife hung from a leather holster across his chest and Willow guessed it had never been used for the tanner’s trade. ‘A mortar shell nearly landed on the wagon during the ride over here.’

‘You’ll be deserting soon enough,’ said Purdell, ‘along with a crown agent’s warrant to guarantee you safe passage from the royalists tossing those shells. Secure the pastor well in his chair.’

‘I think I’ve harboured my last crown agent in Midsburg, dearie,’ said Mrs Sackville, watching the soldiers bind the unconscious pastor in the seat.

‘You’ll be well provided for,’ said Purdell. ‘You can buy another house to run soon enough.’

‘Such a pity,’ said Mrs Sackville. ‘It was convenient owning the tannery next door. Cattle blood and traveller blood: identical when it’s flushed down the drains.’

‘Help me,’ Willow begged the old woman. ‘Don’t leave us here. Please, send word to Prince Owen.’

Mrs Sackville turned her gnarled face to the wooden roof above, eddies of dust falling down as the structure trembled with the bombardment. ‘Not today, dearie. The pretender and what’s left of his staff have more pressing things on their mind. They’re somewhat distracted by the guns of the south, and the Vandians’ peculiar hovering aircraft landing legionaries inside the city.’

‘Please, this madman is going to kill us.’

‘Oh my dove,
kill
isn’t the word I would use. Thomas Purdell is the finest torturer I ever trained for the service. Would you believe that our skills were almost a lost art when King Marcus took the throne? But I’m keeping the flame of the old ways alive now, passing them down through the generations. You should be honoured to help us.’

‘Prepare my tools,’ Purdell told the old woman.

‘Yes, it’s time. It must be good for you to have worthy quarry on the slab again, dearie. All those guests I drugged for you, I fear you were growing jaded practising on travelling merchants and foreign caravaneers.’

‘Quite true,’ said Purdell. ‘But these three will more than make up for my lack of sport.’

Willow watched in horror as the despicable old woman shuffled out of the hall like a living corpse.
But she’s not the corpse. We are. She’s killed us all
. Purdell crossed to a stone washing sink and drew a bucket of water, returning to toss it over Father Carnehan’s head.

The pastor struggled awake, groaning. ‘Willow.’ Jacob turned from her to take in Paetro. ‘
You
. So you came to Weyland after all. You took your time about it.’

Paetro shook his chair in rage. ‘I’m going to kill you, Carnehan.’

‘You have missed your place in that queue,’ tutted Purdell. ‘Give me the details of your escape plan, empire man, and I promise you’ll live long enough to watch the priest die in agony.’

Paetro merely spat at the guild courier’s feet by way of answer. A shell fell close enough to blow out one of the tanning hall’s windows. Willow raised her head and heard the distant thud of the southern batteries loud through the broken glass.

‘It seems a fair proposal, Vandian. You help me, and in return I’ll show you how much pain the man who murdered your daughter can endure? No? Duty before pleasure, then.’ Thomas Purdell sighed, allowing a hint of irritation to slip through his easy demeanour. He signalled his two thugs. ‘Drag the Vandian to the cattle skinning room and make sure he’s well strapped, then hold him down for me. He looks as strong as his brutes, and one of the imperials nearly slipped his restraints before I stuck a scalpel through his forehead.’

‘I’m sorry about Hesia,’ Willow cried to Paetro. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t save her.’

If Paetro heard Willow’s words, he didn’t acknowledge them. Purdell’s lackeys dragged the Vandian away, the soldier cursing and thrashing and still bound to his chair, out through a doorway into another part of the factory.

‘Better he had heard that from me,’ muttered Jacob.

Thomas Purdell turned and slapped Jacob in the face, not particularly viciously; more like a butcher gauging the toughness of the meat he was planning to tenderize. ‘Except that from you the words would have been a lie, wouldn’t they,
Quicksilver
? You deprived me of my sport with the pretender and his woman, so you owe me two bodies. I’ll take yours and Carter’s little sweet-meat in exchange. Willow went to some trouble to save you, so you obviously care for each other. She will be next, I think, after I’ve finished with the Vandian. You deserve to watch my artistry so I shall save you to last.’

Jacob glowered at the king’s man but refused to give him the satisfaction of answering.

‘Silence can be a challenge too. Before I’m finished with you, you’ll be more than willing to speak. And we have so much tittle-tattle to catch up on. Wait until you hear how I’ve arranged for your idiot son to die, you’re going to love that. Poor Carter. Had I realized you’d be joining us, Father, I’d have considered allowing Carter to live long enough to be reunited with his girl. Then you could have watched me work on both lovebirds together before I send you on your way. I would have enjoyed giving Carter the news that his girl has a bun in the oven from the noble dolt we bred her with.’

Jacob’s eyes opened in shock. ‘Willow, you’re
pregnant
?’

Willow could only nod in confirmation.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ exhaled Jacob, ‘none of it matters.’

‘It matters to me,’ smiled Purdell. ‘King Marcus had a pregnant woman in the dungeons he wanted questioning once. But one of my rivals drew the interrogation, I’m sad to say. I don’t mind telling you that I’m fascinated to learn if there’s any appreciable difference in such a novelty. What do you think, Lady Wallingbeck? Will you suffer enough for two?’

‘I think you’ll discover a demon’s torment in hell one day.’

‘Discover it? I expect to be running the place!’ Purdell hooted with amusement and strode away.

‘I’m sorry you have to be here for this, Willow,’ said Jacob, watching Purdell exit the hall. ‘This is a just end for the man I was. But you deserved far better with Carter.’

‘No,’ said Willow. ‘My family traded me off like a cow to be bred before tricking me here to aid their advancement. If anyone is to blame for this, it’s the much vaunted glory of the House of Landor, not you.’

BOOK: Foul Tide's Turning
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