Tribute (15 page)

Time passes. I'm indifferent to the god's presence. But I am sometimes aware of Mistress Quint nodding and bobbing beside me, of Philip's voice in the background. Why is he so sad? Something is worrying him.

I cannot seem to get warm. Quint keeps a hot brick wrapped in flannel at my feet, covers me in a mountain of blankets, and still I shiver. I drift in and out of strange dreams. Swift visits me. And Aidan. And the Hound. But  …  where is Twiss? I miss her scowling face.

‘She keeps asking for a cat,' says the apothecary's voice.

‘Get her one, then!' Floster sounds angry. She frightens me. Is she the traitor? Almost, I am interested enough to open my eyes; to come out of the hidden place. But then the dreams beckon and I drift away.

When I return there is a kitten curled on my chest, purring. I reach out and pull it to me, snuggle it beneath my chin. The kitten's soft fur and hot, sour breath warm me. At last, I begin to thaw.

‘It wasn't this cat. It was another.'

Mistress Quint is, for once, elsewhere. The Hound is my nurse today. He sits in the apothecary's chair with its flowery cushions, looking extraordinarily out of place. But unworried. Little worries a man who takes Death as his companion.

‘Which cat was it then, Zara?'

‘I've told you.'

‘You've told us nothing. You've been Elsewhere, child. I never thought mages could go there. Guess I was wrong.'

‘
Elsewhere?
'

‘It's where we thieves go when we don't want to be seen. Or heard. Mostly we go shallow; sometimes deep. Go too deep and you never come back.'

I frown at him, understanding none of it. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters but Aidan, and Benedict's evil plan.

‘What do you mean, I haven't told you? You have to know! About Aidan. About the Makers! We have to stop my father  … '

I struggle to sit up, dislodging the kitten, which squeals as it slides down my chest, roly-poly. Then rights itself and scampers down to attack the moving mound of my feet beneath the blankets. ‘I must have told you  … '

He shakes his head. ‘You said stuff but nothing that made much sense. Who's Swift?'

Horror rises up my body like chill water.

‘How long have I been like this? How long since I went into the rat?'

He watches me, eyes cautious. ‘Three days past. You nearly died, child. I told you not to stay so long.'

‘Three days  … ' I whisper the words, too horrified to shout. ‘I need to talk to Floster. And Philip.
Now!
'

‘Calm down! They're coming. I sent Mistress Quint scurrying off after 'em when we saw you'd come to yourself at last. How're you feeling?'

‘Well enough!' I pull myself up to sitting, irritated by the weakness that leaves me breathless, heart pounding after such a slight effort. The kitten growls and tries to kill my toes.

The door to the sick chamber swings wide and Mistress Floster stalks in, closely followed by Philip. No sign of Quint, I notice. Good. I don't know who the traitor is or was. But what I have to say now is too important to trust to any beyond these three people.

‘Benedict is going to attack the Makers,' I say as soon as the door is secured behind them.

Floster halts at the foot of my bed, eyes gleaming. ‘Go on.'

‘The Maker hostage, Aidan.' As I think of him, panic attacks: my heart doubles its efforts. I take a slow deep breath, and the room stops spinning. ‘As soon as he finishes repairing the Great Clock, Benedict will pretend to return him to his people as a sign of goodwill.'

‘Ambush?' Philip guesses.

‘No.' I swallow, pushing down the tide of nausea. ‘The boy will be a golem. An empty hulk controlled by an adept. My father intends to wipe his mind completely and enter into him himself. And then after Aidan is welcomed back into the city, Benedict will chose his moment and kill Aidan's father and the rest of the Council. Then he'll go after their military leaders. At the same time, the combined warrior mages of the seven cities will attack Gengst-on-the-Wall along with their Tribute armies.'

A sharp intake of breath from Floster. She's guessed what I will say next.

The words burn my mouth: ‘Benedict will murder every soul in Gengst and raze the city to the ground. Total destruction. Then they will move on to the next city. He believes that once Gengst is destroyed, the resulting panic and confusion will make the smaller cities easy to pick off, one by one. Until the whole of the Maker world is  …  gone.'

I'm shivering. ‘He'll kill them all – every man, woman and child. No Maker will be left alive. He plans the death of an entire people.'

Floster's eyes narrow, grow calculating. Now it's Philip who looks shocked. The Hound nods, as though he expected such horrors all along.

‘We have to stop it!' Their slowness irritates me.

‘We will.' Floster sounds doubtful.

‘I don't see  … ' Philip is frowning, struggling to solve the problem.

Only the Hound understands. ‘And how do you expect to get the boy out, Zara? Magic him?'

‘I can.' I search from face to face, willing them to believe me. ‘I told Aidan to sabotage the repairs to the Great Clock. Delay. So we have some time. Hou – Marcus and I can sneak into the palazzo. We can –'

‘A good thief could get in and out of the palazzo in the old days. Before Aris took your father's arrow in his throat. Now? With Benedict jumping at every shadow thinking it'll be a thief trying to kill him? Difficult.' Floster shakes her head, her mouth tight and grim. ‘And you? You're not a thief. You can't do not-seen-not-heard. You wouldn't get five yards. And then we'd all be dead. No. We have to do it another way.'

‘But the boy must be rescued.' Philip's face is pale with excitement. ‘He's an engineer as well as a clockmaker, Mistress! The knowledge, the power that boy could give to us. The weapons he and I could make together  … '

‘There's no way of getting the lad out. I'm sorry, Philip. The risk is too great. Even Marcus can't prowl the palazzo safely these days. NO!' She hits the post of my bed with her fist. A blast of frustration blares from her, then dies as she regains control. The Mistress of Thieves shuts her eyes and looks, for the first time since I've known her, close to tears. ‘I wish to the gods we could save him. But what we
can
do is stop Benedict returning the Maker to Gengst. We'll have to ambush the convoy taking him back. Kill them. Kill the boy. What's left of him. And most importantly, kill your bastard of a father.' Her eyes stare at me and I see no way out. She will not change her mind. Aidan will die.

‘You're in love with him.'

The Hound isn't asking. We're alone once more. Have been for nearly an hour, and for an hour I've sat and stared ahead, not seeing, not caring. They're going to let Aidan die. And there's nothing I can do. I've failed him. Like I failed Swift. I'm left with nothing but hatred. I'll make my father pay for this. I'll make him pay if it's the last thing I ever do.

‘You love the Maker.'

Why does he keep saying that? What business is it of his?

‘So what?' I snap. ‘You love Floster.'

He nods, his face impassive.

‘You'd kill for her.'

‘Have done,' he says.

‘You'd die for her.'

He shrugs. ‘We all die sometime. Best if you can put dying to some use.'

‘Well then?'

‘Ain't just you, is it?' He lifts his eyebrows and gives me a searching look. ‘Not just your life at stake. Or the Maker boy's. It's all the folk down here. And those up top that'll have no chance in hell of a better life if we lose this fight. I feel for you, Zara. But we gotta do the best thing for everyone. And if that means the boy has to die  … '

‘Would you leave
her
? Would you leave your love to have her mind invaded and crushed by my father? Would you leave the little bit of her that's left alive trapped inside the shell of herself with him, tormented past all imagining as long as her body lives? Would you really leave her? Or would you try anything  … 
anything
 …  to get her out?'

The thief frowns. He drops his eyes, rises from the chair and leaves the room. He doesn't answer. But I know the truth. And so does he.

In the morning I dress myself. My leggings and tunic hang off me and I'm pleased I have no mirror to testify to my resemblance to the long-term residents of the catacombs.

Quint ordered me to rest in bed, but I haven't time. I pace up and down the sickroom, counting my footsteps. On my first attempt I stop after fifteen tottering steps. Soon I can walk for thirty. By lunchtime I make fifty and retreat to my bed, childishly pleased with myself.

The door opens; it's the Hound, carrying a tray with a bowl of meat stew. My mouth is watering before he sets it on my lap and I manage to nod thanks at the same time as gulping the first spoonful.

‘Glad to see you've found your appetite. You're all bone and hair.'

I wince. ‘Thanks!'

‘Nice bones and nice hair. But could do with a bit of covering.' He smiles, opens his mouth to say something. Closes it.

The Hound, at a loss? ‘Well?' I put down my spoon and wait.

‘Finish your food, Zara. Eat up and I'll tell you.'

Slowly, keeping my eyes on his troubled face, I begin to eat again.

‘I can't get outta my head what you said  …  about what I'd do in your place.' He stares at the ground like an unhappy boy, not a man of thirty. ‘You're right. I'd chance it. I'd do everything. Anything. And  … ' His eyes look up at last, holding mine, and I see the struggle eating him – between what his mistress wants and what he thinks is right. I guess that the Hound has never before gone against Floster's wishes.

‘I'll help you, Zara.'

Hope lights up inside me like a sudden sunrise.

The Hound's eyes widen in alarm. ‘Now hold on. There are conditions. I gotta be sure there's a chance. If the Mistress is right and you got no hope of getting in and out of the palazzo, it's off. But  … ' His eyes narrow as he studies me. ‘Something happened to you when you was lost in yourself. I think you went to Elsewhere.'

‘You said before. What is it? And why does it matter if I went there or not?'

‘I shouldn't tell you this. You're a mage. I'm a thief. Sworn enemies. You're the top of the tree and I'm gutter-life.' His lip curls in derision. ‘Elsewhere is how we do it, Zara. Elsewhere is what we use to keep folks from seeing us or hearing us.'

‘Not-seen-not-heard!'

‘Partly that – partly skill and talent. But Elsewhere is more'n that. It's a place we go in our heads. It keeps you lot out. Before a single middling is allowed out into the city they're experts at Elsewhere. If necessary, we go there and we stay. And not even your daddy can get a thief outta Elsewhere. If we go too deep and too long, we'll die. Like you nearly did coming back last time. Which proves mages can learn to go Elsewhere too.'

‘Mind-magic!' Heresy. Beyond heresy. But it makes sense. And as I stare at Marcus, I see that he's figured it out before me. He smiles. A bitter, bleak smile.

‘I reckon so.'

‘But that means  … '

‘
It don't matter!
Look.' His voice is suddenly menacing. ‘Don't tell no one, Zara.' He shakes his head. ‘Thieves hate anything to do with magic. Do you think they'd accept, any of 'em, that we're related? That somehow, somewhere, thieves and mages  …  besides  …  we may be able to play with a bit of mind-magic and call it something else, but we've never had none of the other stuff. We can't shift things with our minds. I've  …  um  …  tried.' A shamefaced smile. ‘And I don't think we can go into someone else's head either. All we can do is block.'

‘Have you tried going into someone's head?'

A sardonic smile is the only answer I get.

‘But don't you see, Marcus? If this is true – and I think it is – it changes everything! Mages think they are preordained. Chosen by the gods to rule over the non-magic. If thieves can do magic, even only a bit  …  it destroys all that. It pulls the mage world down by its foundations!'

‘And ours.' His eyes are gimlet sharp. ‘Not a word, mind. Or I don't help you. And I might just have to stop your mouth for good.'

I think the Hound has just threatened to kill me. And I think he means it. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. ‘I thought  …  you  …  liked me,' I manage at last.

‘I do. And more.' A light in his eyes shines wickedly and my stomach turns over. ‘But you're a wee bit young. Even for me.'

‘The Mistress  … '

‘Hasn't been in my bed for years. She loves me. But she won't. Not since her last kid was killed. Five she had. Three girls and two boys. The mages got every one. Benedict had a hand in two himself. She's sworn off love till your daddy's dead, you see. And she don't mind. Love isn't the same as cuddling, child. You may find that out one day  …  if you live long enough.'

I stare at him, my mouth hanging open, trying to take in everything he's just told me. Including the fact he fancies me. ‘I wouldn't let you, you know!' And feel my face burn red when he roars with laughter. ‘
Not that!
I  …  I mean I wouldn't let you kill me. I'm more than a match for you or any thief! I'm nearly an adept! Do you think I'd just hold my neck out for your knife?' I'm furious now. It's obvious the Hound knows I'm a virgin. He's finding all this far too funny!

‘Well. You
might
kill me instead, Zara. Let's hope it don't come to either. A shame between such good friends. Nor the other either. But in five years, if your Maker lad doesn't work out, well  …  consider it an invitation.'

He's teasing. I think. About wanting to share my bed, at least. But would he really try to kill me to keep me from telling the truth about thieves? Looking at him, I don't know. Which isn't a comforting feeling. So I change the subject.

‘How are you going to help me, then?'

‘Train you up. Teach you not-seen-not-heard and practise going to Elsewhere until you can stop your mind off as well as a thief.'

‘Do you mean that I could keep my father  … '

It hits me at last. I could stop him ever doing that to me again. The only thing that really frightens me. The thing he did when Swift died. If I knew he could never do that to me again  … 

‘Gods, child.' A look of repulsion flickers across the Hound's face. ‘What did that bastard do to you?'

‘No.' I shake my head. ‘I don't talk about that. But I'll do anything  …  I promise, Marcus. If you can teach me to protect my mind from other mages I won't rest until the thieves – until all kine – are free. I swear.'

He nods. ‘I believe you. We have a deal, Zara. So let's get to work. Time's running out for that Maker boy of yours.'

We work in a distant tunnel far away from the thieves' den. In the flickering light of smoking oil lamps, the Hound teaches me to walk as silently and delicately as a cat. To use shadows to hide in plain sight like a rat. I struggle to do the impossible: be strong and quick while totally relaxed. Balance, fluid body and quick brain. And magic. I'm sure there's magic here, but it's subtle and so different from the magic of the mage that I can't be sure. By the end of the morning, I've made slow progress and although I need to keep working, every muscle in my body is screaming in protest.

‘That's enough, Zara. You're making mistakes 'cause you're tired. Give it a rest.'

‘There's no time! I'll try again –'

‘No.' He catches my arm.

‘Let go –!' I yank away, exhaustion and frustration spinning into fury. How dare he touch me?

‘Dirty thief?' His smile is humourless. I'm flooded with hot shame. Those were the words on the tip of my tongue.

‘Sorry,' I mumble.

‘We're both doing our best, Zara. But you need to listen to me and trust me or you haven't got a chance. Now let your body rest while your mind works. Learning to be invisible and silent is the easy part, child. Going Elsewhere  …  that's a bit tricky.'

I stare up at him dismay. I've just worked harder than I ever have before in my life  …  and I'm still rubbish at not-seen-not-heard. I've always found magic easy. Known I was one of the talented ones – destined to be an adept, the elite of mage society. I'm not used to facing the possibility that I might not be good enough.

‘There's a place in your head, Zara. A door.'

We sit facing each other on the damp clay floor. The Hound's dark brown eyes stare into mine, willing me to understand. There are shadows in his eyes; the skin under them is bruised, the lines at the corners of his mouth carved deep with stress. Suddenly I sense his worry and fear: he's betraying his mistress. And he's not sure he's right. He's trusting me with everything he holds dear. What would Floster do to him if she found out? I don't even like to think.

I have to succeed; and she must never find out that the Hound helped me.

But the door doesn't open for me.

‘Where?' I'm almost crying as I stare up at him. I've failed. Utterly. ‘Where is this pestilential door? What do you
mean
?'

‘Calm down, Zara! You can't get to Elsewhere if you're fighting it. You gotta flow  … ' He groans and rubs his face with both hands. ‘Try to remember what it felt like after you were in the cat. Where you were before you came back to us. That was Elsewhere. Musta been.' He's trying to convince himself.

But what if Marcus is wrong? What if I was never there? Can't ever go there? If I can't learn to do this, Aidan will die. Worse than die.

He sees the panic in my face. ‘Look. I'll do it now. I'll go into Elsewhere. Deep in as I dare. You watch. Maybe it'll help. It's all I can do, Zara.' He sighs. ‘Middlings seem to be born knowing about Elsewhere. I don't know how to teach it.'

The Hound settles himself back against the nearest wall. Closes his eyes. I watch intently as the muscles in his face go flaccid, see his eyes turn upwards behind their lids. His breathing deepens and slows. I reach out and touch his hand. It's cold as the clay we sit on.

I crouch on my heels, looking at the Hound, knowing he's far away in a place I can't reach. It's a lonely feeling.

The part of my mind that's listening for Marcus hears something. But it's not the Hound returning from Elsewhere. It's Death.

I am the hawk. I hear the twang of a bowstring; see Aris choking his life away.

I am Zara, sitting with her back exposed to the long empty corridor. I hear the bowstring twang as my murderer releases it and lunge to one side, hardening the air behind me as I do so.

The arrow rebounds from the crystallized air shielding my back and flies on. Death's own fingers guide it. It strikes the Hound and buries itself deep in his chest.