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.