Raiders' Ransom (21 page)

“A fisher,” says Zeph, staring at me with his brows pulled together. “But that was a lie. Everything it said was a lie. I know, I heard it on the island.”

The cold feeling inside gets colder. Zeph can't have been asleep! Did he see the head? Is that why they think I'm a witch? And what did I say to it? I can't get my thoughts straight to remember. Inside his basket, Cat starts wailing.

“Now that's a thing of interest to me,” says Medwin. “Why would an English go everywhere with a mog? There's only one type of mog I know of would be worth that kind of bother …”

“She was always going on about what it was doing, if it was moaning or not,” says Zeph sourly.

Medwin smiles at me. A nasty smile. “So, little witch, have we got ourselves a seacat, then?”

I don't say a thing, trying to keep my face as blank as can be. I ain't trading Cat off.

Medwin flicks a look at the skinny, redheaded warrior.

“Roba, didn't you go looking for a seacat, last raid out?”

Redhead shrugs.

“It weren't there. Just some old fisherbiddy. Right pain she was.”

Granny! I must give it away in my face, cos Medwin's smiling.

“Roba, look at the witch's face. Seems it cares about the old biddy. Probably another witch.”

Roba flicks his eyes over me. “Why'd anybody care about some old fisherwitch? It didn't even take a minute to kill her, she was such a bag of old bones.”

Then I'm screaming and swearing at him, trying to get over to where he is. All I can think is how I want to make him pay for what he did, for killing Granny. But I can't make him pay. He stands up from his bench, looks down at me from his narrow blue eyes, and laughs. Then he shoves
me hard in the chest, like I'm nothing, and I go sprawling onto the floor. I can't get my hands out to break my fall cos they're tied together, so I land hard on my back, knocking my breath out.

“Look at it slide!” He laughs. “Like the stinking little fish it is.”

Medwin's chuckling along. But the woman ain't. And Zeph, he's got a strange look on his face, one I don't know what it means.

“Get up, witch,” says Medwin after a moment. “Get back in your place and don't try any more stupid tricks. The only reason I don't kill you right now is what you can tell me about the English.”

I struggle to my feet, no one helping me, and go to stand next to Cat in his basket. He's mewing up at me, his nose pressed against the wicker. But I can't do anything to help him. Can't even help myself.

Medwin looks at the man in the long red robe.

“What do you think about all this, Faz? Is the girl a witch? Is she working for Randall? What do the winds say?”

The priest, or whatever he is, starts walking around the chamber. Past one big open doorway, then the next. He's got his head cocked, like he's listening. Everyone watches him.

He comes to a stop and starts talking like he's half asleep.

“The winds say, things ain't what they seem. They say, there's value in what we've caught, but it ain't what we think it
is. They say, we should look in unexpected places.” He stands still after that, like he's gone to sleep where he's standing.

Now the woman speaks. Softly, with a strange lilt to her voice.

“Perhaps we should ask the girl about it? She may know what's meant by unexpected places, and where value lies.”

“That's what I been trying to say!” I cry. “I came to get Alexandra Randall. I've got valuables to pay for her. Honest.”

The priest comes out of his trance quick sharp, and slaps me again. “You open your mouth when you're told to.”

Medwin looks at the woman, his sharp face softening, something changing in his blue eyes.

“You think we can learn more from this English, Aileen? “

She nods, and Medwin smiles. For a moment, he looks just like an ordinary man, talking to his wife. But when he turns back to me, his face goes hard and his eyes glitter. I reckon he'd kill me without a thought about it.

“Trial by knife it is, then.”

The woman gasps. “No, love, that isn't what I meant. She's only a child. Can't we just ask her questions? “

Medwin smiles. “We will ask questions, and the knife'll get us the truth of them.” He shakes his head at the woman, like she's foolish. “Don't waste your pity on an English witch. There's not a single English wouldn't sell its own mother for tuppence. I ain't got time to waste, and trial by knife is the way to get quick answers.”

He looks outside, to where all them hundreds of warriors are hanging about.

“Bring in the wheel!” he shouts, and a cheer goes up from the crowd.

There's shuffling and shouting from outside, then two tall warriors, one with a big nose and one with a fat face, roll a massive wooden wheel in through the doorway. They make slow going of it, like it's heavy. In the middle is a large metal bracket, and round the edge are five more. And it's covered all over with browny-red stains.

Bloodstains.

“Come on, Zeph,” says Father. “Bring out the knife and let's get going. It's your honor to be trialing this witch, seeing as you brought it in.”

Aron and Prent, two of Father's shield warriors, are setting up the trialing wheel. They grunt and heave it onto a thick iron axle sticking out from the east gate pillar. The heavy wooden wheel starts turning, but not as fast as it's gonna.

I stand up slowly, holding the trialing knife. It's thin, straighter than my own dagger, and it glitters like a shark's tooth. Father nods to Prent, who walks over to Lilly, picks her up under one arm, and carries her across to the wheel.

“Leave me alone!” she shouts. “I'm telling the truth! I don't need trialing!”

But it don't make any difference, all her lies. Prent grins and holds her up against the wheel while Aron starts working
the bindings. Five lengths of rope, with a loop at the end of every one: a loop for each wrist and ankle; a loop to go round the neck.

“Speak when you're on the wheel, witch,” says Faz. Lilly don't look like she hears him; she's struggling and fighting. But she ain't much against Aron and Prent, and it don't take them long to shut the center brace round her middle and get the loops in place. Then they tie the other end of each rope to the outer hooks, pegging her into place. And at the last one, when Aron puts the rope round her neck and Prent tightens it until she can only just move her head, then her black eyes are bulging and her brown fists clenching.

See Lilo, Lilly, Liar. This is what the Family does to lying witches!

Now there's only the sails to put in place, and Faz does that. They're only a few hands high, each one on its short wooden mast. But when they're slotted into the brackets on the wheel, the wind spirits get their breath in them and start the wheel turning. Sometimes, if the spirits get really angry, whoever's on the wheel gets strangled just by the sails making the wheel spin and spin. At least, that's what Ims says; I ain't never seen it.

The spirits ain't doing much today, and the sails only just fill. But the wheel still starts spinning, and Lilly's eyes get blacker and bigger. I walk out to stand before the wheel. My father nods at me, and I hold up the trialing knife.

“This is …” I start, and I go bright red as my voice squeaks into nothing. I gotta get the words out right, like Ims taught me in weapons practice. I swallow, and start again.

“This is the trial by knife, which will bring the truth. If you speak truly, the knife will spare you. If you speak false, the knife will not.”

My hand's gone all sweaty, but I can't rub it on my leg, then the others would know. I ain't gonna mess this up. Not when Roba's staring at me, wanting me to. I get a better grip on the handle and say, “I'm ready.”

Faz starts his bit.

“I ask the questions,” he calls. “The thrower handles the knife. And the knife tells the truth.”

“Ask the knife why the English lied about its family,” says Father.

“I ask the question,” chants Faz. “Why did the English lie to the Boss's son?”

“I only did it so I could get here!” shouts Lilly. “I've got a ransom for Alexandra Randall, from her aunt!”

I take the blade of the trialing knife into my right hand, feeling the weight and the balance of it. Now the spirits have filled up the sails of the wheel, and it's turning fast. Lilly's head whips up to the top of the circle, then starts heading back down, her feet spinning up from underneath her. Her brown face has gone pale, like sunlight on wood, and she looks like she's gonna puke. Her eyes is glued to the knife I'm holding.

“Shut your eyes, Zeph,” says Faz, “so the knife can do its work.” Like I'm some little kid and don't know how the trial's supposed to work. But I don't say anything, just shut my eyes. Then it's a flick, a twist, and the knife's out of my hand. I open my eyes again, and there it is, whining through the air, spinning and glittering. Straight at the wheel, straight at Lilly. She's struggling as she spins, straining against the bindings, but she ain't going anywhere!

Bang! The knife hits! Lilly screams, twisting against the ropes. She looks at her hand, at the knife sticking out from it, at her blood trickling down the wood. The line of red curls around as the wheel keeps on spinning. Lilly really looks like she's gonna puke now.

Faz legs it over and makes a big show of inspecting the knife. Like I might have done it wrong or something.

“Hmmm,” he says. “A small nick. Only a little damage.” He yanks out the knife.

“Ow!” cries Lilly, and more blood trickles out across the wood.

“Small damage means some truth,” says Faz. “But any blood means lies. It could be the question has more to be answered.”

“Ask again,” says Father.

“No!” shouts Lilly, in a well fraidy voice.

“I know,” says my father. “Ask it whether it's got a seacat.”

“I'll tell you!” cries Lilly. “You don't have to throw knives at me!”

Aileen says, “Medwin, let her answer without the knife.”

Father don't even bother answering. Only a silly cow like Aileen would say something like that. Truth or blood, that's how it goes.

Faz gives me back the knife, red-tipped now with Lilly's blood. I've got to throw again. Got to keep throwing until this is done. Probably when Lilly's too sick or weak to speak. Or I kill her with a throw.

“Close your eyes,” says Faz.

I take a hold of the knife and get a good look at the wheel, at Lilly on it. She's stiff and braced against the ropes, her hands in white-knuckle fists, one with red leaking out through her closed fingers. My throat gets dry all of a sudden: Lilo was my friend, and Lilly looks just like him. Lilly is him. Ain't him. I shut my eyes and raise my hand.

Faz says, “I ask the question. Has the one on the wheel got a seacat?”

“Yes!” sobs Lilly. “He's a seacat. He's my cat, he chose me. I dyed him so he wouldn't get noticed in London. Just like I dressed as a boy so I could get help in London. Mrs. Denton, she wrote a letter to a London trader asking for help to find Alexandra. But it was for a man to take, not me. So I stole it.”

I can't help it, I let my knife hand drop, and open my eyes. Lilly's looking at me as she spins.

“I'm sorry, Zeph, for lying to you. I just wanted to help my village. The Prime Minister's going to hang every captain for letting Alexandra be taken. I ain't a spy. I just thought if I
got Alexandra back, Randall wouldn't punish us …” Tears start out of her eyes, rolling circles across her face and into her short, cropped hair.

Is she lying? Is she telling the truth? The knife dangles in my fingers, but Faz grabs hold of my hand, pushes it up into a throwing stance.

“Don't look! And don't listen!” he snaps. “Only feel the knife. Only the knife can tell the truth.”

I close my eyes again, but now I ain't calm, ain't centered on the throwing. My head's roiling and boiling with all Lilly said. What if she's telling the truth? But what if this is just another lie? I gotta trust the knife, that's what I'll do.

I get the knife steady in my hand and throw. But this time I don't open my eyes to watch. I can't. There's silence, then a scream, then the bang of steel into wood.

Snap! My eyes are open; there's Lilly, hanging limp on the still-turning wheel, panting and gasping. And there's the knife. But it's out in the wide circle of wood, away from her head! It ain't anywhere near her!

“Truth!” shouts Faz.

And I grin at Lilly. She was just trying to help her friends! And Father ain't gonna kill her for that, is he? Not since he's got a seacat off her and all. I'll tell him how Lilly is really Lilo, my friend. How I gave him, her, outcast kinship. Any minute now Father's going to let her down, and this'll be over.

Father grins, sat on his great chair.