The Flame in the Mist (24 page)

Zeb shoved Digby into a cage in the corner of the room, slammed and locked the door, then hung the key on a hook nearby. Lok blew out the lamp. Jemma ducked into the alley as the two men swaggered out, and waited until their horses’ hoofsteps had splattered away.

Noodle and Pie crawled onto her shoulders, and she stepped cautiously back into the empty street. Suddenly, from an alley opposite, she heard a jumble of voices, and the sound
of feet running through mud. A herd of urchins burst into view. Jemma froze, unsure whether to dart into the jail, stand her ground, or run. Then they were upon her. She dodged aside, but one of them grabbed her cloak as he passed. Her hood fell back, and the rats plopped into it.

The boy laughed. “Come on, spiky-head!” he said, pulling her into their midst. “Better hurry or you’ll be late fer the rally!”

He let go and ran on. Jemma tried to turn back, but boys crammed her on both sides, sweeping her into their stampede. Then a small hand pressed into hers. A girl, a little shorter and more slight than she, was running beside her, dragging her along.

“Wait—no!” Jemma tugged at the girl’s hand, but the girl’s grasp was like iron

“What’s the matter, boy?”

Boy? Of course … her shorn head. Digby had said she looked like a boy.

“Won’t do not to go,” the girl said. “You know the punishment if they find you been skivin’ off.” She nipped between other runners. She was as fast as she was strong, and Jemma was panting by the time they reached the main street. They slowed down as they flowed into the gathering tide of Blackwater folk. “Ain’t seen you around here before.” The girl tossed a hank of black hair from her face. “What’s yer name?”

Jemma’s mind scrambled. What if her accent gave her away? “I … it’s … um …”

“Um! Odd name, innit? Mine’s Talon.” She made a face. “My pa’s idea. Stupid git.”

Talon. The name fit, if her grip was anything to go by. Jemma’s anxiety intensified as the squeeze of the mob increased, then eased slightly as they spilled into a square much larger than the one at the town’s entrance. It was packed, the yelling and whooping almost deafening now.

Talon pulled Jemma toward one of the houses bordering the square. Next to it was a tiny alleyway—an escape route, if only Jemma could break away.…

“ ’Ere, let go of me!” Jemma imitated Digby’s accent, imagining him in a grumpy mood, and tried to prize her hand from Talon’s. “I got to find a good view.”

“That’s jus’ where I’m takin’ yer—best seats in the house!” Talon stopped outside a door and pulled a huge bunch of keys from her skirt pocket. “Here we are … this one.” The door creaked open, and she yanked Jemma into a dusty hall, holding her hand tighter as she took the rickety steps two at a time up three flights. At the top was a small trapdoor, which she pushed open with one hand. “Up you go,” she said, shoving Jemma through it and onto a shingle roof. Talon hauled herself up to sit beside her. “My favorite place, this,” she said. “I always watch from up ’ere.”

Jemma could see why. Below was a swirl of color. Torches burned in brackets placed on the walls around the square at regular intervals, sending up thin trails of black smoke. The crowd teemed toward the far end of the square, where a platform had been erected. The sheer mass of people was breathtaking; Jemma had never imagined, much less seen, so many at once.

“Good, innit?” Talon said, wrapping her arms around her knees. “We in’t the only ones, though. See?” She pointed
to the rooves surrounding the square, dotted with other onlookers.

Jemma tensed. She couldn’t help liking Talon; she seemed to be a bit of a loner. Even so, she had to get away from her and back to Digby—but how? Talon seemed determined to cling to her, and would outrun her in seconds. Noodle and Pie turned around in her hood, their nervousness as palpable as her own. She felt for her wineskin; perhaps a swig of sour milk would help. It didn’t.

“Yer lookin’ a bit peaky, Um,” said Talon. “You afraid of heights?” She looked at Jemma sideways.

“I’m fine,” Jemma muttered.

“Grisly goblins—look at them Inquisitors!” Talon squeaked. “Five of ’em, round the stage.”

Jemma looked down and saw five men in long black coats, flanking the platform. Coats like Lok’s—so he was an Inquisitor! She squinted, but couldn’t see him among them.

“How d’you like ’im, then?” Talon asked. “The Master, I mean.”

“The Master?” Jemma felt faint. The Master … Surely, it couldn’t be …?

The crowd broke into a roar. She held her breath and looked down. A black steed pulled up next to the platform; a cloaked rider dismounted. He strode onto the stage, his back to his audience, then raised his arms. Jemma’s fists tightened, her knuckles grazing the rough shingles.

“It’s like he’s got ’em all under a spell,” said Talon, her voice full of awe.

A spell … That was what Digby had said earlier. Jemma’s belly felt like a thousand leaves in a hurricane, and she
wished she could blow away, to anywhere but here. Anywhere but near that man below …

Very slowly, Nox Agromond turned around.

Jemma snatched her Stone. Her head spun. After all she’d been through—he couldn’t find her now! She felt Talon’s stare boring into her.
Must calm down.… Don’t let her see what I’m feeling.…
The Stone’s pulse took the edge off her panic. The crowd’s roar died down. A fierce drizzle began to fall, needles of wet through the misty glow.

And then Nox spoke.

He spoke of the Agromonds’ tireless championing of their followers, and his words were answered with cheers. He spoke of the mindless rabble that made up the rest of Anglavia, the idiocy and superstition that was rife among the villages—everywhere, in fact, other than Blackwater—and his words were answered with jeers. He spoke of the rebels who even now refused to recognize the Agromonds’ supremacy, and his words were answered with louder jeers. Even so, he said, the Agromond influence was spreading fast.

“But, friends, Blackwatermen, countrymen!” he boomed. “Heed me well! I come tonight to warn you: there is one at large who threatens our supremacy, and our very existence!”

A deathly hush fell over the square, leaving nothing but the hiss of rain.

“Yes! It is true. I had thought to be telling you tonight of our success in obliterating this danger, and to be celebrating with you, for just this morning we had evidence, or so we believed, that our adversary was dead”—
When I wasn’t snared by your Approjection
, Jemma thought—“but, my friends, we were misled! For on my way here, I happened upon a trusted ally,
the Widow Strickner, who was on her way to bring me the dread news: She had seen our adversary not an hour before, taking luncheon on the moors, as merrily as you please!”

The crowd booed. Sweat beaded on Jemma’s forehead. So the old woman at the cottages
had
been a spy! Jemma clutched her Stone harder. It burned in her fist.

“What’s that, Um?” Talon pointed at the turquoise light glowing between Jemma’s fingers. “An’ why’s the air around yer hands all clear?”

Jemma quickly tucked the Stone down her shirt and stuffed her fists into her pockets. Talon’s gaze drilled through her. Fang’s claw tracks throbbed on her back.

“And who, you may ask, is this adversary of whom I speak?” Nox continued. “Why, none other than the One I have spoken of before—Jemma, the girl we have been nurturing since she was a babe, giving her succor! The child of our sworn enemies, who, Marked as she was, we believed to be one of us! And oh, dear friends, I cared for her as my own—” His voice cracked, and sympathetic murmurs rippled across the square. “Yet she turned against me. Against us. Against
you
, my friends, you! And now, to add insult to injury, she is set on destroying us! You must keep your eyes as keen as a hawk’s and your wits as sharp as a razor’s edge, for she is close by, even as I speak. You will recognize her by her flame-red hair—”

Jemma gulped. Thank goodness Digby had shorn her, and dyed her stubble!

“—which she may, however, have thought to disguise. She also has an accomplice—a youth of around fifteen or sixteen years—and may be traveling with two yellow rats, as well—”

“Two
rats
?” said Talon incredulously. “
Yellow
ones?” Titters drifted up from the square.

That’s not nice!
Noodle and Pie stirred in Jemma’s hood.

“—and, we are certain, is en route to Oakstead to find her parents, our sworn enemies—”

“Mord’s revenge upon ’em!” someone yelled. Others took up the cry: “Mord’s revenge! Mord’s revenge!”

Nox raised his arms, hushing the hecklers, then continued. “At all costs, she must be prevented from reaching Oakstead before nine tomorrow morning. For up until that time, she can still gather great Powers unto herself with which to carry out her mission!” He paused, letting his words sink in.
My Initiation
, Jemma thought, more determined than ever to make it in time.

“How do we know she in’t already there?”

“Excellent question, my good man! But fear not. The Widow Strickner sent falcons to all our allies between here and Oakstead, bearing stones whose message they well know: that the girl is loose and must be stopped. Besides, she could not yet have gone that far, for remember I was but an hour behind her, and my steed is as swift as lightning”—he gestured to Mephisto—“whereas she and her cohort, I am told, have naught to ride but an old nag, barely even fit for a dog’s dinner!” More jeers, and laughter.

“And so, my friends, I bid you join the hunt! The boy is of no consequence, do with him what you will. But the girl …” He cleared his throat. “If you catch her before nine, and then bring her to me—unharmed, mind—you shall be richly rewarded. At the very least, stop her. We already have spies and Inquisitors posted along the main road to Oakstead, and with your help, we shall surely achieve our goal.”

“An’ after nine, then what?”

“Why, the spies and Inquisitors will go home, and you may all rejoice! For as long as she does not reach Oakstead by nine and receive her Initiation, she will no longer be a danger to us. No, my friends! As history has shown us, those with such Powers who are not properly Initiated lose their Powers. Moreover, any she already has will dry up like a rotting carcass, rendering her harmless to us—a paltry dreg, like the rest of Anglavian peasantry, and no longer able to disintegrate the merest fly! Then let her wither away with her own kind, within Oakstead’s walls—or better yet, go where she pleases, for she will be nothing but a laughing-stock, a public disgrace to those who have believed in her! Let their noses be rubbed in it! For then, what effect can she have on us, my friends? What effect can a gnat have on a lion? I tell you, only prevent her from entering Oakstead, and after nine on the morrow, the danger will be over—victory will be ours, with nothing to oppose us any longer! And then, oh, then, how we shall celebrate! Mord be praised!”

Cheers erupted amidst cries of “Mord be praised! Victory! Nine tomorrow—victory!”

Jemma trembled with rage and disappointment. So what she had feared in Bryn’s cave was true—her Powers really would be gone! Her dreams of helping to end the Agromond reign of Mist and terror shattered like eggs hurled from a high tower. There was no hope of reaching Oakstead in time, not with every Blackwater eye looking for her—including Talon, whose gaze continued to spear into her. The girl suspected her, Jemma could feel it. Under Talon’s scrutiny, even rescuing Digby and hiding out until after the danger was passed were impossible tasks now—let alone reaching Oakstead by
morning. Rain and sweat dribbled down her forehead, and she wiped it with her hand, then looked at her hand in horror.

It was purple. The rain was washing the berry dye from her hair. Without thinking, she pulled her hood over her head. Noodle and Pie flew out of it, and thudded onto the roof. Rain streaked the mud on their coats, revealing patches of golden fur.

“Two yellow rats, eh?” Talon snatched Jemma’s hand. “It
is
you, innit? You in’t a boy at all!”

Jemma tried to pull away, but Talon held fast.

“You best come with me,” she said, opening the trapdoor, “or there’ll be Mord to pay.”

“Please, no …,” Jemma said, but it was hopeless. She was caught, like a mouse in a maze.

“Hurry!” Talon jumped down. “An’ tell yer rats to look lively too.”

“What?”

“Quick, I said! Let’s get you out of ’ere, afore they start huntin’ for yer.”

Noodle and Pie leapt onto Jemma’s shoulders, then Talon turned and raced down the stairs, with Jemma on her heels. They crashed out into the square just as an enormous image appeared above the platform. An Approjection. Of Jemma. Her red hair and aqua eyes were illuminated giant-sized in the Misty rain for all to see.

“This is she, my friends,” Nox said. “Do not be fooled by her air of innocence.…”

“Grisly goblins, look at that!” Talon said. “Amazin’ what they can do. Come on—this way.” She dashed into the tiny alley that Jemma had spied earlier.

“Talon—” Jemma was puffing, trying to keep up. “Why are you helping me?”

“I hate ’em,” Talon said. “Every one of ’em. An’ I know all about you, Jemma Solvay. Been hearin’ tales ’bout you all my life. My ma an’ pa used to work at the castle, see, an’ Ma told me ’bout the terrible goin’s-on there, an’ how this new baby arrived one night. We left when I was two—you was four, I think—an’ came here, but Ma never forgot you. Said you wasn’t like
them
, even when you was little. Later, she heard ’bout some Prophecy, an’ jus’
knew
you was the Fire One it talked about. Her an’ me always said we hoped you’d escape someday—an’ to think now, it’s me as is helpin’ yer!” She zigzagged along tiny alleys, and in what seemed like no time had led Jemma back to the street where the jail was. Even from here, they could hear Nox’s voice echoing across the ramshackle rooves.

“… a special event tomorrow, to celebrate—a stoning, arranged by my good man Lok.”

“Good man Lok, my big toe!” Talon snarled as she stomped toward the jail, pulling her keys from her pocket. “Let’s get yer friend out of that cage.”

Jemma trotted after her. “How do you know it’s him in there?”