Chapter 16
I followed Will into the courtyard the next morning. Tayvis waited for us, saddling his horse. Puddles gathered underfoot from recent rain. The air smelled of damp earth.
"Reporting for duty, sir." Will saluted, slapping his hand against his forehead.
"You know what to do?" Tayvis yanked a strap tight. His horse snorted, stamping one foot.
"Of course," Will answered. "You can trust me."
Tayvis buckled the strap. "Keep your ears open. And be careful."
I crossed my arms, hunching my shoulders. "Why don't you just leave me here, Tayvis? Lock me up if you want. It's safer than out there."
Tayvis shook his head. "Go with Will and justify that agreement we both signed. It isn't just your neck on this one."
"If you don't trust me, why stick it out for me?"
Will nudged me. "Don't wake the sleeping bear."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You're the philosopher, you figure it out."
"I am not a philosopher."
"Are you going to argue all morning? You've got ground to cover." Tayvis pulled a small pouch out of his pocket, tossing it to Will. "Don't spend it all at the same place."
"Yes, sir." Will opened the pouch and frowned. "Not much to spend."
"You aren't traveling first class."
"Nobody told me the Patrol was so cheap."
"You're less noticeable walking." Tayvis swung onto his horse. "And don't call me sir."
"Yes, sir." Will snapped a perfect salute.
Tayvis shook his head. "You're going to get yourself killed."
"And the Patrol will send a very nice letter to my family expressing their sympathies. Ready, Dace?"
"Tell me again why I have to go anywhere." I glanced up at Tayvis. "I get into trouble no matter what I do."
Tayvis grinned. "Very useful trouble. Go stir up trouble at the monastery." He looked over at Will. "I'm taking the mountain trail to Leran's territory. I want to find out what he's been doing."
"Remember what I told Dace about waking a sleeping bear?" Will shook his head. "You be careful, Tayvis. They know who you are now."
Tayvis kicked his horse into a walk. We followed. The path skirted the castle, bypassing the village entirely. By the time we reached the main road at the bottom of the hill, Tayvis was long out of sight.
"So if you aren't a philosopher, what did you study?" Will asked.
"You read my file, you should know."
"You aren't a sleeping bear, by any chance?"
"I think working for Robin has affected your brain. What have you been smoking, Will?"
"Nothing." He sniffed his shirt. "Well, maybe a bit of wood and grass. And the fish last night. Ha! Got you to smile."
"Why are we really going to the monastery?"
"Because Tayvis needs the information and it should be fairly safe. Two pairs of eyes are more likely to spot truth than one."
"Another one of your philosophical statements?"
"Stole it from a book I read. Most of it was rather tedious, but every once in a while, I found a statement that begged to be quoted. That one actually made sense."
He told me stories about his studies while we walked. I never guessed that linguistics researchers led such thrilling lives. I suspected he exaggerated. His jaunty attitude lasted only until we reached the crossroads. The track we'd been following met a much wider road.
Will looked both ways down the deserted road. "This is where we have to be careful. Remember, we're displaced peasants. Step aside for everyone. Don't look anyone in the eye. Don't say anything. Leran and Pardui have spies everywhere." Will turned his back, pulling his hat low.
Any hope I had of the journey being enjoyable died. "There isn't anyone on the road, Will."
"We're way beyond Robin's influence. There are eyes everywhere. Keep your place, woman. And don't call me Will."
I called him names under my breath as I trudged after him.
We arrived at a bustling village about midmorning. Vendors advertised merchandise at the top of their lungs from their roadside stands. Will pulled me into a space between two booths.
"I'm going to buy supplies. Stay here and don't get into trouble." He disappeared into the crowd.
I shifted from foot to foot. The hot air tweaked my curiosity with the scent of cooking, spices, animals, and a thousand other things. The stall next to me sold textiles. A piece of embroidered fabric caught my eye. I stepped close to stroke the flowers and animals, wondering who had taken the time to paint a fantasy in thread.
"You like it?" the stall owner asked.
"It's lovely."
"It's more than you can afford." The man moved the piece out of my reach.
I tucked my hands under my elbows. Nothing else in his stall was worth a second glance. The merchant across the narrow alley sold trinkets, bits of jewelry to catch the eye of someone without much money. Polished glass and stone sparkled in the morning light.
"That's her!"
I turned towards the shout. A burly man pointed at me.
"That's the demon what caused my cow to go dry!"
"She soured the milk on all the cows!"
"Demon!"
I darted out of the alley, hiking up my skirts as I ran. The crowd shifted away, leaving me facing a line of soldiers, Baron Molier's men with screaming birds embroidered on their tunics. They circled, closing me in. I jumped at an opening, aiming a kick at the nearest soldier.
One caught me from behind, slamming his arm across my back, knocking me to the ground. The others jumped in, flattening me in the dust. Two of them hauled me to my feet. I used them as leverage to kick the one in front in the teeth. The soldiers yanked me backwards, twisting my arms behind me.
"This is the demon?" one of the soldiers asked the crowd.
"She fell from the sky in a ball of fire," the farmer said. "She cursed the cows. None of them will give milk now."
"Old Betsy's cat had puppies instead of kittens the next morning."
"She made me lame. She just looked at me and I couldn't walk."
"She's a demon." The first farmer nodded his head.
The soldiers shoved me to my knees.
"What do you have to say for yourself, demon?" The lead soldier loomed over me.
"I'm not a demon."
"Liar!" He slapped me.
I tasted blood.
"I saw you in the dungeon. You've cursed the Baron. He can think of nothing but you." The man slapped me again.
"What do we do with her?" The soldier behind me spoke. "Ride all the way to Ravensholt? It's three days if we push the horses."
"I'll kill her now and save us all the trouble." The man I'd kicked in the teeth spat blood.
"We'll take her to the priest in Islington," the commander decided. "He can lift the curse and cleanse us of this evil. Tie her up."
The villagers produced an amazing amount of rope. The soldiers trussed me until I could barely move. The leader twisted a gag in my mouth. It tasted like old shoes and horse sweat. The soldiers tossed me onto a horse, tying me in place.
I caught one glimpse of Will's astonished face as we thundered down the road, leaving the village behind.
I wondered what the priest in Islington would do. My imagination conjured all sorts of gruesome images, most involving hot iron pokers.
We reached Islington midafternoon. The village was built around an open square. The ugliest building I'd ever seen squatted on one side. A symbol of interlocking circles decorated the walls. The lead soldier swung down from his horse, hammering his fist on the door. He stepped to the side as the booming echoes died.
The horses shuffled their feet as we waited. The villagers gathered, staring curiously. The door to the building finally creaked open.
A man in a black robe peered out. "Why do you disturb our meditations?"
"We've brought the demon that cursed the Baron. We want you to lift the curse and cleanse us from her touch."
&nbs
p; The man flung the door wide, then strode out, his robe flapping dust clouds around him. He squinted, poking me with a bony finger. "This is a demon?"
"Fallen from the sky, cast out in a ball of fire. We have the sworn testimony of three witnesses." The soldiers nodded in agreement.
The priest frowned, pinching his bottom lip. "Demon, you came in fire, so in fire you shall be cleansed."
The villagers cheered.
The priest raised his hands to the sky. "We shall cleanse this earth of evil! We shall burn the demon!"
The crowd shouted. The soldiers backed their horses, leaving me in a clear space.
I had no intention of letting them burn me. I took the opening, kicking the horse, hoping it would run. It planted its feet, stubbornly lowering its head. I flinched as a pungent tomato splattered my face, its stench worse than the taste of the gag still in my mouth.
The crowd flung limp lettuce and spoiled cabbage my way.
"We shall burn the demon tomorrow morning," the priest shouted when the rain of rotting produce ended. "Build the pyre high. Use only the driest wood. I must prepare myself to fight such a great evil." He flapped into his lumpy gray building like a big black bird.
The soldiers untied me just enough to get me off the horse. They shoved me into an iron cage set under a flat roof on the far side of the square. I fell in a heap, unable to move because of the rope still wound around me. The cage slammed shut.
I curled up in the straw at the bottom and pretended to be somewhere far away. Even the orphanage was better than this.
The soldiers taunted me, jabbing me with sticks. I hunched into a tighter ball. They gave up when I didn't respond.
Blood caked on a dozen different scratches. I smelled like a garbage dump. The taste of the gag turned my stomach and dried my mouth. The ropes pinched and rubbed my skin raw.
All of that paled as I watched the villagers pile wood.
They were going to burn me alive. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the horrible sight.