Scrivener’s Tale

‘I know you do.’

‘Shall we call him and see his reaction?’

‘No. I want to know why you believe he is scared of me.’

‘Because of what you’re capable of.’

‘Can you be more specific?’

‘Yes, but you wouldn’t believe me.’

‘Try me.’

‘You have the capacity to bring down an empire.’

‘An empire?’ He tried not to laugh but the amusement was evident in his expression.

Angelina’s remained grave. ‘I need you to kill me, Gabe.’

‘What?’ he roared.

She flung her arms around him, staring gravely into his eyes. ‘Kill me. Release us.’

‘Stop it,’ he said, trying to unwind her arms, then her legs as they snaked around him.

‘Only death will free me.’

‘Angelina, where has this come from? You’re acting delusional again.’

‘I’m as sane as you. Remember when we were making love? Do you recall seeing anything?’

He shook his head. ‘My mind was blank.’

‘No, it wasn’t, Gabe. Think!’ She kissed him. Her tongue softly licked his lips and stimulated every part of him. He remembered now. The cathedral … from his mind palace. And then he was outside it, looking around for the first time. He could see it belonged to a huge city, but no city that he recognised. Angelina suddenly pulled away.

‘I know you saw it. I saw it too. The Great Cathedral of Pearlis.’

‘Pearlis?’ he stammered. The word reminded him of the name Reynard had murmured in connection with the quill. Gabe had heard Pearlis, and yet Reynard had quickly adjusted it to Paris.

Angelina nodded. ‘I know you used to visit it often but only in your mind. I can take you there, Gabe. I can give you the Great Cathedral of Pearlis.’

‘What are you talking about?’ he said, trying again to loosen her arms from his neck.

‘I can give you so much, Gabe, but you have to trust me. René is no friend of yours. He is the enemy.’

‘Enemy,’ he repeated, lost.

‘He wishes only harm. He wants me dead, but he knows he can’t kill me. Not yet anyway, and not here.’

‘Angelina, you’re speaking in riddles.’

‘The raven. I know it has found you.’

Gabe choked at the mention of it. She let him loosen her hold on him, and he almost jumped away, running a hand through his unbound hair.

‘You’ve seen it too?’ he said, suddenly feeling haggard.

She shook her head, moving into a kneeling position on the bed, following him with her gaze. She began to undress again. ‘I’ve felt it. The other day when I was here I could feel its taint. I can keep you safe but you have to trust me.’

‘Safe.’ He laughed scornfully. ‘I don’t understand any of this.’

‘Kiss me again. I want to show you something,’ she said.

He couldn’t resist her. He sat down and she moved to encircle him with her arms and legs as he kissed her.

What Gabe saw shocked him rigid.

SIX

Loup led them back toward the priory.

Leaving the hut hadn’t been difficult. Cassien had been dreaming of this day. Leaving Romaine had been another matter. Fynch had shown him where her nesting burrow was and Cassien had been amazed that her mate — the one he called Flint — permitted them to approach. Even in his wildest dreams Cassien would not have attempted to get past Flint unarmed. But with Fynch present the huge male wolf had sat back on his haunches. Fynch scratched the back of his ears while Cassien stepped forward to hug Romaine farewell.

‘I’ll be back when these cubs are grown,’ he promised in a whisper.

He watched with affection as the four fat, sleepy cubs snuggled closer. Blue eyes would yellow in the coming moon. Three of the cubs were dark like their father but the third, the smallest, resembled her mother. In his mind he called her Felys and, as the name formed and stuck, she stirred and he saw her tiny tongue lick at his finger. His heart swelled and he blew softly on the cub’s face. Cassien was sure it was an old wives’ tale, but he had been told that if you blew into the nostrils of a puppy, the dog it grew into would always be loyal to you and you alone. The baby blinked blindly but he glimpsed her pale blue eyes and smiled. She knew him now. And he already loved her nearly as much as her mother. He turned to Romaine and gave her a kiss on her forehead.

‘Thank you for being my friend,’ he whispered and stood.

Fynch had nodded. ‘Let’s go.’

The smells had changed as the forest gradually thinned. He was excited but it was nonetheless daunting to know that he was going to be amongst people again. He’d have to teach himself how to integrate, how to converse easily, how to be friendly even if he didn’t feel friendly, how to be polite despite his mood, how to cope with noise.

The reassuring perfume of the trees, the aroma of the damp earthiness of the forest floor, the daily meal — a soup usually — of vegetables he could forage for, were all comforting smells that would no longer be part of his daily life.

Initially, these had given way to the intoxicating scent of baking bread and he’d forgotten how heavenly it was and how it made his belly rumble in anticipation. But there were soon other smells that assaulted him — far less pleasant … the metallic, tangy blood of slaughtered animals mixing with the fouler smells of urine and dung from the local tannery. There was a yeasty smell of ale and a vapour of smoked plants that someone was using for healing. However, the all-pervading aroma was of people: sweat, perfumes, cooking …

‘Where are we again?’ he asked. Loup had obviously led them a less direct way to the priory.

Fynch paused. ‘I asked Loup to bring us through Barrowdean.’

Cassien nodded. He’d never heard of it.

‘I’m not sure why,’ Loup admitted. ‘Farnswyth is more direct.’

‘Because, Loup, this is where we shall part company,’ Fynch replied.

Loup blinked. ‘But I thought …’