Ilse Of Illusion

13 - Treachery

Sharn’s heart was beating painfully as she ran up the stairs to the library. She dreaded hearing what Josef had to tell her.

Marilen was close beside her. Marilen had read the note also, and would not hear of being left behind. ‘It could be a trap, Sharn,’ she had said fiercely. ‘You must not go alone! And in any case, I want to face him.’

There was no help for it. Whatever Josef had to say would have to be said in front of Marilen.

And perhaps it is for the best, Sharn thought despairingly.

She found Josef hovering by the library doors, watching for her under the stern gaze of the guards on duty. The old man’s face crumpled in relief as he saw her approaching. And at the sight of Marilen, tears sprang into his eyes. He did not seem to notice how coldly the girl answered his greeting.

‘I have set Ranesh a task on the other side of the library,’ he whispered, leading the two women through the huge, echoing room. ‘I would prefer that he did not hear us.’

He ushered them into his own small chamber, and closed the door. His hands were trembling as he turned to face them. Plainly, now that the moment had arrived, he did not know how to begin.

‘What is troubling you, Josef?’ Sharn asked quietly, though her mind was boiling with fears.

Josef’s mouth quivered. He took a deep breath. Then he said the last thing Sharn expected to hear.

‘I have betrayed my trust,’ he muttered. ‘I let my pity for an old friend and protector sway me. And in doing so, I did great wrong.’ He bowed his head in misery.

‘Why, Josef! What do you mean?’ exclaimed Sharn, very aware that Marilen was holding her breath.

‘I wished only to comfort poor Amarantz. To tell her that Lief was sure to return to the palace,’ whispered Josef. ‘So—I wrote upon her slate that he would certainly return, that he had to return, because his Toran bride was here.’

Marilen made a strangled sound.

‘What?’ gasped Sharn, gripping the girl’s arm.

Josef’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. ‘The message was only for Amarantz,’ he choked. ‘But then—suddenly—the giant, shaved-head woman, Lindal, burst into the room with the man, Jinks. They might have seen the message. I think they did.’

‘Ranesh was in the kitchen too, Josef, was he not?’ Sharn asked quickly.

‘Ranesh?’ Marilen’s face was scarlet.

Josef looked confused and fearful. ‘Do not blame Ranesh for concealing what I did, madam,’ he cried. ‘Ranesh knows nothing of it! I had wiped the slate clean by the time he arrived, and I did not tell him later. I was too ashamed, and fearful of his anger at my betrayal of our precious secret.’

He bowed his head. ‘It is unforgivable,’ he mumbled. ‘Why, Lief himself entrusted us with the lady Marilen’s care. He did not say who she was, of course. But the palace was buzzing with the news that he had gone to Tora for a bride, and naturally, when Ranesh and I met her, we put two and two together.’

‘Naturally.’ Sharn’s head was spinning. Palace gossip. Of course! How could they have left this out of their calculations?

The blush had slowly faded from Marilen’s cheeks, leaving her deathly pale. ‘I am going to my bed chamber,’ she said stiffly to Sharn. ‘I have … tidying to do, as you may recall.’

She bowed shortly to Josef, and left the room, walking very quickly.

Josef looked after her with anguished eyes. ‘Will she flee—back to Tora?’ he whispered.

‘Perhaps,’ said Sharn slowly. ‘She has had a great shock.’

‘Ah, I would give anything to take back what I did!’ Joseph moaned. ‘I have been in torment, in terrible fear that some harm would befall her. But that, at least, has not happened.’

Sharn made no reply. She was too occupied with her own thoughts.

‘I am ready to go,’ Josef added miserably.

Sharn looked up. Josef was standing before her, a small cloth bundle in his hand. For the first time she noticed that the little room had been stripped of every personal possession.

‘Josef—’ she began.

The old man hung his head. ‘If you feel you can trust me not to disgrace myself again, I will return to my old home,’ he mumbled. ‘I would prefer it to a dungeon, though there is not much to choose between the two. But I will do whatever you—’

‘Josef, do not be absurd!’ cried Sharn. ‘There is no question of your going away.’

He stared at her in disbelief

‘No question!’ Sharn repeated. ‘You made a mistake, certainly. But surely we can all be allowed one slip?’

Josef’s lips trembled. ‘The results of my … slip … could be grave,’ he said. ‘The man Jinks—I do not think he can be trusted. And Lindal …’

‘Jinks is dead,’ said Sharn abruptly. ‘Lindal is with Doom. There is only one person I must see to settle this.’

Josef gaped after her as she hurried out of the room.

Sharn was panting when she reached the kitchen door.

She stood quite still for a moment, her hand on the knob, trying to calm herself. Then, to her surprise, she heard the muffled voice of Amarantz, and the sound of her own name.

‘Sharn is upstairs, but she will be back at any moment. Wait here for her, I pray you. And try one or two of these, to please me. They are a new recipe. No doubt you are hungry from your journey.’

‘Indeed we are,’ boomed another voice—a voice Sharn knew well. ‘I could eat my old horse, if we did not need him to pull the caravan. Come on, girl!’

There was a loud scraping of chairs.

Sharn threw open the door, taking in the scene in an instant. Two huge figures were sitting at the table. One was Doom’s friend Steven, the strange Plains pedlar who had been such a good and powerful ally in the time of the Shadow Lord. The other—was Lindal!

And taking his place beside them was Doom himself, wearily pulling off his coat. But Sharn had no time, no space in her mind, to wonder why Doom and Lindal had returned, or how Steven had come to be with them. Her gaze was fixed on the platter towards which all three were reaching—a platter heaped with small, golden-brown cakes in silver paper cases.

‘No!’

She sprang forward. As they shouted in shock, her arm crashed down on the table, sweeping the platter away from them. The platter fell to the floor, smashing on the stones, cakes bouncing and rolling away.

Amarantz, her face pale as parchment, fell to her knees, scrabbling to pick them up.

‘Sharn! What is it?’ roared Doom, astounded, almost angry.

Sharn could not answer. She was gasping, dizzy with relief. If she had been a moment later …

She steadied herself on the edge of the table and made herself look down at the old woman crawling on the stones of the kitchen floor.

Amarantz’s eyes met hers. And suddenly it seemed to Sharn that something else was watching her from behind that familiar, faded blue. Something alien. Something cunning. Something wicked.

Her stomach churned with sickness. She shrank back, shivering.

And then, horribly, Amarantz began to laugh. ‘Fools!’ she cackled. ‘Do you not know that you will never defeat me?’

With an oath, Doom leaped to his feet, his chair crashing behind him. Steven rose more slowly, gripping the edge of the table. The muscles of his arms and neck bulged as though he were lifting a great weight. He trembled all over. His eyes flickered from gold to brown as Nevets, the savage brother he carried within him, struggled for freedom.

‘No!’ Lindal ordered, putting a huge hand on his shoulder. ‘Nevets, we do not need you here. Go back!’

The terrible shuddering quietened and ceased.

Shoulders heaving, Amarantz crouched toad-like, watching them. ‘What joy it would have been to have sent you the way of the poor little bride, Doom!’ she croaked. ‘And your friends, those ugly freaks of nature, with you. But, ah well, this feeble body is nearly worn out as it is. I will see you another time, Doom, in another place.’

She pressed her clenched fist to her mouth.

‘Stop her!’ Sharn exclaimed urgently.

Instantly understanding, Doom leaped forward.

But it was too late. The poisoned cake was already in the old woman’s throat, and she was swallowing it whole.

‘Soon we will be everywhere!’ she hissed. ‘Very soon …’

Her face changed, her eyes rolled back. With a terrible shriek she clutched at her stomach and fell sideways, her feet kicking, her head beating horribly against the stones.

As Doom, Lindal and Steven stood frozen with horror, Sharn ran to her. She could not help it. For whatever hideous force possessed the old woman, this was Amarantz, the friend of her youth. She could not let her die horribly, alone.

She took the jerking body in her arms and held it tightly. For a long moment there was no change. Then suddenly the eyes returned to normal. They stared at Sharn vacantly for a single moment, then seemed to focus.

‘I am here, Amarantz,’ Sharn whispered.

The eyes grew puzzled. The cracked lips opened. ‘Sharn?’ Amarantz murmured. ‘Oh, Sharn, I had a terrible dream. Such a terrible dream.’

Sharn nodded, stroking the wet forehead, her eyes brimming with tears.

‘I dreamed that the Grey Guards came to the pottery, and we were all taken,’ sighed the old woman. ‘And I—’ Her eyes suddenly widened, filling with terror.

‘Do not fear any more, Amarantz,’ said Sharn quickly. ‘The dream has ended now. Ended.’

‘Yes.’ The faded eyes grew peaceful once more. The lips curved in a half smile. And then the breathing stopped. For Amarantz, the nightmare had truly ended at last.

‘What was that she said of “the poor little bride”?’ asked Doom urgently.

‘She thought she had poisoned Marilen. But she was wrong,’ said Sharn.

She laid the old woman’s head gently down and brushed the wisps of grey hair from the bloodstained cheek. Then she thought … she thought she saw something moving in the hair that trailed on the ground. Tears were blurring her eyes. She rubbed them, looked again, then jerked back with a scream of horror.

A long grey worm with a scarlet head was crawling from Amarantz’s ear. It slithered out onto the floor in a trail of slime and writhed there, its tail lashing in fury.