Tabula Rasa

Chapter 64

Getting past the curfew was simple enough: All Tilla had to do was to wait until the patrol had passed the bar and count very slowly to twenty. The soldiers were not her main concern tonight. She pulled the hood forward to hide her hair and slunk down the deserted street in the moonlight, clutching her bag against her chest and with her fist closed around the little pouch of snakeskin she had hung around her neck for protection. She did not want to be noticed, and thus have to risk replying to a greeting. This was not, as far as she knew, one of the places where those who had left this world could pass back into it. But everyone knew about the dead pretending to befriend the living, and few of the stories ended well. That was why, when she offered up her regular Samain prayer for a sight of her family, she had always added, “And let us know each other.” Then tonight the goddess had shown her Aemilia, which was not what she had wanted at all.

She tried to tread lightly, but as she passed the gloom of a doorway a burst of ferocious barking spurred her to run, hugging the bag tighter to stop the bottles clinking.

It was a relief to reach the solid gates of the fort. The gods were kind: One of the guards from earlier was still on duty and it was surprisingly easy to get in, even at this hour and without the password. With the bag of medicines, nobody questioned her story that she had been asked to visit a patient.

She understood why when she finally found herself in the comfortable warmth of Fabius’s kitchen. She did not need her carefully prepared excuse for a private word with the kitchen maid: Even in the dim lamplight she took one look and simply told the cook she needed to inspect the girl’s injuries. When she saw the bruises hidden beneath the drab tunic, she wanted to get hold of Fabius’s vine stick and beat him with it until he looked even worse than his victim. Instead all she could do was offer salve and sympathy as the girl gave a broken account of what had happened. Now she understood why Daminius had hinted that he would be leaving.

“Where can I find him tonight?”

The girl blinked at her through eyes swollen with crying. “I am not allowed to go near him. I should not speak or even think of him.”

“Just tell me where he might be,” said Tilla. “I think he can help me find out who stole the boy.”

“But he knows nothing! Why does nobody believe him? He was with me!”

Tilla put her hand over the girl’s. “I believe you both,” she said, “but I need to talk to him. Someone has come who will help us, and if this works, it could make things better for him.”

And if it didn’t, he would be in worse trouble. All of which made her feel doubly anxious as she strode down the paved street in the moonlight, carrying her bag at her side and following the girl’s directions to the black hulk of the barrack block. The last door on the left. Do not look nervous. Act as if knocking on the doors of soldiers’ quarters at night is a perfectly respectable thing for a married woman to do. If it goes wrong, you can always scream.

She did not get as far as the doors, because the steady tramp of boots and the jingle of metal strap ends on a military belt grew louder and a voice said, “Are you lost, miss? That’s the barracks.”

Do not sound anxious. Or friendly.

“I need to speak with Optio Daminius.” The effort of holding her voice down from a squeak made it oddly gruff, as if she were trying to talk like a man.

Whoever this was let out a long breath. There was a scrape of gravel as his feet shifted. She mouthed a silent prayer to Christos and any other god that might be listening and lifted her bag, hoping the man could see what it was in the stark light. “I am the wife of your medicus. I need to ask Daminius for an escort to visit a patient.”

He said, “Is it true the boy’s been taken to Coria, miss?”

“It is,” she said, not wanting to share the bad news about the fur traders. “My husband has gone to look for him.”

“That’s good,” he said, probably wondering whether her absent husband knew what she was up to. “Wait there, miss.”

Moments later she overheard, “You got Daminius there, mate? Tell him it’s his lucky night.”