The Janissary Tree

[ 59 ]

Preen poked her finger into the little black hole in the door and crooked it, feeling upwards for the slim wooden latch.

She felt it resting against the edge of her nail, and clicked it up. As the door swung open a sudden draught, laden with the unpleasantly sweet smell of rotten meat, snuffed out the candle in her hand. She gave a small cry of dismay and stepped backwards in the dark.

The swinging door struck against the side wall. At the same moment Preen felt something brush across her face, with a whirr like an insect against her skin. She jerked her head back, stumbled, and lost her footing on the top step of the darkened stairs. She fell with a crash, ricocheting off the back wall and plunging sideways down the narrow stairs.

Preen landed in a bruised tangle, her face pressed against the corridor floor. Her right arm throbbed. For a few seconds she did not move, hearing only the sound of blood pulsing in her head and the gasp of her own breath. In the darkness it sounded shockingly loud.

But then came a muffled crack behind her on the stairs, close to her feet, like the sound of someone testing their weight on a wooden step.

The sound of someone joining her in the dark.

Somebody was coming down the stairs, from her own room.

With a convulsive jerk, she pulled up her legs and somersaulted out into the corridor. As her weight fell upon her arm a jolt of pain seared upwards through her shoulder into her neck and she opened her mouth to scream.

But then the sound died on her lips.