Alistair’s comatose body, she turned to slip through the tower door, only to c om e smack up against Helva’s s ol i d body.
“He’s not dead,” th e old woman said, more a state m e nt than a question. “ It would take more than the likes of you to stop him. He’ s got protection from his mother, the w i tc h, and f r o m his father, the devil . No puny little weakling like you could harm him.”
“I haven’t done badly so far,” s h e said, her unrepen tant tongue getting the best of her once more.
“He’ll kill you. He’ll cut out your heart and feed it to the crows,” she hissed. “He’ll slash your throat from ear to ear, just like poor Jenna, a nd the stones will grow red with your blood.”
Elspeth controlled her queasy reaction to such an im age with a strong effort. “Then I’d better get out of here,” she said in a practical voice, wondering whether Helva would try to s t o p her. Wondering whether she stood a chance in hell of overpowering such a mountainous woman.
But Helva made no move toward her. “Run,” she said in a low, evil voice. “It will do you no good. He’ll find you. He will, or his mother. Your body will be out a t the crossroad, the flesh flayed from your bones as a warning…”
“Please!” Elspeth protested. “I can imagine the rest.” She pushed past her, starting down the winding stair s as quickly a s she dared.
“He’ll f ind you!” Helva shrieked after her, standing on the landing like an avenging angel. “And you’ll die a slow, terrible death. You’ll die, you’ll die…”
Elspeth closed her ears to the shrieks a n d curses, in creasing her sp e e d in the dark tower. Though the noise from t h e great hall was thunderous, so was H e l v a ’ s voice, and she didn’t dare run into any of Alistair’s men. Not if she hoped for a chance of escape.
She heard the noise of booted feet on the stone floor just as she re a c h e d the bottom of the stairs, and without hesitation she slipped into the s h a d ow s , grateful for the darkness of the pilfered cloak. She could see Gilles De Lancey’s blond hair, his stalwart body as he paused at the foot of the stairs, and she almost called out to him, asking for h e lp .
Something kept her silent. Something stilled her hand as s h e was about to reach out to him. Something quieted her as he started a slow, steady climb to the tower. When he moved past the first c ir c l e, she stuck her head out to peer at him. The torchlight glinted on the jeweled knife at his belt, and she stared at the weapon with some thing akin to fascination.
All men were a rm e d nowadays, even priests. Of course De Lancey would wear a knife at his belt. Why did s h e think there was evil attached to it, any more evil than came attached to m o s t weapons?
He might have felt her eyes on him, or he might simply have been naturally cautious. He s topped, whirling around to stare down into the darkness an instant after she’d flattened herself against the wall, her breathing and her heartbeat stilled.
A moment later she heard his footsteps continue moving up w a r d until the sound vanished into the darkness. A noise drifted down, an eerie, gurgling sound, like a v oice being cut off mid-sentence. And then all was silent once more. She didn’t dare hesitate any longer. It took her precious minutes to wrestle with the heavy door, and then she was outside for the first time in almost a week, the soft night air swirling around her.
The moon hung high overhead, and courtyard was deserted, shrouded in shadow. Elspeth moved swiftly and silently a l o n g the wall of the keep, running one hand against the rough surface to guide her way. She passed no one but a cat intent on his round of night hunting, and for a moment she th o u gh t of her husband, a sleek black cat looking for a juicy white mouse. He wouldn’t find her, not if she could help it. No one would find her deep in the heart of Dunstan Woods. She could hide there forever,
“He’s not dead,” th e old woman said, more a state m e nt than a question. “ It would take more than the likes of you to stop him. He’ s got protection from his mother, the w i tc h, and f r o m his father, the devil . No puny little weakling like you could harm him.”
“I haven’t done badly so far,” s h e said, her unrepen tant tongue getting the best of her once more.
“He’ll kill you. He’ll cut out your heart and feed it to the crows,” she hissed. “He’ll slash your throat from ear to ear, just like poor Jenna, a nd the stones will grow red with your blood.”
Elspeth controlled her queasy reaction to such an im age with a strong effort. “Then I’d better get out of here,” she said in a practical voice, wondering whether Helva would try to s t o p her. Wondering whether she stood a chance in hell of overpowering such a mountainous woman.
But Helva made no move toward her. “Run,” she said in a low, evil voice. “It will do you no good. He’ll find you. He will, or his mother. Your body will be out a t the crossroad, the flesh flayed from your bones as a warning…”
“Please!” Elspeth protested. “I can imagine the rest.” She pushed past her, starting down the winding stair s as quickly a s she dared.
“He’ll f ind you!” Helva shrieked after her, standing on the landing like an avenging angel. “And you’ll die a slow, terrible death. You’ll die, you’ll die…”
Elspeth closed her ears to the shrieks a n d curses, in creasing her sp e e d in the dark tower. Though the noise from t h e great hall was thunderous, so was H e l v a ’ s voice, and she didn’t dare run into any of Alistair’s men. Not if she hoped for a chance of escape.
She heard the noise of booted feet on the stone floor just as she re a c h e d the bottom of the stairs, and without hesitation she slipped into the s h a d ow s , grateful for the darkness of the pilfered cloak. She could see Gilles De Lancey’s blond hair, his stalwart body as he paused at the foot of the stairs, and she almost called out to him, asking for h e lp .
Something kept her silent. Something stilled her hand as s h e was about to reach out to him. Something quieted her as he started a slow, steady climb to the tower. When he moved past the first c ir c l e, she stuck her head out to peer at him. The torchlight glinted on the jeweled knife at his belt, and she stared at the weapon with some thing akin to fascination.
All men were a rm e d nowadays, even priests. Of course De Lancey would wear a knife at his belt. Why did s h e think there was evil attached to it, any more evil than came attached to m o s t weapons?
He might have felt her eyes on him, or he might simply have been naturally cautious. He s topped, whirling around to stare down into the darkness an instant after she’d flattened herself against the wall, her breathing and her heartbeat stilled.
A moment later she heard his footsteps continue moving up w a r d until the sound vanished into the darkness. A noise drifted down, an eerie, gurgling sound, like a v oice being cut off mid-sentence. And then all was silent once more. She didn’t dare hesitate any longer. It took her precious minutes to wrestle with the heavy door, and then she was outside for the first time in almost a week, the soft night air swirling around her.
The moon hung high overhead, and courtyard was deserted, shrouded in shadow. Elspeth moved swiftly and silently a l o n g the wall of the keep, running one hand against the rough surface to guide her way. She passed no one but a cat intent on his round of night hunting, and for a moment she th o u gh t of her husband, a sleek black cat looking for a juicy white mouse. He wouldn’t find her, not if she could help it. No one would find her deep in the heart of Dunstan Woods. She could hide there forever,
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