bowed his head in greeting.
‘Lady Grey,’ he said. ‘Welcome to Fume.’
Kate thought there was something unusual about the man. His accent was softer than the sharp voices that were common across Albion.
‘The city is not as secure as its High Council believes,’ said Dalliah.
The warden smiled. ‘It never was.’ He handed Dalliaha cloth-wrapped package that was small and thin. They talked quietly for a short time, and Dalliah hooked the package on to her saddle.
The disguised officers stood alongside the wardens, and Kate overheard them giving the gate guards orders. She knew then that the latter were not wardens, but Blackwatch agents. Albion’s enemies had infiltrated beyond Fume’s gates.
‘We ride on,’ said Dalliah, taking the reins of Kate’s horse and leading it alongside her own.
The air trembled as the two women crossed the threshold of the city. Shades shifted in the shadows, filtered through the stones and mingled in the air, making the flames in the wardens’ lanterns shrink and fade back to the tiniest spark. A shiver of fear and expectation ran through every soul and every memory still locked within that place. Kate felt it as a chill colder than any winter wind, as if a door had opened to the coldest part of the world, letting freezing air blast against her skin. Fume’s streets were bare and ghostly. The grey and black buildings stood out sharply against a white sky and it felt as if the towers themselves were listening.
The Blackwatch remained with their associates at the gate. The city’s silence was disturbed by the screeching sound of metal hinges and Kate looked back to see the huge gates pulled shut. None of the wardens posted nearby had noticed the presence of intruders in their midst.
Since she had seen Silas, Kate’s memories had burned into clarity like flames spreading through a forest. Shecould remember everything that had happened in her life: the loss of her home to the wardens’ flames, the experiments conducted upon her by the High Council, and her trial at the hands of the Skilled who had rejected her even though she had gone to them for help. But worse than all the others, the one that made her wish she could forget everything all over again, was the memory of events that happened just before her journey across the sea.
She remembered Dalliah’s influence spreading around her, stifling her: Silas Dane, weakened and injured but never broken, and her best friend Edgar stabbed by a Blackwatch officer and left to die. Under Dalliah’s influence, Kate had walked away from both of them, leaving them there. She had seen the building they were trapped in burn and blaze, sending thick black smoke into the sky. Silas had survived, but she had seen no sign of Edgar in the village. She could not escape the guilt of leaving him behind. No matter what had happened, she would never forgive herself for that.
Kate’s hatred towards Dalliah seared inside her. She wanted to shout and rage at the woman who had torn Edgar away from her. She wanted to scream at her . . . make her pay for what she had done. But instead she stayed quiet. She had seen Dalliah’s cruelty at work and had already been overwhelmed by her once before. She needed to keep her mind clear. She needed to wait. If her time with Silas had taught her anything, it was patience.
Dalliah slowed the horses at the base of a memorial tower which looked very different from the dozens of others they had already passed. Its basic structure wasmuch the same, rounded walls of black stone punctuated with small windows, but this tower’s stones looked as if they were veined with silver. Fragments of what could have been metal reflected the moonlight in thin trails across them, but as Kate looked closer she saw the truth. Ordinary people would never see anything unusual there. Those veins were threads of energy, invisible to all but the most Skilled of eyes. A dull ache of sadness permeated the air and Kate could feel the
‘Lady Grey,’ he said. ‘Welcome to Fume.’
Kate thought there was something unusual about the man. His accent was softer than the sharp voices that were common across Albion.
‘The city is not as secure as its High Council believes,’ said Dalliah.
The warden smiled. ‘It never was.’ He handed Dalliaha cloth-wrapped package that was small and thin. They talked quietly for a short time, and Dalliah hooked the package on to her saddle.
The disguised officers stood alongside the wardens, and Kate overheard them giving the gate guards orders. She knew then that the latter were not wardens, but Blackwatch agents. Albion’s enemies had infiltrated beyond Fume’s gates.
‘We ride on,’ said Dalliah, taking the reins of Kate’s horse and leading it alongside her own.
The air trembled as the two women crossed the threshold of the city. Shades shifted in the shadows, filtered through the stones and mingled in the air, making the flames in the wardens’ lanterns shrink and fade back to the tiniest spark. A shiver of fear and expectation ran through every soul and every memory still locked within that place. Kate felt it as a chill colder than any winter wind, as if a door had opened to the coldest part of the world, letting freezing air blast against her skin. Fume’s streets were bare and ghostly. The grey and black buildings stood out sharply against a white sky and it felt as if the towers themselves were listening.
The Blackwatch remained with their associates at the gate. The city’s silence was disturbed by the screeching sound of metal hinges and Kate looked back to see the huge gates pulled shut. None of the wardens posted nearby had noticed the presence of intruders in their midst.
Since she had seen Silas, Kate’s memories had burned into clarity like flames spreading through a forest. Shecould remember everything that had happened in her life: the loss of her home to the wardens’ flames, the experiments conducted upon her by the High Council, and her trial at the hands of the Skilled who had rejected her even though she had gone to them for help. But worse than all the others, the one that made her wish she could forget everything all over again, was the memory of events that happened just before her journey across the sea.
She remembered Dalliah’s influence spreading around her, stifling her: Silas Dane, weakened and injured but never broken, and her best friend Edgar stabbed by a Blackwatch officer and left to die. Under Dalliah’s influence, Kate had walked away from both of them, leaving them there. She had seen the building they were trapped in burn and blaze, sending thick black smoke into the sky. Silas had survived, but she had seen no sign of Edgar in the village. She could not escape the guilt of leaving him behind. No matter what had happened, she would never forgive herself for that.
Kate’s hatred towards Dalliah seared inside her. She wanted to shout and rage at the woman who had torn Edgar away from her. She wanted to scream at her . . . make her pay for what she had done. But instead she stayed quiet. She had seen Dalliah’s cruelty at work and had already been overwhelmed by her once before. She needed to keep her mind clear. She needed to wait. If her time with Silas had taught her anything, it was patience.
Dalliah slowed the horses at the base of a memorial tower which looked very different from the dozens of others they had already passed. Its basic structure wasmuch the same, rounded walls of black stone punctuated with small windows, but this tower’s stones looked as if they were veined with silver. Fragments of what could have been metal reflected the moonlight in thin trails across them, but as Kate looked closer she saw the truth. Ordinary people would never see anything unusual there. Those veins were threads of energy, invisible to all but the most Skilled of eyes. A dull ache of sadness permeated the air and Kate could feel the
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