to get to my knees and began to claw the blackness, trying to locate my mattress or my chest, something that would guide me towards my tinderbox. But the familiar had suddenly become strange. The storm grew louder, seizing my senses, shouting at me to surrender. I had no intention of challenging anything or anyone. I needed help and light. I felt a sob build inside me, expanding my ribcage; I cried out as agony exploded. I clutched my side. Where was everyone? Why had Pillar left me alone up here in the cold, hurt and terrified?
Unable to orientate myself, I sat back down. The attic floor was drenched. If it hadn't been for the familiar smell of damp and rats, I would have sworn I'd been caught and thrown in the Doge's dungeon.
I tried to regulate my breathing, calm myself. As I did, I became aware that a window had been left wide open and the rain was pouring in. Agony or not, I couldn't allow this to continue. I braced for my body's response and struggled to my feet stumbling against the pane, clumsily pulling it shut. I almost lost consciousness as the room spun. I grabbed the sill for support. The force of the water as it lashed the thick glass was fierce. There was something unnatural about the elements tonight.
A scrabbling noise to my right distracted me. It stopped for a moment and then continued. 'Hello.' My voice sounded strained, ruined. The rats were struggling to get into the barrels, out of the cold, away from potential harm. They too were afraid. My heart contracted. They didn't understand. I lowered myself onto my hands and knees. My temples were aflame and my ribs protested with every breath. Crawling towards where I thought my bed was, I could not comprehend the amount of water on the floor. Why, there must be at least an inch.
Instead of my bed, I ploughed into one of the empty barrels. It didn't matter; I knew where I was now. I pulled myself upright and prised off the lid. Sure enough, sitting under some old sacks were my blankets. Pillar must have hidden them when the soldiers came. I pulled one of them over the lip and wrapped it around my shoulders. I reached deeper into the barrel and, propped on one of the internal ribs, found a rush light and my tinderbox. I grasped them tightly and, with shaking fingers, tried to extract the spill and flint. I was about to strike the flint when raised voices below stayed my trembling hand. Pillar and Quinn were arguing again and I had no doubt what it was about. Their voices were harsh above the rain.
I finally managed to light the candle. I held the light aloft and examined the room by its dull nimbus. My bed had moved slightly, but the chest was still in place. There was water everywhere; bits of rubbish and the contents of my stomach floated in eddies. I felt it flip again.
Just then, another voice cut over Pillar and Quinn's. I forgot my nausea.
'You can deny it all you like, but I happen to know Tallow's here.'
It was the woman from the taverna.
Before I could move, footsteps echoed on the staircase and the door to the attic burst open. Dim light from the kitchen below filtered into the room.
Startled, I dropped the rushlight into the water. Its flame extinguished with a slight hiss as I slid behind the barrel. 'You have no right to come here!' screeched Quinn from the bottom of the stairs. 'We don't want your kind in our house!'
'No?' said the woman. I heard a splash as she stepped into the water. 'What kind is it that you do want?'
There was a flash. The woman had drawn a dagger.
It took her seconds to find me; I didn't stand a chance. Instead of being dragged out as I expected, the woman reached for me ever so gently and with cautious tugs, led me towards the doorway. Much to my discomfort, she studied my face. I learned later that a livid bruise stretched all the way from my temple to my chin. I knew my left eye had swollen shut and the split across my lips, only just healed, had opened again. My tongue worried it, tasting blood. My body began
Unable to orientate myself, I sat back down. The attic floor was drenched. If it hadn't been for the familiar smell of damp and rats, I would have sworn I'd been caught and thrown in the Doge's dungeon.
I tried to regulate my breathing, calm myself. As I did, I became aware that a window had been left wide open and the rain was pouring in. Agony or not, I couldn't allow this to continue. I braced for my body's response and struggled to my feet stumbling against the pane, clumsily pulling it shut. I almost lost consciousness as the room spun. I grabbed the sill for support. The force of the water as it lashed the thick glass was fierce. There was something unnatural about the elements tonight.
A scrabbling noise to my right distracted me. It stopped for a moment and then continued. 'Hello.' My voice sounded strained, ruined. The rats were struggling to get into the barrels, out of the cold, away from potential harm. They too were afraid. My heart contracted. They didn't understand. I lowered myself onto my hands and knees. My temples were aflame and my ribs protested with every breath. Crawling towards where I thought my bed was, I could not comprehend the amount of water on the floor. Why, there must be at least an inch.
Instead of my bed, I ploughed into one of the empty barrels. It didn't matter; I knew where I was now. I pulled myself upright and prised off the lid. Sure enough, sitting under some old sacks were my blankets. Pillar must have hidden them when the soldiers came. I pulled one of them over the lip and wrapped it around my shoulders. I reached deeper into the barrel and, propped on one of the internal ribs, found a rush light and my tinderbox. I grasped them tightly and, with shaking fingers, tried to extract the spill and flint. I was about to strike the flint when raised voices below stayed my trembling hand. Pillar and Quinn were arguing again and I had no doubt what it was about. Their voices were harsh above the rain.
I finally managed to light the candle. I held the light aloft and examined the room by its dull nimbus. My bed had moved slightly, but the chest was still in place. There was water everywhere; bits of rubbish and the contents of my stomach floated in eddies. I felt it flip again.
Just then, another voice cut over Pillar and Quinn's. I forgot my nausea.
'You can deny it all you like, but I happen to know Tallow's here.'
It was the woman from the taverna.
Before I could move, footsteps echoed on the staircase and the door to the attic burst open. Dim light from the kitchen below filtered into the room.
Startled, I dropped the rushlight into the water. Its flame extinguished with a slight hiss as I slid behind the barrel. 'You have no right to come here!' screeched Quinn from the bottom of the stairs. 'We don't want your kind in our house!'
'No?' said the woman. I heard a splash as she stepped into the water. 'What kind is it that you do want?'
There was a flash. The woman had drawn a dagger.
It took her seconds to find me; I didn't stand a chance. Instead of being dragged out as I expected, the woman reached for me ever so gently and with cautious tugs, led me towards the doorway. Much to my discomfort, she studied my face. I learned later that a livid bruise stretched all the way from my temple to my chin. I knew my left eye had swollen shut and the split across my lips, only just healed, had opened again. My tongue worried it, tasting blood. My body began
Similar Books
