The Alchemist of Souls (Night's Masque, #1)(74)

CHAPTER XIX

Ned arrived outside Bethlem Hospital just as St Botolph's was tolling ten. He felt as if the forged document tucked inside his doublet were glowing like a beacon, pointing him out as a counterfeit and a betrayer of his friend. He knew that, regardless of Mal's absence, he should go and confess to his involvement in this plot, but he was afraid Kemp would find out and get to his mother in his absence. Besides, the Lieutenant of the Tower would probably have him tortured, just to make sure he wasn't holding anything back.

He was starting to think the risk of torment might be worth it if it meant getting out of this mess, when a coach drew up outside the hospital and Kemp and Armitage got out. Kemp was dressed as a lawyer again. Ned recalled the two men standing in the doorway right behind his mother, and his nerve deserted him.

"Right then," Kemp said. "Let's see the paperwork. Yes, very good. This'll do nicely."

"I've done my bit," Ned said. "Now let me go home."

"I haven't finished with you yet, Faulkner, not by half. You just come along with us, and keep your mouth shut until I say the word."

Kemp walked up to the gates of the hospital and knocked. A hatch slid open and the porter peered out. Before the man could say a word, Kemp held up a gold angel. The porter's eyes lit up, and within moments they were inside.

"We are here on behalf of my client, one Maliverny Catlyn," Kemp said in crisp tones befitting his assumed profession, "to oversee the discharge of his brother from this place." He waved the writ under the porter's nose.

The porter frowned. "Why ain't he here then? He told me he was in London until Christmas."

"Master Catlyn is a man of substance now," Kemp said, pressing the gold coin into the man's grimy palm. "If he chooses to send his servants on this errand, what business is that of yours?"

"None at all, sirs, none at all." The porter pocketed the bribe. "Master Alexander is in the west gatehouse, wonderful well cared for, as you will see."

Mistress Cooke was equally surprised to see them, and exclaimed woefully at the news they were taking Sandy away. An angelic visitation soon calmed her nerves, however, and they were let into the cell.

Sandy was crouched in the corner of his bed, eyeing them warily. A book lay open on the blanket nearby.

"He's a bloody sorry specimen," Armitage said, after the wardress had gone.

"He'll clean up," Kemp replied. He gestured to Ned to proceed with the plan.

"Hello, Sandy." Ned stepped a little closer to the bed. "Remember me? Mal's friend?"

"Ned Faulkner," Sandy replied. "Yes."

"Your brother has sent us to take you out of here."

"I know."

Ned paused, dumbfounded. "You do?"

"It's all part of the plan," Sandy said calmly.

"Here, what's he talking about?" Armitage said. "You been telling tales, Faulkner?"

"Not I," Ned said quickly. "Look, I told you he was–"

"Enough!" Kemp held up his hands. "If he thinks this is his plan, all to the good. Now let's go."

He unlocked the heavy iron shackles, then produced a pair of much lighter restraints from his lawyer's document wallet and snapped them around Sandy's wrists. The young man winced, though the blued steel bands seemed loose enough.

"What are those for?" Ned asked.

"Don't want him causing no trouble, do we?" Armitage growled.

Ned refrained from commenting that, without a chain between them, the handcuffs would be of little use. There was something odd going on here, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Sandy gathered up the pile of books on the table. "I can't leave these," he muttered. "Mal would be angry with me."

"All right, we'll take the books," Kemp said. "Armitage, you can carry them."

"Me?"

A look from Kemp cowed the big man. Ned wondered what hold Kemp had over him. Something even worse than he had over himself, probably.

Sandy hugged the books to his chest.

"It's all right," Ned told him. "You'll have them back as soon as we get to…" He broke off, realising he had no idea where Kemp was taking the young man.

"To your brother's lodgings," Kemp put in. "Now, come along with me and Ned."

Ned took off his cloak and draped it around Sandy's shoulders.

"Here," he said, "it's starting to rain."

They escorted Sandy out of the ward and across the courtyard. The porter waved them through the gates, bowing obsequiously. "Thank you, sirs. My kind regards to your master."

Ned helped Sandy into the coach, and they set off southwards down Bishopsgate Street. He wondered if the coach would be searched on entry into the city. Even if it were, what would be found amiss? Sandy was cooperating fully with his abductors, indeed seemed in control of the situation. Which was odd in itself. On the other hand Mal's brother was, after all, insane. Who knew what was going on inside his head?

In the event, the gate guards' inspection of the coach was curtailed by another of Kemp's seemingly endless supply of angels, and they passed through into the city without further obstacle. Whoever was behind this did not lack for money, Ned reflected. A pity nothing but threats came his own way.