The Merchant of Dreams (Night's Masque, #2)(94)

Ned clung to the iron grille, heedless of the rough metal cutting into his fingers. There had to be some way to stop this. He shouted at the black-robed inquisitors, cursing them to Hell. Oddly, it appeared to have the desired effect. The ugly bastard who had been torturing Mal helped his victim to his feet and cut his bonds. Mal staggered against the steps, his face ashen. Ned released the bars and hammered on the door with both fists.

"Mal! What in Christ's name's going on?"

Mal looked up at him and shook his head briefly.

The other guard came over and unlocked Ned's cell door, waving curtly at him to come out. Ned shrank back into his cell, heart lurching in panic. Was it his turn now? The guard spat out what sounded like a curse, grabbed Ned by the arm and hauled him out into the torchlight.

Ned looked around him in panic. Mal was standing at the bench now, whilst the old man spoke to him in low tones. Mal nodded once or twice. Then the other guard opened the door and they were escorted out, to freedom. Ned drew a ragged breath, hardly daring to believe it was over. As they descended the staircase Mal stumbled and would have fallen, but Ned hurried down and caught him.

"Thank you," Mal said through gritted teeth.

Ned slipped an arm about Mal's waist and let his friend lean on him for support. They were shown to a gondola waiting at the nearby quayside. A dark-haired man with high cheekbones stood at the oar; from what land he hailed, Ned had no idea, but he did not look much like any of the Venetians they had seen so far.

He helped Mal down onto the bench, and soon they were slipping away through the night, to what destination he dared not guess. After a while he recalled that the republic's prison was next door to the palace, so perhaps they had truly been released after all.

At last the small craft stopped at a familiar-looking canal bank; the English embassy. Desperate as he was to get solid walls between himself and any servant of the Doge, Ned let Mal go ahead of him, fearing his friend might stumble once more. He didn't fancy fishing him out of a canal, not in pitch darkness.

Once ashore, he hurried ahead and knocked on the door of the embassy. No answer. Hardly surprising, since no one was expected to be out on the streets at this time of night. He pounded on the door harder.

"Open up, for God's sake!"

A shutter opened in a neighbouring building high above them, and a woman shouted curses before slamming it shut again. A few minutes later another shutter opened, this time directly above the door.

"Master Catlyn?"

"Aye, and Ned Faulkner," Ned called up. "Is that you, Hendricks?"

"Where have you been? I thought–"

"Just let us in." Ned looked up at Mal. His friend was deathly pale. "Now, for the love of Christ."

Coby ran down the marble staircase as fast as she could without blowing out the candle she was carrying. Hurriedly she put it down on the little table by the front door and pulled back the bolts. The key was stiff in the lock and her patience thin, and she fought with it for several long moments before it would turn. Hardly had she opened the door before Ned Faulkner barged inside. Coby opened her mouth to berate him, but stopped dead when she saw Mal. He looked like a man who had stared into the mouth of Hell.

"What happened?" she asked.

Mal stared at her wonderingly. "I could ask you the same."

At that moment Gabriel came running down the stairs.

"Ned? Mal? Christ in Heaven, what happened?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," Coby said. "See if you can find any wine in the kitchen, will you?"

Gabriel disappeared through the door under the stairs, and Ned trailed after him like a man sleepwalking. Coby turned to Mal, suddenly hesitant. He gave her a weak smile and she slipped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his chest. When he gasped in pain, she drew back a little and gazed up at him.

"You're hurt," she said.

He made no answer, only gazed down at her with that haunted expression, then he awkwardly pulled her close and pressed his cheek against the top of her head. He trembled in her arms, hissing in pain as he pulled her tighter. Sweet Jesu, I think he's weeping. Tears pricked in her own eyes at the thought of what could have reduced him to such a condition.

"Come on, we can't stand here all night," she said, and led him gently towards the stair.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"For what?"

He shrugged, and gasped with pain again.

"Where is Ned with that wine?" she muttered. The stair was barely wide enough for the two of them side by side, but she was afraid to let Mal go lest he collapse entirely. At length they reached the upper floor. The door ahead of them opened.

"What is this?" Raleigh muttered, peering out.

"Just Master Catlyn returning," Coby said. "The worse for a late night. I'm just putting him to bed."

"Man after my own heart," Raleigh said. "Good night to you, sir."

Coby gave a sigh of relief as the door shut.

"Not far now," she said, guiding Mal up the next flight to the attic room. "Just like the old days in Thames Street. You never came there, did you, sir?"

"Only once."

"Of course. Master Naismith asked you to stay to dinner, then I took you to see the new theatre." She smiled. "That was when you found out my secret."