The Inquisition (Summoner, #2)(68)

‘I … Er … I let it go,’ Fletcher said.

Othello sighed. ‘I knew you would but … it makes me uneasy.’

Fletcher’s stomach twisted with unease at Othello’s words. He had almost forgotten about Blue, with everything else going on.

‘I’m pretty sure it won’t betray us. And anyway, it was the right thing to do,’ Fletcher replied, not knowing who he was trying to convince more – himself or Othello.

‘Well, I hope you’re right,’ Othello murmured, shifting on to his side. ‘For all our sakes.’

Fletcher took a deep breath, trying to push the doubt from his mind. He already had enough to deal with, without the gremlin to worry about too.

‘You’ve been brooding all day …’ Othello said under his breath, so that the others couldn’t hear. ‘Anything else on your mind?’

Fletcher paused. He knew they should be sleeping, but he was sure he would be up all night thinking of Athena’s infusion dream. Maybe it would help to talk about it.

‘I saw my parents die,’ Fletcher murmured.

‘You remember it?’ Othello asked.

‘No … I saw Athena’s memories. You know, from infusing her,’ Fletcher replied, as tears welled in his eyes. ‘They were so happy, and then … It was horrible.’

‘Oh …’ Othello whispered. He paused.

‘I’m sorry.’

Silence. Then Othello spoke, his voice throaty with emotion.

‘Did you know I had another sister?’

‘No,’ Fletcher said, creasing his brow. Had?

‘Essie was born when Atilla and I were three, two years before my mother became pregnant with Thaissa and the laws were relaxed. We had to keep her hidden – dwarves were only allowed one child back then, and what with Atilla and I being twins we had already got away with two on a technicality. We kept her underground, hid her under the floorboards when the Pinkertons did their inspections. But when Essie was one year old she got sick … really sick. So we took her to a doctor, a human.’

Othello stopped, and Fletcher saw his friend’s face was wet with tears.

‘He called the Pinkertons, Fletcher, and they took Essie away from us. We don’t know where. A few weeks later they told us she had died from the illness. Just like that – she was gone. They never even returned her body.’

Fletcher reached out and laid a hand on Othello’s shoulder.

‘I’m so sorry that happened to you, Othello. To your sister. To your family. I can’t imagine how that must feel.’

‘We never talk about it,’ Othello said, wiping his tears with his sleeve. ‘Thaissa doesn’t even know. But if I had the chance to know what really happened to her – to hear her laugh, to see that smile one more time – I’d do anything for it.’

Fletcher knew he was right. It had been a blessing – to see his parents, know their voices, their faces. What had happened to them was a tragedy, and the truth of their death was painful to know … but necessary.

Above him, Lysander turned his head and stared down at Fletcher’s tear-streaked face. Gently, he raised a talon and brushed Fletcher’s cheek, the movement too human for the demon to do alone. Then he laid a wing on top of them, like a blanket. Fletcher knew that Lovett was watching over them.

‘Thank you for sharing that with me, Othello,’ Fletcher whispered. ‘I’ll remember it.’





30


It was early morning, and the team were moving at a fast pace through the jungle. They were even more careful than before to cover their tracks, but fortunately the trail they were on was regularly used by the jungle animals, confusing the ground with dozens of different claw and hoof prints.

Most disconcertingly, they had found the flatfooted prints of orcs there too, not unlike a human’s but larger and with deep toe indents. It was difficult to say how long they had been there, but Fletcher was glad that Athena was watching from the canopy above, her view translating directly to the scrying crystal strapped to his head.

‘Can…we…slow…down…yet?’ Othello gasped, readjusting his pack with a bow-legged jump. Solomon had been infused within him, for the Golem was too slow to keep up and his weighty legs left deep impressions on the ground. Since then, the heavy satchels had once again been strapped to their backs, making the going even tougher.

Jeffrey’s asthma made him take deep breaths through a herb-filled cloth and Cress’s short legs forced her to travel in short bursts of speed, as Othello did.

‘Five minute break,’ Fletcher announced, his heart thundering in his chest, sweat trickling down his back. After a year in captivity with no more exercise than a few press-ups, he too was struggling. In fact, only Sylva seemed to be faring well.

They stopped and collapsed to the ground, pressing their backs against tree trunks on either side of the path. There were a few minutes that were filled only with the gulping of water and the chewing of fruit and root tubers. Then Sylva pointed back down the path and groaned.

‘Even at this pace, Isadora and the others could catch up with us by nightfall. We just can’t travel as fast as they can.’

‘Well, it’s worth trying,’ Othello groaned, laying his head on Fletcher’s shoulder. ‘We should reach the pyramid late tomorrow. If we can avoid them until then, all will be well.’