Wraith(36)

‘I’m going to see that wraith strung up.’ The Dark Elf’s tone was equal measures adamant and harsh. ‘I’ve barely been gone ten minutes. They can’t have gone far. The bastard won’t be able to move quickly with Saiya in tow.’

Ghrashbreg stroked his chin and walked out of the bedroom towards them. ‘I don’t understand. Why does this girl have such significance?’

I strained to hear the answer but whatever de Florinville said was lost to me. Both he, Rymark and Ghrashbreg were leaving the suite of rooms, no doubt to search for the supposed wraith and his ‘kidnap victim’.

I breathed out. I’d miraculously managed to escape their notice. Go me.





Chapter Nine


By the time I crawled back down to the town centre, Gabriel de Florinville’s once-pristine white shirt was dirty and torn. He’d certainly done a good job of persuading Ghrashbreg to raise the alarm. It had been easier to get myself out of the castle than it was to wend my way back through the city now that patrols and search parties were all over the place. More than once I’d been forced to cower behind various piles of rubble as goblin soldiers marched past with their heavy boots scuffing the cobbled streets. The only reason I escaped detection was because I got lucky.

I didn’t dare go home. Enough people knew my name now that to head for my own bed would be tantamount to suicide. At least I had a list of potential hideouts, tucked away in the back of my mind for just such an eventuality. There were more than enough abandoned houses and blocks of flats where I could cower.

I even treated myself, sneaking into one of the upmarket buildings which had once been used by a family of Irish immigrants who’d owned a jewellers out by Mercat Cross but who had long since abandoned the dubious delights of a city under siege for their home country. Judging by the array of rubbish littering the once-gleaming parquet flooring, I wasn’t the first to hide here. But the smell lingering inside held a hint of decay so I knew I’d be alone here for a while. I took full advantage of the situation and curled up and slept in one of the smaller bedrooms. Goodness knows, I needed the rest.

When I came to, it took a while to remember where I was. Bright sunlight was filtering in from the window, making my eyes itch, and it felt as if there were several layers of dirt on my skin. My stomach grumbled loudly. It was quite some time since I’d had any food. I should have asked de Florinville for a slice of chocolate cake, I thought ruefully.

I sat up and stretched. Having my shadow back with me felt damned good and I gave it a little self-conscious wave. I also flexed my fingers. There was a brief tingle in both pinkies but, other than that, no sign that either of them had been broken. De Florinville’s magic was definitely strong.

It occurred to me that I’d achieved the impossible – I’d broken into Stirling Castle and stolen back what was mine from under the noses of a thousand goblins and one strange Dark Elf. If I didn’t have more important things to do, I’d be composing ballads about my heroics. I’d saved myself; now I had to save Becky’s mum.

I raked through cupboards for five minutes in search of food but there wasn’t so much as a dented tin of Pedigree Chum. That was hardly surprising but the search was worth the effort because I found a wardrobe full of clothes. I stripped off the grubby shirt in favour of more suitable attire. The designer black trousers and grey jumper were ridiculously large for me but the muted colours would help me blend in. I unearthed a narrow leather belt to stop the trousers falling down.

I suspected that the Filits would do their best to conceal that they’d been infiltrated by a wraith so, despite last night’s searches, once de Florinville had gone things would probably die down. There was every possibility that I’d get away with my adventures scot-free – after all, the Dark Elf was on a ticket out of here this evening. I remembered the odd look of tenderness in his expression as he’d tended my wounds then I pushed the image of him away. He was no longer my concern.

Jamming an old baseball cap onto my head, I glanced briefly in a dusty mirror. I reckoned I could pass for a bloke unless under close inspection. Deciding that my appearance would have to do and that I couldn’t afford to hide until nightfall, I shoved my hands into my pockets and left the house, trying to appear casual and unworried. All I had to do was to blend in with everyone else and I’d probably be safe. Probably.

I was making a beeline for the Tolbooth via the narrow back streets when a crowd of about fifty people passed in front of me, all of them chattering excitedly. I jogged to catch up and fell in beside one of the friendlier-looking faces. ‘What’s going on?’ I asked.

The woman beamed at me, her eyes crinkling. ‘There’s a Dark Elf in the city! He’s on a tour right now. We’re going to see him. I knew the Prime Minister hadn’t forgotten about us. I just knew it!’

I bet that if I’d spoken to her yesterday, she’d have cursed Prime Minister James and everyone else who had made the decision to let Stirling rot under both goblin rule and goblin siege. If this woman was expecting Gabriel de Florinville to save us all now, then she was sorely mistaken – he was leaving in a few hours. I didn’t have the heart to destroy her hopes, though.

‘A tour where?’ I asked carefully.

‘All around! He’s at Mercat Cross now.’

Ah; that confirmed why the goblins had removed the gallows. It was a temporary measure to make it appear that they didn’t execute their citizens when the mood took them.