Tash rolled her eyes. “Fine. Fine. Take the chain.”
Gravell turned back to Edyon and March. “It’s your lucky day, boys. Tash here wants me to let you live. I’m taking the knives and the gold chain.”
“No!” March shouted, rising again, and Gravell ripped a harpoon from the ground and struck him so hard across the head with the shaft that March collapsed.
“The foreign boy can speak; shame he can’t listen.”
Tash took the knives from Holywell and the sheriff’s men. It didn’t feel good. She’d never stolen from people before, and this felt like stealing. Edyon was still on his knees and handing over his gold chain to Gravell, who put it in his jacket with hardly a glance. Edyon turned back to March, who was unconscious on the ground.
Within no time she and Gravell were setting off west. Moving fast. Leaving the boys with the pony. They’d probably survive, Tash told herself. But she felt bad. She’d never felt bad about anything she’d done before. She followed Gravell and said nothing.
Late in the afternoon Gravell turned to her, saying, “You’re quiet.”
Tash didn’t reply.
They carried on, but before long, Gravell stopped and said, “Out with it.”
Tash stopped too. “What?”
“Something’s bothering you. Spit it out.”
“You know what it is. We shouldn’t have taken the gold chain or the knives. You’ve always told me not to be greedy, but that’s greed, taking them.”
“It’s not greed; it’s teaching them a lesson.”
“And making a lot of money in the process. Very convenient. Well, if you can be greedy, so can I. The pie man in Dornan pays better than you. I’m going to work for him after this.”
“The pie man, not greedy? He’s as fat as a pig.”
“Food is different from gold chains and knives.”
Gravell shook his head. “Greed is greed. You want me to show you how ungreedy I am? Watch this!” And he threw the gold chain and the knives onto the ground. “There. I don’t want them. I just don’t want those boys to have them.”
Tash stared at the chain and knives.
“Well? Is that all right with you, missy?”
Tash wanted to hug Gravell, but she just smiled at him and said, “It’s better. But the gold chain belongs to Edyon. He should have it.”
She bent down to pick the chain up. The complex swirl of gold in the pendant was beautiful, and now she saw that it was a ring contained within thorns.
“Well, if you’re suggesting I go back and return it to him, you’re asking just a bit too much.”
Tash put the chain in her empty leather purse and tied it in her special hiding place, among the dreadlocks at the back of her neck. “I’ll find a way of returning it to him one day.”
MARCH
NORTHERN PLATEAU, PITORIA
MARCH WOKE to cold and a throbbing head, and it took a moment for him to remember what had happened. Gravell had hit him. Hard. Twice. He felt his head and found a large lump. It wasn’t bleeding, but his hair was matted and wet. He sat up.
“Take it slowly,” said Edyon’s voice. “I put snow on your head where he hit you. I’m not sure if it was the right thing to do.”
“I’ll be fine. Thank you,” March croaked.
Edyon was sitting beside him. The pony was tied to a tree, but there was no sign of Gravell or the girl.
“Have they gone?”
“Yes,” said Edyon, handing March his water bottle. “They left us with the pony. There’s food in the bags. I was about to start a fire, but now you’re awake I think we should get out of here, if you can walk. I don’t know if one demon means more demons, but there are the bodies too. It’s not a great place.”
March got to his feet. He felt a little light-headed, but mainly he was cold. “Which way?”
“They went west. I think they’ll be going to Rossarb. If we follow their tracks they should lead us there. And hopefully they’ll kill any demons in our path.”
It sounded sensible. March didn’t have a better idea, and going back the way they’d come might lead them to more of the sheriff’s men.
“I’d like to bury Holywell, but we don’t have spades and the ground is frozen solid,” Edyon said.
“He wouldn’t care. He might even prefer to be left in the open.” March went over to Holywell’s body.
It could easily have been March with a spear in his chest. March pulled the spear out and rolled Holywell over. His eyes were open, the icy blue even paler than when he was alive. March dropped to his knees, wondering if he really was the last of the Abasks now.
Edyon came over and said, “I’m sorry about Holywell. I know he didn’t think much of me, but no man should die like that.”
March nodded. He took a breath and moved closer to Holywell and felt his body, looking for anything of value, anything that might be useful. Gravell had taken Holywell’s knives and money, but there was a thin silver chain round his neck with a crescent moon hanging from it, the old symbol of Abask.
“Should we send that to his relatives?” Edyon asked. “I mean, does he have a wife or children?”
“No. He was alone.” March took the chain. “I think he’d want me to have it. I might take it to Abask for him. Bury it there.”
“That would be good. He was a hard man, but I’m sure he’d appreciate your kindness. You’ll miss him?”
March nodded. “He was a true Abask. We were brothers. Yes, I’ll miss him.”
And what do I do now, brother? What do I do with the prince’s son? This boy who healed me when I was hurt? Who trusts me? Who makes me feel—
March rubbed his face hard. Holywell had kept his own plans to himself. All March knew was that they were to take a ship from Rossarb to deliver Edyon to Brigant. But which ship? Sailing to which port? And who was the master Holywell had mentioned? All the knowledge he needed was locked inside Holywell’s head, gone forever. He needed a new plan.
One thing hadn’t changed—it was freezing cold on the plateau. They needed to get to Rossarb as quickly as possible. He could work out what to do on the way.
He could do that, but he could do no more for Holywell. He didn’t even want to cover his face or close his eyes. He thought Holywell would prefer to be looking at the sky.
“You’re right, Your Highness—we should get moving. Gravell will probably travel fast.”
March took a last look around to see if there was anything else to take. He went over to the demon. It was a red and orange color and quite magnificent, even dead.
“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Edyon said as he came to stand by March. “I thought I was going to die.” Edyon’s voice was serious. “I’ve never . . . I mean, I travel with my mother buying and selling furniture. This is all new to me.”
“I’ve spent all my years as a servant to a prince, pouring his wine and running his bath. It’s new to me too.” March hesitated but then had to say it. “You distracted the demon. It would have killed me if you hadn’t done that. It was brave of you. Thank you, Your Highness . . . Edyon.”
Edyon’s face lit up with a smile that warmed March’s heart.
“I’m sure you’d have done the same for me. You certainly stood up to Gravell, not that it made any difference in the end.”
March wasn’t sure what he’d have done if the circumstances had been swapped. But he hated that Gravell had taken Edyon’s chain and the prince’s ring, the proof of who Edyon was. March knew what it was like to be cut off from your own past.
“Let’s collect some of that wood. We’ll need it later.” March led the pony back to the hollow where he’d dropped the branches. It looked different somehow. He couldn’t see the red glow anymore, but he felt the earth and it was still warm.
Edyon was watching him, and March said, “I think this is where the demon came from. I don’t know how. Before it had a red glow. That’s gone now.”
“You don’t think there are more of them here?”