‘We can’t get her out of the window, and we’d likely break our necks on the cobbles if we jumped! Come on!’
Holding the door in front of him like a shield, Barak stepped quickly across to the staircase and began descending. All the ground-floor walls were blazing now, the flames licking at the banisters, smoke curling upwards, ever thicker. This was it, the thing I had always feared had come to pass. Death by fire, red flames burning the skin from my body, sweating the blood out of me, my eyes melting. The words of a pamphlet reporting a burning returned to me. The kiss of fire so light and agonizing. I stood, paralysed.
Barak turned round and screamed at me. ‘Come on, you arsehole! We’ve only seconds! See, there’s the front door!’
His words brought me to my senses. Across the burning hallway I could see the half-open door to the street, a black shape in a red house of fire. The sight spurred me to follow him, dragging the girl with me. I made myself count the steps as I descended. One - two - three. From somewhere outside I heard a cry of ‘Fire! Dear God, fire!’
The smoke made my eyes sting and I had to keep blinking, trying desperately to breathe, the air so hot it felt as though it too was burning. Barak and I were both coughing now. I had a terror the staircase would collapse and bury us in burning wood.
Then suddenly I was at the foot of the steps, red flames all around me. I heard Barak scream, ‘Run.’ I thought I was about to fall, but then a flame licked at my arm, I heard my doublet sizzle and from somewhere I found the energy to leap forward. Then in a moment I was outside, in the street, the searing heat and the smoke gone. Someone grasped me and I fell into their arms. Someone else took Bathsheba’s weight and she slid away from me. I was lowered to the street and lay, gasping desperately for air, fearful I would suffocate, every intake of air burning my throat. There was a crackling of flames from the house and all around terrified yells of ‘Fire!’
At length my breath returned. I sat up groggily. Ahead of me the Gristwoods’ house was ablaze from end to end, flames roaring through every window. The roof had caught too and the fire had already spread to the neighbouring house. People had spilled from the alehouse and from all the houses in the street. They were running to and fro with terrified faces, calling for water, desperate to save their homes from this sudden, terrible outburst. I thought: thank God there’s no wind. I saw Barak was sitting beside me, retching and coughing. Next to him lay Bathsheba, still as death. Barak turned to me, his face black and all the hair on one side of his head gone.
‘You all right?’ he gasped.
‘I think so.’
A man in a watchman’s jerkin, carrying a staff, bustled over to us. His face was alive with fury. ‘What have you done to set the house on fire like that?’ he shouted. ‘Wizards!’
‘We didn’t do it,’ Barak croaked. ‘Fetch a physician - there’s a woman hurt here.’
The man looked at Bathsheba, his eyes widening as he saw the blood covering her. I shook my head, the tumult of shouts and running feet seemed to have taken on a strangely distant, echoing sound.
‘What have you done?’ the watchman breathed again.
‘It was Dark Fire,’ I said. ‘The rats knew.’
Then the noise of the fire and the shouting faded away, and I blacked out.
Chapter Thirty-two
I REGAINED CONSCIOUSNESS slowly, as though swimming up from a dark lake. When I opened my eyes I thought for an awful moment I was blind. Then my eyes accustomed themselves to the darkness and I realized I was in an unlit room, at night. There was an open window to one side of the truckle bed I lay on, just visible as a slightly lighter square through which a hot breeze sighed.
I could not remember what had happened or where I was. I tried to sit up to see more of my surroundings but my body was seized with pain and I lay down again with a groan. My back was agony and I had a smarting pain in my left forearm. I realized I was thirsty, a terrible dry thirst; when I swallowed it was like gulping down thorns.