Page 47 of Crucible of Chaos

‘A sacrifice,’ he finished for her.

‘Yes. . . yes, that’s what I was to him–not a friend, not a fellow human being, but a frightened animal to be sacrificed as quickly as possible to minimise its suffering.’

The first step of any murder, Estevar had sensed when dealing with those accused of such heinous crimes,is to deny the victim’s humanity.

‘He stripped off my clothes,’ Caeda went on, shame turning to anger. ‘He started inscribing all those symbols on my body.’

‘Like those on Strigan and his hounds?’

‘No, not exactly.’

Hearing her approaching the table, he stepped back, not wanting to spook her.

‘Some were almost the same,’ she said. ‘I don’t remember exactly because they must have washed off in the—’ She stopped herself, then resumed quickly, ‘The abbot kept me here for days. He never spoke to me, and when I pleaded with him to let me go, he acted like he couldn’t hear me. He wouldn’t even give me water to drink! All he did was keep drawing those symbols all over my body, while I wept and screamed and threatened him with every punishment I could imagine.’

‘How did it end?’ Estevar asked.

She was quiet for a long time before answering, ‘I don’t remember how long he kept me tied up, but one morning, when I was too tired and weak to fight back, even to beg for mercy one more time, he untied my bonds.’ A dangerous edge came to her voice. ‘Do you want to know what your noble friend Venia did with me then? What the man whose killer youkeeprisking your life– and Imperious’ life– to bring to justice did tome?’

‘Yes,’ Estevar answered. ‘I want to know.’

Her voice was a scream carried on a wave across an ocean, cresting louder and louder until at last it crashed on the shore. ‘He carried me up to the clifftop and hurled me into the sea!’

Estevar clamped his hands over his ears. She couldn’t have been as loud as he’d imagined, else Strigan would surely have awakened, but her words echoed over and over in his mind. How could Venia have committed such a heinous crime? And why? To sanctify his abbey from the sins of his own monks? Had he sought to protect them from their own transgressions by first inscribing them on the flesh of an outsider– someone he didn’t deem as worthy as his own flock?

‘There is a final question I must put to you,’ Estevar said quietly. ‘You will not want to answer, but our bargain demands your response.’

‘Maybe you don’t have to ask,’ she countered. ‘Maybe you just care more about the truth than you do about those forced to live with the consequences.’

Estevar ignored the deflection. ‘Did Abbot Venia end your life?’

‘He certainly tried.’

‘Trying is not the same as succeeding. You know the secret cannot be kept much longer. Why do you persist in hiding it from me?’

‘Don’t,’ she warned him. ‘Don’t make me say it.’

‘I’m sorry, but I must. Caeda. . . Piccolo, are you a gh—?’

‘Never ask me that!’ she screamed, her fury and despair so overwhelming that Estevar felt as if he were back in the water by the causeway, drowning beneath her sorrow. Reflexively, his hand reached for the rapier that was no longer at his side.

‘Please,’ Caeda said, calmer now, but no less insistent. ‘You must never ask me that, Estevar. Never, never, never.’

She had given him plenty of chances to heed her warning, but her secret presented too great a peril, and ignorance was a luxury he could no longer afford.

‘Why?’ he asked.

‘Because you’ll ruin everything. I don’twantto be dead, Estevar. I don’t want you to prove to me that I’m some stupid girl who trusted one man too many and ended up dying of thirst or from drowning or both. Can’t we. . . ?’

Now it was her turn to leave the question unasked. She wept instead.

‘Can’t wewhat, Piccolo?’ Estevar asked, and repeated the question when she refused to answer.

‘Can’t we go back to the way things were?’ she blurted out at last. ‘You can be the brilliant investigator with me, your clever assistant, ever at your side as the two of us delve deeper and deeper into an unsolvable case?’

No one, least of all a young woman of such wondrous vitality, should have to beg for the pretence of a life. And yet, there are some gifts that cannot be given, no matter how well deserved.

‘What I do isn’t a game, Caeda. I came to this island to uncover who murdered Abbot Venia.’

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