‘Llewyn,’ Afanan snapped.‘She’s only trying to help.’
‘Would you lot stop talking about me as though I’m not here?’Siwan murmured.Her eyes drifted half-open, their yellow sclera flecked with the red dots of burst vessels.
Llewyn dropped to his knees beside her, his anger washed away by relief.Damon smiled down at her with happy tears in his eyes.
‘You’re all right,’ the boy whispered, squeezing her hand.
Siwan took Damon’s fingers and smiled back, then looked up at Llewyn.‘It happened again, didn’t it?’she said, her voice thick with grief.‘I’m sorry, Llewyn.’
Her apology shattered him.If anything, he had been the cause, this time.‘It’s not your fault,’ he said, smoothing the stray hairs from her brow.‘It’s never your fault, girl.’
He’d thought to comfort her, but his words were like a sledgehammer to a sluice gate.A sob racked her frame.She swallowed it, but went on weeping quietly.
Fola muttered something to herself, flipped open a hand-sized book, and jotted down a note before stowing it back in her satchel.‘Recovers quickly, doesn’t she?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Siwan snapped, weakly scrubbing tears from her face with the back of her hand, ‘but who the bloody Stones are you?’
Fola knelt, which only agitated Llewyn more.It was as though she were trying to join them in their pain and relief, inserting herself into a family—however patchwork—where she had no place, nor any right to interfere.
‘My name is Fola,’ she said.‘I come from a place far to the east.A place with the resources to take care of you.To protect you, and to better understand the power within you.What it is.Its capacities.Its dangers.And what can be done to control it.There is no safer place for you in the world—’
‘So she claims,’ Llewyn interjected.‘Siwan, I have been in thrall to the powerful before.Her help is not worth bondage.’
‘Who said anything of bondage?’Fola laughed.‘I promise you, the City is nothing of the sort.Save, I suppose, for those who want it to be.’
‘And how are we to understand your meaning?’Llewyn snapped.‘That your City only binds those who want to be bound?That there is no war, save for those who seek it?Sounds a contrived way to justify horror—those who find it sought it anyway.I guarantee you, sorceress, they did not.’
‘Llewyn, enough.’Afanan leaned close to Siwan, wiping away the girl’s tears.‘Siwan, I have known someone from this City before.A good man, and kind.Llewyn’s fears are not unfounded—the Stones know he has justification for them—but youcantrust these people.’
‘And why did you not return with this “good man” to his City?’Llewyn demanded.
Afanan glared at him, her expression as fierce and wroth as he had ever seen it.He quailed.‘The place proved better than I was.I have spent my life trying to become worthy of it.’
Fola arched her brow, but only watched, preferring to let Afanan argue on her behalf.It seemed to be working.Siwan studied the sorceress, weighing her options.
‘Siwan, listen to me,’ Llewyn whispered.The words were for the girl only, not for Fola.Not even for Damon and Afanan, though they would overhear.Any thought, let alone any talk, that touched on Llewyn’s life before Nyth Fran raked him like raw iron.But he had to say this, and say it now, before the girl lost herself to the promise of safety.‘However powerful this City is, there are older, more dangerous, crueller powers in this world.Some dwell in the depths of the forest.Others dwell in the hearts of men.Men like your father.This City, no matter how good it aspires to be, will not be without its share of such men.They will see in you not a child, not aperson, but a tool.I spent lifetimes as a tool.It is not a life I would return to, even if my only other option was death.It is not a life I would see you live.’
She thought for a moment, her bloodshot eyes fixed on his.‘But this is what you wanted for me, isn’t it?To leave the troupe and go somewhere safe?’
Damon’s shoulders stiffened at that, and Llewyn felt a fresh stab of guilt.He ought to have given them a chance to say goodbye, at least, not pressed her to leave that very night, in the middle of the performance.One of many mistakes that had made their argument worse than it needed to be.
‘To get away from her,’ Llewyn said, nodding towards Fola.‘And people like her.Not to give yourself over to them.’
‘I promise you, Llewyn, there are more dangerous folk than me about,’ Fola said.‘Notably, a few knights of the Mortal Church, one of whom was skulking about your audience just as I was, though my man Colm chased him off.If he survives his wound, which he likely will, you will have significantly more trouble to deal with.I suggest you—’
The tent flap burst open, revealing Harwick.A few bruises showed purple through the thick hair of the strongman’s arms.His chest heaved, as though he had been rushing about.‘Has anyone seen Jareth?’
A stone dropped into Llewyn’s stomach.All thoughts of Fola, her City and her insidious offer were stricken from his mind.He looked to Siwan, who trembled, her grief renewed.The thought that her episode—his fault, not hers—had cost one of the troupe his life was too much for Llewyn to bear.He could little imagine how it tore through Siwan.
Spil stepped into the tent behind Harwick.‘One of the horses is gone, too,’ he said.
‘He ran off, then?’Damon said, standing.‘That will throw a bloody wrench in the play.Assuming we’re able to perform it again at all.’
Relief washed through all present in the tent—replaced, at least in Llewyn’s case, with a bite of betrayal.Six years Jareth had been with the troupe.He’d stayed through Siwan’s first episode, in Caer Bren.Of course, back then he hadn’t been handed a hatful of gold royals.
‘An odd thing to fixate on, Damon,’ Afanan muttered.‘There are dozens of actors gathered for this festival, plenty of whom will prove willing to join a troupe.’
‘Mayhap not one that played host to such a horror,’ Harwick observed, scratching his stubble.‘I know it ain’t kind to say, ma’am, but I doubt anyone will be back by our pavilion after tonight.’
