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‘I thought … perhaps you might want to keep it,’ said Bel very awkwardly.
Clariel touched her face again, feeling the scars on her forehead and the corner of her mouth that wouldn’t move, the many small ridges of scar tissue on her cheeks. She nodded, and lifted the mask to her face, slipping the straps over her hair, noticing for the first time it had been clipped almost to her scalp.
‘It doesn’t matter to me,’ said Bel. ‘Your face, I mean. If you could stay … I would still want to … Well, you know how I feel.’
‘I know,’ said Clariel. She stood up and went over to him, lightly touching his own cheek, smooth under her hand. ‘Marry Denima, Bel. You’d be good for each other.’
Crimson dots burned bright on Bel’s pallid cheeks.
‘I don’t think the Abhorsen himself should blush,’ said Clariel. She took the cloak and swung it over her shoulders.
‘This one will,’ muttered Bel.
Clariel opened the door, went down the first flight of steps, and stopped. There on the landing was Mogget, licking his paws. He looked up at her and shrugged.
‘You shouldn’t have listened to me,’ he chided. ‘I wasn’t myself.’
‘I think you were more yourself than you are now,’ said Clariel softly. She hesitated, then added, ‘I don’t blame you, Mogget. We all want to be free, but that can’t work. I had a puzzle once, when I was girl, a badly made puzzle. One of the pieces would never fit. I loved it, even though the pieces could never come together as a whole.’
‘True,’ said Mogget. ‘May I say that I approve of a piece that tries to remake the entire puzzle?’
‘Goodbye, Mogget,’ said Clariel. She bent down and scratched his head, the little cat purring. He seemed more cat now, and less something else.
‘Charter Magic fades beyond the Rift,’ whispered Mogget, so softly that only Clariel could hear him. ‘But there is Free Magic there.’
Clariel smiled behind her mask, and scratched him again, taking care not to touch his collar. Mogget purred and pressed his head against her fingers.
‘This way,’ said Bel, opening the door that led out to one of the seaward walls. Halfway to the next tower, some hundred paces away, two figures stood upon the walkway. The moon was above them, and in its light Clariel could see the white hair of Mistress Ader and the tall figure of Magister Kargrin.
‘Kargrin!’ said Clariel in surprise. She half raised her hand, but then let it fall. She was pleased he was still alive, but doubted he would reciprocate. However, as they drew closer, he also smiled and raised his hand in greeting.
‘Clariel,’ he said softly, giving her a full bow. ‘I am glad to see you well, and sorry at our parting. Sorrier still that I failed to teach you anything useful, and did not appreciate the danger you were in. If I had not used you to lure the creature –’
‘Hush,’ said Clariel. ‘I would have come to it anyway, I think. But now I am bound about with spells to keep me from my worse nature and … and I am glad of it.’
‘No you’re not,’ said Mistress Ader. ‘You may be, in time. I must also take my part in Kargrin’s apology. I should have spoken to your parents, and had you sent to the Borderers. A passion thwarted will oft go astray.’
‘Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?’ asked Clariel.
‘Where did you read that?’ asked Mistress Ader, surprise and suspicion in equal parts in her voice.
‘I told her,’ said Bel quickly. He indicated a rope ladder hanging down the wall, out of the closest embrasure. ‘We’d best hurry. The Queen’s guards will be coming round in a minute, and I’d rather explain this after you’re gone, Clariel.’
‘Goodbye then,’ said Clariel, her voice breaking. There was a still moment where she almost reached out to Bel, to hug him, to let out some feeling that she had long suppressed. But the moment passed. She ducked her head and lowered herself backwards through the embrasure, feeling for the rungs of the ladder. When she had a good footing, she transferred her hands to the ropes and began to climb down.
‘The boat is spelled, but I’ve got someone to help you,’ said Bel. He was leaning down, his hand outstretched, ready to catch Clariel if she missed her grip. ‘He’ll be a faithful servant. He’s magicked to serve you, we didn’t know what else to do with him. It wasn’t his fault –’
Bel’s words were lost in the thud of a long, slow wave hitting the wall below. Clariel looked down. There in the moonlight was a small fishing boat, its sails furled, up against a rectangular rock that formed a makeshift quay. A white-bearded old fisherman was holding the boat there, one foot aboard and one on shore.
He held out a hand to help Clariel as she reached the bottom of the ladder and stepped into the boat. He either didn’t notice the mask or paid it no heed.
‘Take a thwart, there, milady,’ he said easily, unshipping an oar and using it to push off from the rock. ‘Name’s Marral. Folk call me Old Marral. We’ll row out a bit and get the sail up. Wind’s fair for the north, and that young chap said he’d spelled her for a fast voyage. Bit of luck me getting this job, if you don’t mind me saying so. I’ve been sick, you know. But I’m all better now. Don’t you worry. I’m all better now.’
Clariel nodded and drew her cloak around her. As Marral rowed she watched the dark bulk of the wall grow smaller, and then they were out of its shadow, and she saw the lights of the city beyond. So many lights, brighter and more numerous even than the stars above them.
She watched the lights for a long time, long after Marral had stowed the oars and raised both sails, watched them till the city was just a sparkling jewel on the far horizon.
‘Begging your pardon, milady,’ said Old Marral. ‘But they didn’t tell me your name.’
‘I’m not sure myself,’ said Clariel slowly. ‘I will think of it, in time.’
