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  She shook herself free of the rubble and stood up, trembling from the ferocity of battle and the many wounds that spilled bright blood onto her fur. She took a step, but when her left foreleg had to take the weight, she collapsed and lay on her side, panting.

  Marcel rushed to help her, not caring that the taurine might still be alive and dangerous under the broken remains of the stables. He was tending to Termagant when Finn called to him from nearby. He’d spied a hoof protruding from the wreckage. The knight cleared away what he could and stood staring down at the taurine. A thick pole from the stable roof was driven through its massive chest, impaling it to the ground.

  ‘Is it dead?’ came a voice from the shadows. Looking up, Marcel saw a figure squeeze out from the sanctuary formed when a fallen beam had wedged itself at an angle against the stone wall. It was Demiter, white-faced but alive.

  CHAPTER 20

  On Trial for their Lives

  TERMAGANT WAS IN A bad way. She lay still on the cobblestones, unable to rise or even lick at her bleeding wounds. No one would go near her except Marcel and then Nicola, who joined him saying, ‘We have to get her up to our rooms and make her comfortable.’

  ‘She’s too heavy to carry like this.’ There was only one thing to do. Making a simple adjustment among his thoughts, Marcel released the cat from the spell so she could take on her familiar form once more.

  As Nicola picked Termagant up carefully in her arms, Damon returned from the town with half a dozen officers at his heels.

  ‘What are those two doing free?’ he called from the heavy gates.

  He didn’t see Demiter, who stood at the edge of the carnage, her shoulders hunched and arms folded, still shaking and staring in shock at the body of the taurine. When she forced herself away and came to stand beside Marcel, Damon’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Your Highness, you’re alive! But the taurine —’

  ‘Marcel’s cat saved me,’ she managed to say, although she didn’t seem quite convinced now that Termagant was no more than a frail bundle of fur.

  Damon’s eyes switched to the cat in Nicola’s arms, but instead of showing relief or the faintest hint of gratitude his face clouded over with anger. When he saw Finn in the courtyard as well, and armed with a sword, his mounting rage found its outlet.

  ‘You’ve let him free as well. These people helped the young murderer kill Menidae. Arrest them,’ he said to the officers about him, who in turn called to the first of the soldiers who dared show their faces. Finn was marched to captivity between two guards.

  One of the soldiers said, ‘General, we’ve captured the murderer as well. He’s chained up in the Gilded Hall awaiting execution.’

  This news produced the delight on Damon’s face that had been missing when he found Demiter alive. ‘Execution, yes, and there’s no reason to delay. Bring him down here and these three can join him on the block,’ he said, sweeping his hand towards Finn, Marcel and Nicola.

  ‘No,’ Demiter cried in dismay. ‘If it hadn’t been for Marcel, the taurine would have torn me to pieces. And Finn was the only man brave enough to face it when your own soldiers ran off. You weren’t there to command them either, were you, General?’

  She glared at Damon while his officers looked on. More soldiers had appeared from the barracks now that the danger had passed and Demiter had deliberately raised her voice so they would hear as well. She was playing to these men like an actor performs before an audience. ‘There’s nothing to prove Marcel or Nicola had anything to do with Lord Menidae’s murder, no evidence at all,’ she went on.

  ‘It’s true, General,’ said the boldest of the officers.

  Damon had no choice. If he insisted that two children die so horribly when they might well be innocent, he would weaken his authority among his own men.

  ‘If you command it, Your Highness,’ he said with surprising charm as he tried to turn his defeat into a gracious concession to the princess. His voice changed again just as quickly when he pointed towards Finn. ‘As for this one, whether he defended you or not, there’s still no doubt about his guilt, or the other one up there in the keep. Bring the boy down here,’ he ordered. ‘We’ll have their heads off as an example to any others who try to betray Cadell.’

  ‘Stay where you are!’ Demiter called to the soldiers who had already begun to move at their general’s command. ‘You’re wrong again — there is doubt. In Tamerlane, no man is executed before he’s had a chance to defend himself. We’ll put them both on trial, before the entire court.’

  Damon was furious to have his authority challenged yet again by the princess. For a moment it seemed he would shout her down and demand that he alone be obeyed, but there was a risk in that and he seemed to sense it. Instead, his face softened into a faint smile that Marcel recognised. His cunning had thought of another way.

  ‘As you command, Your Highness, but if the court finds them guilty, what will you do then?’

  Rather than take a risk himself, he had turned the tables on the princess. Now she was the one who must stake all on the outcome of the trial. Lifting her voice again so that all in the courtyard could hear, Demiter said, ‘If the court finds them guilty, then they must die.’

  ON THE WAY TO the Gilded Hall, Demiter slowed her pace to join Marcel and Nicola. ‘I’m sorry, General Lorian trapped me into making that announcement,’ she said in a voice that betrayed a hint of the fear she was hiding, ‘He’ll use this trial to make me look weak and foolish in front of the court. I can’t take sides, you understand. It’s up to you to speak for Fergus and Finn.’

  Nicola still cradled the injured Termagant in her arms. ‘What will we do with her, Marcel? Is she going to live?’

  ‘It takes more than a bad-tempered bull to kill me,’ said a familiar voice that only Marcel could hear. ‘Need to build up my strength, though. Some prime beef from the kitchen would be a good start.’

  ‘She’ll survive,’ said Marcel, smiling wryly with relief. He thought it best not to pass on the rest of what Termagant had said, especially her brazen request. They couldn’t care for her while they were on trial for their lives, however. ‘Demiter, can one of your ladies-in-waiting see that she’s comfortable?’

  Nicola passed Termagant into the hands of a maid who had come to attend the princess, then began to plead with Demiter. ‘You’re the Queen of Tamerlane, you can order Finn and Fergus set free.’

  ‘I won’t stay queen for long if I let murderers go unpunished. The only way to save their lives is to prove them innocent.’

  They entered the hall, which was already filling with the lords and ladies of the royal court. Fergus was still where they’d seen him last, his chains too heavy for even his spirited body to defy. When he saw the swelling numbers, he shouted, ‘What are you all doing here? You should be in the tunnels under the keep. There are rebels down there, digging an opening to the outside. Ismar’s men will swarm up into the citadel and kill you all before you can draw a sword.’

  Fergus’s outburst sent the courtiers into a cacophony of gasps and whispering, as though a beehive had been poked violently with a stick. Then Damon raised his arms and his deep voice to quell the frenzy. ‘Don’t listen to him. Tunnels under the keep — ridiculous!’

  Marcel got as close to Fergus as the guard would let him. There was so much he wanted to tell him, about the curse most of all, but for now there were more urgent matters he had to settle.

  ‘Demiter sent a soldier down into the tunnels to look,’ he said. ‘He didn’t find anything.’

  ‘Then he can’t have looked very hard. There were five of them and a pile of rubble that would fill this room.’

  ‘That’s enough,’ cried Damon. ‘Your story is a trick meant to distract us from your own crime. It’s time you answered for it.’

  Marcel wasn’t sure what to think either. He wanted to believe Fergus, yet he’d been into some of the tunnels beneath the keep with Demiter, enough to know they were narrow and no place to hide piles of freshly broken rock. The sold
ier would surely have found something.

  The trial began. First to speak was the sentry who had seen Fergus near Lord Menidae’s room. To Marcel’s dismay, Fergus didn’t deny it. ‘Yes, I was in his room that night.’

  ‘What were you doing there?’ Damon demanded.

  Fergus stared directly into the man’s face and refused to answer, which only allowed Damon to take the advantage.

  ‘If he won’t tell us what he was doing there, then I’ll do it for him. He plunged a sword into Lord Menidae’s heart while the poor wizard was sleeping.’

  The court gasped in horror, as Damon had known they would. Like Demiter in the courtyard earlier, he was acting a part before an audience he had to win over.

  ‘How could I kill anyone with a hand like this?’ said Fergus, holding up his right hand so all could see the red and swollen fingers. ‘I broke my fingers during my escape from the prison cell.’

  ‘Your escape!’ Damon jeered. ‘We know how that happened — Sir Finton opened the door for you. What could be simpler? No, your hand was injured when you fled the guards who discovered you bending over Lord Menidae’s body.’

  Marcel winced at the way Damon twisted the story. Fergus hadn’t been found standing over Menidae’s body at all, but that was the picture that now filled the minds of the court who would decide his fate. Many around the room looked ready to convict Fergus without another word.

  The vivid picture Damon had painted for the courtiers seemed to trigger a grim memory for Demiter, because she leaned closer to Marcel and whispered, ‘I saw the old wizard’s body. He was stabbed in the heart, that much is true, but the wound was too small for a sword and the aim was perfect. If Fergus really did hurt his hand getting free from the cell, he couldn’t have stabbed anyone so cleanly.’

  She straightened up and spoke across the room to Fergus. ‘Tell us how you escaped from your cell.’

  Fergus didn’t hesitate this time. ‘I loosened the bar and climbed out through the window.’

  ‘But the cell is hundreds of feet above jagged rocks.’

  ‘Yes, and I almost fell. That’s how my fingers were broken — they got jammed between the stones. But I clung to the wall long enough to get in through the window of the gaoler’s room, where he was asleep.’

  ‘You crawled across a sheer wall like a fly?’ called one noble lord in disbelief.

  ‘Ludicrous,’ said another.

  It didn’t seem to matter whether Fergus held his tongue or answered freely; either way he appeared to be lying. The court didn’t believe the story of his escape and all eyes turned towards Finn as the one who must have set him free.

  A soldier entered the hall while the lords and ladies were murmuring their suspicions to one another. Marcel was barely aware of him until he saw Fergus stiffen and follow the man’s every move. Marcel did the same, in time to see the soldier exchange a subtle nod with Damon. What was that about?

  Marcel left his place between the two princesses and sidled steadily towards Fergus so as not to attract attention. When he was close enough he whispered, ‘What’s so special about that sergeant standing close to Damon?’

  ‘He’s one of the diggers, their leader, I’m sure of it.’

  That was all Fergus managed before the guard heard them. ‘You there, keep away from the prisoner!’

  Marcel went back to his place, even more confused now.

  ‘Demiter, what did you do when Fergus told you about the men he’d seen in the tunnel?’ he asked.

  ‘Did he really see them, Marcel? The pain from his hand must have made him delirious. I sent a man down to look but he didn’t find anything.’

  ‘Who did you send?’

  ‘I told you. It was the sergeant of the watch for that part of the keep.’

  ‘A sergeant! Is he here in the hall?’

  Demiter couldn’t understand why he needed to know, but she glanced around the room all the same so she could answer him. ‘Yes, there he is, near General Lorian. Why does it matter who I sent?’

  It mattered a great deal, Marcel wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure why just yet. He backed away through the press of bodies, drawing Nicola with him. When they were alone, he whispered his suspicions while his mind raced feverishly, trying to work out what it could all mean.

  ‘If Fergus is telling the truth, then that sergeant is lying,’ said Nicola. ‘Worse than that, he must be a traitor who’s helping Ismar’s men to dig a secret way into the citadel.’

  ‘But I saw him nod at Damon. There’s some connection between them.’

  ‘Is that so hard to believe, Marcel? You and I know Damon better than anyone here. Don’t you remember how he betrayed his own people, the entire Kingdom of Elster, just to get his hands on the crown? Why wouldn’t he betray Cadell as well, if it suited him?’

  ‘No, it doesn’t make sense,’ Marcel replied. ‘Damon’s risked his life for Cadell on the battlefield. He’s a hero to the people and probably the best one to lead their army against the rebels, whether we like it or not. How can he be a traitor?’

  Nicola shrugged, unwilling to argue with him, and instead came back to what mattered the most. ‘Forget Damon, forget Cadell. Saving Finn and Fergus is all I care about right now. Look around, Marcel, the entire court thinks they killed Menidae. The trouble is, there’s no one else to blame and that’s why we’re losing. We have to work out who really did it. A jealous sorcerer, one of his apprentices maybe?’

  ‘Demiter might know,’ Marcel offered lamely. They slipped back between the well-dressed lords to stand on either side of the princess, hoping for a moment to ask if there could possibly be another suspect.

  ‘Ah, there you are, back from your whispering,’ said Damon, mocking them openly now. Marcel saw too late that they had played even further into his hands by standing so close to the princess, making her part of their futile cause. It was just the moment Damon had been waiting for.

  ‘Noble lords and ladies,’ he said grandly, ‘we have given the prisoners a chance to defend themselves, as Lady Demiter demanded.’

  Lady Demiter! Damon has stripped away her title with one cleverly chosen word, Marcel thought. And none of the court spoke up to correct him, not even Demiter herself.

  ‘You have heard their answers, unimpressive as they are,’ Damon went on. ‘But all of this can be swept aside because I present something to you now that settles the matter.’ He flicked aside his cloak with a flourish and took a roll of paper from his belt.

  Marcel knew what it was instantly and groaned deep in his throat. ‘They’re done for,’ he sighed.

  Damon held the paper above his head. ‘A confession of murder by one of these rogues,’ he proclaimed.

  ‘No! You fooled him into writing it,’ Nicola shouted.

  Damon ignored her. With every eye upon him, he walked slowly towards Finn until he stood only a pace in front of him, where he unrolled his piece of trickery. ‘Is this your own writing? Tell the truth, Sir Finton, did you write this confession?’

  What could Finn do but answer honestly? ‘Yes, I wrote it.’

  Around the Gilded Hall, the last shreds of doubt were abandoned. The courtiers turned to Marcel and Nicola to hear what they could say in defence of their friends. Nothing came. What words could deny a written confession? Demiter was silenced as well, because the court had become Damon’s to command and any sympathy she displayed for the young men would only rob her of the little power she retained.

  For Finn and Fergus the sentence of death must surely follow.

  CHAPTER 21

  Truth and Treachery

  THE GILDED HALL OF Tamerlane droned with the murmur of conferring voices, while at the centre of the assembly three figures stood isolated in defeat.

  ‘We’re the only ones in this room who think they’re innocent,’ said Nicola. ‘I can’t bear to hear the verdict.’ If Marcel hadn’t held her back, she would have run to Finn and taken a hold that a dozen soldiers couldn’t break.

  ‘Do something,’
she hissed when she gave up trying to get free.

  Marcel felt the weight of her demand heavily on his shoulders. In just a few minutes the verdict would be delivered, and with Finn’s confession being handed around from courtier to courtier there was no doubt what it would be.

  ‘That’s the thing we can’t get around,’ Demiter said.

  Marcel could only agree. If Finn hadn’t written the confession, they might have had a chance. If they hadn’t fallen for yet another of Damon’s cruel …

  ‘Wait, how did he know he’d need that confession? He didn’t know there was going to be a trial like this. And why did he need it at all? Do you remember what Finn said back in the cell — Damon could have had all three of us killed yesterday whether we’d confessed or not.’

  The girls looked at him blankly.

  ‘What are you saying?’ asked Nicola. ‘You think he needed the confession for something else. But what? He wants Finn dead, and us as well, if he can manage it.’

  Marcel put his hand up to stop his sister from talking. An idea had come to him that he didn’t want to lose. ‘What did you say earlier, about who killed Menidae? You said if Finn and Fergus hadn’t killed him then someone else did.’ He switched so suddenly to face Demiter that the princess jumped back a step. ‘The wound you saw in Lord Menidae’s chest, you said it couldn’t have been made by a sword?’

  ‘No, it must have been something much smaller.’

  ‘A dagger?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Like the one I saw stuck into Damon’s belt when he took out Finn’s confession.’

  ‘Damon! You think Damon killed the old wizard?’ said Demiter, struggling to keep her voice low. ‘Why would he want Lord Menidae dead?’

  ‘Because of his magic. Ismar didn’t know it was Rhys Tironel who forced back the lightning storm. He thought Lord Menidae was protecting Cadell and he wanted him dead so he could send the taurine to kill the royal family. That must be it. He ordered Damon to get rid of the old wizard, and Damon needed a confession from Finn so there couldn’t be any doubt about who’d done it. With Osward and Demiter dead, the people would proclaim General Lorian as their new king.’