Yeah, yeah. I raised myself slightly onto my toes, hoping to get a better look at the papers. Unfortunately I was far too obvious about it and de Florinville half turned, spotting the table and its contents.
‘So,’ he said with a cold murmur, ‘you still think there’s a way out of all this. You’re still trying to sneak around and see what you can find, no doubt so that you can pass it on to your master.’ He moved so his body blocked my view. ‘You do realise how much I can make you hurt, don’t you? Perhaps you require a little demonstration.’
Without warning, he lashed out, his fist catching me in my stomach. I doubled over in pain. With one arm clutching my middle, I thrust upwards with my other arm, hoping to punch him back but the salt and candle circle was too strong, and the original binding was still in place. My hand flailed around uselessly. I had just enough time to hear a short laugh before the Elf hit me again. This time I fell to my knees.
‘Like every other wraith,’ he commented, ‘you’re useless in a man-to-man fight. You only do your dirty work from the shadows and you only stab your victims in the back. You’re more coward than anything.’ He snorted. ‘No doubt that’s why you’re not yet here in person.’ He crouched down. ‘Time is ticking, little wraith. If you’re not here by nine o’clock tomorrow evening, then all bets are off.’
I groaned aloud, although de Florinville wouldn’t have heard it. I twisted my head and prepared to concentrate enough to pull away but it was just my luck that he took that opportunity to smack me again. Talk about hitting someone when they were down. Who was the coward now?
I yanked myself away until I was against the outer edges of the magical circle and as far from the Elf as possible then I curled up into a ball to protect myself. I had to get out of here but I was terrified of letting him to torture my shadow self while my consciousness was absent. But what choice did I have?
As I lifted my hands to shield my head, I noticed the nearest window. There were fifteen panes of glass in total, framed by a criss-cross of old lead that looked as if it had been there for generations. Someone had screwed up, however: one of the glass panes was different to the others. At some point in the not-too-distant past it must have been broken and replaced. I memorized it carefully, the second pane on the right, three down from the top, just before de Florinville loomed over me once again. Without waiting any longer, I pulled my consciousness away from my shadow and back to my real body.
My return didn’t stop the pain. Agony ripped through me once more and I was forced to stuff my fist into my mouth to stop myself from crying out loud. Lights danced in front of my eyes and it felt as if my teeth were rattling around in my skull. I wobbled upwards, breathing hard, and waited for the next shock of pain. De Florinville was no fool; he obviously knew that whatever damage he did to a wraith’s shadow would manifest itself in its physical self too.
I wondered whether he’d tortured other wraiths he’d come across. Had he been the target of their assassination attempts or was it someone else? Someone he loved? I braced for more agonizing blows.
No more pain flashed through me. He must have worked out that my consciousness was no longer with him. Perhaps he was lulling me into a false sense of security and he’d start pummelling me again when I least expected it. Then I remembered what he’d said and started to relax. He considered me and my kind to be cowards. In de Florinville’s opinion, unless you attacked your target head-on you were a despicable being. That was all very well when you had a Dark Elf’s innate power. The rest of us had to grasp every advantage where we could, even if people like de Florinville believed us to be sneaky and under-hand. On the plus side, he probably wouldn’t continue to attack me, not until I showed up in person.
I breathed out through my mouth; there was the faint bitter tang of blood in my mouth and I spat on the ground. Technically, I still had eighteen or nineteen hours before my shadow would give up the ghost but my encounter with de Florinville, had knocked off some of that time. There was no point in dilly-dallying any longer. Besides, I already had almost everything I needed. All I wanted now was Lady Luck on my side and I’d be quids in.
***
I limped towards the castle, the gentle breeze blowing my shabby dress around me. Rather than sneak in, I was taking the main approach that was well lit by twin rows of torches. With no shadow, I had to be very careful. My best option was to appear utterly cowed. Frankly, that wasn’t hard.
After what seemed like an age, particularly when I had to weave in and out of giant potholes in the road that were undoubtedly caused by Gneiss shellings, I heaved myself towards the trio of goblin guards standing in front of the gaping maw of the original castle entrance. My heart was in my mouth as I approached, willing them not to notice that I was shadowless. What happened next was truly in the lap of the gods.
The guard in the middle lifted the visor of his helmet. ‘Well, well, well,’ he drawled, in heavily accented English. ‘What do we have here?’
I flicked a nervous glance at him and his two companions, then smoothed down my dress and swallowed. ‘My name is Saiya.’ My voice was high-pitched and squeaky. ‘I’m here to see a goblin.’
‘I’m a goblin,’ he said, raising a twisted eyebrow.
I couldn’t use Boxburn’s name. At this hour he would still be in front of my block of flats, keeping an eye out for little Becky in case she reappeared. I prevaricated as best as I could. ‘He’s about this high,’ I said, raising a hand to indicate the height of ninety-nine percent of all goblins. I swept my hands downwards as I continued. ‘With a beard, a well-built body but a small…’ I blinked and dropped my hand from my crotch area, permitting myself a brief blush, while my fingers twitched at the faded lace around the hem of my dress. ‘I don’t know his real name.’
The three guards exchanged knowing glances. Without alluding to anything directly, I’d planted a seed in their minds as to my reason for being here in the middle of the night. God knows, there were enough of us down in the depths of the Stirling streets who would sell ourselves for an extra scrap of food.
‘If you don’t know his name,’ the goblin on the right said, ‘how are you going to find him?’ He looked me up and down and licked his lips. ‘I’m sure we could come to some kind of alternative arrangement.’
There was a nasal snort from the third goblin. ‘She’s a bit scrawny. You’d probably break her.’
I flinched deliberately and stepped back.
‘I like a bit more meat on my women,’ he said. ‘And a bit more fire.’
‘Have you ever actually had a woman?’
Unwilling to let their banter descend into argument, I reached for my backpack. Almost immediately, all three of them stepped forward, fell silent and glowered. I froze and stared at them, wide-eyed. ‘I have a thing,’ I said. ‘A token. He said I was to use it to get in and then meet him at the front of the guards’ quarters at midnight.’
‘Throw me the bag,’ the middle one commanded.
I did as he ordered, making a very poor effort so that the bag fell about a foot to the side instead of in his outstretched hands. I was so weak, I projected, that I couldn’t even manage to get a small throw right.
The guard rolled his eyes in disgust, scooped up my bag and ripped it open. He tossed aside the bottle of water and drew out the first-aid kit. ‘Well, well, well. What do we have here then?’ He reached for the bottle of iodine and unscrewed it, sniffing and smacking his lips as if it were a particularly fine bottle of Bordeaux. I stared at the bottle. Bloody Marrock. That was nascent iodine for drinking, not the sort I wanted, which cleaned wounds.
I wrung my hands and continued to look pathetic. ‘He gave it to me. He said…’ I licked my lips and dropped my voice to a whisper ‘… he said I’d need it.’ I banked on the guard not recognising what sort of iodine he was holding.
‘You like it rough then?’
As if. I fidgeted some more. ‘I … he … um…’
Growing bored, the guard rolled his eyes. He glanced down, obviously clocking the few precious paracetemol that Marrock had granted me. For a brief moment, a lascivious gleam crossed his expression then he looked back at me and, wonder of wonders, I noted a small flicker of sympathy. He abandoned the kit and rummaged some more, finally pulling out the token that Boxburn had given me.
‘Fine,’ he grunted. ‘But keep this closer to you for when the next person asks.’ He threw it towards me and I fumbled the catch and had to run after it as it rolled away. Panting, I clutched it to my chest and straightened up again.
The guard threw the bag towards me with enough force to make me stagger . Pain flashed through me and I let out a small gasp. De Florinville had done me more damage than I’d realised. That wasn’t good.
The guard’s two companions gave him identical sidelong looks. Gruffly, he muttered, ‘What do I want with that pathetic lot? She can keep it.’
Breathing out, I retrieved the fallen water bottle and bobbed my head. ‘Thank you, sir.’ Apparently, I’d roused his protective instincts. Thanking heaven that I’d had the foresight to put on my old dress – and worried that I was becoming almost as weak as I was pretending to be – I scurried past the trio before they changed their minds.