Part 48 (1/2)

”Why can't you see?” Celestine cried out. ”I can't live without him. I love love him, Faie. I love him more than life itself. You had a lover once, didn't you?” him, Faie. I love him more than life itself. You had a lover once, didn't you?”

”Mhir...” The Faie breathed his name and Celestine felt a glow suffuse her whole body. ”He gave his life to save mine. But when I learned what he had done, it was too late to bring him back from the dead. ”He gave his life to save mine. But when I learned what he had done, it was too late to bring him back from the dead.” The glow darkened as Celestine felt the Faie's grief for her lost love flood through her.

”But if you could have gone back in time, would you have changed places with him?”

The Faie was silent a moment, then she said, ”And what makes you think that Jagu would want your sacrifice? What kind of life would you be forcing him to live; alone, without you, knowing what you had done?” ”And what makes you think that Jagu would want your sacrifice? What kind of life would you be forcing him to live; alone, without you, knowing what you had done?”

”Celestine de Maunoir, do you have anything to say?” Maistre Donatien stood outside her cell. ”You have drawn on the darkest of powers and, in doing so, you have defiled the good name of the Commanderie. If you agree to make a full public confession of your crimes, I can give you the consolation of the Sergian Church and grant you expiation for your sins.”

”You're offering me consolation?” Celestine repeated, her voice raw.

”So you even reject the forgiveness of the Church?” Donatien slowly shook his head. ”I see now to what depths of depravity you have sunk in your pursuit of the Forbidden Arts. I can only pray that the cleansing flames will purge the evil from your immortal soul.” And he walked away without a backward glance.

”Take off your clothes.”

Celestine stared at the Rosecoeur Guerriers who stood over her. One threw a rough linen s.h.i.+ft onto the cell floor beside her.

”Take off your clothes and put this on.”

What further humiliation were they going to inflict on her? She crossed her arms and said nothing, merely staring up at them defiantly.

”Or would you rather we stripped you ourselves?”

”Turn around,” she said.

”You're a Guerrier, aren't you?” said one with a thick Allegondan accent. He seized hold of her by one arm, pulling her to her feet. ”Why should we treat you any differently?” He caught hold of the collar of her bodice and started to tug, ripping the fine cloth.

”How dare you!” She slapped him, hard, and he struck her, sending her tumbling to the floor.

”What are you doing in here?” That lazy drawl; it was a voice she had grown to hate. Kilian Guyomard. ”Report to Captain nel Ghislain in the courtyard immediately.”

The Rosecoeurs hurried away.

”Have you come to gloat?” Celestine sat up, rubbing her bruised cheek. ”It's all worked out just as you planned it, hasn't it, Kilian?”

”Listen.” He dropped to his knees beside her, whispering, ”No one is going to die today. There's a plan to rescue you, but you'll have to stay alert. When the time comes, just make sure you take care of Jagu.” He handed her the s.h.i.+ft and left the cell.

”Why?” she cried after him. ”Why, Kilian?”

But all she heard was the echo of his footfalls receding into the distance.

CHAPTER 11.

Hands and ankles shackled, Celestine was led out into the courtyard and forced to climb up inside a covered, part.i.tioned prison cart-a cage on wheels. The guards pushed her to the front and pulled a heavy grille across, locking it. Crouching on hands and knees in the corner, she saw through the grille that they were dragging Jagu into the half on the other side of the part.i.tion.

”Jagu.” She crawled across the dirty boards of the cart, calling his name. The cart suddenly lurched as the four st.u.r.dy horses started off, sending her sliding back into the corner. They were pa.s.sing beneath the portcullis onto the bridge connecting the island with the right bank of the Senon.

”Celestine?”

She heard Jagu's voice from the other side of the part.i.tion, and just hearing him call her name brought tears of relief to her eyes. She set out again, shackles clunking against the boards, until she could sit with her back against the part.i.tion.

”I'm here. I'm right here, Jagu.”

She heard him lean back against the part.i.tion and felt her heart swell, knowing he was so near.

”We're going to get out of this alive,” she said, her voice low, and fierce with determination.

After being kept so long in the gloom of the cell, she found that the daylight hurt her eyes. But as she blinked up at the cloudy sky, she saw stormclouds gathering over the far horizon. ”It looks like it's going to rain.”

She heard Jagu give a hard, ironic chuckle.

”If it rains hard enough, would it quench the pyre?”

”More like we'd suffocate from the smoke long before the flames were extinguished.”

”No one is going to die today.” She repeated what Kilian had promised her. But could she trust Kilian?

The cart rattled along over the cobbles, surrounded on both sides by an armed escort of Rosecoeurs. A crowd was gathering, trailing behind the cart toward the Place du Trahoir, but unlike the unruly, hostile mob who had jeered at her father and the magi of Karantec, these people were subdued and silent.

Celestine's thin linen s.h.i.+ft was sleeveless and her feet were bare. The sky grew darker. A cold wind stirred the willows by the River Senon. She began to s.h.i.+ver.

”Are you cold?” His voice was filled with concern. So like Jagu, to think of her before himself.

”If only they'd let us be together one last time,” she said. ”If only they'd let us hold each other, I think I could face what's to come.”

The cart suddenly slowed, the drivers tugging on the reins.

”Halt!” The escort of Rosecoeurs marching alongside stopped. Celestine's head jerked up, trying to see what was causing the delay. Her nerves were already on edge. Ahead, at the crossroads, she spotted a patrol of Commanderie Guerriers lined up, muskets on shoulders. Their officer, his back to the cart, was arguing with the Rosecoeur lieutenant leading the escort.

”We're here to relieve you.”

”This is most irregular!”

”New orders. From the Grand Maistre. You're to go on ahead to the Place du Trahoir to guard King Ilsevir. They need more troops to control the crowd. We'll take over here.”

Celestine noticed that while the driver's attention was distracted, a Guerrier had crept around the side of the cart. The next moment, he clambered up, struck the driver over the back of the head with the b.u.t.t of his musket, threw him out into the gutter, and leaped into the driver's seat.

”What in-” Celestine was flung to the floor as the cart went hurtling around the corner. Shots rang out behind them, musket b.a.l.l.s whizzing close overhead, smas.h.i.+ng gla.s.s panes in the houses. The onlookers shrieked and ran for cover.

”Stay down,” hissed the Guerrier over his shoulder. ”Hold your fire, you idiots. You'll hit the civilians!”

”Kilian?” She peeped through the bars at the other Guerriers running alongside, providing the most ragged armed guard ever seen at an execution. The officer who had halted the procession jumped on the cart, clinging on precariously.

”Take the next street on the left!” he shouted, clambering up to sit beside Kilian.

”Viaud?” Jagu sat up. ”Kilian?” ”Kilian?”