Mark Chadbourn - The Silver Skull

"We should turn back," Mayhew said. "What can we accomplish here, apart from our own deaths? Even if we find the answer to those questions, we will never get near to the Silver Skull. All is lost here. We must find other tactics-

Carpenter drew his knife and kept it hidden in the folds of his shirt, but he pressed the tip against Mayhew's chest. "Your weakness endangers us all. Any more and I will be done with you."

"Leave him," Will interjected. "He needs some time to recover from the strain of travelling. Take him back to de Groot's house. I will go to the cathedral alone, and meet you back there. But keep him away from the wine."

Mayhew appeared devastated by Will's intervention, but he left between Launceston and Carpenter without another word, shoulders slumped in a pale reflection of the arrogant man who had survived the Unseelie Court's assault on the Tower. Will was frustrated that he had not noticed the decline earlier.

As he passed through the town, his unease at being alone in enemy territory was emphasised by the unfamiliar surroundings, the North African influence in the architecture from the days of the Moorish occupiers, the scents of exotic spices and unfamiliar blooms. The town had prospered from the riches brought back from the New World. After the panic of the Tempest's attack, the now-bustling market was filled with loud haggling over fish and vegetables. Beautiful women enjoyed the appreciative gazes of the traders while pretending not to notice the stir they created in their wake. Aromatic smoke drifted from the street-side food-sellers heating their charcoal to cook the seafood brought up fresh from the harbour.

Skirting the edge of the market, Will kept to quiet, shaded streets until he found the Plaza de la Catedral where the medieval cathedral looked over both the town and the sea. Painted white, it shone so brightly in the early morning sun that Will had to shield his eyes. At that hour, the large wooden doors were bolted and the cathedral was still, the plaza before it deserted.

Conscious of drawing attention to himself, Will retreated to the winding alleys that made the town feel like a mass of rat-runs. They were much cleaner than the streets of his home, and sweeter smelling. He had not gone far into the maze when footsteps echoed behind him, soon joined by two or three other pairs of feet. In the quiet around the cathedral, the sudden activity jarred.

Will ducked into a branching alley. One pair of footsteps followed. Now he could hear more feet drawing nearer ahead of him too. At the junction with the next alley, he peered around the corner. Two soldiers, swords drawn, searched every doorway and open window.

Doubling back, Will darted up another alley, only to find more foot soldiers coming towards him. A net had been cast and was drawing tighter.

He had been betrayed. Sister Adelita must have gone straight to the authorities and informed them he was on his way to the cathedral. He had looked in her eyes and convinced himself he could trust her, but it had been a stupid, naive mistake that might well cost him his life, and England its survival. Nathaniel had always told him he allowed women to make a fool of him.

The search party drew closer on every side, methodically closing off his escape routes. Will tested the handles of the nearest doors, but they were all locked.

He drew his sword, but knew that in a fight he would be overpowered within moments. As he searched for some route he may have missed, a figure stepped out before him.

He thrust his sword instinctively. When he saw it was Sister Adelita, he halted the blade a fraction of an inch from her throat. She swallowed when she realised how close to death she was. "If you wish to keep your freedom, you must follow me," she said.

"So you can betray me again?"

"If I had betrayed you once, I would not be here." Her eyes flashed.

Accepting the logic of her statement, he nodded and sheathed his sword. "Lead on."

Sister Adelita led him back down the alley towards the sound of approaching feet. Will briefly wondered once more if he was mistaken to trust her, but then she opened a rickety wooden door that led into a small, well-kept courtyard where herbs grew in stone troughs surrounded by alabaster statues. On the steps to the kitchen, a suntanned old man flashed Sister Adelita a toothless smile as she passed.

"The almshouses," she whispered, "provided by our convent for the sick and the needy."

Still wary that he was being led into some kind of trap, Will kept a close watch on the surrounding rooms as they moved through the cool house. At the front, Sister Adelita waited until all the foot soldiers had passed and then hurried Will out beyond the edge of the closing net.

"I should not be seen talking to you-" she began.

"I agree. Come with me-I have a safe haven, a house we have seized. The owner is unaware of our presence," Will lied.

Back at de Groot's, Will entered first and waved the Dutchman out of the back of the house so he would not be identified. Sister Adelita was so troubled she probably would not have noticed him. Clearly unsure whether she was doing the right thing, she clutched her rosary so hard her knuckles were white.

Launceston waited alone in the front room, keeping watch through the window.

"Where are the others?" Will asked.

"Mayhew has lost his mind. He began to curse and cry, and then ran off into the alleys. Carpenter has given pursuit."

Carpenter could have alerted the Spanish authorities-he knew of Will's destination, Will thought, but then he eyed Launceston, as unreadable as ever, who had also been left alone and had the opportunity for betrayal. Who could he trust?

"I must have words with Sister Adelita, who has proven a friend in our time of need," Will said. "If there is any sign of the soldiers drawing near, inform me immediately."

Will took Sister Adelita to a bedroom where they could have some privacy. She initially appeared uncomfortable at being in such a place with a man, but it quickly passed.

"I would thank you for coming to my aid," he said. "What made you change your mind?"

She gave him an honest look filled with such pain that he was taken aback. "I can see you are a good man, if misguided." She swallowed to damp down the emotion that was close to the surface. "We are all misguided at some time."

"I wish no harm personally to your brother, or to you," he said gently, "but there are bigger things at play that dwarf us all."

She nodded slowly. "This is not the life I would have chosen for myself. But someone had to make amends." She searched his face for a moment as she weighed her next words, and then grabbed his shirt with an edge of desperation. "You know of the night-visitors. I see it."

"Night-visitors?"

"Do not play with me! I am no girl!" Her eyes flashed with passion once more, and she pulled herself closer to him with the hand entangled in his shirt. "The ones who watch from the dark fields. The meddlers, the invisible hand that continually steers us onto the rocks, the tempters and the tormenters. The Fair Folk," she added with bitter irony.

"The Unseelie Court." He placed his hand on the back of hers; it was trembling. "They are our Enemy. It is my life's work to oppose them. A secret war has been fought between England and these damnable predators for a great many years, and now it is on the brink of becoming an open battle."

"You fight them!" Her large eyes glistening, she pressed herself against him so he could feel the shape of her body through her thin dress. "My brother forged an unholy alliance with them. Or rather Spain has, sanctioned by the king. We have grown fat on the riches from the New World, and cannot bear to lose them to England, and so we will do anything to protect our status. But the ends do not justify the means!"

He put his arms around her to comfort her, and she allowed her head to rest on his shoulder. He imagined it had been a long time since she had felt the comforting warmth of another's embrace.

"I fear for my brother," she said softly. "He is a loyal subject of the king, and will do whatever he is told in the pursuit of his business of spying. All must be sacrificed for the future of Spain! But God is greater than our country, and the king, and men, and God would not wish us to do deals with these devils to keep us in gold and silver, or even to bring the one true religion back to England."

"You discussed this with your brother?"

Nodding, she gripped him tighter. "We argued, and fought, but he would never see reason. Our father disappeared when we were young, and since then he has grown hard, and driven."

Will understood Don Alanzo a little more in that moment. Had the Unseelie Court taken their father? Was Don Alanzo now allying himself with the Enemy to get his father back?

"I was set to be wed," Sister Adelita continued, "and on the day before my marriage I told my brother he must break off all dealings with those vile things or I would be forced to do penance for the sake of my family. He refused, and so I left behind my love and my heart and came here to the convent. And still my brother continued along his path to damnation." She stifled a sob. "Does he think so little of me?"

"Men like us are pulled by greater currents. Our lives, and our desires, our hopes and dreams, become as nothing next to the demands and responsibilities placed upon us. I am sure your brother cares for you deeply. I am equally sure he feels he has no choice in the course that he follows."

She softened against him. "When my brother came to me the other day, he seemed changed ... hopeful. He told me he may soon have good news for me."

The destruction of England, Will thought.

"And he said he hoped my penance at the convent would soon come to an end."

"You would break your vows?"

"I ... I do not know. I believe ... I have given my life to God. I never expected, or hoped for, anything to change." She looked briefly into his face, and then kissed him, softly at first, but then with increasing passion.

After a moment, he pulled away, though she fought to keep him in an embrace. Gently, he prised her from him. "I am a man of easy morals, but you will regret this if we continue," he said. "I would not wish that upon you."

She bowed her head in shame, but he raised her chin and added, "There is no shame in honest emotion. This business makes us into people we are not. It ruins lives, and forces us to battle with ourselves along the road to misery. We deserve better, all of us. Do not think badly of yourself, Sister Adelita."

She allowed herself a slight smile, but her breath was still short with passion. "One day we can all be who we are."

He nodded in agreement without really believing it. The war would never end, he was sure of that. There would be battles and bloodshed and death, but it would continue as long as men were men and the Unseelie Court were whatever they were, both sides led on by their own weaknesses. To fight without hope of victory, to fight without truly knowing the reason for that fight, was the very definition of madness, but as long as it was a shared madness there would be no end to it.

"Did your brother give you any reason for his hope? Any information that might help me?" he asked.

"He sought my aid. There is a priest in Cadiz who is known for his struggles with the Devil. He undertook the rite of exorcism for the soul of a young girl in Arcos de la Frontera and cast out several demons, and he is knowledgeable in matters of the occult and those who practice such things. Father Celino is often petitioned by the local people, but many of their requests are frivolous and so he will only consider matters on recommendation."