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Then it was her turn to smile.

“Well, don’t tell anyone, Theodore,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I wouldn’t want my reputation to be damaged.”

They examined the tapestry for several minutes, standing close together. When she moved closer still, Theodore made no effort to move away. And when her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled his head down to hers, he made no attempt to resist.

It was only when a servant discovered them that they broke their embrace, and as Theodore left the gallery, alone, his head faint from excitement, he no longer felt he had betrayed Kara.

6

Pia awoke slowly. Her eyelids were heavy, and slow to open. Her body ached as painfully as she could ever recall and she felt utterly exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to fall back into sleep.

But as she stirred she felt the cloth tied over her eyes, so tightly that her head throbbed with pain, and the rope in her mouth that prevented her from crying out. On her first breath she gagged, an overpowering stench of apples covering her skin and clothing. It was instantly recognisable.

Someone nearby laughed cruelly.

“She’s awake,” another said.

She sat up and tried to move her hands, but found they were bound together at the wrists. Her feet were likewise restrained.

Ropes! Not ropes.

She struggled as hard as she was able, until the cords were burning her skin.

Finally, and to the laughter of her onlookers who were too numerous for her to count accurately, she fell back to the ground, exhausted.

“Straven wanted you dead, you know. He gave you to us.” She heard a man’s voice that she didn’t recognise, yet his words brought back a memory.

For she had only seen Straven that morning, an hour before dawn.

Now I remember. It’s all coming back.

Straven. The thief master of Varrock, in charge of the Phoenix Gang. She had first met him only a week ago, when she and her brother had proposed their plan to him, and he had given his permission for them to carry it out. Then, after making more money than they had ever possessed, they had tried to run. She had been taken within the first hour, and then she had been beaten. But what of her brother?

Jack! Did they capture you, too? Oh, gods…

“It’s true, you do look quite like her,” the man continued. “You could be a younger sister, two or three years maybe. You’re a head shorter than her, though, and little more than a rag doll. Your eyes are different, too. Straven didn’t tell me how much you conned from that crowd at the Flying Donkey, but when he caught you trying to run with his share, he wanted to roll you down a steep hill in a barrel of apples. Apparently that’s one of his ways of dealing with disloyalty. The severity of the treachery determines the height and inclination of the drop. Some are dropped in the River Lum, whereas particularly vile offenders have been sealed in their barrels in his cellar, with apples enough to last them a month.”

She felt someone’s breath on her face. As the man laughed, she felt his spittle on her cheek. She grimaced, and he laughed again.

“I am told that the smell when they are brought out is truly horrendous. I believe only one man has ever survived a full month, and he was mad and so near death that they cut his throat as a mercy.

“I am telling you this so you understand your position. Straven gave you to me after my messenger persuaded him that I could use you. He put you in a half-filled barrel of apples, and you were brought to me in a cart from the city.”

I am not in Varrock, then? Where am I?

“So you have a choice, thief. You are uniquely placed to help me get my revenge.” There was a pause before he continued. “I don’t know how yet, but there will be a way to use you to my advantage.”

She felt hands at the back of her head, untying the knot to the cord in her mouth. It fell loose and she gave a desperate gasp.

But she didn’t try to scream. She knew how pointless that would be.

“Where is my brother?” she said urgently. “Where is Jack? Did Straven take him, too?”

“Your brother? I know nothing of him,” the voice spat. A moment later, it continued. “Keep her ankles and wrists bound for now, and give her a bath. She smells like a rotting orchard.”

She was picked up roughly and carried a short distance. She knew from the sound of footsteps that she was inside a building-a spacious one, though she couldn’t guess any more.

“The water’s cold,” a man taunted as she was dropped into a shallow trough. She gasped as the freezing liquid engulfed her, and water filled her mouth. Her arms beneath her, she fought to push upward and get her mouth above the surface. Finally she succeeded, coughing and retching to the sound of laughter and applause.

“No! Wait! Please!” she shouted as a hand forced her head beneath the water again.

Where it remained. Firm. Unmoving.

This is it. I’m going to drown. At least it’s not from a rope. Never a rope around my neck.

Jack! Please gods, send someone to take care of him.

Suddenly the hand was ripped away and she burst upward, panting and retching once more.

“I said wash, not drown!”

“It was only a joke, Su-” A loud shout cut the man off.

The men argued as she forced herself over the side of the trough-feeling her way to the ground where she coughed up water and shivered uncontrollably-but she had not the strength to pay attention to their words. Then the voices stilled and she realised that something else had entered the room.

It’s like they are afraid.

“He has paid us what we asked,” a strange new voice growled. It reminded her of an animal. “The noble was not at his estate. He is on business in Varrock, but his steward had orders to pay.”

“He is rich enough,” said the man whose voice she had first heard. “He will pay to keep us silent. You see, men-you follow me and I promise you we will be comfortable by the winter. This is only the first noble I plan to blackmail. There is a great deal more information at my disposal. And remember, in case any of you get ambitious, I am the only one who can read the documents.

“Now, take our guest and put her in the cellar, for we have decisions to make.”

The girl knelt as two men grabbed her from each side and dragged her a short distance.

“Kick that bale out of the way, Owen. I can’t get to the trapdoor.”

A hay bale-am I in a barn? That would make sense, with the trough.

The blindfold slipped, and she found she could see a sliver of light if she stared down toward her feet. As her eyes grew accustomed to the shade she saw ears of wheat.

So it is a barn. I am out of Varrock, but where?

“Untie her legs, Owen,” a new voice said. “I can’t drop her down the ladder.” When her bonds were loosened she had the urge to lash out. But she resisted.

These men won’t hesitate to hurt me, she realised, perhaps even kill me. I will have to wait for a better opportunity, and learn what I can.

She caught sight of the trapdoor. On top of it she seemed to see a black image, faded with age. For some reason it reminded her of a bird with its wings spread and its head turned the wrong way.

“Down you go!” Rough hands pushed her into place. She felt her way backward down the short ladder, her hands grasping tentatively, one foot testing each rung. No one came after her, and so sure were her captors that they even left the trapdoor open. She listened breathlessly from the bottom of the ladder, the voices faint.

“If we need to go to Varrock we should go by the southern road,” the bestial voice said.

“That will take hours. The eastern road is quicker.”