you, that you are in no position to refuse.’ Elli was trying to think of a way to escape. It seemed impossible to do that and save the others as well. It was the Marcquesa’s home ground. She had the home advantage.
The Marcquesa was still speaking. ‘In case you have in mind to try anything silly, remember this: you have no bargaining power. You are in no position to barter. However, I won’t be cruel and unfair and will offer something in return.’
Elli looked at the Marcquesa with disdain dripping from every pore. ‘What can you possibly have to offer me that I want or need and don’t have already?’
‘Me.’
‘You? Please, don’t make me laugh.’
Elli’s host was incensed by her defiance.
‘Elli, it is not a request. I will repeat my demand only once more and then you will lose something precious to you and then another, and then one by one, you will watch while you lose everything, until you capitulate and submit to me and give me what I want. Let me clarify what I meant by “me”.’
The Marcquesa stood to her full height of six feet, briefly towering over all around her, an effect accentuated by the raised platform she was standing on. She held the audience’s attention for a full minute before proceeding to walk slowly and purposefully out of the chamber.
Hushed silence descended. Nobody dared speak in anticipation of something significant and shocking they knew was coming. They did not dare speculate as to what that might be.
Time appeared to have stood still in the chamber. Five minutes ticked by. There was a brief murmur and shuffling at the doorway. The Marcquesa was back. She looked the same as before but different somehow. Everybody in the chamber saw it.
The Marcquesa’s resemblance to Elli was uncanny. She seemed to be the spitting image of Elli, the only difference being her darker colouring. Elli wondered whether the disguise was deliberate. Was it to confuse her, to scare her or to show her that she could be disposed of and easily replaced?
The Marcquesa smiled an ironic smile. ‘You don’t remember do you?’ She paused. ‘Think back, a long way back, to when you were a child. Do you remember your parents? Shall I answer it for you? Of course not. You were too young when they perished. You remember what happened, don’t you? And do you remember whether you had a sister? You do. Good.
‘Do you remember her? She was innocent back then, wasn’t she? None of you knew what hit you, what dark forces shattered your charmed existence. You thought that girl was dead, didn’t you?’
She paused for effect, her eyes looking directly at Elli, searching Elli’s face for any sign of recognition. And she waited. And waited. And waited. To her disappointment no such sign came.
‘I am that girl, Elli.’ She declared slowly, emphasising every word. She paused to let it sink in. There was almost a hint of regret in her words, easily missed. ‘You were lucky. You were left behind and raised by a good family. Demetrius and his wife loved you like a daughter. But I was not so lucky. I ended up here. Do you want to know why they only took me while they spared you?
‘They could have killed you of course, but they didn’t, probably because at the last minute they decided they wanted the challenge that you would give them in the future. They kept me, Elli, because I had a defect, a stigma. Do you remember that tattoo-like mark near my navel? That was the mark of the Ruinands.
‘As I found out much later, their oracle told them that I could not be brought up to be good, but was rotten to the core. Do you see? I was doomed from birth. My future was written at my birth and there was nothing our parents or I could do to change it. They were told I was one of them, one of the Ruinands. It’s too late to change now, to go back to those lovely carefree days, to what might have been. But who says I want to do that?’
Elli was not yet ready to accept what she had just heard. It all sounded too preposterous to be true. Even though the facts were staring her in the eye, surely those were facts that the Marcquesa could very easily have found out from various sources.
There was nothing unique in that story that only those present, the exclusive group of the Marcquesa and Elli, would have known. ‘I see you have left any hint of decency, principle or humanity at the door, or in your own personal prison that you inhabit. I don’t know what you are playing at.’
‘You don’t believe me, I see. Well a DNA analysis would resolve your dilemma and dispel your doubts and in fact we can have it done right here in this city. You can observe in case you may think I will interfere with the result. We’ll take a recess until this is done. Elli, you are coming with me. The others will stay here. Enjoy yourselves. We will not be long.’
A roar of voices filled the chamber in defiance to the Marcquesa, but taking advantage of her absence. The gossip and speculation flowed freely.
Those present could not believe their luck at the prime entertainment enacted for their benefit, a rare sight indeed, made all the more exciting because of the dreariness of this little place that was governed by fear, a depressing life that was in stark contrast to the impressive visual accomplishment surrounding them, the living and extraordinary testament to the talent and vision of the creators of this city, of this marvel that was Le Mirabel.
The audience marvelled to at the tingling-to-the-ear sensation of the contrasting female voices of the two protagonists in the drama that had unfolded in the chamber, one deep (Elli), the other high-pitched and painful to the brain (the Marcquesa).
Huge enjoyment was derived from the high-octane verbal battle of wills, the exchange of civilised insults back and forth like a tennis match. The audience was anxiously looking forward to the next act. How delicious. They wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Within twenty minutes they were back. From Elli’s face they all knew that what the Marcquesa said was true. They were indeed sisters.
‘Now, my dear Elli, there is someone here I want you to meet.’ She turned to one of her servants. ‘Bring him in.’ Andrew Le Charos was brought in none the worse for wear, looking as fresh as if he had come out of a mountain spring moments before. ‘Andrew and I have found some common ground, haven’t we, darling?’ The Marcquesa gently squeezed and pulled at his chin as she said that.
Elli was confused. This was an unexpected development. ‘What is the meaning of this, Marcquesa?’ Then she turned to Andrew. ‘Do you know what you are doing allying yourself with her?’ Even as she said it she knew it was pointless when she saw his blank face looking at his mistress with complete adoration, enraptured by her.
What had they done to him? It was obvious to Elli that Andrew had been brainwashed. But how? The “why” was easier to guess, considering Andrew’s connection to Elli’s and Andros Markantaskis’ families. Was there anything of him left in there at all, she wondered. Elli addressed the Marcquesa. ‘What are you planning to do with us?’
‘Well, I do want the mines and the information from you and from Giorgos, and until you give it to me, you are not going anywhere. You will be wondering why John Halland is here. I thought about that long and hard and almost left him behind, but he has been close to this matter and I’m sure that he has certain knowledge he would be very kind to share with us, though he keeps protesting to the contrary.’
The Marcquesa paused and turned to look at Giorgos.
‘Giorgos, you may be interested to know that your dear old friend, James Calvell, has joined his maker in the sky and will no longer be helping you or anyone else for that matter. Nor will he be bothering us either.’
Giorgos went ashen. He felt a chill travel down his spine and through his veins and arteries reach every part of his body. He was in a state of shock and disbelief. She must be lying, he thought. But would she be bluffing to scare us into submission? He answered his own question. Yes, of course she would.
She couldn’t exactly be trusted, now, could she? She would have no compunction whatsoever in toying with them, just to see her captives squirm and to amuse herself with watching her captives’ reaction to her tricks and surprises and her inflammatory verbal bombs that had been premeditated and were carefully targeted.
The Marcquesa cut through Giorgos’ thoughts.
‘Maybe we should have done the same with John here. He is disposable, just like his boss. But maybe, Giorgos here will be persuaded with the death sentence hanging over John as well as his parents to cooperate. One by one you will be tortured slowly with the others watching. So, Giorgos, I would suggest that you reconsider.’
The Marcquesa addressed her minions.
‘Put them in the isolation cell where they shall remain until they come to their senses.’
Before she was led out, Elli had a last word. She turned and looked at her nemesis and sister. Her captors
