'But you'll have the joy of my company, and such learned and witty discourse that many would pay for such a privilege.' Will watched the faces pass the window, afraid that with every one he would see some sign of disease starting to flower.
'My heart sings already,' Nathaniel replied.
In the courtyard next to the Black Gallery, the carriage pulled into a stream of activity, with several servants accompanying the court physician and bystanders whispering in doorways. Almost as ashen as Launceston's natural complexion, Mayhew dashed from the Black Gallery and tore open the carriage door.
'What is wrong?' Will enquired. 'The queen-?'
Mayhew shook his head. 'The boy.'
He led Will at speed from the Black Gallery through the Tryst Rooms and into a loft where pigeons cooed. The physician was just leaving as they arrived, shaking his head as they passed.
Miller hung by the neck from one of the rafters.
Sickened, Will could not speak for a moment as he tried to comprehend the torments the youth must have suffered after his encounter with the Hunter. He cursed himself for not doing more to ease Miller's pain, and for failing to protect one in his charge.
'Cut him down,' Will ordered.
'I searched for him as you said,' Mayhew stuttered, 'and could not find him anywhere until one of the servant girls came here for a tryst with her love and-'
'Cut him down!'
Mayhew hastily complied. Once the youth was laid on the dusty boards, Will collected him in his arms and carried him down to the Tryst Rooms. Although he had only known Miller for a matter of hours, he felt the death more personally than any he had experienced in recent months.
'We failed him,' he said to Mayhew as he laid the body on a table.
'We did what we could,' Mayhew replied. 'The knowledge of the Enemy affects all of us in different ways. We cannot predict the outcome. We can only hope.'
'We did not do all we could have,' Will stated. 'He was thrust into this battle too soon, without proper precautions.'
'Desperate times-'
'Quiet!' Will snapped. 'Many people killed this youth and they will all have to carry it on their conscience-our side, who engaged him in activities beyond him, those who stole the Silver Skull and ensured he would be forced into battle too soon, but most of all the Enemy ... the Hunter.' Will recalled the Hunter whispering in Miller's ear, the grinding expression of confusion, then the horror that bloomed in his face at whatever had been said. 'He was murdered at that moment, though it took some time to take effect. But know this: there is a price to be paid here, and I will ensure it is extracted from that Hunter the next time we meet. So do I vow!'
Will studied Miller's face, which even in death contained the innocence that he had carried like a torch. He tried to recall the last time he had felt that warm innocence himself, but it had long since been driven out of him.
'Fetch me parchment and a quill,' he said desolately. 'I shall write to his father myself.'
CHAPTER 19
an this thing not go any faster?' Will bellowed over the thunder of the carriage wheels on the rutted lane winding through the nightdark Scottish lowlands. Hanging out of the window, he clutched the rail on top of the carriage to stop himself being thrown clear.
'Not unless you want to risk pitching down the bank into the valley,' the driver yelled back. Even so, he cracked his whip and the horses increased their pace, but the carriage immediately slewed onto one wheel, skidding sideways across the mud before crashing back with an impact that threatened to shatter the axle.
The road had been treacherous ever since they had left England behind, winding around the side of great hills still touched by snow on the top, or ploughing across valley bottoms beside sucking bogs. Horses would have been quicker, but the carriage allowed them to sleep while travelling, and to remain out of sight of prying eyes.
Glancing behind, Will could just make out the silhouettes of their pursuers against the star-dappled sky as they crested a ridge: three of them on horseback, riding as if hell were at their backs. Will had known the Enemy would attempt to prevent his journey at some point, but when the riders had appeared from the trees in the carriage's wake four miles back, their arrival had still felt like a winter storm.
Cloaks billowing behind them like bat wings, the riders moved inexorably closer. Recalling the maps he had memorised before their journey began more than seven days ago, he peered into the dark landscape flashing by to try to get his bearings. Away in the valley was the River Esk, and he could see the bulk of Rosslyn Castle rising up from the dense forest. That meant Edinburgh was only six miles away, but the riders would have caught them long before then.
He threw himself back inside the carriage where Nathaniel clung on for dear life. 'Spanish or highwaymen?' Nathaniel asked.
'Being a poor fellow, you have nothing to offer either, so do not alarm yourself.'
'I suppose you will be playing the hero at some point.' He sniffed. 'Have some regard for my life while you seek to bolster your own fame.'
'Nat, you are first and foremost in my mind, as always.'
The carriage careered to the left as the road followed the contours of the hill. Once again the left wheels lifted, this time so high it seemed the carriage was going over. Bags and cases flew around the interior, and Nathaniel crashed across the leather seats. As the wheels went down, it threw him back the other way.
'Damnation!' he shouted. 'I could drive this carriage better myself!' Exhausted and hungry, his temper had deteriorated during the long journey from London, on which they had stopped only briefly to change horses and eat, sleeping in the carriage as it bounced north along the lanes of England.
'We will soon be in Edinburgh, Nat, where there will be all the wine, women, and hot food you desire.'
'You think about yourself. All I want is a good bed and a long sleep.'
Always a hairbreadth away from a disastrous crash, the carriage plunged on, around the steep sides of hills, through dense woodlands, where it felt as if they were floating in a sea of black, and then across the valley floor where the moon painted a silver trail ahead of them. Finally they began the ascent of the hills that rimmed Edinburgh.
The deafening storm of the horses' hooves had become the familiar music of their journey, so they were acutely aware when the note changed: the disturbing syncopation of more hooves had joined the steady beat.
From the space beneath the seat, Will removed a length of rope from among the tools the driver stored within the carriage and tied one end to his wrist, leaving the other to trail free.
'Nat, I ask this of you now: whatever happens, do not look out of the windows,' Will said.
'Why? You are afraid I will see you fall like a jester upon your bony rump?'
'Heed me now, Nat. This is important.'
Nathaniel recognised the tone in his master's voice and nodded. 'Whatever you plan, take care.'
'Those who take care never experience all the wonders life has to offer.' Will pushed his head outside where the wind tore at his hair and made him deaf. The nearest rider was just behind the rear wheels of the carriage and to one side. Though the face was lost to shadows, Will could see the fire of the eyes burning through the dark. He had noted the strange, shifting quality of the eyes' inner light before-sometimes green, sometimes gold, sometimes red like now-and though he had no idea what it meant, it confirmed their unnatural nature.
As the rider drew nearer still, he leaned down across his saddle and reached out an arm towards the wheel. Will couldn't see what he was holding, if anything, but as his fingers closed on the rapidly spinning wood, sparks danced around the iron sheath and the wheel began to wobble from side to side. Already leaping wildly, the
