was convinced every breath must be his last and yet he could always force one more. His head swam.
Bluish fire flickered in the golden bowl, sending up faint curls of smoke. The glow brightened as the hexer lowered the sapphire, spinning in small circles within the fumes. Hideous blue light surged to fill the room like a fog, drowning out the candlelight, making Krygon in its rotted rags look more than ever like a corpse. Even Valda lost her humanity for a moment and became a leaden mannequin. Then jewel clinked against metal and the room plummeted back into gloom.
'We'll give it a minute to cool,' her voice said quietly. The chair creaked as she resumed her seat. 'Fortunately, there are several ships in the harbor at the moment I shall enjoy a voyage with you, Tobias, once your face has lost its resemblance to an offal bucket. Even if you are still you, I promise you some lessons in the arts of joy. You will be a rewarding pupil.'
He could see her again. He felt he was fighting for his life, even though he knew the battle was a fake. The demon had been forbidden to hurt him, but its orders did not say it could not keep him on the very edge of suffocation indefinitely, gradually releasing the pressure as his strength faded. He wondered if Valda had even noticed. If nothing else, she ought to see the lake of sweat around his feet.
He could sweat, but he could not weep, although he knew he was lost. From now on, the hexer would do whatever she wanted with him and he would be helpless to resist. There would be no demonic strength this time, no mystical
He had been a fool! When he should have been fleeing the country, he had dallied in Inverary Castle until the price on his head was raised so high that every eye in Scotland was looking out for him. Right from the start, he had been a fool to refuse Lady Valda. How could he ever have hoped to evade so great an adept? When she had offered to employ him, at his trial before the laird in Fillan, he had spurned her, instead of falling on his knees with tears of joy and gratitude. Even earlier — when he had met her on the road to Bridge of Orchy and first sensed her power, he should have knelt at her stirrup and pledged his heart to her service, in the vain hope such a worthless trifle could be of interest to her. When she had sought him out in dreams, he should not have resisted her call. She was a great lady, with wisdom and power such as he could not even comprehend, and he was a brainless serf, a worthless bastard, ignorant and dimwitted…
'That should be long enough,' Valda said. 'Krygon, release him.'
The invisible bands vanished. He lunged forward and snatched up the sapphire from the bowl even before he had finished drawing his first free breath. He stood there in bewilderment, gasping for air, the jewel clutched in his clumsy muffled fist, loops of chain hanging free. No, that wasn't right…
Valda chuckled. 'Hang it around your neck, boy! It has to be next to your skin.'
Oh, of course! He looped the pendant over his head so the jewel was on his chest, dangling just above the fold of his plaid. Then he sank to his knees, very conscious of being a clumsy, stupid, sweaty oaf unworthy even to exist in the same room with so courtly a lady, consort of royalty.
'I have been very wicked to cause you so much trouble, ma'am. I beg you to forgive me, although I know I do not deserve forgiveness. Is there any penance I can do, anything to try and make amends?'
She smiled. 'Do you know the Tartar ceremony of obeisance?'
'Not in detail, ma'am.'
'Do what you know of it.'
He scrabbled forward on hands and knees and began to humble himself before her… then stopped. The sapphire had swung away from his chest. He straightened again, turned the chain around so the gem lay against his back. Then he was free to crouch down and put his face on the floor.
'I lift your foot?' It would be sacrilege even to touch her.
'Correct.'
He took her ankle carefully between his broken fists and laid her foot on his head. It weighed nothing.
'I don't know the words, ma'am!'
'Swear to be my man, in body and mind and soul, to serve me in all ways, to the death.'
He swore willingly. She removed her foot.
'Good. Now stand up.'
He rose and then, because he felt it was disrespectful to make her crane her neck to see him, he backed away, almost to the door. He would feel happier kneeling in her presence, but she had told him to stand.
Valda smiled. 'From this day forward we are partners?'
'No, ma'am! I am your slave!' He had found a far worthier and more potent liege than the outlawed rebel king. She would protect him, and he would serve her to his final breath.
He was her man.
She shrugged, seeming satisfied, and settled back in the chair. 'And now you will tell me how you upset my plans so drastically! Do you know what you cost me, Tobias? I have spent many years collecting my little pets, teaching them to hate, training them to serve me. You buried two of them when you pulled down the mountain.'
'I am sorry!' he cried.
She chuckled. 'You will not offend again. Now tell me—'
A bell tinkled in the apothecary's shop. Valda straightened.
'Krygon, who is that?'
The creature mumbled words that made no sense to Toby, but the lady seemed to understand. 'You despicable trash!' she snapped. 'I shall make you suffer. And what has he been doing since?'
More gibberish.
She bit her lip and looked at Toby. 'Did you understand that?'
'No, ma'am.' He had failed her already. How useless he was!
'It says a boy followed you here. He has been prowling around, trying to find another way in, or a window to spy through. There isn't one, of course. This useless near-dead thing did not tell me — demons will obey no farther than they must, whereas mortals like you are eager to please in any way they can. Krygon, go… No, Tobias, you go. If the boy knows you, your face will not alarm him. Bring him here.'
Toby ran. The outer room seemed dazzlingly bright, and despite his eagerness to do what the lady wanted, he paused a moment at the window to let his eyes adjust again. The street outside was just as foggy as before. A man plodded by in the center of the street, leading a horse and cart, and they were gray wraiths.
As soon as they had gone, he unbolted the door and opened it a crack. He peered out at the salty mist. There was no one there.
He could guess who the boy was. He was a devious brat, that one! He would have rung the bell and then retreated to a safe distance until he saw who or what came to answer.
Toby warily put his head out, reluctant to be seen. A few ghostly pedestrians were visible through the fog, but if he could not make them out, they could not see him clearly either.
'Hamish?' he called. 'Hamish!'
A face appeared out of a doorway two stores along.
Toby waved. 'Come on! It's me!'
Hamish came, but slowly, one step at a time. He looked ready to bolt at any second, and the sickly pallor of his face exactly matched the fog.
'You all right, Toby?'
'I'm fine! Come on in.'
Hamish shook his head violently. 'Who else is in there?'
Toby laughed as convincingly as he could. He certainly must not let Hamish Campbell go racing back to the others to raise the alarm. 'Friends, believe it or not! We were just about to have breakfast. Come and join us.'
Hamish stopped just out of reach and regarded Toby with extreme suspicion. 'What friends?'
A couple of women carrying bundles on their heads were emerging from the fog, progressing from pale gray clouds to solid shapes. Time was running out by the second.
Toby glanced around and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. 'Friends of Master Stringer's.'
'Oh. Well, I won't come in, thank you.' Hamish stretched out a hand, palm up, offering Granny Nan's amethyst without coming an inch nearer to Toby than he had to. 'I just thought you might need this. Er… what's
