The Scrivener s Tale - By Fiona McIntosh Page 0,83

tone of explaining something to a child. 'Quite often when a body is shifted, or indeed even as it lies, air will escape. It's not uncommon to believe the dead are speaking when, in truth, it's simply the body settling. You were mistaken, majesty. Be assured, this corpse did not speak.'

Her lips thinned slightly. Morn had tried but had lost the battle not to sound condescending. She straightened her bearing to show her full height. 'I did not imagine what I heard.'

'Oh, dear me, no, your majesty, I'm not for a moment suggesting you did. It's just that the physics have explained the stages of the decomposing body to me. And I have been around enough to know that odd "sighs" do occur. It can be most disconcerting.'

'It was not a sigh, Morn; it was a man calling out. He pleaded for help.'

Morn looked at her aghast.

'Surely, your majesty is not - ' Burrage began.

'I know what I heard, Burrage. It was not a door creaking, it was not a dead body settling, it was quite clearly the word "Help".' She glared at each of them, with her mouth set in a firm line, then she moved, speaking as she did so. 'Morn, no-one is to shift or touch this man's body,' she said, reaching the chapel's door. 'Burrage, I want you to find Master Fynch.'

He blinked. 'How?'

She pushed open the chapel door. 'I don't know how and I'm not sure I care. Find him. Have messages sent to every corner of the realm. He was on foot as far as I know so he may still be close. Nail up summons in all the town squares, spread the word among inns. Word travels faster than pigeon or horse but feel free to use every form of communication at your disposal. Get it moving. I want Master Fynch found and brought to me urgently.'

She left both men staring at the empty space where she had stood.

Cassien looked around the small, empty outbuilding that he'd been brought to. In a corner a small brazier burned. It struck him as odd but he didn't think further on it as he was held between two of Murdo's friends. He could smell the liquor coming off their breath.

'I'm going to enjoy fighting you,' Murdo said, dark eyes glittering as he paced before him like a bull pawing at the ground before it charged.

'It won't be a fight, Murdo,' Cassien said. 'I won't strike you back.'

'It's your choice, stranger. I'll just beat you into a pulpy heap, then.'

'I suppose you will and that's easy, given that you have me held between your obedient dogs. It's hardly a fair challenge and far from the courage I'd expect from Razor braves.'

The men holding him showed their offence by pulling his arms harder and further behind his back until his tendons felt as though they might snap, his joints might pop.

'Who are you calling a dog?' one said.

Cassien simply stared at Murdo, his expression unchanged by the stresses on his body.

'Let him go,' Murdo ordered, frowning.

They shoved him forward, no doubt expecting him to fall over but Cassien was far too nimble on his feet and he took a step and twisted back, just in time to miss the blow that Murdo thought he'd land.

Cassien smiled at Murdo.

'Put your fists up, pretty boy, so I can "fairly" smash up that freshly shaved jaw of yours.'

'I don't need my fists,' Cassien replied, already seeing the blow before Murdo could land it.

Murdo punched ... and felt only air against his knuckles. He turned to look for Cassien and found him standing behind him. He looked baffled. 'Can't you stand still and fight like a man?'

'Like a man who doesn't know how to fight, you mean? Like you, Murdo?'

Murdo roared and struck with both fists in a round swing meant to box his ears or break his jaw. It was a favourite move of the tough men of the Razors, or so Cassien had learned from Loup. In less than a blink, Cassien had cut both his arms in a sideways movement to block the man's fists. He could hear Murdo's teeth gnash with his rage. The mountain man kicked, again feeling only air against his shin as Cassien neatly leapt over the angry foot and landed lightly with bent knees. He stood up and waited patiently. His breathing rate hadn't changed. But Murdo was snorting like an enraged bull.

Murdo stared with fury, then rushed at him, yelling that fury.