Trial of Fire Read Free Page B

clerical, but they were warm and since the Bishop hadn’t worn any kind of habit, John had to assume that was the wisest move.
    He washed and dressed quickly, not wanting to lose this dearly won heat. Some kind soul had left him some food on a tray. He ate only enough to quell his grumbling stomach, then, a little excited, a little daunted, he opened the door of his room and peeked into the passage. It was dark except for a slit of weak sunlight from a narrow window further along which marked the wooden floor and half the opposite stone wall. He tried to get his bearings, to gauge from the smells and noises of this place his bestoption for finding other people, but Bleakstone sounded horribly silent for a castle well-inhabited with rebels.
    John closed his door quietly. Choosing at random he turned to his right, heading for the narrow window and what looked like a staircase beyond it. It wasn’t a staircase, but rather, an angled turn in the wall, which he followed. It was lit by more narrow windows which looked down onto a courtyard. An open door showed a room with two tables, one long, one round. The long table had piles of books, scrolls charts and other things he recognised. The round table had a beautifully carved book stand, a thick tome resting upon it, and at the side, an inkwell, a pen, a sheaf of papers and a heavy eye-glass. Curiosity burned within him and, despite his years of discipline as a priest, he took a step inside.
    ‘Ah, there you are!’
    John started at the Bishop’s voice coming from behind the door. There was a fireplace against that wall; McCauly had obviously been reading while warming himself. He was watching John with a smile. ‘I’m glad to see you up at last. Did you sleep well? Do you feel better for your rest? We were wondering if you’d even wake today.’
    ‘I feel well, Your Grace. Thank you.’
    ‘Did you have something to eat?’
    ‘Yes, I did.’
    McCauly took one more look at the paper he was holding, then moved to the long table, placed it on a particular pile and turned his attention on John. ‘So. You’ve decided to become a rebel.’
    John didn’t need to answer.
    ‘You know,’ McCauly continued, ‘the others have questions regarding the wisdom of embracing you into our circle. I’m sure you understand that what we are doing here is very…’
    ‘Sensitive?’
    ‘Exactly.’
    John swallowed hard. ‘Do you wish me to leave?’
    ‘No – and besides, that wouldn’t make them feel any better.’
    John took a fortifying breath. ‘Then the only other alternative you have is to imprison me here.’ He folded his hands together. It was not what he had wished for, nor what he had hoped, but if this was the only way he could serve, then so be it. ‘I can act as scribe for you as easily from a cell as anywhere else. I am also proficient in a number of ancient languages and although I have not practised as well as I might, I am a fair Seeker and can scan on an hourly basis to warn if there are Malachi in the near vicinity. I also have some skills in treating minor wounds, though I hope that won’t be necessary.’
    When McCauly said nothing, John went on, ‘I assure you I have no abilities to bend metal bars or burrow through stone. If I am to be imprisoned – which I think is your only option – then the sooner I am secured away from sensitive material—’
    ‘That won’t be necessary.’ McCauly picked up a log from the rack and placed it on those burning in the fireplace. ‘The others have questions – I do not and, for what it’s worth, my word carries some weight in this place.’ He turned back, his serious expression softened by a smile. ‘Now, suppose I show you around Bleakstone and introduce you to your fellow rebels? There are not that many of us here as yet, but there are reasons for that.’
    ‘And Robert? He is not here?’
    ‘No – and please don’t ask me where he is. I understand he is in Lusara, but I have no idea where. More than