Mirrorscape Read Online Free Page B

entire life. Four huge, black horses with hairy fetlocks looked at the boy. Pale sweat streaked their flanks and froth hung around their mouths as if they had been driven hard. Hitched to the back of the carriage was a trailer with what looked like a large, domed bird cage resting on it, easily big enough to hold a man. Hanging fromthe thick bars were stout chains and manacles. Mel walked towards the fane, wondering who Fa Theum’s visitor might be.
    As he reached the door, it struck him that the village boys were not around. No one was. He would have expected the villagers to be irresistibly attracted by such a spectacle. Even the birds had stopped singing. It was as if everything had fled.
    Mel hesitated for a moment and then pushed open the door.
    â€˜Ah, and this must be the artist.’
    There were three of them, the one who had spoken, and two other armed and powerful-looking men, who held Fa Theum between them in the small vestibule. The old priest stood in a pool of his own vomit. He was bleeding heavily from a deep scalp wound, his left eye so swollen that it was completely closed up. The lower half of his face was encrusted with blood and snot and he held his right hand at an odd angle.
    His captors were dressed in long, scarlet robes that brushed the floor, with a large, black eye emblazonedon the breast. They wore many jewelled rings in rows over their red gloves. All had faces painted with white make-up and straight, jet-black hair that hung to their shoulders. This was shaved in a strange tonsure so that the front of their scalp and everything in front of their ears, including their eyebrows, was completely bald. Their leader was taller than the others and cadaverously thin. He had reptilian, grey eyes with irises so pale they were only a shade or two darker than the surrounding whites. They were deep-set above a tiny, upturned nose. The man held a long, multi-coloured staff with an ornate, gilded boss on top. He sneered at Mel, revealing uneven, yellow teeth.
    â€˜So these are your masterpieces,’ he said, with an expansive, sweeping gesture towards the drawings decorating the vestibule.
    Too frightened to speak, Mel nodded.
    â€˜I thought as much. Seize him!’
    One of the other men grasped Mel roughly by his arms. His new drawing fell to the floor and was trampled underfoot.
    â€˜Leave the boy alone,’ Fa Theum managed to croak.
    â€˜Keep quiet until I tell you that you can speak! Unless you want another beating,’ said the leader, jabbing his staff in the priest’s ribs. The old man gave a gasp of pain. ‘And you ,’ he said, stooping so that he was eye to eye with Mel, ‘tell me who gave you permission for this exhibition.’
    His fetid breath made Mel wince.
    â€˜It’s got nothing to do with the boy. It was my idea,’ rasped Fa Theum.
    â€˜I told you to keep quiet!’ he bellowed, showering Mel with beads of foul-smelling spittle. Then, to Mel, ‘Well? What’s the matter? Forgotten how to speak?’
    â€˜Can’t you see he’s terrified?’ said the priest, fighting back his own pain.
    The man grabbed Mel’s hair so hard that a clump was torn out.
    Mel screamed.
    â€˜Do you know how many laws you’ve broken with your pathetic little exhibition here? Do you realise how much trouble you’re in?’
    â€˜Stop hurting me,’ screamed Mel. ‘Stop it!’
    â€˜So you can speak, after all. Well, now that you’vefound your voice, answer me. Or would you like another hairdo?’
    â€˜Mel, say nothing,’ came Fa Theum’s voice.
    â€˜I’ll not tell you again, skeg-breath.’ Turning to his henchman holding the priest, he said, ‘If he interrupts me again, hurt him. Hurt him badly.’
    â€˜Leave him alone!’ said Mel through gritted teeth.
    Yanking his hair even harder, his interrogator said, ‘Don’t try and tell me what to do, Smell . That is your name,