When he looked up, he saw Cyprian’s immaculate silver armour and his drawn sword.
The Steward captain’s expression changed. ‘Where did you get that?’ Her eyes were fixed on the medallion, which dangled on its leather tie.
Justice had warned him not to show it to anyone. Now all these milling Stewards had seen it. He hesitated for a moment, unsure what to do.
‘My mother,’ said Will, remembering the familiar face of her old servant Matthew, holding the medallion out to him in the rain. The bright star holds, even as the darkness rises. He pushed himself up to his knees in the mud. ‘Her old servant gave it to me. Matthew.’ Matthew’s dead eyes staring sightlessly in the rain— ‘He told me to come here, and to show this to you. He said it belonged to my mother.’
His eyes met those of the Steward captain. The look on her face was one of shock, with a flicker of fear. ‘We must take him to the Elder Steward.’ Her words echoed Justice’s, but she said it as an order to the others.
The other Stewards looked stunned, sharing glances that were openly disturbed. Cyprian gave their feelings voice.
‘You can’t mean to take him inside the walls,’ said Cyprian. ‘Captain, no one not of Steward blood has ever stepped into our Hall.’
‘Then he will be the first,’ said the Steward captain.
‘And if it’s a ruse? What better way to get inside our walls than to play a victim evading capture? Our most sacred oath is to protect—’
‘Enough,’ said the Steward captain. ‘I have made my decision. What will be done with the boy now is not for you but for the Elder Steward to decide.’
Cyprian shut up at that.
‘Bind him,’ said the Steward captain, wheeling her horse. ‘And take him into the Hall.’
CHAPTER NINE
WILL TRIED TO get her to listen. ‘Justice is still out there.’ The Remnants galloping behind him, the outstretched gauntlet reaching for him— ‘There’s a girl with him – both of them are in danger – those things that were chasing us—’ Black rot spreading across the leaves of a vine—‘I saw a vine wither when they touched it—’
‘Justice knows his duty,’ was all the Steward captain said, ignoring him as Cyprian stepped forward. ‘Tie his wrists, novitiate,’ said the Steward captain.
Will had to force himself not to jerk back as Cyprian lashed his wrists together in front of him. His horse had no saddle to bind him to. Instead, Cyprian tied his ankles together by a length of rope that passed under his horse’s belly, so that if he slid off he would be dragged. Will gripped his horse’s mane awkwardly, his lashed wrists making it hard to move his hands. His black gelding was roped to the white horses of the others, and they set off in a procession of twos, six Stewards ahead of him and six behind.
Being restrained made Will’s heart pound in his mouth, a fine sweat breaking out over his skin. If they were attacked, he couldn’t run. If they were surrounded, he couldn’t fight. He clutched his horse’s mane with every instinct at screaming alert, the marsh stretching out, a shadowy, alien landscape, the pairs of Stewards like strange glimmers in the dark.
The captain rode ahead, her expression forbidding. Leda, the others had called her. The discipline in her bearing reminded him of Justice and was echoed by the others in the procession. But she lacked Justice’s warmth, her eyes impassive on the marsh ahead.
Cyprian was too perfect, riding straight-backed in garments that seemed to repel the mud of the marsh. He was one of two Stewards who were younger than the others – Will’s age – and he and the girl were dressed differently too. Their surcoats were silvery grey instead of white, and their armour was simpler, like that of a Steward in training. Novitiate, the captain had called him.
Will’s tension rose as they rode through the night. His mother’s old servant Matthew had told him to come here, but what if Matthew had been wrong? What did he really know about these knights who rode white horses and called themselves Stewards? Will wanted to believe that he was riding towards answers, but he felt as if were travelling to a strange, unknown country, leaving everything he knew behind.
As they rode in a long column, Will could hear all the night sounds of the marsh, the rhythmic creak of frogs, the soft, distant splashes of small creatures, and the wind over the grassy water, its gusting sound like the roll of ocean waves. The occasional calls of ‘All clear!’ and ‘Ride on!’ rang out from the Steward captain at the head of the column.