‘What is the matter with you? Do want to live under the thumb of that horrible woman for the rest of eternity? How can you stand to be shut up like this? You are like a doll in a box. Wouldn’t you rather die free than live caged?’
Famke hung her head. ‘I’m sorry, Ulrika. I am a coward.’
Ulrika groaned, and considered slinging the girl over her shoulder and carrying her over the wall by force, but just then the veranda door opened and Lady Hermione stepped out, two of her gentlemen at her back. Famke squeaked.
‘What goes on here?’ asked Hermione coldly as she stepped down to the lawn.
Ulrika fought down the instinct to attack, and bowed instead. ‘For-forgive me, Lady Hermione. I heard Mistress Famke playing while I was walking, and thought I would pay my respects.’
‘I see,’ said Hermione, swishing forwards through the grass as her men spread out behind her. ‘A social call, over the garden wall.’
‘Ah, yes, mistress,’ said Ulrika. ‘I-I know I should have presented myself at the front door, but I thought I would surprise–’
‘So you were only being social,’ said Hermione, cutting her off, ‘when you asked my darling Famke if she would rather die free than live caged?’
CHAPTER FOUR
THE WALLS OF NULN
Ulrika stepped back, keeping her hand away from the hilt of her rapier with difficulty. Famke shrank back too.
‘I–I’m afraid you misheard me, mistress,’ said Ulrika.
‘Did I?’ asked Hermione. ‘Then what did you say?’
Ulrika opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She cursed herself. Had she been the countess, the lies would have flowed like wine. Gabriella was never at a loss for words, but Ulrika had not been trained in parlour fencing. She shot a look at Famke, but the girl seemed paralysed with fear.
‘I… don’t remember,’ she said at last.
Hermione shot her a withering look. ‘If you are going to come wooing my ward for Gabriella, you really should be better prepared.’ She held out her hand as more men filed out of the house behind her. ‘Surrender your sword. You will be held here until the countess can be sent for.’
Ulrika took another step back and felt the bushes pressing into her back. The garden wall was close.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I–’
With a sudden spring, she shoved Famke into Hermione, then turned and bolted through the shrubbery.
Hermione shrieked in anger, then started chanting an ear-blistering incantation while her gentlemen bellowed and plunged into the bushes. Ulrika didn’t look back. It would only slow her. A tree before her offered a low branch. She leapt up and kicked from trunk to branch to the top of the wall like a cat, but the air above the wall rippled and thickened as Hermione’s incantation neared its conclusion. It dragged at Ulrika as she struck it, holding her in mid-air and slowing her like a fly caught in honey. The gentlemen burst from the bushes and leapt and flailed below her, trying to catch her ankles.
Ulrika fought against the thickened air, pushing through it with her arms and pushing it away with her mind. Let me go! she screamed to herself. Let me be free!
Suddenly she was free, and crashed down ungracefully to the cobbled alley, landing hard on knees and elbows. She scrambled up and ran as the voices of Hermione’s gentlemen roared from behind the wall.
‘Lower the wards, mistress!’
‘She’s escaped!’
‘Fetch lamps, someone!’
‘Goodbye, Famke!’ Ulrika shouted over her shoulder, then turned left at the end of the alley and sprinted away, twisting and turning through the deserted streets without thought for where she was going. She heard no sounds of pursuit, but that was no guarantee. She had no idea of the extent of Hermione’s powers. For all she knew, the lady could fly, though it seemed likely she would be too concerned with appearances to go flitting over Nuln in her fancy dresses. That was not the Lahmian way.
No, Ulrika thought with a tremor. The Lahmian way was to
Famke hung her head. ‘I’m sorry, Ulrika. I am a coward.’
Ulrika groaned, and considered slinging the girl over her shoulder and carrying her over the wall by force, but just then the veranda door opened and Lady Hermione stepped out, two of her gentlemen at her back. Famke squeaked.
‘What goes on here?’ asked Hermione coldly as she stepped down to the lawn.
Ulrika fought down the instinct to attack, and bowed instead. ‘For-forgive me, Lady Hermione. I heard Mistress Famke playing while I was walking, and thought I would pay my respects.’
‘I see,’ said Hermione, swishing forwards through the grass as her men spread out behind her. ‘A social call, over the garden wall.’
‘Ah, yes, mistress,’ said Ulrika. ‘I-I know I should have presented myself at the front door, but I thought I would surprise–’
‘So you were only being social,’ said Hermione, cutting her off, ‘when you asked my darling Famke if she would rather die free than live caged?’
CHAPTER FOUR
THE WALLS OF NULN
Ulrika stepped back, keeping her hand away from the hilt of her rapier with difficulty. Famke shrank back too.
‘I–I’m afraid you misheard me, mistress,’ said Ulrika.
‘Did I?’ asked Hermione. ‘Then what did you say?’
Ulrika opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She cursed herself. Had she been the countess, the lies would have flowed like wine. Gabriella was never at a loss for words, but Ulrika had not been trained in parlour fencing. She shot a look at Famke, but the girl seemed paralysed with fear.
‘I… don’t remember,’ she said at last.
Hermione shot her a withering look. ‘If you are going to come wooing my ward for Gabriella, you really should be better prepared.’ She held out her hand as more men filed out of the house behind her. ‘Surrender your sword. You will be held here until the countess can be sent for.’
Ulrika took another step back and felt the bushes pressing into her back. The garden wall was close.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I–’
With a sudden spring, she shoved Famke into Hermione, then turned and bolted through the shrubbery.
Hermione shrieked in anger, then started chanting an ear-blistering incantation while her gentlemen bellowed and plunged into the bushes. Ulrika didn’t look back. It would only slow her. A tree before her offered a low branch. She leapt up and kicked from trunk to branch to the top of the wall like a cat, but the air above the wall rippled and thickened as Hermione’s incantation neared its conclusion. It dragged at Ulrika as she struck it, holding her in mid-air and slowing her like a fly caught in honey. The gentlemen burst from the bushes and leapt and flailed below her, trying to catch her ankles.
Ulrika fought against the thickened air, pushing through it with her arms and pushing it away with her mind. Let me go! she screamed to herself. Let me be free!
Suddenly she was free, and crashed down ungracefully to the cobbled alley, landing hard on knees and elbows. She scrambled up and ran as the voices of Hermione’s gentlemen roared from behind the wall.
‘Lower the wards, mistress!’
‘She’s escaped!’
‘Fetch lamps, someone!’
‘Goodbye, Famke!’ Ulrika shouted over her shoulder, then turned left at the end of the alley and sprinted away, twisting and turning through the deserted streets without thought for where she was going. She heard no sounds of pursuit, but that was no guarantee. She had no idea of the extent of Hermione’s powers. For all she knew, the lady could fly, though it seemed likely she would be too concerned with appearances to go flitting over Nuln in her fancy dresses. That was not the Lahmian way.
No, Ulrika thought with a tremor. The Lahmian way was to
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