Mark Chadbourn - The Silver Skull

She smiled tightly. "And there is no benefit in this for England?"

"I have spoken truly."

"I am sure that is correct ... of the words you have spoken. But there are many more unspoken, are there not? I know the ways of spies. Yes, I see that is what you are. I lived with my brother long enough to understand that the spaces between words are more important than the things that are said." Her voice hardened and her eyes flashed. "I understand the deceit that is set in the very fibre of your nature, and the lies you tell yourselves to do your job. I could not trust my brother. I will not trust you, even with your gentle talk of love and yearning hearts." She stared deep into his face and added, "However true that may be."

"Sister-"

"No, leave here now and this matter will be forgotten. But if you persist I will raise the authorities on you, and you will pay the price faced by all English spies found on Spanish soil." Turning without waiting for an answer, she walked back through the trees towards the convent.

For one moment, Will wondered if he should force her to speak. A part of him would do anything to get the answers he needed to save Grace; another part knew that he killed himself a little more with every step he took down that road. Finally, he relented. "Sister, I go now to the cathedral," he called after her. "If you change your mind, you will find me there."

She didn't look back.

Had he given up his best chance to understand the plans of Don Alanzo and the Enemy? Conflicted, he climbed back over the wall.

Most of Cadiz was infused with the bitter smell of burned debris. In every face, Will could only see the ravages of the plague; every woman reminded him of Grace and what she might be suffering. He was consumed by a desperate sense of time running through his fingers like sand.

Launceston, Mayhew, and Carpenter waited in the shade of a large, old tree in the centre of the plaza. In the smart but hard-wearing clothes de Groot had given them, they looked like merchants debating a deal before the start of the day's business.

"There is nothing for us here," Will said.

Launceston read Will's expression. "She did not talk. Then we should take her and offer her some encouragement."

"Torture a nun. Very good," Will replied. "Shall we then burn down the convent? Just to teach them a lesson?"

Launceston was unmoved. With a slight shrug, he replied, "She is Spanish."

"You inhabit a simple and soothing world. I am faintly jealous." Will surreptitiously eyed the first few townsfolk of the day to wander across the plaza, a couple of merchants, he guessed, a woman off to the market to buy food for one of the large houses. "We should not stay in the open too long. The cathedral and then to Seville."

"Why waste time at the cathedral?" Mayhew sounded drunk. Will had noticed he increasingly appeared inebriated and wondered if the corrosive despair of the Unseelie Court was finally seeping into him. That could make him a liability in the middle of Enemy territory.

"A man like Don Alanzo would not break his mission to visit the cathedral unless it was on an important matter. I do not see him as someone who is ruled by his religion."

"Show me a devout spy and I will show you a man about to slit a priest's throat." Carpenter's laugh had no humour.

"Where does that damned Spaniard plan to take the Silver Skull?" Mayhew continued morosely. "What does the Enemy have planned? And why are the Spanish-?" Catching himself, he flailed erratically.

Carpenter clutched his arm roughly and hissed, "Contain yourself."

"We should turn back," Mayhew said. "What can we accomplish here, apart from our own deaths? Even if we find the answer to those questions, we will never get near to the Silver Skull. All is lost here. We must find other tactics-

Carpenter drew his knife and kept it hidden in the folds of his shirt, but he pressed the tip against Mayhew's chest. "Your weakness endangers us all. Any more and I will be done with you."

"Leave him," Will interjected. "He needs some time to recover from the strain of travelling. Take him back to de Groot's house. I will go to the cathedral alone, and meet you back there. But keep him away from the wine."

Mayhew appeared devastated by Will's intervention, but he left between Launceston and Carpenter without another word, shoulders slumped in a pale reflection of the arrogant man who had survived the Unseelie Court's assault on the Tower. Will was frustrated that he had not noticed the decline earlier.

As he passed through the town, his unease at being alone in enemy territory was emphasised by the unfamiliar surroundings, the North African influence in the architecture from the days of the Moorish occupiers, the scents of exotic spices and unfamiliar blooms. The town had prospered from the riches brought back from the New World. After the panic of the Tempest's attack, the now-bustling market was filled with loud haggling over fish and vegetables. Beautiful women enjoyed the appreciative gazes of the traders while pretending not to notice the stir they created in their wake. Aromatic smoke drifted from the street-side food-sellers heating their charcoal to cook the seafood brought up fresh from the harbour.

Skirting the edge of the market, Will kept to quiet, shaded streets until he found the Plaza de la Catedral where the medieval cathedral looked over both the town and the sea. Painted white, it shone so brightly in the early morning sun that Will had to shield his eyes. At that hour, the large wooden doors were bolted and the cathedral was still, the plaza before it deserted.

Conscious of drawing attention to himself, Will retreated to the winding alleys that made the town feel like a mass of rat-runs. They were much cleaner than the streets of his home, and sweeter smelling. He had not gone far into the maze when footsteps echoed behind him, soon joined by two or three other pairs of feet. In the quiet around the cathedral, the sudden activity jarred.

Will ducked into a branching alley. One pair of footsteps followed. Now he could hear more feet drawing nearer ahead of him too. At the junction with the next alley, he peered around the corner. Two soldiers, swords drawn, searched every doorway and open window.

Doubling back, Will darted up another alley, only to find more foot soldiers coming towards him. A net had been cast and was drawing tighter.

He had been betrayed. Sister Adelita must have gone straight to the authorities and informed them he was on his way to the cathedral. He had looked in her eyes and convinced himself he could trust her, but it had been a stupid, naive mistake that might well cost him his life, and England its survival. Nathaniel had always told him he allowed women to make a fool of him.

The search party drew closer on every side, methodically closing off his escape routes. Will tested the handles of the nearest doors, but they were all locked.

He drew his sword, but knew that in a fight he would be overpowered within moments. As he searched for some route he may have missed, a figure stepped out before him.

He thrust his sword instinctively. When he saw it was Sister Adelita, he halted the blade a fraction of an inch from her throat. She swallowed when she realised how close to death she was. "If you wish to keep your freedom, you must follow me," she said.

"So you can betray me again?"

"If I had betrayed you once, I would not be here." Her eyes flashed.

Accepting the logic of her statement, he nodded and sheathed his sword. "Lead on."

Sister Adelita led him back down the alley towards the sound of approaching feet. Will briefly wondered once more if he was mistaken to trust her, but then she opened a rickety wooden door that led into a small, well-kept courtyard where herbs grew in stone troughs surrounded by alabaster statues. On the steps to the kitchen, a suntanned old man flashed Sister Adelita a toothless smile as she passed.