Cymru - Chapter 28

AWEN

When Awen woke up the rest of the Wing was there. Her head had been put onto someone's lap, Caradog's by the feel and smell of it, and his hand was resting on her ribs. Someone else's fingers were moving gently through her hair, a movement that was supremely relaxing; mentally, Awen bet herself that it would be Eluned. They were all talking in soft voices, apparently scattered about the room.

"Do that again and I'll break your fingers," Tanwen was saying companionably from the direction of the gwyddbwyll board. Awen smiled to herself.

"Worth a shot," Meurig said diffidently. "It works against Caradog."

"That's because Caradog doesn't have any finesse or understanding of this game," Tanwen said, and beneath her cheek Awen felt the rumble of Caradog's suppressed laugh.

"No," he agreed merrily. "I don't. Last time I played I won by sweeping the pieces to the floor and punching Owain in the face."

"Good for you," Eluned said quietly from above Awen's head as Meurig and Cei both started cheering before being shushed by the others.

"I think we should spend a pleasant five minutes remembering all the times Owain got hurt," Llio said thoughtfully from the corner. "I'll go first: Caradog stamping on his feet in order to get served first in that tavern."

"That arrow wound that got infected!"

"Lady Marged told me his fringe looked like two slugs."

"Ha!"

"Caradog replacing his boots with a size too small. Laughed for a week, I did."

"I'm sure Adara used to set Gwenhwyfar on him deliberately. She always denied it, but..."

"He got kicked in the shin by a cow two weeks ago."

"Clever cow."

"That's what I thought."

"Remember when Caradog pushed him in the river in Cwmbrân?"
"That time Llyr shut his fingers in his stable door."

"Unintentionally! Although in retrospect deeply satisfying. He made me oil his harness for that."

"Remember when Awen told him he thought maturity was a word that only applied to cheese?"

"I remember that!"

"You weren't supposed to be listening to that," Awen murmured placidly, eyes still closed, and suddenly she had the sensation of eight people drawing near without actually touching her.

"We're rebels," Caradog said, his grin audible. "And nothing has ever been more worth it. Although we all had fractured ribs from trying not to laugh."

"Anyway, you must have known but weren't angry then, so you can't be angry now," Llyr said, pushing her hips aside and sitting next to her. He stroked a hand gently but firmly up her arm to her chin, tipping her head up slightly to see the wound on her throat. "And it was Caradog's idea."

"Of course it was," Awen said to Llio's snigger. She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Although, I didn't know about him making you oil his harness. When was that?"

"Last Half," Llyr shrugged. "But he'd had a bad day, since Caradog had stamped on his feet and Adara had set Gwenhwyfar on him."

Awen looked up at Caradog, who was grinning unabashedly.

"He's a turd, you can't be angry," he said. "And Llio used to give me beer for it, so really it's her fault when you think about it."

"I can't believe you just told on me," Llio said, shaking her head, and Awen glanced at the wall of faces lining the sofa, amused.

"I already knew," she said. "Just as I know that Adara would occasionally rub the blood from Gwenhwyfar's meat on Owain's uniforms - yes, it was deliberate. I'm your Wingleader. And yes, Cei, I do happen to know about the rosehips in his sheets, and I know where that book really came from, Llio, and Meurig and Eluned? Seriously. Talk to each other. You both want more."

"It was only the once," Cei muttered, almost drowned out by the sudden cacophany of 'Owned, guys!' and general laughter and slightly awkward looks between Meurig and Eluned filling the lolfa. Awen shook her head.

"Don't even try that," she said, sitting up and stretching. "I also know about the rest. Right. How went Sovereigning, Llyr?"

"Fine," he smiled. "I brought back the papers for you to see, and Lady Erys was sad not to see you after you played such a wonderful piece on the harp last year. Oh, and Lady Marged gave me a scarf for you."

"How very kind of her," Awen nodded. "What are you not asking me, Llyr?"

"Adara came in briefly, although she's gone to bed," he said, giving her one of his patented Worried Looks. "She said there's something big and political going on with Lord Flyn."

Bloody Adara, Awen thought, and pulled a face for Llyr's benefit.

"Yeah," she said heavily, running a hand through her hair. "Superb timing too, isn't it? It's mostly under control though."

"Cool," Caradog said happily. "Can you tell us gory details?"

"Not until after the Archwiliad, I shouldn't think," Awen yawned. "And we'll fly up tomorrow, probably -"

"Right," Tanwen broke in, yanking Llyr out of his seat and nimbly stealing it. Admirably, he barely twitched. "More importantly, what do we know about Owain now? What have you found?"

"No one," Awen said calmly, snapping into Giving Orders Mode as easily as breathing, "is to open his wardrobe. Understood?"

They all nodded silently.

"Good," she said, hesitating, and then went for broke. "He has a mirror in there."

The reaction was explosive. It was a fighting Wing, and they lived off each others' emotions. It would only have taken one of them getting angry to put the others on edge, but all of them together magnified the problem. Suddenly everyone was on their feet, talking at once, body language shifting into the aggressive; Meurig was gripping his hair fiercely with one hand, Eluned's shoulder with the other, who had one hand wrapped firmly around the hilt of a dagger; Tanwen was standing but frozen, staring at Awen; Llyr and Llio had both taken several steps towards the sleeping quarters before stopping themselves, Llio's eyes still trained on the door; Cei had actually turned away to the fireplace and was facing the wall, head bowed and knuckles white, gripping the mantlepiece; and Caradog's enormous frame had hunched over her, his broad shoulders rippling with tension and filling Awen's vision, fingers digging into her ribs. Awen forced herself to stay still and relaxed.

"A mirror?" Caradog all but roared. "That fucking-"

"How? How did he manage that?" Llio whirled around, pacing back and forth. "How did he get it in -?"

"If it was covered we could have thought it was anything," Llyr said, distractedly. "A new door, he could have said. Anything."

"And he was looking in it?" Eluned asked, voice tight. "How long? How long has it been there?"

"I'm going to rip off his scrotum," Caradog snarled. "And nail it to his fucking face."

"Sit down," Awen ordered calmly.

It was like she'd said magic words or something. Everyone fell silent and made themselves sit again, clearly with an effort. Caradog wrapped one enormous arm around her ribs and hauled her upright onto his lap.

"How do you know about this?" he growled. "You didn't see yourself, did you?"

"No," she assured him, and there was a collective mood of relief in the room. "Only my knees, with whom I'm fairly well-aquainted."

"But why have one?" Llyr asked quietly. He was staring at the ceiling intently, one arm wrapped around himself, the other holding his beads. "Why would he feel the need to do that? Is it... symbolic? Did he decide he didn't want to be a Rider anymore and so got a mirror as part of it?"

"Good gods," Llio muttered as Tanwen shivered. "How could he do that?"

Awen stared at Llyr.

"Actually," she said carefully, "this is a very good point."

Why did he have a mirror? Why the mirror? With Breguswid's information Awen was now thinking that Owain had simply bought into Flyn's probable excuse of his actions being for the good of Cymru. But in that case, surely he felt he was still a Rider? Surely he felt much as Awen did as an Intelligencer, in fact? The rules super applied. But he had a mirror. It didn't fit.

You know what I don't understand? If he was using a mirror, and looking at himself, and knew what his face looked like, why was he still arrogant?

It had just been funny at the time, but Adara was actually right, to a point. Owain couldn't have enjoyed looking at himself. Why get a special mirror, just for you, when you looked like a gargoyle's disfigured inbred dwarf brother? Surely you wouldn't want one then? Unless the point was... freedom, the thrill of breaking a concrete law laid down for you all your life...

I can’t tell you. Not yet. Please, Awen? This is really important. You have to trust me.

"I think he still thinks... he's being a Rider," Awen said, her thoughts rushing ahead. She was on the edge; there was something important here, something she nearly had, something... "I think he thinks he's doing something important -"

"He cut your throat," Caradog snarled, tightening his hold on her, but Llyr looked thoughtfully at the door to the bedrooms.

"Then it's not there for him," he said. "It's -"

"There for us," Awen said. The facts spiralled in. "There's something in there -"

She leapt off the sofa, or tried to. Caradog's arms proved a momentary barrier as he reacted rather more slowly to the situation and letting go of her, which gave Llyr time to get to his feet. Awen grabbed the poker from beside the fire.

"No one go in there," she commanded quickly, halting Meurig at the door who seemed even more intent on getting there ahead of her than Llyr. Everyone was on their feet again. She recognised the problem. They were all getting over-protective of her. "That includes Adara, should she decide to wake up in the next five minutes and follow me in, understood? Llyr, with me."

"This - Leader," Llio said, hugging herself nervously. "I think we should get someone else to do it. Someone who isn't a Rider."

"I agree." Meurig had a hand on the doorknob still, not moving as Awen approached. "This isn't safe. You found it and didn't see yourself once, but that's already lucky, what -?"

"I am not having a non-Rider walking into that room to find a mirror," Awen said sharply. "For several reasons. And I know where it is and what I'm doing. I'm not risking any of you. Move, Meurig."

He did, clearly reluctant, and Awen squeezed his shoulder briefly in passing before pushing through to the corridor to allay any more protests. Llyr followed her, carefully closing the door behind himself to keep the others in the lolfa. He stayed quiet until they were safely inside Owain's room, door firmly shut.

"Are you sure?" Llyr asked, voice low. "We may be wrong, you know."

Awen glanced at his long face, the faint concern obvious.

"Do you think we are?" she asked, and he gave a wry smile.

"No," he said. "I don't. And nor do you, and you're wrong about things so rarely that I've learned to just run with you. I just felt I ought to give final voice to the feelings of the Wing."

"Like a good Deputy," Awen grinned as he rolled his eyes. "Want the job?"

"Next raid? We die," Llyr told her, moving over to the wardrobe. "Seriously. My battle plans can be summed up by the word 'charge'."

"Maybe we can have two." Awen ran a hand along the lip of the blanket poking out of the closed wardrobe door at the top, checking to see how stable it was. "Caradog can take over for thumping people. Hold this blanket, it's covering the mirror. Don't let it fall when the door opens."

"Got it," Llyr said, grasping the wool with excessive firmness. It was strange how a man Awen had watched decapitating people without a flicker of emotion was looking nervous at the prospect of a polished sheet of glass. Carefully, she twisted the latch and opened the door.

The blanket held, hiding the mirror completely. Awen exchanged a glance with Llyr, who was watching her steadily.

"I think behind the mirror," she said, and he sighed.

"Yeah," he said. "So do I. How do you want to do it? Satisfying as just breaking it would be, the shards will still be reflective."

"I know." Very carefully, Awen moved the blanket right to the edge of the mirror, running her fingernails between the glass and the wood. "But - yes, I thought so. It's been screwed on, not glued."

Llyr looked blank. "So?"

"Anything behind it must be thin, paper probably. And the glass isn't completely flush to the wood, so he could just slide it behind; but in that case -"

"The base of it must be plugged," Llyr nodded. "To stop it falling out."

Awen ran her fingers along the base of the mirror.

"Wax," she nodded. "I can get that off. And then if nothing falls out I'll have a go at the screws with your dagger, and then if that doesn't work I'll just chuck the poker at it and risk the glass with my eyes closed."

"You have the best plans," Llyr told her, unimpressed. Awen shrugged as the wax crumbled over her fingers.

"It's the third option, not the first," she said. "Actually, hand me your dagger now. Quicker at destroying wax."

"You should get dressed," Llyr the Mother Hen said. "Then you'd have your own."

"Shut up."

"Leader."

The wax simply fell off when the dagger came into play, and Awen carefully pushed the blade flat behind the unseen glass and angled it slightly outwards -

Llyr gave a satisfied laugh as the folded sheets of paper fell out and Awen grinned.

"Idiot," he said as she unfolded the first paper. "Always did think he was cleverer than he was. What are they?"

Awen was silent for a moment, staring at the papers in front of her, her mind racing.

"You know this... political thing I need to handle at the moment?" she said eventually, her voice quiet. Llyr nodded, the concern back.

"Yeah," he said. "It's linked with that?"

"Very much so." Awen looked at the signatures, the seals. "Very much so. I'm so sorry."

"You can't tell us yet," Llyr said steadily. "It's okay, Leader. We understand. But."

She looked up and met his intense grey gaze.

"You tell Adara," he said, and the world suddenly seemed to shift into the surreal as Awen found herself on the receiving end of an order from one of her own Riders for the first time in her life. "She already knows about the rest, or a lot of it at least. And you can't handle all of this completely alone, Awen. I won't let you. Tell her."

There was a pause, in which Awen stared rather more than she normally did at Llyr.

"Okay," she said at last. "I'll tell her what I can, anyway. Is that okay?"

"Yeah." He gave her a small smile. "I'll accept that. Sorry."

"You're forgiven." Awen looked down, gathering the papers into a pile, and realised suddenly that the lump in her throat was back. It was bizarre. "And now; I need to get dressed, and track someone down."

And, she thought as she glanced at the papers, get into Flyn's personal quarters. Specifically his bedroom and the safe he kept hidden in there, but that wasn't going to be easy. Flyn was a man who knew when to start covering his tracks, and he knew that Owain was now a weak link for him; there would probably be so many guards and clerks and such about there she'd have to crowd surf her way to the door. And getting Alis out was very much the priority.

Her intention was to be that quick about it, too, but the Wing had other plans. She'd thrown on the first clothes she found, the same uniform she'd been wearing for the latter half of yesterday for speed's sake, and was halfway across the lolfa before Cei stopped her, neatly inserting his stocky frame between her and the door with Eluned beside him.

"Whoa," he said, putting out a hand that held her shoulder firmly. "Hang on. You can't go out like that."

Awen glanced at his and Eluned's worried faces, expressions reflected in everyone else, and swore mentally. She recognised this problem too; Rider status anxiety. And there was no point fighting this one.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, which was unexpectedly easy until she remembered she'd taken the braids out last night.

"All right," Awen said. "But this has to be quick, I'm in a hurry. We don't have six hours for you to cover my head in plaits."

"That's fine." Eluned's quiet voice was bright and warm. "You need to get changed first, you can't wear that. Come on."

They went back to her room where Eluned and Cei very carefully selected a new uniform out of the wardrobe and helped her to put it on, which at least sped up the process, and then Awen was marched back out to the lolfa where Meurig and Llyr had already gathered the Combs of Seven Hours of Boredom and a selection of hair ties, and Llio was fetching down the make-up box.

"Seriously," Awen said warily, eyeing the box and combs. "I don't have much time."

"It's fine." Eluned pushed her into a low-backed chair and drew her hair almost lovingly back. "We'll just brush it and put in two plaits, to keep it out of your face."

"If you'd let me cut it off this wouldn't be necessary," Awen said hopelessly, and Cei scowled at her as he picked up a Comb and handed another to Eluned.

"You're not cutting it off, Leader," he said firmly. "And anyway, it would be necessary. Llio's hair only reaches her chin, and we still take time on her."

"Am I as ugly as Owain?" Llio asked as she pulled up her own chair in front of Awen and opened the box. There was a collective pause.

"No," Awen said finally. "Absolutely not. Er... why?"

"Excellent." Llio grinned as she pulled out a small pot of foundation and lifted the lid; the combined, subtle scents of fat and ochre and beeswax filled the room. "Because, you see, he was really ugly, but we're all avoiding talking about it because we're all thinking that we might be, too. Except Adara, who has no compunctions. But I know none of you are, and now I know I'm not, so now we can all discuss it."

"Genius!" Caradog said gleefully. "Gods, that fringe, eh?"

"Lady Marged told me it looked like two slugs."

"His beads always looked stapled on," Meurig said thoughtfully. "That was weird."

"I didn't like the relationship between his nose and mouth," Awen said, closing her eyes as Llio's fingers worked a tiny amount of the foundation into her skin. She liked having her make up done by Llio. The girl had a genuine talent for leaving people looking completely natural. "Too long and too wide. And his nose was weird anyway."

"Sort of flat," Tanwen said. "And he was awful in bed."

There was a pause.

"I really didn't think you were going to admit to that," Awen grinned. "Llio, don't stop. I need to go, remember?"

"You had sex with Owain?" Caradog said, staring at Tanwen. "What - why? Why?"

"Adara dared me to," Tanwen grinned. "Well-endowed, but didn't have a clue how to use it."

"You actually had sex with Owain for a dare?" Caradog asked, and there was awe in his voice. "Tanwen! You've turned up."

"So has Adara," Llio grinned, putting the lid back on the foundation pot and rummaging in the box for her next implement. "I'm never playing Truth or Dare with you two. You don't fight fair."

"I want details," Caradog said, his eyes slightly glazed. "I need details."

"I'm not giving them," Tanwen sniffed. "It was unremarkable, that's all."

"And all about him?" Awen asked as Llio pulled out the next pot of beeswax, pigmented brown with ochre and charcoal. Tanwen grinned as Caradog looked at her in horror.

"Oh gods, don't tell me you -"

"No," Awen laughed. "Just good at guessing."

"Look at my chin," Llio murmured, her finger carefully brushing across Awen's eyelashes. Behind her, Eluned and Cei finished with the Combs and Meurig got up to help with the plaiting.

"Anyway," Tanwen said silkily. "I'm not the only person in this Wing to have done so."

"What? Who?" Caradog sat bolt upright on the sofa. "Was it Llyr? Tell me it was Llyr!"

"You know I did," Llyr said, rolling his eyes. "But when we were fifteen, it hardly counts."

"Someone else," Tanwen said gleefully. Caradog ran his fingers through his beard.

"It couldn't be Adara," he said. "She'd have bitten him. It's not Awen. It's not Llyr, and you've already admitted it. It's definitely not me. Cei? Confess!"

"Once or twice," Cei said awkwardly, and Caradog almost crowed with laughter. Llio very carefully started smudging a finger along Awen's lower lash-line. "Shut up. I thought it might help him fit in with the Wing a bit better."

"But he just saw it as a chance to be all dominant?" Awen asked. Llio pulled out the next pot.

"Yeah," Cei said. "Did you know, Leader?"

"Yes," Awen said. Meurig snorted.

"Do you know everything we do, Leader?" he said grinning as Llio's fingers ghosted over her cheekbones. "Don't answer that. Clearly you do."

"Didn't know about Owain, though," Awen said quietly. Caradog growled.

"You shouldn't have had to," he said darkly.

No, Awen thought. But I should have anyway.

*********

The top half of her hair had been woven back into a pair of Gaulish plaits by the time Eluned was done, the rest left loose; mercifully, it only took an extra ten minutes or so for everyone to be happy with the results and then Awen was allowed to leave, freshly groomed and turned out and apparently not looking as though she'd barely slept in three days. Certainly no one gave her an alarmed look as she passed them in the corridors, so she couldn't have looked like some sort of freakish horror show, and that was all she really asked for. Anything else was a bonus.

It was going to be another busy day, Awen reflected gloomily. She needed to find Alis, and see what she could do there; she needed to look over the reports from all of the Sovereigns she'd missed; she needed to report on them all to Lord Flyn; and now she needed to report to the Union again. And she needed to think. Because suddenly, something was very subtly shifted in the situation, and she needed to work out what.

But first, she went to see Ioan. She found him having a late breakfast in the back kitchens where a lot of Riders liked eating, sitting with an easy comfort at the long, scrubbed wooden table and benches, chatting happily to the cooks around him while he ate the laverbread with his fingers. He grinned and Saluted lazily as she approached, nudging the bench opposite with his foot in invitation. Awen took it.

"Morning," she said, deftly snagging a slice of bacon from his plate. "Nice to see you're hard at work."

"You wound me, Leader!" Ioan chuckled. "I'm hard at work keeping Mari here company, who is new. Mari? This terrifying yet attractive vision in leather is Alpha Wingleader Awen."

"Rider," Mari smiled nervously. She was young, maybe eighteen, with frizzy red hair and freckles across her nose. Currently, it seemed she was manning the bacon stone. "It's an honour."

"Likewise," Awen smiled warmly, nibbling the bacon. It was well-cooked. "When did you join?"

"Day before yesterday, Rider," she said. "Do you want some breakfast? I'm doing the bacon anyway, I can easily throw some together."

"Say yes," Ioan advised, liking a thumb clean. "The laverbread is divine. Mari's a cook with a future."

"Well, then, how can I refuse?" Awen said amiably. "And I've not eaten yet, so it's probably a good idea."

Mari beamed.

"Rider," she said happily, and bustled off towards a table across the room from them, grabbing a brass scuttle to get the oats from their enormous jar. Ioan watched her go, smiling slightly, and turned back to Awen.

"She has four younger siblings and is here to suppliment her mam's income," he said, breaking one of the laverbreads in half and handing it across. "Father died two years ago. Saxon."

"On the subject of Saxons, find me later," Awen said. "I have possibly the most astonishing tale of them you'll ever hear."

"I look forward to it," Ioan said casually, although Awen could hear the note of transfixed interest. "Any news on the Owain front?"

"Possibly," Awen nodded as Mari wandered past them to fetch a cup of flour. "Is Lord Flyn safe?"

"Very much so," Ioan nodded. "I've arranged a rota of people to be with him at all times, all carefully chosen so that no one Wing is down by more than one Rider." All Intelligencers, in other words. "No one is getting to him who shouldn't."

"Excellent," Awen grinned. The laverbread was good too. She approved of Mari. "Oh, and did you send that letter for me?"

"Yeah. Well," Ioan said indifferently, stretching, "Heledd did, I delegated to get the bodyguard rota sorted. But she did, no problems."

"Cheers for that." Awen thanked every god she had mentally. Now as long as Iona could somehow pull through her horrific injuries... "And sorry for asking. I'd have done it myself if it hadn't been for Owain."

"Nah, you're alright." Ioan broke another laverbread in half as Mari wandered back to the bakestone with a fresh batch and laid them down to cook among the bacon fat. "I got to feel useful. Do you need anything else?"

"A less stressful life," Awen said dreamily. "I'd love one of those. Do you reckon the Union would demote me in I asked nicely?"

"No," Ioan said. "Which I for one am glad of, since then I'd have to do your job, and you aren't selling it to me."

"Good point," Awen nodded. "It's great really, honestly. It's all just running around with a big comically-sized mallet and hitting people on the head who do naughty things. You'll love it. Anyway; I need to give the final report to Lord Flyn. What's his timetable like today?"

"He's in the courts until three, so you'll have to wait until then," Ioan said neutrally. "Four hours, that gives you. Although if I know you you'll be busy enough to fill that time."

"And then some," Awen nodded as the plate of laverbread and bacon finally landed on the table in front of her, and she smiled at Mari. "But there's always time for breakfast."

***********

She only took ten minutes for breakfast and then went straight to the dungeons, but even so her four hours were nearly up by the time Awen finally found Alis Morgannwg. She was in a room at the end of one of the side passages that consisted of four bare plaster walls and a straw-and-sacking mattress on the floor, with only one tiny window high in the back wall to let in light. The guards had been stationed right back at the start of the passage, and without even checking Awen knew the walls would be soundproofed. Alis was being kept in isolation. It made her more likely to bond to Flyn when he came to rape her. She bypassed the guards and went straight to the cell.

Fortunately, Awen had met Alis' mother, and had learned what to expect from the Morgannwg women. She opened the door and dodged as the elbow jabbed viciously into the place her nose had been, slipping nimbly into the room and slamming the door closed again behind her before Alis could run, and then turned to face her -

"Traitorous bitch!" Alis hissed, striking out again. Awen ducked and sprang back, adrenaline flooding her system in a welcome rush like an old friend, her hands raised as placatingly as she could. "Riders! Riders! You're supposed to protect us! You're supposed to -"

"I'm not fighting you," Awen broke in, dancing away and resisting the urge to grab Alis' wrists. "I'm here to help, it's okay -"

"Like hell you are," Alis snarled, although she stopped fighting briefly, her stance clearly stating that she was ready to start again. Now that Awen could see her properly the strain of the past week was written large across Alis; she was young, early twenties with a delicately heart-shaped face and large eyes, framed by long wavy hair that was now hanging in lank, tangled knots from her head. Her skin was covered in grime and mottled bruising, her wrists almost purple in finger-shaped marks, and her clothes were little more than rags where they'd been torn away from her and she'd tried to cover herself with them again. Her lip was split in two places. "Like the last one was? Your Deputy, Alpha Wingleader? Like he helped?"

"Join the club," Awen said, pulling her collar down to show the throat wound. "This is from him. I fully intend to feed him his own feet as soon as I catch him."

"He gave you that?" Alis watched for a second, her eyes burning, and then shook her head, backing away. "No," she said. "No, no no. No. I don't - I don't believe you. Your Deputy? He wouldn't hurt you. He wouldn't."

"And you're more willing to believe that than the idea of the Union being unaware of what's happening to your family?" Awen asked, genuinely horrified. What the hell had Owain told her? How had this girl ended up with this opinion? "I - Alis, no one even knows about you here. I only found out about Gareth and your mother yesterday -"

"Where are they?" Alis froze, her gaze boring into Awen. "Are they safe? What's happened?"

"Gareth's fine," Awen said, trying not to sound as shaken as she felt. "Honestly. I've sent him to the Union under guard, no one's getting to him now."

"Gareth." Alis wrapped her arms around herself, and Awen noted the stiffness, the way she shifted her fingers about on her ribs before settling them. She seemed calmer, more under control. "Okay. And Mam? Mam-Gu?"

"Your grandmother died a few days ago," Awen said quietly. "Your mother was still alive yesterday when I found them, and I've sent her to the Union too."

"But in a bad way, yeah?" Alis' eyes were roving about the room, apparently incapable of staying still. It was reminiscent of Dylan. "How bad?"

"Bad," Awen said. "Now; can you -?"

"How bad?" Alis repeated. "I want - I want to know. Tell me everything he did to her. Everything."

"We don't have time," Awen said, glancing at the door. "It took a long time to find you and Flyn will be out of court in ten minutes -"

"Tell me, Rider," Alis said, leaning against the wall. "I want to know. Every detail."

Awen ran her hands through her hair in frustration. What was it with this family? They were all crazy.

"The interrogation log said various burns to her torso and arms," she said, pacing slightly. "No fingernails on her left hand, no fingers on her right, most of the bones left in her right arm broken. Her elbow was dislocated. He'd broken her jaw and a few of her teeth that I could see. One eye was damaged. But, as I said to her, the maggots cleaned away the gangrenous flesh, which may well have saved her life, and both legs are fine. Oh, and a few ribs were broken."

Alis was looking at her feet, nodding, no sign of emotion evident on her face. Awen wondered if she'd absorbed the information properly. She'd met rape victims before; sometimes the ordeal simply became too much, and the mind closed down.

"Right," Alis said finally, and then she looked up, her burning eyes locking onto Awen's again. "What do I do? What do you need?"

"You out of here," Awen said. "And we don't have much time-"

"No," Alis said, her gaze intense. "This is wrong. This has all been wrong, hasn't it? You said this wasn't allowed. I know no one in my family has been speaking with Saxons -" She spat the word with more venom than a Rider. " - and whatever the crime, what he's done to me..."

Would never have been allowed. The Cymric had religious, spiritual and cultural views on sex that made rape the most abhorrent of all crimes in their social mindset. And Alis, Awen realised, had decided how she needed to deal with it.

"You're going to take him down," Alis said, her voice unsteady in strange counterpoint to her unwavering, blazing eyes. "That's your job, yeah? You're going to stop him. You need proof for that. What do you need? What do I do?"

"I think I wish half of your family had been Riders," Awen said quietly. "Because damn you'd have been good. There's a safe in Flyn's bedroom, hidden under the carpet in the corner by the window; he generally has some item of furniture or other over it. The order to get in is yellow, green, green, blue, yellow. I need you to take out whatever contents you find - it'll probably be paper, like as not - and put it in a folder I'll bring into the room."

"You'll bring it in?" Alis asked. She didn't seem to have blinked.

"Yes. If you still want to do this," Awen said carefully, "you're going to have to make them all think they've won. They've broken you. Do you understand?"

"Worth it," Alis said. She didn't even twitch. "Worth all of it. All of it, if I see him burn at the end. I'll take whatever I have to, Rider, whatever I have to. What do I do?"

"You need to go... blank, is the best way to describe it," Awen said. "Hollow. Don't talk, cry, shout, make any sign that anything is reaching you. Tired and resigned are the only emotions you're allowed to show. Don't make eye contact. Just do as you're told. Be compliant. Act as though you've imprinted yourself onto him, like -" She thought of another conversation, murmured comfortably among the merod in Aberystwyth. "A duckling onto its mother. If he goes somewhere, try to follow. Not pushily, just... as though you'd be lost without him. Flinching if he touches you is okay, but only if it's flinching. Don't shy away any further. Can you do that?"

"I can do that," Alis said. She seemed to be pulling herself together, forcing the edges of her mind closed by sheer force of will. "Then what?"

"I'll be watching to see if they fall for it," Awen said. "If they do you'll be moved up to his room tonight. I'll know when that happens, and I'll have a diversion set up. We'll make it look as though my Deputy might be around. I'll come to Flyn's room to move him, although he'll hide you, probably in the bathroom or the wardrobe or something. I'll leave a folder on the bed. Put the documents in there. When I bring him back to his room I'll re-collect the folder."

"But I'll be stuck there still," Alis said, eerily calm. Awen watched her.

"Yes," she said. "You could try scratching his eyes out at that point if you liked, though. With luck that would get you sent back here, and then I can get you out. But that might not work. It'll certainly hurt."

"You're the first person I've met since I came here who hasn't beaten or raped me," Alis said, giving her a grin as cheery as a skull's. "Used to it now. No. You saved Gareth. Fair's fair. I'll get you this. And then watch him burn."