Circle of Stones by Catherine Fisher

able to afford mistakes. And there will be mistakes, Zac. Small accidents on site. Costly errors.” He raised the glass. “You’ll make sure of that.”
    I stood. Or tried to. It was not as dignified as I would have wished. “He is my master.”
    â€œOh, come. You despise him. Don’t you?”
    â€œI have  .  .  . I don’t  .  .  .”
    â€œYou despise him & this is your chance to be free. He need know nothing. You sabotage the work, he despairs, you suggest selling the design. Then you let me know when he is ready. When all is done, you come & work with me. As my architect. Two young men, out to make their names.” He grinned. “And your father will be rich again.”
    The room reeled.
    I had no words. I groped after my coat & sword, & flung them on.
    â€œYou don’t say no,” he said softly.
    For a moment I paused. Then I stumbled to the door, opened it & crashed through, into the smoke & noise of the assembly rooms.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    I suppose I walked home. I have no memory of it, or of climbing the stairs. But I must have, because when I opened my eyes I was sprawled on my bed in my shirt & breeches with a headache that made me gasp. My neck was cricked. I felt as sick as a mongrel after a night in the town dump. The curtains were wide & the sun shone straight in my face. I suppose I must have groaned.
    â€œI’m not surprised,” a voice said coldly.
    I managed to turn my head. Forrest & Sylvia stood in the doorway of my room. My master came forward & looked down at me, his arms folded. “God, Zac, look at the state of you! What sort of assistant am I employing?”
    I tried to speak. A crack’d whisper came out.
    Forrest sighed. Then he turned to Sylvia. “I have to go. This morning we begin the transport of the stone. Do what you can to get him presentable.”
    He was halfway out before I croaked, “Wait!”
    He turned.
    â€œThe stone  .  .  .” My throat was dry; I swallowed. “Do you mean Ralph Alleyn is still  .  .  .”
    â€œMaster Alleyn is my true friend. He is selling me the stone & his wagons will begin bringing it down the hill today.” Forrest’s dark eyes watched me; I noticed he was dressed for work in his oldest brown coat. “I told you I will build the Circus, Zac, & I intend to do it. Now please, get yourself to a decent state & attend me on the site. I shall have things to say to you.”
    He glanced at Sylvia, then walked out. I heard him running down the wooden stairs & out into the street.
    I closed my eyes. In the darkness in my head bright bands of pain flashed & stabbed like knives in a dungeon. I wanted to curl up & die.
    After a while the girl’s voice said, “Drink this.”
    I refused to move.
    â€œI said drink, Master Peacock. Or crawl outside & be sick. It’s one or the other.”
    I ungummed my eyes. She was holding a pewter tankard, & I was appalled. “Never. Never again.”
    â€œIt’s not wine. It will do you good. We all used it at Gibson’s.”
    She was actually sitting on my bed. I forced myself to sit up. “I don’t need your help.” It was so weak a lie I was not surprised at her laughter. So I snatched the beaker from her & drank.
    â€œGod!”
It was minutes before I could speak. “What utter bilge is that!”
    Sylvia hugged her knees where she sat. “I won’t tell you. You’d vomit.”
    â€œThen don’t.” I was shivering. I clutched the sheets about me.
    â€œFinish it.”
    She obviously thought I couldn’t, so I did. It was totally, absolutely foul. Then I lay back & let the room swim in & out of my head.
    â€œYou went to see Compton.”
    I didn’t move. But her accusation came through the mist like a sudden stab of light.
    â€œI could have told you not to go. He’s filth, that one.”
    I opened my eyes.