Circle of Stones by Catherine Fisher Page A

She was watching me with that coy look I had begun to recognize. Her face was a little fuller, as if only a few days of good food had begun to change her. Some of the poxy spots had faded. I said, “How did you know?”
    â€œYou’re not the only one who reads notes from other people’s pockets.”
    I sat bolt upright, the pain forgotten.
    â€œOh yes. I know all about how you spy on your master.” Her eyes were a scornful blaze. “What did Compton want? Has he got his claws in you?”
    I had no intention of telling her anything. But I felt so sick I had to speak. “We played cards. I ended up owing him money.”
    â€œHow much?”
    â€œMore than I can ever pay. A hundred guineas.”
    Her eyes widened. We shared a terrified moment, & then I managed a shrug. “Well, I must find the money.”
    â€œTell Forrest.”
    â€œNo!” My voice was sharp. “Never.”
    She rose with a rustle of the silk dress & went to the window & opened it. Cold air gusted in, with a whistle of birdsong. I hastily curled in the bedclothes.
    After a moment she said, “He ensnared you. Because he sees you & Forrest, how you are together. And he thinks, ‘This one will get me what I want.’ And what is that, Zac? What is it he wants?”
    In the darkness of the blankets, I could not answer her. Instead I said, “Compton said I despised Forrest.”
    She laughed. “So you do, Zac Peacock   .  .  .”
    â€œStop calling me that!”
    â€œWhy? It’s true.” She came & pulled the blanket off my face, & I saw she was pale with anger. “Take a good look at yourself. A wastrel—lazy & vain & sure the world owes him his fortune! Yet you
dare
to look down on Jonathan Forrest, a man worth ten of you.”
    â€œI do not. I respect Forrest  .  .  .”
    â€œThen show it.” She swept to the door & turned there. “You owe him everything just as I do. Why do you think he employs you? For your skill? You have none! Because your father pays him? Nothing is paid for you, Zac, not a farthing! Cook told me no one else in the city would take any apprentice for free, let alone pay him a wage. But Master Forrest takes in waifs & strays because he is a man of generosity & he knows what it is to be despised. A genius is never loved. Even when his desire is only to create beauty.” She gripped the door handle & took a breath. In a quieter voice she said, “Whatever it is Compton wants you to do, be careful. The fine lord is a gutter rat.”
    â€œYou’d know.”
    I had managed to sit on the side of the bed. The room was still queasy, but I saw how she looked at me then, her glance as quick & fierce as a vixen’s. We were both silent. For a moment I knew I could have spat back venom at her too, taunted her that she was Compton’s creature, as much a traitor as I. I don’t know why I said nothing.
    She pushed back a wisp of hair. “Get up. Work begins today. We have to help him, Zac. The Circus is more than a building. It will be the perfection of his work.”
    â€œWhat is his work to you? Who are you anyway? Is Sylvia even your real name?”
    She and I eyed each other. Then she said, “If I tell you, you will despise me.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI think so.”
    â€œTry me.”
    For a moment I thought she would. Then Mrs. Hall called & she cried, “Coming!” She turned & without looking at me said, “Maybe tomorrow.”
    When she had gone I was left alone in the cold sunshine with my raging head. And her rose scent. And my rankling self-disgust.

Bladud
    I t is a strange thing to have been an outcast and now to be a king again. I looked at the land with new eyes. I saw its shapes and curves, that places in it were powerful and others were accursed.
    As if the gods had left their footprints behind them.
    I watched the people. They came from far away, beyond the