Moonlight and Ashes by Sophie Masson Page B

the thief.
    I could see what he was doing out of the corner of my eye. He swung the lantern over her, made a clicking sound in the back of his throat – audible to everyone in the deathly silence – and bent down to her. He forced her face up and looked into her eyes. He sniffed. He straightened and called to the policemen. ‘This one,’ he said sharply.
    The thief shrieked and tried to twist away but he was too quick for her, grabbing her by her long tangled hair. In an instant two of the policemen were on her. One held her down while the other tied her wrists and ankles with rope. She had gone quiet and limp, her head on her chest. Nobody said anything. I felt nauseous, my palms were prickling and my heart was thumping so much I was sure it could be heard.
    The Mancer held the lantern up and looked at us. ‘Do any of you know anything about this girl?’ His voice wassoft, pleasant and educated, yet there was a tone in it that sent shivers down my spine. Nobody said anything so he repeated the question, adding, ‘If I find out that any of you have withheld information, it will be so much worse for all  of you.’
    The big woman said, in a voice that was a mere shadow of her former booming tones, ‘She . . . she’s a thief, sir.’
    The Mancer smiled thinly. ‘So are you all.’
    â€˜No – you see, sir,’ stammered the big woman, ‘she’s the worst – she steals from her own fellow prisoners – took my bread.’
    â€˜I see.’
    â€˜And . . .’ Her panicked gaze swung over to me. ‘That one over there came to her aid, heaven knows why.’
    â€˜Really?’ said the Mancer, his pale gaze was on me again. I was overcome with horror and terror. I called out cowardly words that, though true enough, resounded shamefully in my head afterwards. ‘No! She’s nothing to me! I’ve never met her before in my life! You must believe me!’
    â€˜We’ll see about that,’ said the Mancer and he signalled to the other two policemen, who pinioned my arms behind my back, tied them with rope and stuffed a gag in my mouth as I was trying to protest my innocence. The Mancer turned to the other prisoners. ‘Not a word about any of this, or I’ll be back for more of you,’ he said quietly. ‘Is that understood?’ Every head nodded, fearfully; every mouth was shut, every head was bent as I and the other girl were picked up and carried out of the cell in utter silence.

He had a carriage waiting and we were flung inside it, into a hinged compartment at the back of the seat. It was dark and suffocating, like being in a coffin, though at least they’d ripped off my gag. Each bump of the carriage over the cobblestones made our teeth rattle in our heads, but neither of us spoke a word. I could hear the other girl’s breathing, regular and soft, not sharp and ragged like mine. She wasn’t afraid, I thought, suddenly. Or maybe she was beyond fear – scared into a numbed acceptance. But I wasn’t ready for that. I wasn’t ready to disappear. And yet that was what would happen if the Mancers found out my secret. There were never any reports of the arrests of illegal witches and magicians, and no public trials; one simply knew that if they were ever caught, they would vanish never to be seen again. Whether they rotted in prison for ever or were executed or experimented on (as rumour had it), no-one was quite sure. And no-one wanted to find out. Unless I was very, very careful, I was going to find out inthe worst possible way. But I had one thing going for me: I had been picked up by chance – the Mancer had not come looking for me.
    But he had for the other girl. Why? If she was an illegal witch, she surely wouldn’t have been in the ordinary holding cell. She’d clearly been arrested along with the others at the night-fair and, remembering how she’d stolen the