The Shining City by Kate Forsyth Page B

Clarice turned her mean eyes upon her. She was in so much pain from her engorged thumbs now that even shifting her weight sent dizzying waves of pain through her, and she had no desire to try to fight the thief off again.
    The merchant‟s daughter was still rocking her bundle and humming a lullaby. She did not look up when Clarice stopped in front of her. Rhiannon felt Bess stiffen beside her.
    “Look at ye, ye loon,” Clarice sneered. “Ye should be caged up too. Baby killer.”
    The girl did not look up, though her humming rose a little in pitch and volume.
    Clarice bent and seized the bundled blanket and flung it away across the room. It unrolled and fell on the filthy floor. The golden-haired girl started to her feet, her hands flying to her cheeks, and screamed. It went on and on and on. Bess scrambled up and ran across the room, seeking to comfort her. “It‟s all right, it‟s all right, do no‟ scream so, I‟ll get it back for ye.” Hastily she grabbed the blanket and rolled it up for her again, trying to thrust the bundle into the girl‟s arms.
    The scream stopped, but the girl was only gathering breath to scream again, even higher and louder than before. Desperately Bess tried to calm her, but to no avail. Rhiannon covered her ears.
    Then the door crashed open. Octavia loomed up in the doorway. Everyone shrank back, all except the merchant‟s daughter, who was sobbing now and tearing at her face with her nails, and the madwoman in the cage, who rocked back and forth on her haunches, muttering and giggling.
    “What is going on?” Octavia demanded.
    “She took the girl‟s baby.” Clarice pointed at Bess. “I told her to leave the poor mad thing alone, but she‟s a nasty piece, that girl, for all that she looks so sweet.”
    Bess pressed back against the wall, her eyes dilated. “It‟s no‟ true,” she stammered. “She did it, no‟ me. I was just—”
    Octavia stumped forward, cuffed Bess hard across the ear, seized her by the hair, and dragged her towards the center of the room, where a thick wooden pole ran from floor to ceiling. Bess began to scream and plead, dragging back against the grip on her hair as hard as she could, but Octavia was too strong. Despite all of Bess‟s protestations, she was manacled and hung from a hook halfway up the pole, so that she could only stand on tiptoe. With tears pouring down her face, Bess tried once more to explain, but Octavia shrugged her massive shoulders and said curtly, “Ye interrupted my supper, girl. Ye‟ve been here long enough to ken how much I hate that.” She then shuffled back through the doorway, kicking aside the dead rat on the way.
    Once the door was locked shut again, Clarice began to dance about, cackling in glee and singing,
    “Rat bait, rat bait.”
    Rhiannon took a deep breath and lifted her ironbound hands menacingly, saying in a low hiss,
    “Leave her alone, ogre breath, else I‟ll smash your face in.”
    Clarice stopped dancing and stared at her. “Octavia‟ll come back in,” she taunted.
    “Happen so, but by then ye‟ll have no face left. Octavia canna give ye your face back.” Rhiannon had grown up the runt in a herd of satyricorns. She knew how to look and sound cruel.
    “Happen no‟, but she‟ll kill ye for it.”
    “Nay, she won‟t. She‟s looking forward too much to seeing me being hanged, drawn, and
    quartered.”
    Clarice thought about this for a moment, then sneered at Rhiannon, pretending she was not afraid. She gave one last halfhearted jibe at Bess, then went to sit back down again, all the while shooting Rhiannon looks of hatred through the strings of her lank, grey hair.
    Rhiannon went over to Bess. “Ye all right?”
    “My arms . . .” Bess whimpered.
    Rhiannon saw that the strain of her weight was almost pulling the girl‟s arms out of their sockets.
    She did her best to roll up her blanket, so Bess could step up onto it. Although it did not relieve the strain entirely, it did help a little and