Red, White and Blue (Book Two of The Powder Trail)

Chapter Nine: Freezing Fires

The rest was a blur. The gargoyles had dragged her into a small chamber. She remembered the ceiling had been jagged with stalactites, which occasionally delivered cool, merciful drops of water onto her skin. 

They tied her down, and then one of them, feeling around the whole time with clammy hands and long claws, tore out her fingernails.

Ellini couldn't remember much about it, except that the whole experience – even though it had taken place in an underground cavern of black stone – had been shot through with colour. She remembered looking up at the ceiling and seeing rubies half-buried in the rock. She remembered shutting her eyes and seeing the pain explode like fireworks on the inside of her eyelids.

Now she was in another dark, low-ceilinged chamber – perhaps a cell, because she was sure something like a chain had clinked against her feet when she'd been thrown in here. She had no idea how long ago that was – or for how much of that time she'd been unconscious. She only knew that she preferred being awake to being asleep. At least, when she woke up, she could force herself not to think about it. When she went to sleep, it played itself out before her eyes, whether she liked it or not.

After a while, she became aware that someone was beside her, lighting a candle and muttering in a muted, cockney voice. It was so soothing that Ellini let it wash over her for a few moments before it occurred to her that she should be trying to recognize the words.

"No light," she said in Hindustani, without opening her eyes.

There was a sigh, but the candle stayed alight – she could see it blazing through her eyelids.

"Not another foreign one. Don't you speak no English at all? We are under Cambridge, y'know – or so they tell me."

Ellini screwed up her eyes against the candle-light and made an effort to get her thoughts in order. "No light," she said again – and it must have been English this time, because the candle was instantly blown out.

"Gotta get you used to the light, love," said the voice. "If you stay in 'ere more'n a day, and then go straight out to the flames in the work tunnels, you'll lose yer sight completely. But we'll take it slow fer now. Drink this."

Ellini's hands were too numb to feel much, but she thought the speaker was trying to wrap them around a cup or a beaker of some kind.

"Water," said the voice reassuringly. There was a pause, and then: "All right, some brandy. For the pain, you know? But mostly water. As I expect you can imagine, the brandy's in high demand down 'ere, so we ent got much."

Ellini tried to bring the cup up to her mouth, but her hands were shaking so much that she spilled most of it down herself. The stranger helped her hold it steady and take a sip.

"I'm Matthi," she said. "Short for Mathilde. My mother was from froggy parts."

"Et parlez-vous Francais?" said Ellini automatically.

"No, love. Just my mum. She got deported to the prison colonies 'fore she 'ad a chance to teach me. I always like 'earing it, though, even if I can't understand. Feels like it's just for me, you know? Like anyone 'oo talks French is talkin' to me without knowin' it."

Ellini peeled her eyes open, but without the candle-light, there was nothing to see. Just the occasional, semi-submerged glint in the rock-face.

"I saw you come in," said Mathilde, who didn't seem to require much in the way of responses. "What a shame, I thought – all that lovely dark 'air, and, in a few weeks, she'll be as blonde as any of us."

"I will?"

"The flames bleach it," she explained. "Dread to think what they're doin' to our lungs."

"I've always wanted to be blonde," said Ellini, who was starting to feel quite light-headed.