Voices in the Dark by Catherine Banner Page B

away.’
    Rigel wanted to say something, but a heavy silence was constricting his throat, and he could not speak. They were approaching the harbour now. Juliette traced a line in the window; it became a heart, then vanished. Through the clearlines in the glass, Rigel could see the ships stretching out against their moorings and men unloading crates by torchlight. The flames leaped wildly in the wind.
    ‘Where are we going?’ Juliette asked.
    ‘Another city,’ said Rigel.
    ‘Papa, why are you crying?’
    ‘I’m not crying,’ said Rigel, but he was.
    Juliette leaned forward carefully and touched his face. She traced the scar that ran from his mouth upwards across his cheekbone, then vanished against the line of his hair. Rigel could feel her fingers trembling with cold. The crying threatened to cut him in two; it rose so violently in his chest that he could not hold it back.
    The whole tragedy of his life came over him like the crashing sea beyond the harbour wall. He saw himself, the brilliant and self-taught student of magic, the only pupil Aldebaran had ever taken, and the woman he fell in love with – Juliet Delmar, the only heroine of the resistance, a woman so bright to him that she made the stars look dim. This was the end of the story, Juliette’s favourite story, and it had turned bitter now. He had always been ambitious. Was that the fault that had brought them down? If he had not been the head of the secret service – if he had not been responsible for the imprisonment of half the leaders of the New Imperial Order – Juliette’s mother would still be alive. They had come to his door with guns, shouting for him, and the fearless Juliet Delmar sent the servants to the back of the house, hid Juliette in the cellar with the housekeeper, and went to answer it.
    ‘Juliette,’ said Rigel. ‘It’s all my fault.’
    Juliette sat hunched in the seat opposite him and said nothing. The carriage had come to a halt now. The guardswere standing there waiting for him to get out. Rigel laid the fur rugs on the seat, pushed open the door, and lifted Juliette down, taking care not to hit her head against the door frame. In his other hand, he bundled up the few things he was taking with him – his books and papers that he needed to communicate with Aldebaran. But he did it carelessly. It did not matter any more.
    Juliette pressed her face against Rigel’s overcoat, trying to block out the icy wind. Her nose dug into his shoulder. Aldebaran had been standing in the shadows of an outbuilding, but he came towards them now. ‘There you are,’ he said, and reached forward to grip Rigel’s hand. ‘You are certain about this—’
    ‘Yes,’ said Rigel.
    ‘And you will send me a message when you arrive?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘All the details are here. Plus enough money and a few things you can sell if you have trouble with the false account. There is nothing I can foresee, but—’
    ‘Very well,’ said Rigel, and took the black case that Aldebaran held out. ‘I have my books. I can send word to you straight away.’
    ‘Good,’ said Aldebaran, studying Rigel’s face. ‘That’s good.’
    ‘What is it?’ said Rigel.
    ‘It is so soon, Rigel,’ said Aldebaran. ‘That was all I was thinking.’
    ‘I need to go,’ said Rigel. ‘I need to be away from here.’
    There seemed nothing else to say. The plan had been so carefully rehearsed that Rigel was already thinking of what came next, and he did not know how to bid Aldebaran farewell. So he gripped the old man’s hand again and turned.He carried Juliette down the steps into a small boat and began to cast away the moorings. ‘Teacher?’ he said, pausing for a moment. ‘Why did you promote me over everyone else? Why did you always show me so much favour?’
    He knew that he would not return to his country – he had decided it, in the bleak kind of calm that came over him in the days after his wife died – and now that he was leaving, he wanted to