Relic Master 4 - The Margrave by Catherine Fisher

Author:Catherine Fisher
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Social Science, Action & Adventure, Apprentices, Welsh, Fantasy Fiction, Juvenile Fiction, Occupations, Antiquities, Fantasy & Magic, Fiction, Fantasy, Careers, General, Archaeology, Business
ISBN: 9780803736764
Publisher: Penguin Group USA
Published: 2001-01-01T18:30:00+00:00

15

I am in darkness, and abandoned, my eyes without sight, my mind without memory.

I am forgotten by my friends.

Even God has turned his back on me.

Litany of the Makers

HE LAY STILL. His eyes were gummy and his mouth dry; as he dragged a hand up to his face, he felt the ache of bruises, the stiffness of his legs lying crookedly under him. The touch of his own skin was rough, unfamiliar.

He didn’t know where he was. His fingers went to his neck and felt absently for something that should have been there, but he couldn’t remember what. His mind had deep black holes in it and they were joining up. Blotting him out. With a struggle he managed to sit up. There was a pack beside him; he recognized it vaguely and rummaged inside. A few crumbs of dried bread. The water was all gone.

He only knew he was thirsty. The agony of it was a dull pain between his eyes, crowding out everything else; he staggered up, through the neat stacks of baled hay. It was some sort of barn. When he found the door he pushed it open weakly, blinking in the brilliant sunlight.

“God, son,” someone said. “You look rough.”

He stumbled out. The men were sitting in a row. They wore dark clothes and their horses cropped the abandoned fields. They had a table with maps spread on it. And they had water.

Raffi moved toward it quickly. Someone tripped him and he fell; everyone roared with laughter. Then they tossed a small leather flask to him, and he drank, desperately, endlessly.

“Hey!” one of them shouted, but he ignored that, drinking and drinking until the cold water was all gone. Then he looked at them.

They were Watch.

The knowledge jolted him. Why hadn’t he seen that! What was the matter with him?

“Is he worth taking?” A Watchman got up, casually unwinding rope from his waist.

“Makes up the quota.” The one who had thrown the water came over. “Not much muscle, though. What’s your name, boy?”

Raffi rubbed his face. Someone was telling him not to speak, but he ignored it, groping after the name and saying it carefully. “Raffael.”

“What?”

“More . . . More.”

“Papers?”

He stared up at the man, blank. “What papers?”

“God! What sort of a bender have you been on!” Roughly, expertly, the man hauled him up and searched him. “Nothing! Where are they?”

“I don’t know.”

The Watchman slapped him, hard. “Don’t mess with me. Everyone has papers!”

Stunned, Raffi shook his head. He tried to hang on to his balance, but he was too dizzy. He crumpled into the mud on his knees, and shook his head hopelessly. “Not me,” he whispered.

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