Free Corbenic by Catherine Fisher Page A

knocked a couple of their heads together for you. And she marked one on the face, didn’t you?”
    Shadow smiled coyly. “Get him something to eat.” She dropped the bloodstained cloth into the dish and looked at Cal’s hands carefully. “I’ll bandage them up, if you like.” He frowned, thinking instantly of Trevor. If Trevor thought he’d been in some fight . . . “Have you got any Band-Aids?” he asked quickly. “It’s just, they wouldn’t show so much.”
    She gave him a glance. Then she said, “I’ll see if I can find any.”
    Hawk came back and put some plates on the table; there was a new, garlicky smell in the warm air. “Microwave,” he explained. “Bit high-tech, I know, but I can run it off the solar panel. My brother fixed it up.” He sat. “Unless you want to go to the hospital.”
    Cal tried to pick up the hot cup. “I hate hospitals.”
    â€œMight need a stitch in that side.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œPolice then?”
    Cal shrugged, unbearably weary. “I’d rather not.” It was Trevor he kept thinking of. This wouldn’t impress him. And behind it all, thin as an icy thread, the terror of being sent back home.
    They sat in silence until Shadow came back and made him open his palms; she pressed the Band-Aids on gently, but it still hurt, and he bit his lip.
    â€œThat’s the best I can do.”
    â€œThanks.” The tea was hot, but it helped. He felt very strange; weak and trembly. He hadn’t felt scared out there, but now it was all coming over him in waves. Maybe the girl noticed. She said, “Who were they?”
    â€œMuggers. Wanted money.”
    â€œBlack Knights,” Hawk said, rubbing the cat. “Or this century’s version. You won’t see them again. We’ll walk you home later. You live close?”
    â€œOtter’s Brook.” He was intensely proud, for a second. Then the name seemed shallow and ridiculous.
    Hawk whistled. “Nice. Expensive. So, now, I’m desperate to know: What’s a nice suburban lad in a suit doing with a sword in Castle Dell?”
    Cal felt hot. The microwave pinged, and the big man groaned and got up to see to it. Shadow said quickly, “He could teach you how to use the sword properly.” She reached out and touched its edge. “It deserves someone who knows what they’re doing.”
    Cal sipped the tea. “I’m selling it.”
    They both stared at him, astonished. Hawk left the food and came back fast. “What? You can’t!”
    â€œMake me an offer.”
    â€œDo you know what that weapon is?”
    â€œA pain in the neck.”
    â€œCal, this is serious.” Hawk picked the sword up, carefully as the girl had done, weighing it in both hands. Then he took the corded grip firmly and raised the blade upright so that it shone in the bright room. “This is a very powerful weapon. Magical. We should take it to the Company and let them see it. Arthur will know what to do. You can’t sell it, it’s not that sort of possession.”
    Cal glared at him. “It started that fight,” he said.
    Hawk didn’t flinch. “I can well believe it. I’ve come across such weapons before. They have their own will. How did you get it?”
    Miserable, Cal shrugged. “A man gave it to me.”
    Hawk glanced at Shadow. “Go on,” she said. And quite suddenly Cal knew that he wanted to tell them, and that he was hungry, as if he hadn’t eaten for days. “Dish that stuff up. And I will.”
    â€œWon’t they be expecting you at home?”
    Cal almost laughed. He had discovered that Trevor always ate out. Cal had spent every evening on his own so far, and though he was used to that, he didn’t want it tonight, he realized.
    â€œNo.” He put the empty cup down. “Deal?”
    Hawk wrapped the sword. “Deal.”
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