Free Spook's Destiny by Joseph Delaney Page A

questions!’ Then he turned to the Spook and nodded.
    ‘Why does the goat ceremony sometimes fail?’ my master asked without delay.
    ‘I will tell you nothing!’ the mage replied with a scowl. ‘Nothing at all!’
    ‘We’ll get it out of you one way or the other,’ said Shey. ‘There’s a hard way or an easy way. You choose …’
    ‘Whether I live or die here is of no concern to me.’
    ‘Then you’re either a brave man or a fool!’ snapped Shey. ‘No doubt the latter,’ he added, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small metal implement, which he placed on the table before the mage. It looked like a pair of tongs. ‘There will be pain before you die. Terrible pain! Is that what you want?’
    The Spook scowled and his eyes flashed. ‘Just what do you mean by that?’ he demanded of Shey, pointing down at the implement.
    Farrell Shey picked up the tool, which I now saw was more like blacksmith’s pliers. ‘This is a versatile instrument,’ he said quietly, ‘which can be used in various ways to persuade a reluctant prisoner to talk. It can crush fingers or extract teeth.’
    ‘I don’t hold with torture!’ The Spook’s voice was angry. ‘And only a fool uses it. Subject someone to pain and they will say anything just to bring it to an end. Many who are falsely accused of witchcraft confess under torture. The temporary relief from the pain is soon followed by the greater pain of execution and death. So put away that implement or I’ll continue with this no longer!’
    I felt proud to be a spook. We were honourable in the way we went about our work.
    Shey scowled and pursed his lips in anger, but nevertheless he returned the instrument of torture to his pocket. No doubt the long years of strife between the mages and the landowners had caused great bitterness, with atrocities committed by both sides. The dark was growing in power and it corrupted even those who opposed it. I had compromised myself, using the dark in order to survive, so I was in no position to judge anyone.
    My master then repeated his question: ‘The goat ceremony – why does it sometimes fail?’
    The mage hesitated, but then fixed his eyes on the Spook and muttered, ‘It is because what we do is not pleasing to our god.’
    ‘But don’t you know what pleases him?’ asked the Spook. ‘You’ve been carrying out your dark rituals for centuries. Surely you must know by now?’
    ‘It depends on many things. These are variables which cannot be predicted.’
    ‘What variables?’
    ‘I thirst. My throat is dry. Give me a little water and I will tell you …’
    On impulse, and not waiting for Shey’s response, I stepped forward, picked up the jug and poured a little water into the nearer of the two cups, then held it to the mage’s lips and tilted it slightly. The man’s Adam’s apple wobbled as he gulped the water eagerly. Once he’d finished I spoke for the first time since entering the room.
    ‘What’s your name?’ I asked.
    ‘Cormac,’ the mage replied.
    Shey scowled at me, but the Spook smiled and nodded as if he approved of my initiative.
    ‘Now, Cormac,’ he said. ‘What are the variables?’
    ‘The choice of goat is important. It becomes the sacred host which our god, Pan, must enter. He will not assume the body of one that is not pleasing to him. Seven goats are selected initially. Together we must choose the best. The process is not easy. Our seers debate our choice for days.’
    My master nodded. ‘What are the other variables?’ he demanded.
    ‘We must make human sacrifices – three in all. These also have to be perfect. One must be female, and she must choose to die, giving her life gladly. The other two must be mages who also freely offer their lives to the god. I am to be one of the sacrifices. The other died at your hands beside the wooden tower!’ he said, glaring angrily at Shey.
    The Spook nodded thoughtfully. ‘So the two mages who volunteer to die are responsible for overseeing the