by C. Greenwood
“Guard it well,” I told the hound as I closed the door behind me.
Back out in the yard, I paced, too anxious to go indoors. I was thinking about my appointment to meet the praetor’s son after dark and wondering what all might go wrong. To kill time and burn off my nervous energy, I set up several bales of hay along the fence and practiced shooting targets with my newly repaired bow.
I was surprised and grimly pleased to find that the time spent hunting with my father as a child hadn’t been wasted. Now that I had a working weapon, I was a fair shot and nearly always hit my targets.
* * *
Ada left me alone, and no one else disturbed me all that afternoon and evening. As soon as dusk fell, I set out for the meeting place Tarius and I had agreed on. I would be early, but I was too impatient to wait any longer. I needed news of Ferran. I had to know that he was well and that my gamble in delaying his rescue to wait for the right opportunity hadn’t been a mistake.
It was eerily silent in the water cemetery off the public gardens. The only sounds were the crickets singing in the shrubs and the sigh of the cool evening breeze sweeping over the walls. No one ever seemed to visit this place.
Restless, I paced the bridges spanning the dark waters, reading the inscriptions engraved on the stone monuments that soared above the mirrored surface. As the night grew deeper, only moon and stars reflected back at me.
Eventually my ears picked up the sounds of approaching footsteps crunching across the gravel. I squinted in the dimness and made out the tall, lean figure of Tarius approaching me, wrapped in a dark crimson cape. To my relief, he had come alone.
“I’m here,” I said unnecessarily when we stood opposite one another on one of the bridges.
“So I see.” He wasted no time in getting to business. “I have asked careful questions about that subject we discussed earlier. I assume you wanted my inquiries to be discreet? I’ve learned there is a boy being kept in a locked tower room at the castle, waited upon by only a few select servants, people my father trusts. The boy is well and, at the praetor’s command, remains unharmed.”
Was there speculation on Tarius’s face as he delivered this news? I couldn’t be sure. In the darkness, his eyes were hidden within the deep shadows of their sockets. Still, his voice and manner suggested he might know more than he was saying. I suspected the praetor’s younger son was one who missed nothing.
That was why I kept Ferran’s identity and mine to myself. I didn’t trust this clever Tarius with his sneaking ways enough to give him added leverage he might use against me in the future.
Aloud, I said, “I have to get my brother free. We need to come up with an escape plan.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” answered Tarius. “I’ll help you rescue the boy all right. But my father doesn’t like having his plans meddled with. I won’t risk crossing him without gaining something in return. I’ve given you information. Now it’s time for you to start earning my help.”
So we were finally getting to it, the price for Ferran’s freedom.
“What is it you want from me?” I asked.
“A simple thing really,” Tarius said, “the mere elimination of an inconvenience.”
“I don’t understand.”
He turned his back to me and walked to the edge of the bridge. Leaning against the rail, he gazed into the waters.
“It’s a delicate business, requiring someone with a talent for stealth, such as you displayed in the burgling of that house on the night we met.”
I didn’t point out that he had acted with more thieving skill that night than I. In fact, he had called me the clumsiest thief he’d ever met.
“Why don’t you get one of your castle servants to carry the work out for you?” I asked.
“There are few in my father’s house I would trust not to betray me. No, I need someone from the outside, someone rough, unprincipled, and desperate. Luckily, I know one such person.”
“I’m listening,” I prompted, still waiting for the catch.
“Tomorrow at dawn a hunting party that includes my father, my brother, and myself will depart the castle for the private hunting ground, Deerwood. It will be a large party. But one figure always breaks away from the rest and rides off ahead, chasing the boar. While that person is separated from the rest of us, I mean him to meet with an unfortunate mishap. These things happen so easily in a hunt. One moment someone is alive and the next they’re toppled on the ground, gasping their last breath.”
Listening, a chill crept up my spine as I understood what he was speaking of—murder.
Unperturbed, he continued. “The victim might be savaged by the very wild animal he hunts, found torn and bloodied and incapable of saying how he got that way. Or he might be thrown from his startled horse and trampled.”
Tarius turned his head toward me. “He might even be felled by a stray arrow or spear.”
I realized he was looking at the bow I wore slung across my back and poking up above one shoulder.
“It could happen in any number of ways,” he went on. “The important thing is that it look like an accident, not an assassination.”
“It’s your father,” I realized, startled that a son could contemplate such an action. “That’s who you want dead.”
“You sound so shocked,” he observed with a trace of apparent amusement. “Perhaps you are not the hardened villain I had assumed. Surely your work has required you to kill before?”
I said nothing to that.
He seemed to read the truth in my silence. “Ah, then this will be a new experience for you. Don’t worry. My father is a weak old man, which should make your task easier. Truth be told, I envy you. I always thought it would be a rather satisfying deed.”
Finally I was able to get out the question that was bothering me. “But why?” I asked. “Why would you want your own father murdered?”
He became brisk. “I asked no questions about why you want your brother freed. Likewise, I give no explanation for my desire for my father’s death.”
“I’m not going to kill a man without knowing the reason,” I said firmly.
He didn’t seem to hear that. “He’ll be riding a gray mount decked with the sign of our house, a rearing bear. When he passes you after breaking away from the party, you can decide how you want to do it. But I shall be very disappointed if he lives to rejoin us. I think your brother will be sorry as well.”
I bristled. “Are you threatening my brother?”
He shrugged. “I’m merely pointing out his freedom hinges on your cooperation. If that’s unpleasant to you, then I suppose I am threatening him. But you needn’t look so concerned. There’s no need for him to remain locked away forever. Once my father is gone, I shall ensure his release. As you see, the praetor is not a very kindly old soul. The world will be better off without him. You can comfort yourself with that thought anyway. I do. He’s become an embarrassment to the province. His extravagant spending, lax laws, and petty feuds with neighboring rulers are damaging the name of our house. Ellesus needs a strong young praetor to take the reins and guide us to better times.”
I couldn’t resist asking a question I sensed he wouldn’t like. “Are you referring to your brother? I believe he’s the elder son and the presumed first heir.”
“Leave Habon out of this discussion,” he said shortly. “He knows nothing of my plans and would never countenance harm to our father. Loyalty is one of his weaknesses.”
I couldn’t hide my disgust with his scheme. I said, “What you see as weakness, some would call strength.”
It was obvious at once that I had touched on a sore point. “I didn’t come here to sing the praises of my brother,” he said. “You and I have a chance to help one another and each get what we want. But if you think to refuse my offer, I advise you to reconsider.”
“I’ll find another way to free my brother,” I said. “I’m no killer.”
“Maybe you’re not,” Tarius answered. “Or maybe you ar
e, but I’m offering the wrong incentive.”
“I don’t want to listen to any more of your offers,” I said.
Repulsed by the young man and his ambitions, I turned and walked away.
“I’ve played along with your game,” Tarius spoke up behind me. “Did you imagine I wouldn’t find out who the boy is? That I wouldn’t recognize the sign of nobility you wear on your finger?”
I froze, glancing down at the silver ring on my thumb.
“I noticed when last we met that it was too fine an ornament for a street thief,” he continued. “So I looked it up in the Book of Houses, and what do you think I discovered? The warring stags are the crest of a certain congrave of Camdon, lately dead under tragic circumstances. There is a sad story that has circulated among the nobility of the four provinces for some time. A tale of two boy heirs locked up in a windowless tower by the cruel praetor of Camdon, who despises them for their father’s sake. People think you are still imprisoned, you see. Your escape is not widely known. But I have uncovered it.”
Feeling trapped, I turned to face him. “What do you intend to do with the information?”
“So humble we have suddenly become,” he mocked. “Now you’re no longer too good to listen to my offers. Well, you needn’t fear, congrave’s son. Luckily for you, I don’t share my father’s interest in meddling with Camdon politics. What becomes of you or your brother is of little concern to me. I only speak of your past to lead up to ‘what’s in it for you’, as they say.”
I was confused at the way he seemed to threaten at one moment, only to back down the next. “I don’t understand,” I said. “What is in it for me?”
He came close enough that I could see the moonlight glinting in the shadowed pools that were his eyes. “Revenge,” he breathed. “If you will not fight for your brother, maybe you will kill for your father.”
“You’re not making sense.”
He explained, “Surely you know what happens when a praetor dies? The heads of all the provinces gather for the burial as a gesture of respect to the departed ruler and the heir who replaces him. It’s traditionally a time of setting aside feuds to show unity—and an opportunity for all the praetors to feel out one another’s weaknesses. If someone had a grudge against any one of them, this would be a prime opportunity to settle it while the target was off his home ground and only lightly guarded. Think of it, the same stroke that removes my father could also be a means of drawing your own enemy within reach. Surely after what he did to your family, you would like a chance to take out your anger against the praetor of Camdon? You’ll never risk going back to your home province, but what could suit better than to bring your father’s killer to you?”
Listening to Tarius, I didn’t know which disturbed me more, his suggestions of murder or the temptation they stirred within me. Even the magic bow I carried whispered gleefully of death and vengeance. My memory may have become murky and unpredictable of late, but there was one thing I still recalled with perfect clarity. I remembered pressing myself against the slit-like window of my tower cell and looking down on my father’s execution. The sound of the drum rolls, the deafening silence, and then the blade’s fall. I thought of what I had promised myself on the night Ferran and I flew from the Eyeless Tower in the carriage of our mysterious rescuers. I had vowed to avenge my family.
As if sensing my wavering feelings, Tarius pushed harder. “If it’s any consolation, my father’s health is weaker than he acknowledges. He continues vigorous activities like the hunt to hide it. But the truth is his days on this earth are limited.”
His prompting affected me but not in the way he wanted. His words sounded good, but when I looked at him, all I saw was the face of a young man who would destroy his family. He was my opposite in every way.
“You sicken me,” I told him. “I will not be your servant in this evil scheme. Not for revenge, not even for my brother’s freedom.”
I whirled and stalked away before I could change my mind.
Tarius’s voice drifted after me, carried on the night air. “You will feel differently once you’ve thought it over,” he called. “And when you’ve come to your senses, position yourself at the small waterfall just after dawn. That is the praetor’s favorite spot. I will ensure he makes it there alone.”
He gave his orders as if he had no doubt of their being carried out.
As I strode off into the dark night without looking back, I loathed the confidence in his voice. I hated it because my own certainty was weak.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I didn’t return to The Ravenous Wolf after our meeting. The hour was late, but I wasn’t ready to face Ada and the questioning she doubtless had in store for me. Besides, I needed to be alone with my thoughts.
I exited the water cemetery and paced the pebbled walks of the public garden. The place seemed eerie this time of night, lit by the greenish cast of the glow-stones studding the paths. The sculptured shrubs and elegant statues looked grotesque in this light. Or maybe it was only my tormented mood that made them seem so.
Despite my declaration to Tarius that I wouldn’t follow his plan, I was tortured by the thought of Ferran locked away in a tower room of Selbius castle. What haunting memories must this bring back for him of that other imprisonment in the Eyeless Tower? Tarius had said he was unharmed, but what if he was wrong? They could be doing anything to my brother now, and I was helpless to prevent it.
No, it was worse than that. I wasn’t helpless at all. I had the means to save him but lacked the stomach for it. All of Tarius’s arguments replayed in my head. The praetor of Camdon was a bad man anyway. It was he who had arranged our escape from Camdon only to hunt us down and imprison Ferran again for his own purposes. His death would be the means of freeing the brother I had sworn to protect.
Then there was that other subtler voice in the back of my head. I wasn’t sure if it was the suggestion of the bow or if it was born of my own desires. When he spoke of revenge, Tarius had planted a seed in my mind, and now I couldn’t get it out.
My walk took me out of the public gardens and onto the rolling grounds of the Temple of Light. The solitary structure looked silver in the moonlight. As I was passing the temple and the little walled garden next to it, I was so deep in thought that I nearly collided with another lone figure strolling in the shadows.
Not recognizing the person, I would have simply apologized and hurried on, but he stopped me.
“I know you,” he said. “You’re the mysterious fellow with the brother who cannot give his real name.”
His voice sounded familiar. I took a closer look at him through the gloom. His tall, broad build and flowing gray robe reminded me of where I had met the young man before.
“You’re Hadrian, the priest,” I said. “The one who hopes to join the Blades of Justice.”
“The very same,” he agreed.
In the shadow of the temple it was too dark to tell whether he still wore chain mail beneath his robes.
“Have you taken your vows to become a priest of the blade yet?” I asked.
“Not yet but soon I hope,” he said. “And you? Your young brother is well?”
I didn’t know how to answer that.
He had met Ferran once some weeks ago when Ferran had strayed into the private garden off the temple. During our brief conversation on that afternoon, the priest had ferreted out the fact that I protected a secret. It was a skill of his. Like Ada, he was a magicker, only his particular talent was sensing the emotions projected by others. Last time, I had managed to leave before he could find out more about me.
Now I felt again the uncomfortable suspicion that he was searching my thoughts and feelings.
“Forgive me,” he said, “but I sense darkness hangs over you.”
“That’s true,” I confessed. Unnerving as his ability was, it was a relief to share my burden with someone. “I’m wrestling with a difficult decision tonight, and it weighs on me.” I could tell that much at least.
“I see,” he said. “But I think there’s more to it than a simple decision. I find you changed. You’re not the same youngling you were when we met before.”
“You’re right,” I said. “The person I used to be would never contemplate the deed on my mind tonight.” I thought of the wild man I had recently killed in the forest and of how I had poisoned Ada to keep us all in Selbius longer.
“But if I’ve done hard things it was only because circumstances left me no choice,” I added.
“That is the usual defense for evil,” he mused. “But I myself don’t believe it. As I see it, there’s always a choice. It might not be the easy one, but in the end, no one can force a man down a dark path. That’s a decision he makes himself, based on what matters most to him.”
These weren’t words I wanted to hear tonight of all nights.
He seemed to know it. “I fear my musings are not helping with your dilemma,” he said.
“I’m afraid they’re not,” I said. “Good night to you, priest.”
I walked away with a haste that probably seemed rude, but I didn’t care. A part of me wished I had been swayed by the priest’s good words. But the truth was they only made what lay ahead more difficult. I admired Hadrian his conviction but suspected he saw the world as it should be, not as it was. Meanwhile, I had to live with the reality.
As I hurried across the lawn and away from the temple, I realized my decision was made. I would do whatever it took to save Ferran. I was going to kill a praetor.
* * *
When I reached the street, I encountered the hound, Ilan. I must have failed to properly close the door to the storage shed earlier. Somehow the animal had tracked me down. She looked forlorn without Ferran. Maybe that was why she had taken to following me.
But I couldn’t have her trailing me now. I stopped briefly by The Ravenous Wolf to lock the dog up in the shed. As I left, I realized dawn was fast approaching. I was running out of time.