It had to be Ylena.
If Aremys got to her first then she was as good as dead. He could rely on brave Elspyth to do her best to reach his sister, and if they had not already joined forces then Elspyth had the wherewithal to go on to Felrawthy and deliver the note. He realised she was penniless but he also knew she was resourceful and courageous enough to find her way. As for Valentyna, she was the most protected, at least for now.
With these thoughts cluttering his already swirling mind, Wyl raced back to his rooms and packed what little gear he had. Rousing a sleepy page he asked the lad to find Jorn for him. Whilst he waited impatiently he scribed a note to the Lady Helyn and tucked it with her necklace into a hidden pocket in her daughter’s cloak which he had not used that evening. Then he changed out of her daughter’s gown into his comfortable travelling clothes.
Jorn arrived with the King’s missive which he handed to Faryl whilst he took in her rough riding garb. ‘Madam Leyen,’ he said astonished, ‘surely you’re not leaving at this time of night?’
‘Hush, Jorn,’ Wyl whispered, dragging the lad fully into the room. ‘You must never mention to anyone that we had this conversation.’
The boy’s eyes widened now, fully awake. ‘Heart crossed and hope to die,’ he said, making a sign over his chest.
Wyl mustered a smile. ‘Good. Now listen to me. Lady Ylena is in trouble. I leave now to find her but I must do so in secret. I need your help.’
He eyed the boy and Jorn nodded mutely.
‘You must fetch my horse for me.’ Wyl pressed a pouch into Jorn’s palm. ‘Here’s coin to pay off whoever you have to in order to get me safe passage out of Stoneheart.’
Jorn, to his credit, did not even glance at the bag of money. ‘But what excuse shall I make?’
‘You are the King’s messenger — use your status. Tell them I travel on the King’s business. Everyone knows I am a guest of Celimus, some sort of courier. Be confident, they will believe you. Use the coin to grease their palms and they will ask few questions. Offer my sincere apologies for disturbing them at this late hour.’
‘I’ll do it, of course, but it sounds dangerous for some reason, Madam Leyen.’
‘No, I promise you it is not. Just irregular. If it was broad daylight no one would think twice.’
‘Am I to fetch Master Aremys as well?’ Jorn wondered.
‘No! He especially must not know that I depart.’ Wyl gripped the lad’s arm, concerned he even knew about the other guest. ‘Promise me.’
Once again Jorn nodded, not understanding but prepared to do what was asked of him.
Wyl pointed towards the bed. ‘This gown is to be returned to Lady Helyn Bench.’
Jorn was expecting something more difficult. ‘I can arrange that.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Do you wish to send a note with it?’ he asked.
Wyl thought a moment. Truth was danger to this boy. ‘No,’ he lied. ‘Simply return it with my thanks for its use.’ He had already tucked the note inside the hidden pocket of the gown, which he had discovered earlier and marvelled at. Women obviously had such things stitched into their garments… he had no idea precisely for what, but was grateful for it. He had to hope the Lady Helyn would find the note.
‘Do it as quickly as you can for me, would you?’ Wyl asked, embellishing his plea further with another lie. ‘I believe her daughter would like it returned for her own use tomorrow evening.’ It was a thin tale but Jorn was not really paying attention to detail. He had his tasks now and was keen to move.
‘I will fix all of this for you. Promise me, Madam Leyen…’
Wyl suddenly felt the weight of responsibility he was leaving with this innocent. ‘Yes?’
‘Please remember me kindly to the Lady Ylena. Let her know I await her summons.’
Wyl felt a sharp pang of grief for Jorn. He would send for him himself as soon as he reached Felrawthy. ‘I shall do that for you.’
Jorn gave a dazzling smile. ‘Then I must hurry about my duty, madam.’ He bent low over Wyl’s hand and, surprisingly, kissed it before turning for the door. ‘Leave as soon as you hear the next bell. I will have everything readied by then. Your horse will be at the southern end of the stables.’
‘Thank you, Jorn… for everything.’
The lad smiled once more and left.
Wyl used the time to tie back his hair tightly and pull on a jacket. He looked around the chamber, checking that all was as it should be. Aremys would surely come looking in the morning and he wanted to leave no clues. He double-checked the note and jewellery were securely tucked inside the pocket of the gown and grimaced. He was risking much in sending that note — its contents would be damning if intercepted — but he hoped his judgement of the noblewoman was on the mark.
The bell sounded not long after and Wyl slipped from his room and stealthily made his way down corridors and through familiar halls. He encountered no one but a maid who took little notice of him anyway — she was in a hurry, rushing from the scullery carrying hot water and towels. Wyl presumed a baby was about to be born somewhere in the many rooms of Stoneheart. He continued on, passing by the kitchens he had so loved as a youngster and out through the small vegetable patch whose produce was reserved especially for the King. Finally he entered the courtyard that led to the stables.
As promised, Jorn met him at the southern end. He led Leyen’s horse, already saddled.
‘Any trouble?’ Wyl asked, his chest tight with tension.
‘None. Come, I will walk you out the gate. It will look better.’
Wyl nodded. He put his foot into Jorn’s linked hands and stepped up lightly on to the horse. Jorn tied on Leyen’s small bag.
‘Thank you again for this,’ Wyl uttered.
‘Don’t mention it, Madam Leyen. We work for the same cause.’
Wyl wanted to shake his head. Such loyalty. He felt pride burst in his chest at the lad’s dedication. At least the Thirsk family had one friend.
Jorn led the horse slowly towards the main gates. ‘Have you already spoken with the guard?’ Wyl whispered.
‘Yes. Fret not.’ Wyl was impressed with Jorn’s cool head right now.
They approached a guard, who stopped them. ‘This is an odd departure time,’ he commented but with idle interest, Wyl noted.
‘My apologies. As you know, serving the King is never a predictable duty,’ Wyl said and risked a wink.
The man shrugged, understanding the meaning of the woman’s words. ‘In that you are right,’ he admitted. ‘Go safely, madam.’
‘Are you sure you will be safe in the darkness? Felrawthy is many days away,’ Jorn muttered, worried.
Wyl grimaced. He did so wish the boy would learn to keep his tongue curbed. ‘The dark is my friend, Jorn. It alone is my safety right now.’
‘I don’t understand,’ the lad said, walking the horse out and away from the gates.
Wyl turned and waved thanks to the guard. He knew the man might have heard his destination but could only hope he would not have digested it. It was too late to worry; he just had to impress on the boy the importance of keeping quiet over this matter.
‘You will. Keep this our secret now, tell no one where I go. May Shar watch over you, Jorn.’
‘And you.’
Wyl took the reins, ruffled the lad’s hair and clicked his horse into a fast trot. He did not risk looking back.
Aremys paced, unable to sleep. He was quartered near the Legion and he could still hear some of the men singing quietly or talking in muted tones. But it was not the men who kept him awake. It was Leyen… or Faryl more to the point. Something was amiss. The speed at which she had left the King’s courtyard earlier this evening was a surprise. She looked rattled. The secrets he knew she kept seemed all the more potent tonight. The way she carried herself, her stiffness around the King, and especially the way she reacted to talk of the Thirsk family.
It was obvious — to him, at least — that Faryl was not happy with her
task. He wondered why Celimus had held her back. Faryl had been with the King only minutes beyond his own departure, so talk was all that could have occurred and not much of that even. But it was clear that something had passed between the King and Faryl which had disturbed her.
It was none of his business, he knew. And yet he had already lied for her. Why? He liked her, that was true. But there was more. He was not sure yet what it was but he had learned over the years to trust his instincts and they were screaming at him right now that Faryl was in some sort of trouble. Perhaps she could use his help.
Should he go to her? Would she answer his knock at this late hour? Probably not… probably never. Her coldness towards him was deep. His betrayal had enraged her.
‘I would take it all back if I could, Faryl,’ he whispered. ‘I’m sorry.’
His mother had always told him never to go to sleep on an argument with a loved one. Well, he could hardly consider himself loved by Faryl, but there had been something of a friendship there before her capture. Perhaps there could be again. Maybe if he explained himself, told her how he regretted his hastiness in turning her over to Jessom, they could start again. They had a long journey ahead and it would be difficult if they were not even talking to one another…
Realisation suddenly hit him like a stone.
‘You’ve gone, haven’t you?’ He spoke out loud, as though Faryl could hear him.
Aremys ran from his chamber, hopping down the hallway as he pulled on his boots. He had to ask directions several times, startling maids and the odd pageboy going about their late-night business. The only reason he knew he had arrived at the right chamber was because he saw a young man emerging carrying a gown he recognised as the one Faryl had worn earlier this evening. He descended on the lad, breathless and angry.
‘Where do you go with that gown, boy?’ he demanded.
The lad shrieked with fright but composed himself quickly. ‘Sir?’
‘Answer me!’
‘I am running an errand for Madam Leyen. Please excuse me.’
‘What is your name?’
The youngster told him, chin held high, adding, ‘I am the King’s messenger.’
It did not impress as intended. ‘Go about your business then, Jorn.’
The lad looked as though he was about to ask Aremys what he was doing there, but he hesitated and obviously decided to hold his tongue. He scurried away, grabbing at the folds of the garment so they would not trail on the flagstones.
Aremys turned to the door, feeling in the pit of his stomach that his hunch was right. He knocked. When no reply came, he turned the huge metal ring, hoping against hope it would be latched and not permit him entry. The door opened easily. He closed his eyes briefly with worry that his instincts were proving correct.
‘Leyen?’
Nothing.
‘Faryl!’ he said, louder now.
No reply.
He stepped inside and closed the door. The chamber and adjoining room were empty. No sign of her. The gown being returned to its owner was the only clue that she had ever been in this room — that and the vague perfume of gardenias which he remembered wafting seductively from her earlier that evening.
He felt devastated. She had gone. Fled from Stoneheart — from the King, no doubt. Or was it from him? He had betrayed her once; she was not giving him another chance. She had a secret and she was taking it with her. Who was she protecting? It was pointless to try and tease out answers from himself. Faryl was an enigma.
Aremys moved swiftly, giving chase to the lad, but he had no hope of finding Jorn amongst the many hallways of huge Stoneheart. Instead he angrily navigated his way back to his room and packed his garb. He would set off after her. It was madness, he knew. The woman was trouble. But he discarded all the sensible objections of why he should not pursue her. He had a hunch where she might be heading.
A light knock came at the door. He flung it open, expecting a messenger. He found Jessom instead.
‘Leaving us already?’ the Chancellor said, eyeing the bulging saddlebags.
‘I can’t sleep,’ Aremys replied flatly. ‘I thought I’d make myself useful — early start and all that.’
‘And Leyen?’ There was something sly in the tone.
Aremys played it carefully. ‘What about her?’
‘She’s gone — did you know?’
Aremys thought quickly. However he might feel about Faryl, he certainly did not need a king for an enemy. Jessom’s arrival and enquiry provided him with the opportunity to appear loyal to both sides.
He frowned deliberately. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’ve just been to her rooms,’ the Chancellor said. ‘May I come in?’
Aremys stepped aside and Jessom entered his chamber.
‘Close the door,’ the Chancellor suggested. After Aremys had done so, he continued. ‘I wanted to talk to her about why the King kept her back this evening for a private word. I don’t like secrets, and I was intrigued by her hasty departure from the King. Were you not?’
Aremys said nothing, merely raised an eyebrow to show he was paying attention.
‘And now I find she has gone. There is no sign of her in her rooms,’ Jessom continued smoothly.
‘When was this?’
‘Moments ago.’
‘I see,’ Aremys replied, thanking Shar’s blessing that he had run out of Faryl’s rooms so quickly.
‘Any idea why she may have left you behind?’
He shook his head thoughtfully. ‘No, indeed. I thought we were supposed to leave at first light.’
‘Yes, that was my understanding also. I am wondering if the King gave her another task.’
Aremys shrugged. It was his notion too, but he certainly was not going to share it with the inquisitive Chancellor. ‘But why brief us on what seems an important task to the Crown, give us orders to undertake it immediately and then turn around and give a counter order?’ he reasoned.
‘My thoughts exactly,’ Jessom said. ‘Although there is never any accounting for the whims or moods of Celimus. He is thoroughly unpredictable.’
‘I can’t help, I’m sorry.’
‘So what will you do?’
‘Carry on as instructed. I suppose I shall head off immediately then.’
‘Yes, why not. There’s no point in you remaining here.’ The Chancellor handed Aremys a pouch of coins. ‘This should cover you for expenses. I have already made arrangements for payment with regard to your capture and delivery of Leyen. And monies for the execution of the Legionnaires and delivery of their bodies is now paid in full,’ he said, handing a bigger sack — of gold this time — to Aremys.
The mercenary grunted his thanks. Money was the last thing on his mind right now. He walked with the Chancellor to the door, eager for the man to leave.
‘I shall get to the bottom of Leyen’s mysterious departure. I wonder who might have seen her leave?’ Jessom mused.
Aremys held the door open. ‘Well, start with the lad Jorn, perhaps. Leyen mentioned he was attending to her.’
He knew it was a mistake the moment the words came out. He had meant it as an offhand line, something to move the Chancellor on his way so he could grab his saddlebags and go, but he knew immediately from the clouded look on Jessom’s face that he had stirred up more trouble.
‘Jorn! The King’s messenger?’ the man said, aghast.
Aremys needed to recant quickly. ‘Oh truly, I have no idea. That’s probably not even his name. I thought I heard her mention it tonight but come to think of it she said that some noblewoman had sent a maid…’ His voice trailed off. It was too late to repair the damage. Jessom’s expression had deepened in thought.
‘You get going,’ the Chancellor said distractedly. ‘I must find that boy.’
Aremys shrugged. Jorn probably knew less than he did anyway.
‘Report back to me in the usual way as soon as you have news of Ylena Thirsk,’ Jessom added. ‘We want her corpse in Stoneheart within wee
ks, although her head will do.’ He laughed drily.
Aremys strode away, the sound of Jessom’s amusement diminishing behind him. At the stable he roused the disgruntled horse master, whose temper was only marginally improved by the sight of silver. Aremys learned that Faryl had barely a couple of hours on him.
At the gate he met the same guard. ‘Lots of comings and goings tonight,’ the man said wearily.
‘Yes, I’m afraid we’re all on the King’s business,’ Aremys admitted. ‘In fact I’ve been asked to catch up with the woman who left a little earlier.’
‘Ah yes, she took off in a real hurry… on royal business,’ the man volunteered.
‘That’s her. Do you know where she was headed?’
‘No, sir. Young Jorn might have mentioned something about Felrawthy but I can’t be sure. I just open and shut the gate on orders, sir.’
Aremys made an expression of contrived sympathy. ‘Thanks, anyway,’ he said and tossed the man a silver coin.
The next morning Lady Bench’s servant brought her a flask of sweetened wine as asked. He bowed. ‘A delivery came for you, my lady,’ he said as he poured.
‘Oh? When?’
‘In the early hours, madam. I thought it best not to disturb you.’
‘Really? How very odd. Whatever is it?’
‘Garments, my lady, brought by one of the King’s pages, returned with thanks.’
Lady Helyn smiled. ‘Ah yes. Intrigue over, Arnyld. I lent them to one of the King’s guests who was staying unexpectedly at Stoneheart without formal attire. Have the gown cleaned, please, and returned to my daughter’s rooms.’
‘Yes, my lady.’ The man bowed and withdrew.
Lady Helyn was pleasantly engaged in potting the bulbs she had had sent from her special supplier in Briavel, when the manservant was back and bowing before her.
‘What is it, Arnyld?’ she said, mildly irritated to be distracted.
‘Apologies at disturbing you, my lady. But I checked the pockets of the cloak and discovered this note addressed to you.’
‘Oh?’ she said, eagerly reaching for the small roll, hoping Leyen might have sent her some titbit for gossip. ‘Where is my glass?’
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