“I am the prince,” Dhan admitted with a deep bow. “But I’m afraid the king doesn’t think of me as his man at present. In any case, I am at your mercy.”
The woman turned from him to Jhaban. “And one of the king’s captains. Jhaban, if I am correct. Am I to believe your famous sword is no longer serving Citadel either?”
“It is true, whether you believe it or not,” Jhaban replied. “But even if I served him, I would hesitate to attack you. The captains of Citadel fear your blade—not to mention your tongue—as much as they fear mine.”
The older daughter blushed and was about to respond, when Thimeon interrupted. “Enough of the questions for now. It will take all night to tell our story like this. Since I see that the two of you hold no love for Koranth or the king, let me speak bluntly and in short. We are outlaws. We have just escaped Citadel through the underground tunnels and waterways. We stand in your well-yard wet and bedraggled because we have just climbed out of your well.”
The girls’ eyes lit up, and they stared at the well as though pondering the implications of what they had lived with all their lives. They were clearly aghast at the thought. Thimeon let that bit of information settle and then continued. “Ahead of us is a long road that will not end until the Daegmon is destroyed and Koranth is no longer corrupting the court. Or until we have lost our lives striving toward that end, which may be the more likely result.”
“But what road are you taking?” the older daughter interrupted. “Other than a road into someone’s private well and the sanctuary of their home?”
Thimeon lifted his hands in a gesture of uncertainty. “I cannot tell you even what our next step is, except that it must lead us away from Citadel and into the mountains. The king and his counselor Koranth are hunting us, almost certainly to kill us. Our lives hang by a thread. Until this very moment, our thoughts were on escaping the palace and city. We had no intention of coming into your home as guests—intruders, as it seemed to you. Indeed, we had no idea where we would emerge. We hoped it would be outside the city. But wherever our road takes us, we are in need of help, as may be obvious to you by now. Even if you cannot or will not give us aid, we ask that you keep our secret.”
Thimeon looked back and forth between the two young women. Though neither spoke, and both still looked afraid, he thought he could see a softening in their expressions—especially the younger one’s. He took it as a sign of hope and continued. “As for our rough treatment of you a few moments ago, we apologize. I think the duke, whom you know, would have made more a gentle introduction if given the chance, but you ran before you saw him. We were afraid. Our escape was nearly spoiled once already by discovery. Alarms have been sounded within the castle. Capture means death for us, but it is not only for our sakes that we plead for help. It may be that the hope of all Gondisle rests in what we carry with us. We could not risk letting you run for help and bringing attention to your house. Again, I apologize.”
The two women kept silent for several long breaths, staring first at Thimeon and then at the other faces around them. Finally the younger one stepped forward and spoke. Her voice was light, like her eyes, but strong and confident. “I believe you speak the truth, and I see you have long stories even as we do. I am Gyldan-Jhonna, daughter of Maryl and Jhon the son of Symon. You may call me Jhonna. This is my sister Corandra. We are at your service,” she said with a bow.
“Our gratitude is beyond words,” Thimeon replied. Then he looked at the elder of the two. “You said your mother is not here?”
A dark shadow crossed the faces of both Corandra and Jhonna. “She disappeared yesterday in search of our father,” Corandra replied.
Dhan furrowed his brows. “If you can tell us in brief, we would hear your story.”
“Then in brief I will tell it,” Corandra replied. Thimeon was now shivering, and imagining hostile eyes appearing over the wall at any moment. But he knew it was important to gain the trust of these two women. So he held his tongue and stood there dripping and listening. “A few weeks ago all of our workers began to abandon us. They gave no explanations for their departures. They just left. Yet my father knew it was not because of money, as he pays his hired hands as well or better than anybody in the south. So after more than half of his men had gone and he had failed to find any replacements, he suspected mischief from the throne. He knew he had enemies inside Citadel, and he wondered if they were bribing or threatening his workers. Finally, about seven days ago when only one of his hired men remained and my father could no longer keep up with the work, he decided he would go to the palace himself. He left and did not return, and we have heard nothing from him since. Two days ago my mother grew sick of worry and against our advice she went in to find him. She too disappeared. We have tried to run the farm without them, but with so little help, what we can do?”
Prince Dhan bowed his head and sighed. “How many others, I wonder,” he murmured. Then he lifted his head again, and met the eyes of the women. “If ever I come to the throne, I will repay you thrice what you have lost.”
“All we ask for is our mother and father back,” Corandra said. “I would fight my way into the dungeon if I thought I had a chance. Is there naught you can do?”
The prince shook his head. “I am as much an enemy in the castle as your father. I fear our only hope is to destroy the Daegmons and Koranth. That is the real battle. When Koranth is gone, then we may be able to regain Citadel for the people of Gondisle. Then maybe I can restore your father and mother to you—and perhaps even restore my own father to what he once was. But what hope we have of defeating the Daegmons, I do not know. For too long Citadel has denied even their existence. My friends Thimeon and Siyen are the only ones among us who have battled them.”
Corandra turned to Thimeon in amazement. “I have heard much of these creatures. Word has come down from the Northland and the mountains. We have heard tales of the destruction the Daegmon has wreaked on the people of Gondisle. Even by our fireside, the stories chilled us. Until today, however, I had not heard there was more than one of them. Nor had I met anyone who had fought them.”
“We have fought them,” Thimeon replied in a heavy voice. “And victory is possible. I will tell you more. But may we go inside? I know we are strangers, and we ask much of you. But I do not feel safe out in the open. And, well, if it were possible to be warmer and drier, I would not complain.”
The two women did not answer at once but glanced from face to face at all the strangers who surrounded them. They were alone. Vulnerable. Thimeon noted the fear and uncertainty in their faces. Again he thought about the burden he was putting on them. “Even a barn would be better than out here in this courtyard. If you can get us extra sets of dry clothes, we will repay you if ever we can.”
But a change seemed to come over their faces—first the younger one’s and then the older one’s—some hidden reserve of strength or boldness or kindness. Or perhaps just the sort of resolve that comes with desperation when it seems there are no choices. “Come with me,” Corandra said. “All of you. At the least, I can feed you and clothe you. I have left you cold and wet for too long. Let me show you the sort of hospitality my parents would show if they were still here.”
27
THE EVILS OF CITADEL
She and her sister, young Gyldan-Jhonna, led the company on a procession through a gate and across a smaller courtyard decorated with flowers and low ornamental shrubs, then opened a heavy wooden door into the main house. When Thimeon stepped across the threshold behind Armas, despite all the concerns weighing down his thoughts, he couldn’t help but take a moment to admire the manor. The home was the most beautiful he had ever entered, with high ceilings, windows of real glass, beautiful tapestries and oil paintings adorning the walls, and furniture hand-carved from dark-red hardwoods. The entire three-room house he had shared with his little sister, Siarah—the house the two of them had once lived in with their parents—would alm
ost have fit in this large foyer where he now gathered with his new companions.
Corandra whispered something to Jhonna and then instructed the escapees to wait. The two disappeared out another door. Corandra returned a minute or two later with her arms full of clothing. It looked as though she had emptied her father’s entire wardrobe. She dumped them on the floor and told the men to help themselves. A minute later Jhonna came back in with a few items of women’s clothing, which she handed to Siyen. “You can dress in there,” she said, nodding toward an adjoining room. Without waiting for a reply, the two sisters disappeared again, this time through a doorway on the opposite side of the room.
Siyen took her small pile of clothing and went at once into the side room. Thimeon and the other men looked at one another, standing in their soggy clothes. Armas chuckled, walked over to the pile, and pulled out a pair of trousers and a tunic. A few minutes later, the whole group had redressed in dry, comfortable—though in several cases ill-fitting—clothing. A big pile of wet gear sat in a growing puddle by the door.
Siyen returned before the two hostesses, stepping out from the other room looking quite beautiful in soft blue woven trousers and a tightly knit blouse of white and dark green, both of which conformed to her curves. Several of the officers appeared to notice her for the first time.
Meanwhile, Thimeon could hear rustling and rattling in the next room—sounds of opening cabinets and clanging bowls. Finally Corandra and Jhonna returned. “We have food prepared for you,” Corandra said. “But first you promised us a tale,” she added, looking at Thimeon.
“I can tell you a tale in brief,” Thimeon said. “May we sit?”
Corandra blushed. “Of course!” She nodded toward the seats. Thimeon and his new companions sat in various wood chairs and couches spread around the spacious room. Only the two young women remained standing. Thimeon then told them, as briefly as he could, the tale of the quest he had undertaken with Elynna and her company. The prince and his fellow escapees from Citadel—everybody present except Siyen—now heard that tale for the first time. He described first the gifted ones and the powers they wielded, and how they had met, formed a company, and pursued their enemy. Then he told of their seeming victory near the village of Gale Enebe, only to be followed just a few days later by the destruction of Gale Ceathu by another of the creatures or by the same one returned from death. And then he told of their capture by Golach and of their subsequent escape to the Plains. Last, he spoke of the battle in the Plains and of his own decision to return to Citadel. “Perhaps this book and sword will provide what we need to finish the battle.”
Nobody had spoken during the entire tale. Thimeon saw at times expressions of awe and surprise. Of despair and grief. But he tried to keep his tale as factual and unemotional as he could. Only when speaking of the deaths of companions in the first battles had his voice quivered.
“Captain Golach?” Corandra asked when Thimeon was done. “He is the one who captured you?”
“Yes. Do you know of him?”
“I do. My father believes he is responsible for what happened to us.”
“Why?” Thimeon asked.
Corandra’s face grew red. “There are two reasons. The first is that I bested him in battle—”
“In battle?” came several astonished voices.
“Well. Not battle. Just a duel. You see, my father had no sons, and so he allowed me to train with the sword. Because I proved to have some skill, I ended up studying with one of the better instructors.”
“The best,” put in Jhaban, turning to the other officers. “The same who taught me. And she understates her talent. She’s quite the swordsman—or rather swordswoman. Easily the match of many of the king’s best officers, myself included.”
“Then I’m glad you had only a knife when we found you and not a sword,” the prince said. “And I can guess that Golach was not happy to be bested by anyone, especially by a woman.”
“A girl, he called me. He claimed the fight was not fair and that I scarred him. A false claim. Not that I didn’t scar him. I did do that. But the fight was fair. If anybody cheated, it was he. Yet he bribed or threatened several observers and then demanded that my father pay a price to compensate him for his injury.”
“And your father would not pay, I can guess,” Armas said. “I know him well enough to guess that.”
“No,” Corandra concurred. “He would not. He witnessed the fight and knew I had won fairly. Even so, he might have paid money just to save himself trouble. But Golach didn’t want money.”
“For what did he ask?” the duke went on.
Corandra didn’t answer but cast a glance over at her sister.
It took Thimeon a moment to understand the meaning behind the glance. When he did, his ire rose—and a tremendous sympathy as well, for he could not help but think of his younger sister, who was probably the same age as Jhonna.
“The pig!” Armas said. “He dared that?”
Then Jhonna apparently understood also, and her eyes opened in horror. “What? Father never told me! Then I am to blame for this?”
“Of course Father didn’t tell you,” Corandra answered. “He wouldn’t have considered the idea even for a second. As for blame, if anybody is at fault, it is me.”
“No,” Dhan said. “It is Golach. And it is the fault of the throne for allowing this to happen.”
Thimeon sought to bring his own emotions back under control. They could not afford personal battles—there was too much at stake. “We have learned at least some explanation of how Koranth has gained such influence in Citadel,” he said. “He is not a man like us. My companion Elynna sensed that with her gift. He bears kinship with the Daegmons themselves, and he wields a similar power. It may be he can bend the minds of mortals—or at least mortals who do not resist him. But Captain Golach is just a man. How does he wield so much power and influence that he can destroy an influential person like Jhon Symon’s son?”
“I’ll tell you how,” Dhan answered. “He has been Koranth’s most trusted follower, and so Koranth rewards him with whatever he wishes. Almost nobody opposes Golach now. He takes what he wants. And as long as he continues to be useful to Koranth, I don’t see this ending. But it is also said that Golach is the son of my father. Not the son of my mother, the queen, but one of many sons by many different women. Judging by how my father treats him, I have no reason to doubt this. I have wondered whether Koranth convinced my father to discard me because there were other heirs of his own blood who might take his throne. Now that I am outlawed and sentenced to death, Golach is certain to be the next king.”
Jhaban made a spitting sound, and a look of disgust crossed his face. “That alone is reason for us to oppose Citadel in this war, even if there were no Daegmons. What Golach has done to Jhon and his family is despicable.”
“There will be more stories like this all the time if Koranth is allowed to rule,” Thimeon said. “It is time to act.”
The others looked at him, waiting for him to continue. He knew what they were thinking. Act how? Do what? He drew a deep breath. By now the morning sun had risen three quarters of the way up the eastern sky. It had been over an hour since they had crawled out of the well and into the courtyard. Every hour could be critical. All the while they sat in the house, Koranth was searching intently for them. Even here, within the house, Thimeon didn’t feel safe from prying eyes or ears. If they stayed in or near the city, soldiers would discover them sooner or later. And still the Daegmons roamed free.
“Okay. Here is where we stand on our plan,” Thimeon finally said aloud. The others listened as he reviewed the plans he had made with Lluanthro. “We are outside the walls of Citadel, and that is good. But we still need help. Ideally, horses for each of us. But even a couple of teams of wagons would be best. My friends, I think, can help. If we failed to meet at dawn, our next target was to meet at the noon hour. Lluanthro shou
ld be waiting for us soon at the main gates of Citadel, ready with a wagon to leave the city. We need to get a message to him where to find us and how many of us there are. We also need to outfit ourselves for travel. Weapons. More rope. Food for at least a few days. I suppose horses are out of the question.”
He turned to Corandra. “I am afraid there is little we can do for your mother and father now. If we defeat the Daegmons and return to Citadel, then I trust Prince Dhan to put right the wrongs his father has done. Now we can use your help, if you are willing.”
“We are willing,” the two women said. Corandra added, “I can go now and search for supplies and then be ready to meet your friend at the gate.”
Thimeon nodded. “That is good. His name is Lluanthro. I expect he will be in a long wagon. Make sure you are speaking with the right person. Don’t mention the prince or give any information about us until you’re sure. We expected to meet him ourselves, so we did not arrange any special signal. Look for a man of about fifty years of age. When I saw him yesterday, he had a long blue scarf tucked in the neck of a tan wool cloak. If you have doubts, you can test him. Ask him the name of his sons. He has two. He brought his younger son Athropas with him to the city but has likely sent him back toward Aënport with some other party. His older son is named Lluach. If you are convinced of who he is, then let him know our numbers and that we need to flee as soon as possible. Whatever you do, be careful. Our enemies are looking for us. I trust Lluanthro but nobody else.”
The warnings seemed to unnerve Jhonna. “Might it be a trap?” she asked. “Does anybody know that this merchant friend of yours helped with the escape? What if he is followed?”
Corandra put her hand on her sister and smiled. “It isn’t soldiers looking for the merchant I’m worried about. We have enough enemies of our own.”
Thimeon exhaled through pursed lips. Thinking of his own danger, he had momentarily forgotten what had happened to Corandra’s family. Now he gave thought to her earlier story. The risk that Lluanthro had been discovered and followed seemed small enough. But what risk would Corandra take being seen in the city? She might have enemies waiting for her even now. Somebody not even looking for the prince might follow her back to her house.
The Betrayed Page 27