Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two

by Brian S. Pratt

  “And besides,” added Pole-arm, “Lord Black Hawk isn’t even in the Keep.”

  Why should I ask for Lord Black hawk if he isn’t in the Keep?

  Jiron had explained that if he went there looking for Ceadric, they’d turn him away for sure. But if he asked for Black Hawk first, then dropped Ceadric’s name, it might give the guards pause. Someone of Kip’s age, trying to put one over on them, would be unlikely to do so.

  I hope this works.

  “If Lord Black Hawk is not within, I was told to deliver my message to Ceadric.”

  The guards sobered. Pole-arm eyed him. “Ceadric, you say?”

  Kip nodded. “That is what I was told.” He watched them exchange uncertain glances.

  Maintain your composure. Act like you belong there and they will let you through. Give them any reason to doubt your story, and it’s over.

  Jiron’s words gave him scant comfort as he withered beneath their gaze.

  “What is the message?”

  Fear and anxiety melted away at the question. They were going to take him seriously. Just don’t blow it!

  “I am not allowed to give it to anyone but Lord Black Hawk, or his right-hand man, Ceadric.”

  The guards eyed each other. “Get a Page.”

  Pole-arm nodded and ducked into the Keep.

  “This better not be some trick, boy, or you’ll rot in the dungeon for sure.”

  Kip shook his head and remained silent. Jiron had advised him to say only what he must to get in and not indulge in idle banter.

  They had given him a description of Ceadric; tall, a touch on the other side of middle age, and a countenance hardened through numerous battles in service to Lord Black Hawk.

  Half a dozen people had passed through the gate by the time Pole-arm returned, each giving Kip a passing, inquisitive glance where he stood with back against the wall near the guard. Behind Pole-arm walked a lad of thirteen summers dressed in the accouterments of a page in service to Black Hawk. Emblazoned upon the page’s tabard was an insignia that brought pride to those of Madoc, and instilled fear in men of the Empire: A black bird of prey in flight poised to strike, upon a red heraldic field. Behind the hawk were two crossed swords.

  Coming to a stop, Pole-arm indicated the boy. “Follow him and do not stray.”

  The Page gave Kip a slight nod, gestured for the novice to come along, then turned and headed back into the Keep.

  Kip hurried after and fell in step a pace to the lad’s right. He took in the mammoth wall of the inner courtyard and the men walking post along the ramparts. It looked rather formidable.

  “Been a Page long?”

  The lad glanced to Kip, pursed his lips slightly as if speaking to him was either against the rules, or unwelcomed, then shook his head.

  Another pair of guards stood watch at the door leading into the main body of the Keep. They gave the Page a nod that was returned in kind. Kip followed the lad through the doors.

  “So,” began Kip, “where is Ceadric?”

  “Ceadric is unavailable,” the Page said.

  “What? I thought I was to see Ceadric.”

  The Page shook his head. “Ceadric is in a meeting and will be unavailable for many hours.”

  “But what I have to tell him is important.”

  “I am sorry, truly. He left orders that his, uh, meeting should only be interrupted due to the gravest of emergencies.” The Page turned down a side hall.

  Kip mulled over what he should do. The Dark Mage had indicated time was quickly running out for their friends. Dire things may be happening to them even now. Did they even have an hour?

  “You are to see Captain Yeurlin. He has the Night Watch. Captain Yeurlin has full authority to accommodate whatever it is that his lordship, the High Priest, may require.”

  I doubt that…

  Passing into a narrow stairwell, the Page led him up to the next level. They emerged onto a hallway and turned to the right. The Page indicated a door at the end. “The Captain will meet you in there.”

  Should he trust the Captain? Jiron had said trust no one with his message but Lord Black Hawk and Ceadric. If he passed through those doors and failed to deliver the message, summary expulsion from the Keep would follow.

  He had to do something, but what? If he ran, the Page would sound the alarm. If he didn’t, he would be removed from the Keep and his mission would fail. Ceadric had to get the message.

  Morcyth, help me!

  The page continued leading him toward the door.

  A side door on their left opened and a servant emerged carrying a tray of dishes that looked to contain the remnants of someone’s dinner. Sitting slightly apart from the others was a small ceramic bowl.

  Time spent on the streets had honed his adaptive abilities well. As the servant passed, he snagged the bowl from off the tray. He waited until they were before the Captain’s door, then struck the Page on the back of the head with the bowl. So sturdy was the bowl’s construction that it hadn’t even cracked.

  As the Page crumbled, Kip caught the lad and glanced back over his shoulder. The servant was nowhere to be seen. He quickly dragged the Page back to a door some distance removed from the Captain’s. After pressing his ear against the wooden frame and hearing nothing, he opened the door.

  A bed, nightstand, and the way several of the chairs were covered in cloth indicated that this was a little-used guest room of some sort. Once the unconscious body of the Page had been dragged in, Kip closed the door and proceeded to don the Page’s tabard and breeches. Once he was dressed in the trappings of a Page in service to Black Hawk, Kip bound the lad’s hands and legs with strips torn from one of the cloths draped across the furniture. After a gag had been stuffed in the lad’s mouth and secured with a small strip of cloth, Kip returned to the door and cracked it open. Finding the hallway beyond deserted, he prayed a quick prayer to Morcyth, then quietly slipped from the room

  Chapter Ten

  Not long after leaving the room, Kip encountered five men dressed as soldiers of Black Hawk. Keeping head high, he walked past with purpose and they gave him little more than a passing glance.

  Attitude, young Kip. It’s all in the attitude.

  Jiron had been so right. Act like you belong and few would question your right to be there, especially if you wore a Page’s tabard. Kip couldn’t help but grin. Now, to find Ceadric before someone noticed that one of their Pages had gone missing.

  The Page had indicated Ceadric was in a meeting. Kip hadn’t the slightest idea where that might be. The Keep was rather large and to search it room by room would take far too long. But how does one find out without arousing suspicion?

  Coming to another hallway, he paused and glanced to the right, left, and ahead. They all looked alike. He stood in a quandary for several seconds before voices coming from the right prompted him to scurry across and continue down the one he had been following.

  Not far past the intersections of passageways, Kip came to an open doorway; light and the aroma of roasted meat came from within. It was a large room filled with many tables. Some were occupied by groups consisting of both soldiers and civilians enjoying their evening meal. He quickly continued on.

  Beyond the dining hall, he crossed before another door, this time a voice hollered out, “Oh, boy!”

  Discovered!

  His tongue went dry from sudden fear. Turning toward the voice, he saw a man in a stained apron.

  “Are you on business of the Keep?”

  Unsure how to reply, Kip kept quiet and merely nodded.

  The cook grimaced. “Damn! I need to get this tray to the Kirken Ambassador.” The tray in question lay upon a small table and was laden with meat, bread and a bottle of wine, enough to feed three men. “All my lads are off on other errands at the moment.” Shaking his head, he mumbled something about nobles and how they wanted everything right away.

  The cook cast Kip a calculating look. “It seems the last batch of sweet rolls was a little large.”
Cocking an eyebrow, he said, “May have to just…throw these extras away.”

  His eyes moved from Kip and settled onto a plate whereupon laid three of the most mouthwatering sweet rolls the young novice had ever seen. The glaze practically shimmered in the light.

  Kip knew a bribe when he saw one. Aside from the fact that taking the tray to wherever the Kirken Ambassador happened to be would provide him an excuse to roam the halls, he was hungry.

  “Rolls first?”

  The cook nodded. “Make it fast. The Kirken Ambassador is not one to be kept waiting.”

  Stepping into the kitchen, Kip snatched up the rolls and popped one into his mouth. Crisp and sticky on the outside yet light and fluffy on the inside, it was perfect. The High Priest would find little fault with these.

  Number two and three followed in quick succession. The cook offered him a wet rag to clean his fingers then handed him the tray.

  “You will find the Ambassador in the Amber Suite.”

  Before he could hold the words in, Kip asked, “Amber Suite?”

  The cook frowned. “Don’t you know where the Amber Suite is located?”

  Kip thought hard. “Uh, not really.” Excuses and alibis came easily to one who had been raised on the streets. “I have only been here a few days.”

  “Humph. You’d think a Page would know where everything is.”

  Ducking his head in feigned embarrassment, Kip replied in a cowed voice, “I am learning.”

  The cook eyed the emblem on his chest, turned a thoughtful look upon Kip, then shrugged. “Come with me.”

  Stepping from the kitchen, the cook entered the hallway and pointed in the direction Kip had been traveling. “Take the first stairs on the right. Follow them to the second landing. Turn right into the hallway and count five doors on your right. When you get to the sixth, you will be at the Amber Suite.”

  Kip bobbed his head in a nod. “Yes, sir.”

  Making a shooing motion with his hands, the cook said, “Now hurry.”

  The directions were easy to follow. Along the way, he encountered other denizens of the Keep. Each time, he thought for sure his masquerade would be uncovered. But other than a cursory glance at the contents arrayed upon the tray, they paid him little heed.

  Once at the second landing, he turned to the right and began counting doors. The fourth on his right opened just as he was passing the third and a comely maid perhaps a little older than himself emerged bearing a stack of folded linen. Upon spying Kip, she broke into a smile.

  “Hi.”

  Kip dipped his head in a brief bow. “Good evening to you, miss.”

  “My, aren’t we formal.” Her lilting tone and congenial attitude quickly put him at ease.

  He gave her his most charming smile. “Always treat the ladies with respect. That’s what my ol’ Granther used to say.”

  Eyes dancing in amusement, she replied, “Wise man.”

  “I always thought so.”

  She eyed the tray. “Where are you taking that?”

  He nodded to a distant point down the hallway. “To the Kirken Ambassador.”

  Her face transitioned from gay to solemn in a flash. “I’ll be glad when he’s gone.”

  “Bad?”

  “He can be. Just get in, drop off the tray, and get out as quickly as you can.”

  “I’ll do that, thank you.”

  Her smile returned. “You’re welcome, uh…”

  “Kip.”

  “Kip?” She mulled over his name for a moment. “Haven’t heard of a Page called Kip before.”

  “I’m new.”

  “You must be. I’m Sara.”

  “It was good to meet you, Sara. But I must be going.”

  Nodding, she replied, “Yes. Maybe I will see you around later?”

  Kip shrugged. “Never know.”

  As he turned to continue to deliver the food, he paused. “You wouldn’t know where I could find Ceadric, would you? I was supposed to deliver a message to him but the cook sidetracked me.”

  Her laughter filled the hallway. “He does that to me, too. I think Ceadric is in his chambers.” Seeing his blank look, she pointed to the ceiling. “Up two flights of steps and down the hallway to your left. Find the niche with the bust of Lord Coranthi, his door will be opposite.”

  Kip gave her a wide smile then turned to hurry down the hallway.

  “Bye.”

  Her voice echoed after him. He hollered an answering, “Bye,” over his shoulder.

  As he passed the fifth door, he heard raised voices coming from the sixth. Though the language was unfamiliar, the anger coming from the most vociferous of the two was unmistakable. For a moment he considered leaving the tray in front of the door and getting out of there.

  What would happen to the cook if he did? Visions of the poor man getting berated for Kip’s lack of courage plagued him. He sighed and approached the door. His conscience wouldn’t allow him to leave. Steeling his courage, Kip knocked on the door.

  The voices within grew silent and the trod of a large man approached.

  He held his breath as the door swung open.

  “What is…?”

  A man easily six and a half feet tall with shoulders like an ox gave Kip a gaze that sent a tremor of fear coursing through his body. Turning to look back in the room, the man said a few words in the unfamiliar language.

  From within came a reply. He turned back toward Kip and motioned for him to enter.

  “Sit it on the table.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Entering, Kip moved to the main table. Maps and papers were strewn across its surface. To the right of a very, very fat man seated on the opposite side, lay an area barely large enough to contain the tray. Where the first man was extremely tall and muscular, this one was short, fat and his neck jiggled like a turkey’s when he gestured to the cleared area and said, “Quickly, boy.”

  Kip bobbed his head and swiftly crossed the room. Though withering under the fat man’s stare, the novice was quick to notice how the obese man’s clothes were of a finer cut than the tall man’s. This must be the Ambassador.

  Kip’s hands trembled as he deposited the tray upon the table. If not for Sara’s words of caution, he might not have been as nervous. As he turned back to the door, a chubby hand clasped the neck of his tabard, bringing him to a stop.

  “You are a Page, are you not, boy?”

  Glancing over his shoulder, Kip nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.”

  Beneath a matched pair of bushy eyebrows atop twin, droopy rolls of fat, the Ambassador’s eyes bored into Kip’s. “I want you to tell Lord Black Hawk that I am not accustomed to being kept waiting. You tell him that I leave on the morrow, and if our business is not settled by then, it will be upon his head.”

  “But…”

  The hand clenched into a fist and the fat little arm lifted him from the ground. The collar of his tabard bit painfully into his neck. “But nothing, boy.” Pulling him closer, the man brought Kip’s face to within inches of his own.

  “You tell him I will see him, tonight! Do you understand?”

  Fear ran wild as he stared into the most merciless eyes he had ever encountered. Kip knew that his life was as nothing to this man. He may be protected by the designation of Page of the Keep, but that didn’t make the fear any less. In a voice slightly louder than a mouse’s squeak, he said, “Yes.”

  “What?”

  Louder. “Yes. I understand!” The last word he practically shouted.

  The hand let go and his feet landed upon the floor. Kip quickly backed away from the Ambassador. The large man opened the door and Kip scrambled from the room. His posterior had just cleared the doorway when the door slammed shut behind him.

  “See.”

  Turning toward the voice, he saw Sara standing several feet away, minus the stack of folded cloth.

  Heart calming, the shaking of his knees subsiding, Kip nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

  “He can’t hur
t you, you know. Pages are protected.”

  “They are?” Leaning against the side of the hallway, he allowed his nerves to recover a little bit more.

  She nodded. “Oh, he’ll yell at you, but it is considered a breach of hospitality to hurt a member of the Lord’s court.”

  Kip was surprised by that. “I’m a member of court?”

  “Well, not exactly. But Pages are protected. They are considered part of the Lord’s household, and as such, can’t be touched.”

  He thought back to the Page lying bound and unconscious he had left in that guest room. “What, uh, happens to someone who hurts a Page?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t think that has happened for some time. It would probably be up to the Lord on what to do with the miscreant. I think the punishment would be severe, though. Lord Black Hawk can’t very well allow people to think such an act is without consequences. Though it probably depends on who hurt the Page.

  “If it was a noble, probably not much more than concessions in whatever it was they were in talks about.”

  “How about a commoner?”

  “Cut off a hand? Prison? Death? An attack on Lord’s household is like an attack upon the Lord himself. So don’t worry about it.” She reached out and patted him upon the chest where Black Hawk’s insignia lay. “As long as you wear this, you’re safe from harm.”

  “Great,” he mumbled.

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  Lose a hand. Death? Kip hoped the Lord Black Hawk would understand the circumstances that led Kip to attack the Page. The High Priest wouldn’t allow it, would he?

  “I best be finding Ceadric and deliver my message.” He moved away from the wall.

  She came up and patted him on the cheek. “Hope to see you again.”

  The personal attention unexpectedly flustered him. “Uh, yeah. That would be great.”

  After flashing a smile, she turned and proceeded down the hallway.

  He watched her departure for several seconds before realizing he was standing still. Shaking his head, Kip hurried down the hallway in the opposite direction in hopes of finding the steps leading to the upper levels.