They climbed up a steep spiral staircase, crossed a rope bridge, and climbed five more steps to a hut built on the upper branches of three massive trees.
Shung pulled aside a heavy leather drape. Sir Caleb ducked inside and Achan followed. Sir Caleb's luminary lit up the round space. The mud did not cover the twigs as much on the inside walls. Stripes of branches poked out of the walls like ribs. A wide, low pallet covered with furs hid most the clapboard floor.
"Do you need help with your boots, Your Highness?" Sir Caleb asked.
Achan shot a quick glare at the knight. "I think I can manage."
"I apologize if the question sounded strange. You'll soon have a valet whose sole employment will be to help you dress."
Achan pulled off the fur cape and his wool one and tossed them on the bed. "I don't need a man to dress me."
"It's not a question of need, Your Highness."
"Well, I don't want a man to dress me, then." He sat on the low pallet and pulled his boot, but the tall, fitted leather clung to his sweaty leg. Sir Caleb had helped him every night since Melas, when Trajen had given him the boots.
Achan struggled with the boot. Sir Caleb handed the luminary to Shung and pulled the boot off, then the second. Achan gritted his teeth. If they insisted he wear fancy clothes, perhaps he would need help getting dressed. How pleasing his old orange stray's tunic looked now.
"Shung and I will stand guard. Sir Gavin will relieve me later, but Shung will be outside all night should you need anything."
Achan glanced at Shung. "Thank you."
Shung nodded. He handed the luminary back to Sir Caleb and slipped past the drape.
"Sleep well, Your Highness," Sir Caleb said. "I shall wait until you're tucked in and take the light out with me."
Achan nodded. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on his capes. He shivered and crawled under the heavy furs. It would take a bit for the bed to warm.
Sir Caleb carried the luminary out the door and the leather curtain flopped back into place.
The dark room trembled. A bed in a tree was a sensation that would take time to get used to. He stared at the outline of light around the edges of the curtain. His eyes fell closed, and he forced them back open. He sensed excitement and fear that refused to let him sleep. Were people still celebrating?
He wished Sparrow were here. Achan hated having his own chambers.
Soft steps padded across wood. He tensed. Could animals get into these huts? The sound crept toward his pallet. He slipped backwards out of bed, onto the cold floor, heart racing, hand grasping for his sword. Where had he left it? A shadow darted past the light at the door, past the foot of his bed.
Achan sprang, quickly finding the intruder's neck with his hands. As Achan hit the floor, a girl's scream urged him to let go. He rose to his knees. The intruder ran away, room shaking.
The curtain whipped aside. Yellow light blinded Achan. He raised an arm up to block the luminary's glare.
Sir Caleb knelt beside him. "Did you fall? Are you hurt?"
"I, uh…had a guest." Achan nodded toward his pallet. The lump of fur blankets shifted.
Shung, short sword clutched in hand, approached the bed. "Who is there? Come out now." He pulled back the furs.
A small gasp and Yumikak's frizzy head poked out from the top of the furs.
"Blazes, Yumikak!" Achan said. "What were you thinking? I could've hurt you."
"I came to sing you to sleep, I did," she said in a meek voice.
Shung growled, his hairy eyebrows becoming one. "Did your father send you?"
Yumikak's eyes went wide. "Oh, no, Master Noatak. It was my idea, it was. Please do not tell my father."
"You shame us." Shung faced Achan and stomped one foot, shaking the hut. "Shung will take intruder to her father and return shortly."
Yumikak's head hung so low her chin touched her tunic. Shung steered her out the door by the scruff of her neck. The hut trembled. Sir Caleb helped Achan up. He climbed back into bed, hoping Yumikak wouldn't be in trouble for her actions. But why would she sneak into his room to sing to him?
"I see that in the future, it will be necessary to sweep your chambers before allowing you to bed," Sir Caleb said.
Achan rolled onto his side. "She wasn't trying to kill me."
"No, but had she been, she might have succeeded. It would also be wise to review the customs of each village before we arrive. It has been almost twenty years since I last visited Berland. I had forgotten."
"That women sing men to sleep? Or is that a special custom for visitors?"
Sir Caleb chuckled. "It's a special custom for a betrothed couple. It appears you have survived your second offer of marriage, Your Highness."
"Be moving over, boy!" Inko's bony elbow jammed into Vrell's side.
She gasped and fought the urge to elbow him back. "Where? To the floor?"
Inko did not answer, so Vrell rolled on her side and curled into a ball. How ridiculous! She couldn't believe Sir Gavin hadn't helped her make other arrangements when they were given this privy of a room. Granted, they were in a treetop. How big could the rooms be? But surely Achan had been given his own bed. Vrell would rather sleep on Achan's floor than cram into a bed with an old, crotchety-
You will tell me where they are.
Vrell gasped at the sound of Esek's voice in her mind. Sensing a connection with her mother, she closed her eyes and focused.
Mother stood behind the jade desk in her study. The sun streamed through the window and lit the colorful wall murals and niches. Beautiful sun.
Esek and Sir Kenton stood on the redwood floor before Mother's desk.
I do not know where she is, Mother said.
You are both gifted, Esek said. You must communicate.
When my daughter calls to me, we talk, but she has not done so in several days.
When did you last speak?
A week past.
And where was she?
Approaching Melas.
Esek's posture swelled. I know they are coming here. He means to marry her and take my throne.
Mother walked around her desk. My daughter is engaged to Master Bran Rennan. I have told you this numerous times.
Lady Averella is engaged to me. I shall have her with or without your permission.
Mother laughed. I think not, young man.
Sir Kenton slapped her. Do not disrespect your king.
Mother set her jaw and straightened before Sir Kenton, who towered over Mother's petite form. This man is no one's king. He bought his Council votes. Lord Nathak sat as my proxy because he killed my manservant and forged my name. The true Council will never crown this impostor.
The true Council, as you know it, is no more, Esek said.
Mother frowned and studied Esek's haughty face. What do you mean?
The Council has elected members to replace those charged with treason. Your membership on the Council has been revoked. You still rule Carm-until I wed your daughter and take it legally. Esek stepped up to the arched window overlooking the northern fields. But since you refuse to aid your king, I will burn your vineyards.
Mother's heart rate spiked. That is madness! You want control of Carm because it is vast and powerful. Without its vineyards it is nothing.
Then at least it will not stand in my way. Esek started for the door then paused. If you give me Wren, I shall spare your eastern vineyard.
Mother blinked. Who is Wren?
Esek spun around. The stray's lover, fool woman! Give her to me and your eastern vineyard will go unburned.
I have never met a woman named Wren.
Do not twist the truth, Duchess. I know she is here with Sir Rigil and that traitor giant. You have one hour to save your biggest crop. Send word to me before-Esek wheezed, his face purpling.
Your Highness? Are you well? Sir Kenton asked.
Esek fell to his knees, gripping his throat, eyes bulging. Release…my…
Sir Kenton crouched at Esek's side. Wit
h The Shield's back turned, Mother darted behind the changing screen to the left of her desk. Anillo beckoned Mother with an outstretched hand from the open secret doorway built into one of the niches. Vrell gasped, shocked to see Anillo alive after Mother had accused Lord Nathak of having killed him. As Mother slipped past, Vrell noticed a hideous fresh scar across Anillo's neck.
Never mind me, fool! Esek rasped. Where did-
Anillo shut the secret door on Esek's question. He and Mother swept soundlessly along the dark, cool passage, lit by the occasional arrow loop, and up the spiral staircase. Not until they had climbed five levels and exited into the gazebo-like top of the Ryson tower did Mother speak.
Are the troops ready, Anillo?
They are, my lady.
Attack, and show no mercy.
Yes, my lady. Anillo bowed and retreated down the stairs.
Mother leaned against the stone ledge. You will relay all this to Sir Gavin, Averella?
Yes, Mother.
Good. Now I am weak from having given you my strength and must rest. Be safe, my love.
Mother withdrew. Cold gripped Vrell's pores. The room spun. She slid off the edge of the bed onto the cold floor and faded into darkness.
23
Achan's jaw ached from relentless shivering. His cheeks and nose were numb. His shoulder snapped back a stiff branch, causing snow to dump over his head. Icy flakes fell through the neck of his fur cape and slid down his back. He squirmed so they'd melt faster and pulled the hood over his head.
They'd spent one night in Berland. Achan wanted to stay longer, but Sir Gavin received word from the Duchess of Carm that Esek had ridden north after a threatening visit. Sir Gavin wanted to get to Tsaftown as soon as possible. Achan doubted they stood a chance of beating Esek as slow as their horses moved through the snowy mountain pass.
Camping proved miserable. Sleeping on frozen ground, even with the furs and blankets Koyukuk had given them, was terribly uncomfortable. To keep their minds focused, Sir Caleb lectured on the reign of King Bole II.
But Achan couldn't keep his mind from spinning. Lady Tara. Yumikak's song. The gift of Shung's service. Riga's death. Gren's growing affection for Bran. Silvo pushing him off the platform in Barth. Jaira's spicy smell. His aching backside. Lady Tara.
His thoughts always circled back to Lady Tara. She alone had shown interest in Achan when he was nothing more than a stray squire. Surely the people of Er'Rets would accept a woman as beautiful and agreeable as she? He couldn't help but pray Arman would allow-
Achan's horse stopped and neighed. Achan nudged his flanks. "Come on, Scout. Got to keep moving or we'll freeze."
"Why did you stop?" Sparrow asked from behind.
Sir Gavin voice came from the front of the line. "The trail is blocked. Avalanche."
Achan's chest tightened. This would surely delay their arrival in Tsaftown.
"Can we go around?" Sir Caleb asked.
"Nay. I'm afraid we'll have to take an alternate route."
"Meribah?" Sir Caleb asked.
"Aye." Sir Gavin sniffed in a long breath. "Arman knows I'd rather not trespass upon Lord Gershom's…hospitality, yet it's the quickest route. Hopefully we'll find the man in good spirits."
"Being in his right mind, you're meaning?" Inko said.
"Is he ill?" Achan asked.
"He's suffered more than his share of misfortune," Sir Caleb said.
"He's being four times a widower, Your Highness," Inko said, "but having been blessed with no heirs, male or female, last I was hearing, he's seeking a fifth bride."
"At his age?" Sparrow said.
"The man has not yet reached his seventieth year, Vrell," Sir Gavin said. "Marriage is uncommon at such an age but not unheard of."
Sparrow gasped. "Oh, Sir Gavin, do not take offense. I did not mean to suggest you could not marry. I only meant-"
Sir Gavin chuckled long and hard, and Inko and Sir Caleb joined him.
When the men's laughter finally dwindled, Sir Gavin said, "I made my choice long ago, Vrell. I pledged my life to Arman and the throne. I'm his servant. I seek no other love in my life."
Nice one, Sparrow, Achan said. Insulting my Kingsguard commander… I wouldn't have expected such from you. You're normally so polite and well-mannered.
Achan's connection with Sparrow vanished. The little fox had pushed him out. He chuckled and let his laugh carry on longer than necessary. "Okay, Sparrow, I can take a hint."
*
The long and windy road to Meribah Corner added two nights to the journey. The wind seemed made of needles, piercing through to Vrell's bones. She could no longer feel her toes, fingers, nose, or ears. She prayed they were not black with frostbite. When she first caught sight of the lights of the stronghold, she thought she was seeing things.
Sir Gavin cleared the matter. "Meribah Corner, yonder."
Conflicting emotions pulled Vrell in two directions. She longed for warmth, but she did not relish seeing Lord Gershom again. All the times she had been blessed with his company, he had been irritable, insulting, and nearly insane. Her mother's uncle was a wanton man who gadded about as if he were forty years younger. The jest of Er'Retian court claimed that a girl truly came of age when Old Lord Gershom first proposed his undying affection.
Vrell shivered, recalling the slurred offer of marriage he'd made her when she was but thirteen. The chill in her bones prolonged her shiver, leaving her bones aching. She prayed Arman would get them to the stronghold before she froze.
The final leg of the journey seemed the longest. Despite the icy surroundings, Vrell caught the scent of salt in the cold air. They had reached the northwestern edge of Er'Rets.
The scratchy trees fell away and distant torchlight lit up their destination. Perched on an incline at the top of a cliff, Meribah Corner slowly took shape. The torches along the curtain wall formed a diamond, the wider side facing forward. Where the two walls met in the front corner, a gatehouse stood, half buried in a heaping snow drift.
The horses kept up their slow pace, unable to move faster on the steep slope. Why did Lord Gershom's men not clear the trail so close to the gate?
The curtain wall stood three levels high. A thick layer of snow edged the top and icicles draped over the sides like icing spilling over the edge of a cake. The torches on the sentry wall cast faint light over their party. The men's beards were covered in frost.
Sir Gavin reined his horse before the doors. "Lo! 'Tis Sir Gavin Lukos come to seek an audience with Lord Gershom." His deep voice echoed in the deathly quiet. The following silence sent a chill over Vrell's arms. After a long moment, Sir Gavin called again. "Hello! Is anyone there?"
Achan's voice filled Vrell's mind. Hello. Hello. Hello. Is anyone there? There? There?
Vrell smiled. Always a boy first. It would be interesting to see this boy become king of Er'Rets.
"Surely they wouldn't leave their gatehouse unguarded," Sir Caleb said.
"It appears they have," Sir Gavin sniffed and released a breath that hid his face in a white cloud, "unless something has happened here."
"But the torches are being lit. And Poroo are not coming this far north."
Sir Gavin called out again, and again received no answer. "Have you a boarding hook, Caleb?"
"Aye." Sir Caleb dismounted and drew his pack off the side of his horse.
"What are you going to do?" Achan asked.
"I'm going over." Sir Caleb drew out a wad of leather and unrolled a coil of rope with a three-hooked rod attached to one end. He turned his gaze to the wall and pulled the rope through his hands, unwinding it from the tangle. "I suppose it would be best to go up here."
Sir Gavin dismounted and untethered their horses. He took the reins of Sir Caleb's horse and his horse and walked them downhill, away from the gatehouse. "Achan, bring your animal back a bit, will you?"
Achan nudged his mount back beside Sir Gavin's.
Sir Caleb dropped the hook and line at his feet and stretched his arms up
over his head. "I'm nearly too old for this, you know, Gavin."
"Not as old as the rest of us."
"I'll go," Achan said, grinning. "I'll try, anyway. I've never used a…rope hook."
"A boarding hook," Sir Caleb said, "used to board ships from a smaller craft. And thank you, Your Highness, but a prince is never the first man to enter any stronghold."
Achan folded his arms. Vrell could guess the stubborn thoughts raging through his mind. She tried to send a sarcastic comment, but his shields were fortified more than ever.
Sir Caleb picked up his hook and line and backed up five paces, facing the doors. He gripped the hook by the shaft, raised it above his head, and backed up a few more paces in the knee-high snow. Then, in one motion, he lowered his arm and tossed the hook up toward the wall. The metal clanked against the frosty ledge and fell back, bringing shards of broken icicles with it. The hook thumped deep into the snowdrift along the curtain wall.
Vrell jumped, thankful the hook had not fallen on Sir Caleb's head.
"Sorry." Sir Caleb pulled the rope until the hook flipped out of the hole in the snow and slid toward him. "It's been a while."
He lobbed the hook skyward again. It landed in the snow on top of the wall, but when Sir Caleb tugged, the hook hadn't snagged and plopped back to the snow. He growled.
"Three is being a lucky number, Caleb," Inko said. "Try again."
Vrell pursed her lips at Inko's ridiculous superstitions.
Sir Caleb tossed the hook quickly. This time it sailed over the top. He jerked the rope, which cut a deep slice in the snow on the curtain wall and answered with a muffled clank.
"See," Inko said. "Three is being a good number."
Vrell rolled her eyes.
Sir Caleb waded through the snowdrift. The closer he got to the wall, the deeper the snow. When the snow reached his waist, he jumped and, hand over hand, pulled himself up. Once his feet cleared the snowdrift, he set them against the wall and walked up, his boots slipping every so often on the icy stone.
Vrell held her breath, praying he would not fall. He had almost reached the top when a soldier peeked over the crenellation. Men's muffled voices rose, steel struck stone, and Sir Caleb fell, straight down, as if jumping feet first into a lake. His arms flailed a moment before his entire body vanished into the deep snowdrift.
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