Prince Kragen nodded darkly. Without a word, he beckoned for the horses and his honor guard.
In a moment, Terisa found herself being offered a charger so big that she couldn’t see over its back. Oh, shit, she muttered to herself. That was one thing she had learned in Mordant, anyway: after some practice, she was now able to say oh, shit without sounding like she expected to have her mouth washed out with soap. If she fell off that beast, she might take days to hit the ground.
Unfortunately, Prince Kragen had already mounted; Geraden was swinging up into the saddle of his horse. This probably wouldn’t be a good time to ask for something smaller.
Somehow, she climbed onto the charger’s back.
The reins carried so many streamers that they looked like the lines of a maypole. She was afraid to move them: they might make her horse shy. But Prince Kragen and Geraden weren’t having any trouble. Apparently, these beasts were trained for ceremonial occasions. Nothing embarrassing happened as she guided her mount to Geraden’s side.
‘Simply as a precaution,’ the Prince announced, ‘we will avoid the road. We will ride to the walls directly, and around them to the gates.’
Geraden seemed to think that made sense.
Prince Kragen nodded to his honor guard. His standard-bearer raised the green-and-red pennon of Alend, then affixed a flag of truce below it. The soldiers took their formal positions around their Prince and his companions.
In formation, the riders left the encampment.
The charger’s strides made the distance shorter than it had any right to be. Before she had time to accustom herself to the beast’s gait, Terisa found herself moving into what looked like arrow-range of the castle. She could see men on the walls now, watching, pointing; some of them hurried from place to place. She tried to stifle the fear that they would ignore the flag of truce and start firing, but it refused to go away.
Luckily, there was still some common sense left in Orison. None of the men on the battlements bent their bows. None of them made any threatening gestures.
Instead, the castle’s trumpeter winded his horn, sending a forlorn call like a wail of defiance into the skeptical sunlight. As the riders rounded the corner of Orison and neared the entrance, they heard the great winches squeal against the strain of raising the battered and deformed gates up into the architrave.
Terisa felt nothing to indicate that a translation had ever taken place near here.
In formation, Prince Kragen and his company crossed the bare ground to the road in front of the gates.
Castellan Lebbick and ten of his men came out on horseback to meet them.
Seeing the Castellan filled Terisa’s stomach with a watery panic. His men were nervous; the horses fretted because they hadn’t had enough exercise. In contrast, he looked too obsessed and single-minded for nervousness. His eyes were red and raw, dangerously aggrieved; he moved as if the violence coiled in his muscles might burst out at any moment. His features were sharp with anticipation – almost with yearning.
‘My lord Prince.’ He bared his teeth: maybe he was trying to smile. ‘You’ve got strange friends. A fratricide and a traitor. I never thought I was going to see either of them again.’
‘Castellan Lebbick.’ Prince Kragen lacked Lebbick’s air of madness, but he matched the Castellan’s tone. ‘Geraden and the lady Terisa accompany me under a flag of truce. I have no interest in your opinion of them. You will respect the flag.’
‘Oh, of course. They’re as safe as babies. Especially since they’re with you. You’re the man who intends to break down my gates. I wouldn’t lift a finger against any of you.’
Prince Kragen clenched his jaws. Before he could speak, however, Geraden said hotly, ‘Castellan, I didn’t kill my brother.’ His face was flushed; anger glinted from his eyes. Hints of authority echoed in his voice. ‘Terisa isn’t a traitor. It’s time for you to start believing us. You’re doomed if you don’t.’
The Castellan actually laughed – a rough sound like a piece of stone being crushed. ‘Believe you? I believe you. I don’t need you to tell me I’m doomed. That’s not the problem.’
Prince Kragen contained himself. ‘What is the problem, Castellan?’
‘The problem, my lord Prince,’ retorted Lebbick fiercely, ‘is that I’m the only one. Nobody else here cares enough. Nobody else is desperate enough.’
Terisa recoiled from his vehemence. She didn’t want to know what he was talking about: she wanted to get away from him. Geraden leaned forward in his saddle, however; he was almost panting. ‘Did I hear you right, Castellan?’ he demanded. ‘Did I just hear you admit Terisa and I are innocent?’
‘No.’ The Castellan bared his teeth again. ‘You heard me say I believe you. They all think I’m insane. If I said the sun is shining today, the people in there’ – he indicated Orison with a twitch of his head – ‘would run to get out of the rain.
‘Nobody cares what a crazy man believes. Besides’ – he shrugged maliciously – ‘I might be wrong.’
‘Castellan Lebbick.’ Prince Kragen spoke harshly, trying to gain control of the situation. ‘We will discuss the question of your sanity at another time. As you may guess, Geraden and the lady Terisa have traveled widely since they departed Orison. They bring news. I must have an audience with King Joyse.’
‘An audience?’ Lebbick snapped back at once, ‘you? The Alend Contender? Any news you want King Joyse to hear is either false or dangerous. They’re going to scream for your heart’s blood when I let you in. Of course you can have an audience.’
Wheeling his horse as if the matter were settled, he faced his men. Counting off four of them, he ordered, ‘Tell King Joyse. I’m going to take Kragen and these two to the hall of audiences. Tell him there are going to be riots unless he backs me up. We’ll have to kill people to keep the Prince and his friends alive if King Joyse doesn’t come to the hall.’
At once, Prince Kragen put in grimly, ‘And tell him also that the lady Elega is being kept hostage. Until now, she has been an honored guest and friend of the Alend Monarch. To ensure my safety, however, she has been deprived of her freedom.’ He spoke as if he intended to make someone pay for the necessity which compelled him to let Elega be used in this way. ‘If any harm comes to me, or to my companions, she will be hurt as well.
‘Tell King Joyse that.’
‘Oh, of course, my lord Prince,’ the Castellan grated without looking at Kragen. ‘I burn to do everything you command. My men will keep you alive. Somehow.’
His four guards rode back into the courtyard. Terisa saw them dismount, saw them head at a run for one of the inner doorways.
‘Come on,’ added Lebbick. He might have been speaking to the wall stretching high above his head over the gates. ‘Or ride back to Margonal and admit you haven’t got the bare courage to do whatever it is you’ve got in mind.’
With his remaining men, he reentered the mouth of Orison.
Prince Kragen stared at the Castellan’s back. He made no effort to lower his voice. ‘That man has lost his mind.’
Still aching inside, Terisa murmured, ‘King Joyse cut the ground out from under him. His wife died, and he didn’t have anything else to live for except his loyalty, and the King made him look like a fool for being loyal.’
‘A pitiful tale,’ rasped the Prince. Obviously, he had no patience for Lebbick’s problems. ‘Sadly, it does not tell us whether or not he can be trusted. Will he not have us killed as soon as we cross that threshold?’
‘Suit yourself.’ Abruptly, Geraden jerked up his charger’s head. ‘I trust him. I’m going in.’
Breaking formation, he started for the gates.
Prince Kragen swore at him, ordered him back. Terisa was already following him, however, urging her mount almost onto his horse’s heels. The Prince and his guard had no choice but to enter Orison behind Geraden and Terisa.
As she passed through the thick stone wall into the protected rectangle of the courtyard, her pulse went up a be
at. In spite of her numerous anxieties – or perhaps because of them – she had the strange sensation that she was coming home.
The interior faces of the castle loomed above her, crowded with spectators, punctuated with clotheslines. Castellan Lebbick had dismounted in the mud. When the Alend party approached him, he saluted with withering sarcasm. At once, his guards took the heads of the horses and held them so that Prince Kragen and his people could dismount in an orderly fashion.
Pulling her leg hesitantly off the back of the charger, Terisa found herself caught and lifted down in Artagel’s grasp.
He embraced her as if she were dear to him.
‘Artagel!’ He had hurt her once, badly. On the other hand, he was Geraden’s brother; she knew most of his family. And his hug was as eloquent as an apology. Instinctively, she flung her arms around his neck.
After a moment, he pushed her away and gave her a lopsided, rather embarrassed grin. ‘Be careful, my lady.’ He rolled his eyes at Geraden. ‘We don’t want to make him jealous.’
‘Artagel.’ Geraden practically jumped on his brother; he grabbed Artagel, shook him, hugged him, thumped his back. ‘How are you, how’s your side, are you all right, what’s going on here, what’s the matter with Lebbick?’ Geraden’s face shone with joy. ‘Do you realize how long it’s been since I saw you well? I can tell you, the Domne had some stern things to say about letting yourself get hurt like that.’
‘“Da,”’ Terisa put in happily. ‘You promised to call him “Da.”’ Artagel’s smile told her everything she needed to know. Now she was just glad that she had never told Geraden about Artagel’s distrust.
Nevertheless Artagel’s next words reassured her further. Instead of trying to answer Geraden’s questions, he commented half casually, ‘I heard what he said.’ He nodded toward the Castellan. ‘We all heard him. Actually, he isn’t the only one who believes you. But I have to admit we’re in the minority.’
Terisa beamed with pleasure and relief.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Geraden. ‘We’ll get that straightened out as soon as we see King Joyse. Tell me something important. How’s your side?’
Artagel laughed easily. ‘Terrible. All this rest is giving me the twitches.’ Humorously, he whispered, ‘If I don’t get to fight somebody soon, I’m going to end up like Lebbick.’
‘My lady Terisa. Geraden.’ Prince Kragen addressed them coldly, but his expression was one of bemusement rather than irritation. ‘It might be wise to conduct this reunion later. The present circumstances are less than cordial. We must meet with King Joyse promptly.’
Artagel laughed again. ‘He’s right. First things first. I’ll follow you to the hall. When you’re done there, we’ll talk.’
Waving his hand cheerfully, he retreated among the horses and guards.
When Terisa looked at Geraden, she saw that his eyes were full of tears.
He was happy: she knew he was happy. He loved Artagel. For that reason, she was surprised by the pain on his face.
Until she noticed Geraden’s pain, she didn’t absorb the fact that Artagel moved with a slight limp, as if he had an unhealed stiffness in his side.
And he wasn’t carrying a sword.
Oh, Artagel!
Had Gart hurt him that badly? Or had his long sequence of overexertions and relapses aggravated the damage enough to cripple him? A swordsman of Artagel’s prowess didn’t have to be maimed or broken to be crippled. A few muscles which didn’t heal properly in his side could do it.
‘It’s too much, Terisa,’ Geraden gritted between his teeth. ‘Too many people have been hurt. Too much harm has been done. This has got to stop. We’ve got to stop him.’
She put her arm through his and squeezed it: she knew whom he was talking about.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t get the feeling out of her stomach that a lot more people were going to be hurt soon.
‘Come on,’ she murmured so that Prince Kragen wouldn’t summon them again. ‘If we’re going to stop him, this is the way to do it.’
Geraden nodded; he scrubbed the expression of sorrow off his face.
Together, he and Terisa joined the Prince and Castellan Lebbick.
Lebbick considered them balefully. He didn’t look like a man who believed them. He also didn’t sound like a man who believed them. Without preamble, he asserted, ‘You’ll leave your men here, my lord Prince.’
Prince Kragen stiffened. ‘What an odd idea, Castellan. Why would I do such a thing?’
The Castellan’s mouth twisted. ‘I understand your problem. You don’t think you’re safe here. Well, I have a problem, too. I could be wrong about you. You could be plotting treachery.
‘If you’re honest, I can tell you one thing for certain. I’ll die before you do. But if you aren’t—’ He shrugged. ‘You’ll leave your men in the courtyard.’
Prince Kragen’s fingers stroked the hilt of his sword lightly. His demeanor was unruffled, but Terisa could sense his ire. Softly, he asked, ‘Are you so unconcerned about the lady Elega’s position, Castellan?’
Castellan Lebbick returned a snort. ‘She isn’t my daughter. I don’t care what happens to her. I’m in command of Orison. If you make me cut you down, King Joyse will never know the difference. I’ll report it any way I like.’
He faced the Prince, daring the Alend Contender to doubt him.
The darkness in Prince Kragen’s eyes scared Terisa. She thought she ought to do something, intervene somehow. But Geraden was holding her arm now; he kept her still.
After a moment, the Prince said, ‘If you had come to me, Castellan, you would have received better treatment.’
‘Swineswater,’ remarked Lebbick succinctly.
Prince Kragen’s jaws bunched; blood deepened the hue of his skin. After a moment, however, he nodded.
‘My guard will wait outside the gates. If we do not return in an hour, they will ride to the Alend Monarch. The lady Elega will be killed. Tell King Joyse what you will.’
Castellan Lebbick gave another of his crushed-rock laughs. ‘Let the Alends wait outside the gates,’ he told one of his men. ‘Be civil about it. Keep the gates open.’
Without waiting for a reply, he headed toward the nearest doorway.
Prince Kragen glanced at Terisa, at Geraden. She chewed her lip; but Geraden assented promptly. ‘It’s the best chance we’ve got. He’s never stabbed anybody in the back.’
‘You are a bad influence,’ murmured Prince Kragen, ‘both of you. You urge me to accept horrifying risks as if they were entirely plausible. If I am ever crowned the Alend Monarch, I will have to become more cautious.’
Smiling ominously, he led Terisa and Geraden after the Castellan.
Inside the castle, past the guards at the door, the halls were deserted. The spectators who packed the inner windows and balconies were nowhere to be seen; every indication of Orison’s overcrowding was gone. ‘Curfew,’ Castellan Lebbick explained as he strode along the echoing passage. ‘I thought you were going to break through the gates today. I ordered everybody out of the way. Nobody’s allowed to use the halls except the King’s guard.’
He may have intended his explanation to be reassuring. Nevertheless the unnatural silence of the place plucked at Terisa’s nerves. She seemed to feel vast numbers of people crouched out of sight, waiting—
Rumors would travel fast in a besieged castle. When enough people heard that Nyle’s murderer and Master Quillon’s murderer and the Alend Contender were in Orison, the curfew wouldn’t hold. No curfew would hold.
And when it broke, what would Lebbick do? King Joyse had to listen to them. That was all there was to it. He had to listen. He had to believe them.
Otherwise she and Geraden and even Prince Kragen might not live long enough to find out what Master Eremis’ trap actually was.
They were obviously being watched. She didn’t see anybody, but she could hear voices. Just a murmur at first, an impression of whispering which filled the corridors with hints o
f menace. Then the voices grew louder, bolder. One of them said, ‘Killer.’ Another called out clearly, ‘Butcher!’
Castellan Lebbick didn’t glance aside. He didn’t seem to hear the voices. Or maybe he approved of them. He waited until they faded behind him. Then, to no one in particular, he commented, ‘They don’t mean you. They mean me.’
The way he walked was so tightly controlled that it made his whole body appear brittle.
He took Terisa, Geraden, and Prince Kragen directly to the audience hall.
Across a high, formal space marked with windows and pennons, they approached a set of peaked doors. Like the ones to the courtyard, those doors were guarded. Terisa took that as a good sign. She held Geraden’s arm and tried to keep her respiration steady as the guards opened the doors into the hall of audiences.
She remembered it vividly – its cathedral-like height and length; the walls covered by carved wooden screens, their finials reaching twenty or thirty feet toward the vaulted ceiling; the two narrow windows high in the far wall. Working on short notice, a flustered old servant hurried along the rows of candles, past the batteries of lamps, trying to light them all as fast as he could. He still had a long way to go; yet he – and the windows – already gave enough illumination to show King Joyse’s ornate mahogany throne on its pediment. A run of rich carpet led from the doors to the pediment; the rest of the wide area in front of the throne was open, surrounded by benches like pews. From each side of the pediment, a row of chairs reached toward the benches.
Because the light was so dim, the balcony surrounding the hall above the screens was shrouded in darkness. Terisa could see well enough, however, to note that the Castellan already had guards in position. Archers ranged there along the walls of the hall, four on each side.
Two pikemen closed the doors and stood to hold them. Four more were at attention beside the King’s seat. She counted them again: fourteen guards. Sourly, she supposed that Lebbick’s refusal to permit the attendance of Prince Kragen’s honor guard made sense. If the Castellan could only produce fourteen guards, Kragen’s ten soldiers might have been sufficient to protect him from the consequences of treachery.
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