‘I don’t care what you say,’ he announced through gritted teeth. ‘I’ve already lost a day and a half. I’m getting up, and I’m getting dressed, and that’s all there is to it.’
‘I really wouldn’t advise it, captain.’ The physician looked distressed. ‘You’re fit enough, yes, but your stitches –’
‘Screw my stitches!’ Travers snarled. ‘I’m just going to sit at the table and read these reports. I’m not going to sign up for a practice session with a weaponmaster.’
The physician sighed. ‘If you’re set on it, captain, there’s nothing I can do to stop you.’
With an air of slightly offended dignity, he picked up his bag and stalked out. Travers relieved his feelings by throwing a pillow at the closing door, then swung his legs out of bed. His head was fuzzy, as though strands of his fever-soaked dreams still clung to it, but he refused to let that stop him. He was getting up, and the world be damned.
Once he’d washed, shaved and struggled into his uniform, he felt considerably less defiant and considerably more respectful of the physician’s opinion. His wounds were throbbing in counterpoint to his heartbeat, which itself was much too fast and erratic. Still, now he was up he might as well see it through. Small sheaf of reports in hand, he staggered over to the table and sat down.
Most of the reports contained standard administrative information, but three were sealed and marked urgent. The first concerned the attack that Travers himself had suffered: the Helm had taken over the investigation from the city watch, but learned nothing of significance. By the time Travers had been found, the creature was long gone; the only traces of its presence were a bloody footprint, several scorch marks and another scale similar to that which had been found beside Florentyn’s body. There had been no witnesses to the attack, and no-one in the vicinity had seen or heard anything suspicious. In fact, the report concluded, the captain’s own eyewitness account was the single best piece of evidence they had. Travers tossed the folded paper aside with a contemptuous snort. He hadn’t expected them to find anything, not when they were dealing with a Changer creature. The only way to catch a Changer was to catch her in human form.
The second report was from one of the Helmsmen he had sent to watch the lower gates. Travers scanned the straggling handwriting, then read it again more slowly and with growing incredulity. Phrase after phrase jumped out at him, each more shocking than the last: acting upon information laid with us, we attended a room above the tanner’s yard … found Ayla Nightshade in the company of Tomas Caraway … four Helmsmen were overcome, all injured, two grievously wounded … have been unable to track the fugitives. His gaze travelled inexorably back up the page to the name Tomas Caraway, and he cursed under his breath. He didn’t know what infuriated him most: that the Helm should have come so close to Ayla and let her slip through their fingers, that Ayla should have sought refuge with Caraway – of all people! – or that a man so destitute, so inebriated, so bloody useless as Breakblade should have defeated four of the Helm with apparent ease. And now it would be twice as hard to find Ayla, because she would be on her guard.
Travers broke the seal on the next paper, but for some time he couldn’t concentrate. Caraway’s name kept swimming before his mind’s eye, followed by white noise as his brain filled up with swearwords. Finally, however, he managed to banish it long enough to read the third report. It was from the man he had set to watch Myrren, one of the few trusted Helmsmen who knew about Elisse, and it was a couple of lines in a hasty scrawl. Captain Travers – have to report Lord Myrren visited fourth ring this morning and brought alternative back to Darkhaven. Unable to intervene without calling loyalty of Helm into question. Please advise.
This time Travers was too stunned even to curse. Myrren had found Elisse. Myrren had brought Elisse to Darkhaven. While he had been lying in his bed recovering from Ayla’s bloody attack, his entire world had been falling down around him and any chance of fulfilling Florentyn’s last orders had vanished forever. In one fatal blow, he had lost control of the situation. And where had the sellsword he had hired been whilst all this was happening? By the elements! Was everyone under his command an incompetent fool?
But no, this was all Ayla’s fault. If she hadn’t attacked him, then he would have been there when the Helm went to Caraway’s room. He would have killed Caraway and got Ayla under his control. And Myrren would have been too distracted even to think of going into the city. Yes, every little bit of blame in the entire debacle could be laid at Ayla’s feet – and Travers would make her pay. Oh yes, he would definitely make her pay. Locking Ayla up was the only act he could still carry out on Florentyn’s behalf.
On Florentyn’s behalf, and on his own.
As though it had been timed specifically to taunt him with his failure, an abrupt knock sounded at the door. Travers knew even before it swung open that it would be Myrren Nightshade on the other side. The overlord of Darkhaven strode into the room, stopping only a short distance from the table. His expression was grave, perhaps a little sombre; he had the air of a man forced to perform an unpleasant duty.
‘The physician told me you were feeling better,’ he said. ‘I’m glad to know your injuries weren’t serious.’ There was a pause, before he fixed Travers with a stern look and added, ‘I expect you know why I’m here.’
Travers arranged his features into something suitably respectful and repentant. ‘You’re probably here about Elisse, my lord.’
‘Quite so,’ Myrren said. ‘Didn’t I ask you only yesterday morning whether there was anything you wanted to tell me?’
‘My lord …’ Travers spread his hands. ‘You have to understand, I was following your father’s orders. He wanted Elisse and the baby to be kept a secret. Even though he is no longer with us, it would have been wrong to break the oath of silence he laid upon me.’
With a resigned sigh, Myrren sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the table.
‘I understand why you might have kept the girl hidden,’ he said. ‘But neither I nor Ayla would ever hurt her. The baby is of our blood, and as such is to be protected. Once it has been born, I want it to be brought up here in Darkhaven.’
Travers said nothing – he could hardly object to that. True, he had lost the advantage that secrecy had conferred on him, but he was willing to play the long game. If, in fourteen years’ time, Elisse’s child revealed itself to have the Nightshade gift, the Helm would be willing to support its claim over Myrren’s. For all Travers knew, Myrren was spineless enough to agree to that himself. The man didn’t have the ruthless edge that would lead him to rid the world of anyone who stood as a potential rival to himself and his heirs.
‘Where I do take issue is with the guard you set over Elisse,’ Myrren said. ‘Engaging in a fight with a member of the royal family is little short of treason, and the Helm should be quick to prosecute anyone who dares do such a thing. Yet I must assume the woman was acting under your instruction.’
Travers shook his head – what else could he do? If anyone ever found out that he had told Sorrow she could do whatever it took to keep Myrren and Ayla from getting their hands on Elisse, short of killing them, he’d lose his captaincy for sure and probably his position in the Helm as well. After that, there’d be nothing to choose between him and Tomas Caraway.
‘With Lord Florentyn gone, I feared for Elisse’s safety,’ he said. ‘I hired a guard for her only so that she’d have someone with her all the time who could protect her from danger. But if Sorrow fought you, then she was overstepping her authority.’ Catching a look of doubt on Myrren’s face, he added, ‘I will of course have her punished appropriately.’
‘Very well.’ Myrren ran his hands through his hair, a weary gesture. ‘I do wish you’d trusted me with all this, captain. Or that my father had.’
‘I daresay he had his reasons,’ Travers said. Then, as Myrren got up to leave, ‘Forgive the question, my lord, but where does this leave us with the investigation into Lord Florentyn’s death?’
Myrren froze, but said nothing. Encouraged, Travers continued.
‘Some time ago, you expressed your reservations as to whether Lady Ayla was really guilty of the crime. Perhaps you thought you would uncover an alternative explanation. But as it turns out, you have been chasing a shadow. Elisse and her baby have nothing to do with these vicious attacks. As I have said all along, Lady Ayla is the only possible perpetrator.’
There was a tense silence. Then Myrren said, tight and low, ‘I refuse to believe my sister is a murderer, Captain Travers. And when you find her, I insist that you notify me immediately. If I find out you have done anything else, I will personally make sure you are demoted.’
For the space of a heartbeat, Travers made no answer. A wonderful idea had dropped fully formed into his mind, hitting him with the force of a lightning strike.
‘Of course, my lord,’ he said finally. ‘She must be given a fair trial, and any evidence you have that would exonerate her will naturally be taken into account.’ He paused, before delivering his master stroke. ‘But the latest information we have suggests that she may have left the city. In which case, it’s possible we may never find her.’
Myrren flinched as though he’d been slapped, before answering with a stiff nod. ‘Thank you, Captain Travers.’
Travers sketched a bow from his seated position and watched the other man leave, continuing to turn the new idea over in his mind. He would find Ayla. He would bring her to Darkhaven, secretly, without the rest of the Helm hearing of it. He would lock her up, and he would keep the key. And if Myrren or anyone else asked if there was any news, he would deny all knowledge of her whereabouts. That way he would be fulfilling Florentyn’s orders in every respect. Ayla would be incarcerated, and if Elisse’s child turned out to be a Changer, he or she would have no challengers when it came to taking the throne. Everyone would think Ayla had fled the city, and he … he would have her to himself.
Another knock came at the door, and he looked up as one of the Helm stuck his head into the room. ‘Naeve Sorrow to see you, captain. I brought her the back way; Lord Myrren doesn’t know she’s here.’
Perfect. Travers nodded. ‘Show her in. I have some questions to ask her.’
He waited where he was, evaluating his plan from every angle, until Sorrow sauntered in and settled herself in Myrren’s recently vacated chair. Travers exchanged nods with the Helmsman accompanying her, who backed out of the room and closed the door after him. Immediately Travers leaned forward, glowering at his visitor.
‘You’re meant to be the most vicious sellsword in Arkannen,’ he flung at her. ‘Yet you were defeated at the first test! You lost the woman you were supposed to be protecting to the very man you were supposed to be protecting her against. Is your reputation based on nothing more than boasts and lies?’
‘You tell me, Captain Travers.’ Sorrow seemed unaffected by his diatribe. Her gaze flickered downwards; he followed it under the table, and his pulse quickened. A blade had sprung out of the toe of her left boot, positioned with exquisite care at the back of his knee. One move she didn’t like, and she could sever the tendons and put him out of action for good.
‘I was hampered by two factors in the assignment you gave me,’ Sorrow said, punctuating her words with little twitches of her toe that kept Travers in a state of permanent tension. ‘First, you expressly forbade me to kill a Nightshade, whatever else I did. In a certain type of fight that becomes quite a handicap. Second, and more importantly, Myrren Nightshade knows his way around a sword.’
Travers couldn’t help the scepticism that crept into his voice. ‘Myrren Nightshade? The man born without the gift every one of his ancestors possessed?’
‘I’ve never fought anyone better,’ Sorrow said. ‘What made you think he wouldn’t be good? Have you ever watched him train?’
Travers was forced to shake his head. She gave him an amused look, stroking the back of his knee with her blade.
‘As heir to the throne of Darkhaven, Myrren will have been taught by the best. No doubt his father expected him to excel. And Myrren Nightshade strikes me as a man who has always done everything he could to meet his father’s expectations, to make up for that one core failing he can never change. If I were you, I wouldn’t underestimate him.’
She withdrew her toe, and there was a metallic sound as the blade retracted inside the sole of her boot. Travers relaxed, breathing a surreptitious sigh of relief. Sorrow smirked at him as though she knew exactly what he was thinking.
‘All this is beside the point, Captain Travers. I came here because I’ve acquired certain information that I think may be of interest to you.’
Travers had been considering having her thrown out – how dare the woman threaten him on his own ground? – but that stayed his hand, at least for now. ‘Go on.’
‘After Myrren left me, I had a visit from Tomas Caraway.’ Her lips quirked at the involuntary clenching of his fists. ‘Yes, I thought that might catch your attention. Seems Lord Myrren isn’t the only one on your tail.’
‘Was Ayla still with him?’ Travers demanded. Her eyebrows lifted.
‘Ah, so you knew that part already. Yes, Ayla was with him, though he tried to keep it from me. The poor sap couldn’t bear to see a woman all tied up and forlorn, so I convinced him to move me somewhere I could free myself. I followed him and Ayla all the way back to the first ring.’ Sorrow gave Travers a look that suggested she was well aware of how badly he wanted this information. ‘I know where they’re staying, and I’ll tell you on two conditions.’
‘Well, what are they?’ he asked with some impatience. She leaned back in her chair, examining her fingernails, deliberately stringing him along.
‘One, you tell the Helm to give me the freedom of Darkhaven. Myrren Nightshade took something from me that I want back. I’m going to find it, and I don’t want anybody to stop me.’ Her gaze flicked up to meet his for the briefest of moments. ‘And two, you let me know where Elisse is.’
Alerted by the offhand tone in which she had made her second request, Travers studied her face and felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘You like her, don’t you? You like the little country girl. I wouldn’t have expected her to be to your taste.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Sorrow’s voice was flat, but a telltale hint of colour crept into her cheeks. ‘I just want to check that she’s all right.’
‘I’m sure she’s fine,’ Travers drawled, resisting the urge to provoke the sellsword further. ‘Our noble overlord wouldn’t hurt a flea, let alone a woman.’
‘Really.’ Sorrow raised an eyebrow. ‘So I take it you don’t class me as a woman.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ he replied maliciously, and she nodded.
‘Funny, that. Because I’d barely class you as a man.’ Grinning at his mute fury, she dismissed the subject with a gesture. ‘So do you agree to my conditions?’
Travers pretended to mull it over, but the truth was he’d have given Sorrow anything she asked for. She knew where Ayla was, and that overrode all other considerations. Of course, whether he actually kept to the terms of the agreement was another matter altogether.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll let the men know they’re not to interfere with you.’ He gave her a sapient look. ‘Though do bear in mind that I can and will revoke that instruction if you start doing anything I don’t like.’
She nodded as though she would have expected nothing less, and Travers continued.
‘As for your second condition, Elisse has been put in Ayla’s room. She’s sharing it with Serenna, the priestess Myrren appears to be using as his personal aide – supposedly for Elisse’s protection, though no doubt in reality it’s so they can watch her.’ He gave Sorrow a rather vindictive smile. ‘So you won’t be able to see her alone. And anything you say to her will be taken straight back to Myrren.’
‘Not a problem.’ Apparently Sorrow wasn’t going to rise to his bait a second time; she crossed one leg over the ot
her, unruffled. ‘So is Myrren sleeping with his priestess? I didn’t think priestesses were meant to do that kind of thing.’
‘I doubt it. Myrren’s not one to break the rules.’ With a shrug, Travers set that question aside and moved on to the only thing he was really interested in. ‘I’ve agreed to your conditions, Sorrow. Where is Ayla?’
Her eyebrows twitched. ‘You give me directions to Ayla’s room, and I’ll give you directions to Ayla herself.’
‘Fine.’ Travers tore a strip of paper off the bottom of one of his reports and made a quick sketch of the route through Darkhaven. In return, Sorrow handed him a folded card that contained an address in the first ring.
‘Nice doing business with you,’ she said, taking his hasty map and flashing him a smile. ‘I’ll show myself out. Don’t forget to inform the Helm of my presence.’
Travers scowled after her retreating back. She was much too cocky for her own good, that one. Luckily, while they were talking he had come up with a way of turning their agreement to his advantage. What had he told Myrren? That Sorrow had overstepped her authority when she’d engaged him in a fight. And the best way to ensure that Myrren never found out the truth – either about the instructions Travers had really given her, or about his knowledge of Ayla’s whereabouts – was to have Sorrow disposed of. She was a criminal, after all. It had gone against his principles to employ her in the first place. He didn’t think anyone in the Helm would object if she was put through a quick trial and an even quicker execution.
When the Helmsman who had originally brought her in reappeared, Travers beckoned him closer and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial murmur.
‘Naeve Sorrow is currently loose in Darkhaven. I believe she’s here to steal something. Have her watched, but make no move to apprehend her until she finds what she’s looking for.’ He gave the man a significant look. ‘After all, we won’t have any evidence against her unless we catch her in the act, will we?’
Once the Helmsman had gone, Travers leaned back in his chair and aimed a grin of satisfaction at the ceiling. Everything was falling into place. And this time tomorrow, Ayla Nightshade would be in his power.
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