He had to get to her. The problem was, if he tried to leave, everyone would know where he was going. That was plain from the number of considering glances thrown his way, and the way the whispers rose again afterwards. He wouldn’t get within fifteen feet of Kate’s prison before he was stopped.
Salt raised his voice over the hubbub. “Come everyone. Back to work. We need to decide what to do with the girl and the rest of the crows. I for one do not think leniency is the answer, for all she is so young. Who knows where her example will lead? Perhaps we’ll end up with another upstart who will give a try at ‘House Temia.’ Best to nip this in the bud.”
At his urging, his solicitous words, they all followed him to the dais, but they were not happy. Lady Wessen especially looked white and drawn around her mouth, and Lady Trieve much the same. Well, she could see her unexpected ally had disappeared as quickly as she arrived, and stood to lose Favor once more. Colar looked over at his father. Lord Terrick was haggard, gray, exhausted. Even if he fought for his foster daughter, he would not win. Salt had them all in his pocket now. At best his father could argue for her life, but he would not gain her freedom.
As if he knew his son was looking at him, Lord Terrick glanced his way as he took his customary seat at the end of the long table. Their eyes met. In the midst of the crowd, still chaotic and uncontrolled, it was a private communication. His father’s eyes flicked toward the double doors, now being pulled closed by ceremonial men at arms, and then back at his son.
Colar gave a tiny nod. Even so, Janye turned to look at him, her eyes narrowed.
“What is it?” she said.
“Nothing.”
“Look, Janye, there’s your father. Wave to him, dearest.”
Janye made a face and ignored her mother. “Don’t even think it.”
He leaned close to whisper in her ear, as if he were her lover, but at the same time he gripped her arm. “Don’t tell me what to think.”
Her face whitened. She tried to pull her arm free, but he kept his grip. The Council was beginning.
“I agree with Salt,” intoned Kenery. “The girl was a danger from the beginning. High time we put an end to this foolishness. Hang her and slaughter the rest of her crows.”
“No!” That was Lady Trieve, still fighting the good fight. She stood. “We recognized the girl as Lady Temia. She’s one of us now. We can’t execute her.”
Salt almost purred his response.
“It has been done, Lady Trieve, in days past. In fact, her namesake Lord of Temia, who once styled himself High King, enjoyed the view from a pike on the top of these very walls.”
“One of us,” Kenery spat. He turned to Terrick with relish. “This is your doing, Terrick. You fostered this commoner, brought her into your house, raised her up to think she was better than she was. It just goes to show, blood will tell.”
Terrick raised his eyes and looked at his ally and his enemy. “Kenery is right. The girl is my responsibility. I’ll take her home, see to it she is properly managed.”
Kenery snorted. “You couldn’t do that before. What’s different now?”
Salt grimaced, tapping his fingers on the table. “I’m afraid Kenery’s right, Terrick. We can’t risk it. She’s too dangerous. I say we make it quick and merciful.”
Lady Trieve looked over at Terrick and then she searched the audience. “Where in the name of all the gods is Camrin? He should be here. We will not make any decision without him.”
Thank the high god, another delay. Colar tucked his lady wife’s hand under his arm, pressing it against his side. She squirmed and fought, but he squeezed harder.
“Come with me,” he said, and began drawing her backward.
“Don’t you dare,” she said, under her breath. “Mother!”
Lady Niyani turned to look at them, her fatuous expression turning to bewilderment. “What?”
“It’s all right ma’am,” Colar said. “Janye and I want to be together for the moment. You stay here.”
He could tell by the way her eyes flickered over to her daughter that she didn’t believe him, but on the other hand, she didn’t know what to believe. Could it be that her daughter had thawed to her husband at last? He didn’t wait for her to make up her mind, but continued to draw Janye with him. She struggled, but it had to be discreet. If she made a scene here, it would go badly for her father and whatever game he was playing.
“Guard,” Salt said, and for a panicked moment Colar thought he meant to stop him from leaving the Council Room. “Send for Lord Camrin. Again. And don’t take no for an answer this time.”
The guard bowed and the doors were swung open for him. Colar and Janye followed him out as if it were the most natural thing in the world, except that Janye was breathing hard and struggling. Then they were through, and the doors closed on the Council. A rush of cool afternoon air flowed over the flagstones, and the lowering sun shone through the tendrils of smoke, illuminating it strangely.
“You disgusting pig!” Lady Janye shrieked, trying to twist free. He had to let her go and catch her by both arms before she could slap and scratch him. She was in a fury. “Take your hands off me!”
Colar scanned the palazzo, barely crowded now since the nobles were inside and it was only householders left on the square. There was Raymon, with a handful of Terrick men. Raymon caught sight of him and came over, accelerating at a run as Janye began to fight in earnest.
“Ah there you are, Raymon,” Colar panted. He thrust Janye at his father’s captain with real relief. “Take my wife to my rooms, will you? She’s not to talk to anyone. Put a guard on her, and if you have to tie her to the bed, do it.”
“Don’t you dare! Captain, I order you to let me go! He’s going to go to that bitch! He’s going to try to rescue her!”
Game, Raymon grabbed hold of Janye. She almost got away, but a couple more Terrick men came to give aid. Colar headed to Salt’s holding cells at a dead run, taking the broad stairs down into the city two at a time.
He had little time. No doubt someone would find Lord Camrin and roust him out of wherever he was. And for all his father would try his hardest, he wasn’t much of a talker. Colar remembered a late night movie that he had watched with Kate’s mom and dad. He hadn’t understood it at the time, but if anyone needed a filibuster right now, it was Kate herself.
“Terrick!”
He turned, almost sliding to a stop on the worn steps. It was Captain Crae, and relief flooded him, and an instant later, shame. They were enemies. He had repaid Crae’s help last year with treachery. He knew he should expect nothing from Trieve. And yet, here was the captain, crossbow loaded and ready.
“Sir,” Colar said, heart hammering. “Have you heard?”
Crae nodded. “Are you off to release her?”
“Yes, and I would be grateful for your help, captain.”
He braced himself for a deserved tirade, but the man just said, “We’re on the same mission, then. Do you have a plan?” At Colar’s expression, he added with his quick, rueful grin, “No, obviously not.” He glanced back up at the great House. “What’s going on in there?”
“They’ve sent someone to look for Lord Camrin. My father is trying to keep them talking, and Lady Trieve also.”
At that Captain Crae grinned. “Then luck is in our favor. Once my lady gets started, very little can stop her.”
Colar was cheered by that beyond all reason.
They turned down toward the alley toward the wall, where the cells were built beneath the great ramparts. The alley was in shadow here, and the air was cold and damp. A smell of rot and death enveloped them, and Colar remembered something.
“Was that your idea, with the sheep?”
Crae glanced sideways at him. “My second’s, actually. What did your father think of it?”
“Waste of good livestock, sir.”
“Worth it, boy.” This time the grin was a bit nasty.
The alley stopped in a cul-de-sac. A set of stairs led down into
darkness, and two big guards stood up at their approach.
“Hold it right there,” the guard ordered. They carried maces, less ceremonial than the ones in the Council chambers.
“We’ve come to bring the girl to Council for her reckoning,” Captain Crae said. He paused, hand on his crossbow, a finger on the trigger, as if he had just asked the most natural thing in the world. The guards glanced at one another.
“The only reckoning she’ll get is with the headsman,” the guard said. His fellow made a throat cut gesture.
Crae shrugged. “Yeah, they want to scold her first, I guess.”
The guards laughed. “Not a chance. I recognize the Terrick boy. Nice try, though, Captain.”
“I thought you would say that.” Crae moved and brought up the crossbow, his finger on the release. He trained it on the guard’s forehead. Sweat sprang out on the guard’s cheeks. “Drop your weapons.”
Colar drew his sword, the rasping of the steel sending a shiver of anticipation down his spine. Soldier’s god how I love that sound. He was surprised by the clarity of the thought.
The first guard made his decision, dropped his mace. “Jhen,” he said to his partner. “Go ahead.”
Jhen hesitated, then set down his mace. Colar motioned with his sword, and they pushed the weapons toward him with their boots. Colar set the maces into the corner where they wouldn’t be seen.
“Move,” Crae ordered and the men turned and went down the stairs, Colar following to keep them at sword point. They went from evening twilight to darkness almost at once. The smell thickened, and Colar gagged.
This was the most dangerous moment. The men were big, and if they attacked, Crae could easily miss his shot, or hit Colar. His eyes adjusted slowly by the time they reached the cells. He could just barely make out a figure in the first cell, crouched and small. He took an involuntary step forward, but Crae elbowed him back, still keeping his crossbow leveled. The captain said, “Hold.”
The guards stopped.
“Give me the key.”
“We don’t have it,” the one called Jhen said. “Lord Salt, he keeps it for safekeeping.”
Crae and Colar gave each other looks, barely visible in the darkness. “Doesn’t matter,” Crae muttered. “We’ll figure it out.” He raised his voice. “You two, into the farthest cell. Now.”
They obeyed and Colar pulled the door shut on them. He glanced at Crae. “Give me one of your bolts.”
Crae handed it over while he busied himself with jimmying the lock to Kate’s cell, and Colar jammed it through the latch. It wouldn’t hold the guards forever, but it would last long enough to break Kate out. He hoped.
She scrambled awkwardly to her feet at their approach.
“Captain Crae?” she said, her voice choking on the words.
“Patience, girl. We don’t actually have the key. Ah, I see. Not a very sturdy lock, is it.”
“We’ll get you out, Kate,” Colar said, in part to let her know that he was there too. Her only response was to sob, but she stepped back to let Crae work.
The captain used his knife to pry at the lock. Colar shifted his sword from hand to hand, dividing his attention between the guards and the staircase. If anyone came down those stairs, if they couldn’t get her out, they were in for a hand-to-hand fight, and they would be outnumbered. A sound of footsteps made his heart sink, even as he raised his sword to fight.
“Crae, we have company.”
“I can’t work miracles, boy, I need time.” The captain strained at the lock, and something snapped. “Gods’ damned worthless–”
A keening cry, half man, half forest cat, chilled his blood, and the light was blocked as someone hurtled himself down the stairs, weapon raised overhead. The eerie battlecry of crows swirled in the confined underground dungeon. Colar spun, raising his sword in the tight space, replying with a war cry of his own. Scream met scream and sound waves reverberated in the hollow sounding space.
The guards yelled, the hinges squealed, and Crae shouted, “Got it!”
Behind them all, Kate cried out, “Grigar!”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The mystery of whether Grigar could go malcra or not, whether he was full crow or not, was cleared up in his keening battlecry. As Captain Crae pulled her free, and with the remains of his broken knife cut through the bonds, Grigar came barreling down the stairs, still keening. The noise bounced around the narrow prison.
“Grigar!” Kate shouted again, before he attacked.
It was the weirdest thing to see him come back to sanity. She couldn’t make out his expression–it was too dark–but he had to physically pull himself together, shaking his head. The rank smell of sweat, an odor she had smelled often among the crows and just now realized was peculiar to them, poured off him. He was shaking.
She reached out and touched his hand and he gripped her fingers, crushing them.
“Grigar,” she said more gently. “Come back.”
“Crow god,” he whispered hoarsely. He managed a laugh that was more like a sob, and released her hand. “And my brother likes this?”
“Er,” said the captain. “We don’t have much time. What’s happening upstairs?”
Grigar glanced at him and Colar, and was fully himself again, though sweat gleamed on his face in the dim light from the stairs. “About two hands of men at arms coming this way. We can’t get out the main gate, but there are a couple of smaller gates that we can get through. Better go before they reach the stairs.”
No one argued. First Grigar, then Crae, then Kate, and then Colar ran up the stairs. It was almost full darkness, the night sky purpling and a few stars appearing overhead. They could hear soldiers approaching, and Grigar led them in fits and starts along the wall, stopping them when the sound of shouting and running footsteps said they were about to meet a patrol. Then rising shouts came from behind them.
“The guards got out,” Colar said, and Crae nodded. “Better find us a way out now, crow.”
“We need to split up,” Grigar said. He reached back and took Kate by the sleeve, cupping her elbow protectively. “You fellows need to go back. I’ll make sure Lady Temia stays uncaught.”
“No!” Colar said. “She’s coming with me. Kate, I’ll get you to safety, back to Terrick –”
Terrick. Terrick? She couldn’t believe he would think it.
“No.” She glanced at Grigar. “I need a few minutes.”
“We don’t have that,” he warned, but she held up her hand.
“Just–please. Stop.”
She turned first to Captain Crae, and knelt on one knee before him. She took his hand and kissed it. His hand was big, the knuckles calloused and hard. “Captain Crae, this is the second time you have come to my aid. Anything you want, anything Trieve wants, anything at all, if I can give it to you, I will.”
“Lady Temia–there’s no time–” Crae sounded embarrassed, almost flustered, but there was a note of awe in his voice too. She released his hand and stood. She faced Colar.
This was the hardest farewell of all, and they had no time, she knew that. No time to tell him that she loved him as a foster sister should. No time to tell him that she was Lady Temia now, and her people were the crows. They were bound by experience, and first love, and shared memories that only they, of all the people in two worlds, would ever have. And she had to let him go.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered.
His mouth shaped the words, silently, as if that was the only way to understand what she had said.
“Don’t,” he said. “Kate–”
“I have to go.”
She turned her back on him, and followed Grigar into danger.
The hidden gate was in Tanner’s Row, the stench of leather and urine permeating this section of the city for miles. The gate itself was a rusty, bogged-down grate that was half-sunk in sewage. Kate slogged through it with Grigar, neither of them speaking, and when they were outside the walls, she estimated that they were at least a half-mile fr
om the camp.
Despite the stench, she breathed easier at once. She was bruised, filthy, covered in shit, and her pretty clothes would have to be burned. But she was free.
“Oh Grigar,” she said. She was so weary she was about to fall over. But they still had so much to do. “Fill me in. Where is everyone? Are they all right? Tell me who survived, and–and who died. Are the survivors retreating?”
Once the Council learned she had escaped, they would send their armies after her and the crows.
“We’ve pulled back and I’ve set our people on the road to Temia. They are miles ahead of us by now, even with their wounded. There are many dead, but we won’t talk of them. Plenty of time to mourn our dead, Kett, and there is much more to be thankful for than first we thought.”
Grigar set off away from the city, and she followed, stumbling in weariness. His long legs carried him faster than she could comfortably manage, but she was loath to ask him to slow down. I’ve asked too much from everyone already, she thought, stubborn, knowing it was stupid, and it would only slow them down even more if she collapsed.
He turned around to see her trailing, and stopped, waiting for her to catch up. When she did, he put his arm around her shoulders and supported her, but he did not let up the pace.
“Ossen is badly hurt.”
Kate gasped. “Ossen! What happened?! Was it the firebombing?” She had not once thought that Ossen would be hurt.
“She was captured, Kett, and tortured by Lord Camrin and his men.”
Kate stopped dead. The blood drained from her face. He pulled her into motion again.
“That was why the malcra started. No one knew–” he paused to get the better of himself. “No one knew why, but it was Ossen.”
“Grigar,” Kate said, hardly able to move her lips. Shame crashed down on her, shame and guilt. She had sent Ossen into the city and put her into harm’s way.
“Come, we have no time.” His voice was curt. She didn’t know if that meant he knew what she had done, or if Ossen had told him, or if he was only saying what they both knew. There was little time. They were in danger, and they had to keep going.
The Crow God's Girl Page 24