by Lucy Fear
“There are only two useable entrances, as the windows do not open. My suggestion is that we enter through the main door, as the other comes from the Lord’s private quarters. There’s some rudimentary deception detectors on the threshold, but he’d be a fool to keep them in place while summoning the whole court, lest they be going off all the time. I think our current disinterest spell will work with a little more power behind it, especially if we slip into the retinue of one of the more important courtiers.”
Idris nodded. “We don’t have time to go looking for servants’ livery, so spells will have to do. And maybe some dirt for our faces, in case the spells fail.” Luckily, there were still ashes in the hearth. After rubbing their faces and hair with soot, Idris recast the spell. This magic was more mental than visual. Anyone who looked at them would find absolutely nothing of interest. They weren’t invisible, just too boring to notice. Even knowing about the spell, now that it had been strengthened, Maeve found it difficult to look at either of the others for too long. “Is everyone ready to go?” Idris asked. The two women nodded. “Lead the way, Fenella.”
For the first few minutes, they met no one else as they traveled through the dark corridors, but the closer they got to the main palace, the more often they found lit torches, and eventually they began to see the occasional servant scurrying about their duties. To Maeve’s relief, none of them seemed even vaguely interested in their strange little group, though it was difficult to tell whether that was due to the spell or to the fact that they were overworked and underfed. Finally, just a few corridors away from the throne room, they began to see the nobility. Still, no one appeared to notice their presence, so when Maeve saw someone she recognized, she elbowed Idris in the side. His eyes snapped over to her.
“That man, Duke Glaw, is one of father’s favorites,” she whispered. “He’s usually close to the throne, and he can’t even tie his own shoes, so he always has a retinue.” Her lover’s eyes crinkled in silent amusement, and he nodded. The three of them sidled closer to the duke, being careful not to meet anyone’s eyes. Maeve could hear him berating a young servant for not shining his boots properly. Just as they got close enough to mingle with some of the more important members of the group, a bell sounded. Maeve sucked in a breath. That was the signal to enter the throne room.
***********************************
Getting inside was an infuriatingly slow process. Each of the courtiers were announced, and then, they and their retinues were presented to the Lord. This, they felt, was the most dangerous time for them, when Lord Cian would be the most likely to be looking directly at them, and therefore, be able to see through their defenses. But the dysfunction of the court aided them because they were quick to observe that most of the servants cringed away from the Lord even more so than they did their own masters, so it would not be unusual for them to follow suit. And Lord Cian, for his part, paid them as much attention as he might the dirt on the bottom of his shoe.
Still, Maeve was relieved when Duke Glaw was dismissed and they went to stand with the other servants against the wall to the right of the dais. It was as good of a view as they could hope to get without actually having to rub elbows with the courtiers, but the wait felt interminable. Whatever was going on, Lord Cian wanted as big of an audience as possible, and that made her feel uneasy. Idris surreptitiously took her hand and squeezed it.
Finally, the pleasantries were over. Lord Cian banged his staff on the ground, and the room went silent as a tomb. “It is time to bring forth our guests.”
Maeve heard Idris draw in a sharp breath. There was little doubt that this would be his siblings. The main doors swung open again and a group of armed guards marched down the center of the room. Whoever they were escorting was wreathed in a shining bubble of magic, so much so that they could hardly be seen, but Rhosyn was recognizable. Her head was held high, her expression haughty. Maeve could not see Oisin, except to note the shadow of a small form at Rhosyn’s side, but it was enough to know that they were both safe.
Cian smiled cruelly as the prisoners approached the throne. “Enjoying our hospitality, Princess Rhosyn?” he asked, clearly finding the question amusing.
“Of course not,” she replied, her tone clipped. “But I ought to have known not to expect much from a man who only cares about his own children once they’ve run away from him.”
The Lord scowled. Maeve suspected he didn’t appreciate this information being shared so openly. Perhaps he’d told the court a different story. But he continued speaking as if he hadn’t noticed. “Perhaps your accommodations would be more comfortable if you would quit trying to escape them.”
“Forgive me if I’m not interested in helping you provoke a war with my parents. Especially since you have exactly zero chance of winning. Although you might deserve any misfortune that comes your way, I do feel rather sorry for your subjects.”
“Your father is too soft-hearted to face me in battle,” Cian growled. “If he were worthy of his throne, he would come here himself and take you by force. He insists on diplomatic solutions.”
Rhosyn laughed, harsh and mocking as a jay. “Because that’s exactly what you would have done? As I recall, you sent your son to inquire after his sister and he left with his tail between his legs after a single conversation. My father chooses to negotiate out of kindness. I guarantee that if you harm my brother or me, he will flatten your castle to the ground.”
Cian’s face was red. “She’s playing a dangerous game,” Idris murmured under his breath. Maeve had to agree. Rhosyn couldn’t possibly know they were here to rescue her, and though it was certainly true that provoking Lord Cian was a good way to get him to make a mistake, he was also hot-tempered enough to do something really crazy. He might have them publicly executed, and then regret it later. But, quite unexpectedly, he laughed.
“Brave words for someone in chains. We’ll see how confident you are later. Your sainted father refuses to negotiate unless he sees you are well, and so I will show him. Perhaps you can regale him with the tales of your many failed escapes.” Everyone in the throne room tensed, and that included Maeve, Idris, and Fenella. Surely Aidan wouldn’t come here? But of course not; Cian spun up a message spell. After a moment, an image of Lord Aidan, with his wife sitting in the background, appeared, somewhat hazy and indistinct and yet still managing to convey some of his cool majesty.
“Lord Cian,” he said smoothly, though they could all see his eyes sweeping around, taking everything in. Perhaps he was even looking for signs of his eldest child and companions. “I assume you are now ready to negotiate in good faith.”
“I’ll show you your children, alive and well, just as you asked, and you’ll give me my daughter back. That was the agreement,” Cian said, scowling and crossing his arms.
“No, it was not,” Aidan said sharply. “I agreed only that I would reopen negotiations with you if you proved to me that my children were safe. You have already had reassurance of Maeve’s well-being from her own mouth, and, furthermore, as she is an adult, it is not my decision or yours where she chooses to live.”
“You’re not offering me anything!” Cian growled. “I’m doing as you asked, and all you’re giving me is more talk.” They could not feel the release of power through the message image, but they could see the evidence of it. Aidan’s eyes darkened. Shadows flowed out around him until he seemed to float in a fathomless void.
“I’m doing you the favor of not bringing your house down around your ears,” Aidan said. He clenched his fist, and there was a loud crack and sizzle, the sound of every ward in the castle breaking at once. The throne room was suddenly covered in a rapidly thickening layer of frost. Cian’s face was white, and the courtiers started backing up toward the door. “Allow me to see my children, or my wife and I will ensure that not a single stone of your fortress remains standing upon another.”
“Fine. Unbind them,” Lord Cian said, and Maeve could tell he was having a hard time pretending to be unaffected by the thre
at. The guards released Rhosyn and Oisin, and they walked forward with measured steps, as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Idris moved forward, as if he would go to them, and Fenella grabbed his arm. He glared at her but stilled.
“We’re here, Father,” Rhosyn said, and Aidan smiled down at the both of them.
“You are both well?” he asked in a calm voice. He clasped his hands in front of him, his fingers moving restlessly.
“As well as can be expected,” she replied and Oisin nodded. “They aren’t precisely kind to us, and the dungeon is full of rats, but we haven’t been harmed, otherwise.”
“Good,” Aidan said. “Be patient, and I’m sure this will all be resolved soon. I am proud of you both.” The prince and princess bowed and backed away, and Cian stood, raising his fist to the image of the Lord of the Heavens.
“What about my daughter? Where is Maeve?” Aidan smiled, looking very much as though he would have liked to laugh. Perhaps he was already aware that they were right there in the throne room.
“I’m afraid she’s unavailable at present. She and my son have gone on a little trip. But I’ll be sure to have her contact you as soon as they return. Remember to keep my children safe, Lord Cian. I have already spoken with Lady Aine. If something were to befall them, we will not hesitate to march on your fortress. Any nobility I find there, I will have to assume are colluding with you in this grievous breach of our ancient laws.” There were a number of gasps and frightened mutters at this announcement. “Farewell for now.” The image disappeared and the voices of the courtiers arose, clamoring for attention, arguing for peace, for war, many wanting assurances of protection.
Idris took the opportunity to hiss over at Fenella. “Why did you stop me? That was the perfect opening to free them. Now they’re already being bound again.” Sure enough, Maeve could see the guards shackling Rhosyn’s wrists at that very moment. But she was smiling.
“No. There are too many people here,” Fenella replied. “Especially with Oisin to think of, we can’t start a fight in such chaos. The perfect time will be later this evening. Everyone is shaken, and it will take some time, perhaps days, to build back all those protections on the dungeons. Your father was signing to your sister, telling her that we’re here, and to wait for you. Now, she’ll know to save her energy. I’ll follow them down to the dungeons, get the lay of the land, and try to make a few preparations. Tonight, all the strong magic users will be exhausted, after trying to fix everything your father has broken, and all the servants will be busy either drinking themselves into a stupor or trying to figure out how they can escape. That’s your time to strike.”
Idris pursed his lips; Maeve knew he hated waiting, but he nodded. “Go then. Let us know when you’re ready for us to come.” Fenella nodded, and once again she melted into the shadows. A few minutes later, Rhosyn and Oisin were taken back to the dungeons. As they passed, Maeve thought the young prince did a double-take as his eyes glanced over at them, and then he smiled. Unfortunately for her and Idris, they had to endure a few more hours of bickering before Lord Cian testily threw all of the courtiers out, with many threats aimed at anyone who was thinking of fleeing or betraying him. By the way Duke Glaw talked as soon as they were out of the throne room, everyone who had any sense was doing just that. Idris and Maeve followed some of the other servants to the kitchens, sneaking some food and drink and catching up on gossip, and then they made their careful way back to her old bedroom.
Everything was just as they’d left it, which was a small relief. Maeve had been worried, especially when she’d noticed her brother’s absence from court, that someone suspected their presence, but it seemed that wasn’t the case. They ate their lunch at her tea table; she’d never before realized how comically small it was until she saw Idris trying to sit at it. Then they lay together on the bed, watching the changing shapes made on the ceiling by the shadow of the wind-blown curtains.
“Do you think your father meant it? That he would raze the castle to the ground if my father harms your siblings?” she asked him, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder.
“No,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Don’t get me wrong; he does have a temper, and if something happened to either of them, I have no doubt he would consider it. But Mother wouldn’t let him do anything too crazy. Once his anger cooled, he’d be sorry that he hurt innocent people, and she knows that. Part of the reason their relationship works so well is because they naturally complement each other. But I think my father knows that force is the only thing your father understands. He had to give him a visual reminder of how powerful he is, though I’m sure he hated using so much magic for something so petty.”
“I don’t know about petty,” Maeve said, “It may not have done much damage, but Fenella is right. Everyone who’s anyone will be draining themselves dry to rebuild the castle’s defenses right now. We’ll never have a better chance.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said, kissing the side of her head. “I only hope we can take advantage of it.” They tried to rest, knowing that they weren’t likely to get much sleep that night, but it was difficult to relax. Not only were they in the middle of enemy territory, they couldn’t cast any wards at the moment because, with Aidan having dispelled all of them, even one extra where it shouldn’t be was much more likely to be noticed. But finally, Maeve did doze for a little while, and was awoken in the semi-darkness by a strange chirping noise.
Idris sat up, casting a small light, and a bird, made of folded paper but animated as if it were alive, hopped into his hand. He unfolded the note and nodded. “It’s time,” he said, turning to Maeve. “The bird will lead us.”
*********************
They crept through the halls again, but Fenella’s prediction had proved accurate. The fortress had never been heavily populated during Maeve’s lifetime, considering its size, but now it was practically a ghost town. Most of the wards were back on the outer walls and some on the throne room, but the dungeon was nearly unprotected. They didn’t meet anyone until they reached the entrance, and there they found a table littered with playing cards and the remains of a meal, and three guards passed out on its surface, snoring heavily.
“I wonder if Fenella drugged their drinks,” Idris murmured, as he slipped the key ring from one of their belts. “I feel a bit sorry for them. Your father will be furious when he finds out.”
Maeve nodded. “Hopefully, he’ll be too busy chasing us to punish them right away and they’ll have the sense to run,” she said. She was sympathetic to their plight, knowing that many of them had little choice, but not too sympathetic. One did not become a guard in Lord Cian’s dungeons by being a kind or compassionate person.
After trying several of the keys, they found the correct one and opened the door. It was much more silent than Maeve remembered in the prison. She hoped it was because her father was too tired to torture anyone today, but she feared it was because many of the prisoners had been killed. Her father had been known to spill blood to power his magic if pressed, and this would certainly count as a stressful day for him.
The bird zoomed ahead of them, flapping its papery wings, and except for another guard snoozing at his post, they met no one. Finally, the little magical creature zipped forward and slipped between the bars in the door of one of the cells. “That has to be them,” Idris said, running up to the door. Rhosyn’s face appeared in the window.
“Oh, thank the gods you two are all right,” she said as Idris flipped through the key ring. Maeve let out a strangled laugh.
“You two are the ones who’ve been held captive for days. We’ve been worried about you.” Rhosyn snorted. Idris finally got the door open, and she rushed forward, crushing them both in an embrace.
“For all his bluster, Lord Cian is terrified of Father and Mother. He wouldn’t dare harm us,” she said dismissively. “But you are breaking into his fortress. I think he’d consider it well within his rights to have Idris executed as a way of taking ou
t all his frustrations.”
“He’s welcome to try,” Idris said, dismissive. “But we can’t stand around talking. Where’s Fenella? We need to get out of here before Cian discovers us. You and I might be able to take him down, but I don’t want Oisin involved in that. Plus I don’t think Maeve wants to see her father again under any circumstances.”
“I know,” Rhosyn said, wincing. “But this is a chance we can’t afford to pass up. I found the Cauldron. It’s on the level just below us. Fenella is keeping an eye on the entrance. The protections around it have all been dispelled. We’ll never have such a good opportunity again.”
Everyone looked to Maeve. She took a deep breath. “Rhosyn is right. We’d have to be crazy to pass up a chance to get the Cauldron so easily.”
Idris sighed, admitting defeat, she supposed. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 14
They went down, down, down a spiral staircase that seemed to go on into infinity, until Idris was carrying Oisin, and all of them were aching and out of breath. When they finally reached the bottom, a natural chamber carved in ages past by the flow of some underground stream, they all leaned against the wall for a moment, panting and stretching their legs. Fenella emerged from the darkness, her expression both relieved and anxious. Oisin ran forward and embraced her. He’d been very quiet since they rescued him. Maeve supposed that even though they hadn’t been physically harmed, the experience had probably been terrifying, especially for a child who had, before now, known nothing but a happy and loving home.
“What took you all so long? I was starting to get worried,” Fenella asked, a little testily. Idris scowled at her.
“Not all of us can flit from shadow to shadow like hummingbirds,” he retorted. “That was an extremely long staircase, and we’re all a bit tired.” Fenella put a hand on his shoulder.
“You’re right; I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that the Cauldron gives off a strange aura, and even with the state the castle is in, I can hardly believe they’ve left it so unguarded. The whole thing has me on edge.”