by Barb Hendee
Wynn hesitated again. As of yet Nikolas had no idea what she was really doing here, but if he had access to the family, he might be able to help her.
“You can see there is something very wrong here, can’t you?” she asked, and when he didn’t answer or open his eyes, she went on. “If you want to help the duke, you need to find out what has happened to bring about the change in him—his odd behavior, according to your father; his insistence on a plague; his refusal to let anyone come or go, even for messages to be sent. Once you know more, you’ll have a better idea what to do.”
Nikolas opened his eyes, and when he looked at her, he appeared so tired and locked in dread.
“You think I should talk to Karl? Ask him about these things?”
“No.” Wynn shook her head, and this was the tricky part. “I think you should talk to Sherie.”
Nikolas’s body stiffened.
“You said she and your father want your help,” Wynn rushed on. “If so, then she’ll talk to you. Ask her how this all started, and see . . . see if she knows anything about why Karl stopped all messages being sent to or from the keep. And given that, how your father managed to get a letter to you.”
Nikolas frowned, but he was paying more attention now. “How my father sent a message? Do you think that’s important?”
“Aside from some obsession over a plague, real or not, why would your old friend not send for help with that . . . or let anyone else do so? That alone is worrisome, and maybe a sign that whatever is wrong is getting much worse.”
Wynn gave him a few breaths to mull that over, though it was only a half-truth.
Finally he nodded. “I’ll try. Maybe tomorrow.”
Wynn took a careful breath in relief, but after her exchange with Jausiff, something else still bothered her. Though she hadn’t known what to expect upon meeting him, he didn’t strike her as the type of man to have actively sought to adopt a child, especially considering his profession. If she was to succeed here, she needed to know more about his character.
“Nikolas,” she began, not quite certain how to word this. “How did you . . . How did you come to be adopted by Master Jausiff?”
For once Nikolas wasn’t averse to speaking of his past. “I don’t remember any of it. I was only an infant, but Father told me that my parents were apothecaries down in the village, and he was fond of them. They were the closest things he had to friends at that time. A fever passed through the villages, and though my parents did all they could to help, they were struck down themselves. My father brought me to live up here . . . the same year that Sherie was born.”
His expression became pained again, and Wynn did not press him further. His explanation did help her understand Jausiff a bit better: he was loyal to those he considered friends, enough to adopt their orphaned child. Then again, that didn’t mean much in the end. She assumed even minions of the Enemy might be loyal to some friends.
Taking Nikolas by the arm, she urged him on. “Let us find this promised supper, considering how late it is. I’m starving, and Shade, well, she can always eat.”
Her thoughts turned back to Nikolas’s promise to speak to Sherie—to try to learn the identity of the messenger. Whether he could learn anything of use was still to be seen, but at least it was a start after her horrible blunder with his father. She was determined not to let that happen again the next time.
All she needed was some reason to go at the master sage again, and it might depend on Nikolas acquiring some answers first.
• • •
Chane paced the small room he was forced to share with Osha. The elf sat in silence on the bed closest to the door. Not that Chane minded silence, for their having to speak to each other would be worse, but he hated the present situation.
Wynn had been escorted away at the master sage’s request and had been gone too long. Chane rebelled against the very thought of her alone with anyone here, for no one in their group knew whether some new minion of the Ancient Enemy might be hiding among the residents of this keep.
Finally he could stand it no longer.
“I am going out,” he rasped.
Osha rose instantly. “I come, too. She gone too long.”
Chane stalled at the door, with Osha an arm’s length behind him. “No. You stay. I will be back.”
He had no idea how he might search for Wynn, given the guards at both ends of the passage, but he did not want the elf along. Yet a fight to put the interloper in his place was out of the question. Wynn would not forgive him for that.
Osha merely stood there, slightly taller than Chane—which was beyond annoying—with his ridiculously long white-blond hair hanging loose. In exasperation Chane opened the door, stepped out, and of course Osha followed.
They both stopped upon seeing the woman called Aupsha pass by the guard near the stairs and come straight toward them. Her dark eyes flickered slightly in surprise at the sight of them outside of their room.
“A meal has been prepared in the kitchens,” she said. “I am to bring you.”
“Where is Wynn?” Chane demanded.
Aupsha remained stoic. “I will bring her and Nikolas when Master Jausiff has finished speaking with them.”
“Nikolas is with Wynn?” Chane asked, looking past her toward the stairs.
“Take us to her,” Osha said.
The woman said nothing to this. She simply turned and headed back the way she had come.
Chane hesitated for only an instant. Was she leading them to Wynn or to whatever late meal had been prepared? Either way he would get out of this passage, past the guard without incident, and then choose what to do next. He followed, hearing Osha two steps behind him, and he made a brief peripheral assessment of the guard as they passed. The man appeared armed with only a sheathed longsword—no visible knives, daggers, or other secondary weapons.
As they neared the second floor, Chane heard familiar voices. He reached the next landing, and relief came at the sound of Wynn’s voice. Then he saw her with Nikolas coming down the passage, and Shade trailed behind them.
Aupsha paused, blocking Chane from going to Wynn.
“Chane . . . Osha?” Wynn said at the sight of them. “We were coming to find you before heading to the kitchen.”
Chane cocked his head toward Aupsha. “We have an escort.”
Asking Wynn about what had transpired with Nikolas’s father would have to wait for privacy.
Aupsha turned back, heading to the next flight of stairs downward. Chane let Wynn and Nikolas slip by, but before he could step in behind her . . .
Osha took advantage of his rearward position and did so, even pushing in front of Shade.
Chane clenched his jaw as he followed behind.
The tall servant woman led them down to the main floor, but instead of heading into the main hall, she turned right down a dim passage lined with several narrow archways. They passed rooms filled with casks and crates, and Chane assumed these were extra stores, though it was odd that they were stored in the keep’s main building. A short way onward, they emerged into the heat of a kitchen with food and simple place settings on a long wooden table ringed with stools.
“We are to dine in here?” he rasped, unable to keep distaste out of his voice.
Aupsha ignored him, but Wynn glanced back. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he covered quickly.
In his youth, when he had visited other noble families with his father, he had never once been expected to eat in the kitchen. He had rarely even seen such places where only servants went to bring a meal to a main hall or more formal dining chamber. However, his and his companions’ status here was uncertain.
Cutting Osha off, he followed Wynn to the far end of the table. Soon she, Chane, and Nikolas were seated, which put the elf at the far end near the entrance. Shade dropped her rump to the floor at Wynn’s
side and snuffled repeatedly while starting to drool.
“I will return when you are finished,” Aupsha said, and she abruptly left.
Only two other people remained: a fat woman in a stained apron and one of the girls who had helped prepare their rooms. She looked to be about sixteen, overly slender with dark blond hair, and she kept her eyes down. The fat woman glowered first at Wynn and then at Chane from where she stood by the wood-burning iron stove.
Chane had no idea why she should be so insolent.
“We are sorry to have disrupted your schedule,” Wynn said to the cook. “We were delayed. I’m sure you were already cleaning up for the night.”
Their journey had not been delayed, for they had to travel by night, but Wynn’s apology seemed to have the proper effect. The stocky cook grunted with a nod and began dishing out boiled potatoes, glazed carrots, and what might have been roasted beef onto plates.
“Can’t be helped. You need to eat,” she said somewhat grudgingly.
Chane noted that she did not defer to Nikolas at all. So far the only person outside the family who had acknowledged the young sage had been Captain Holland out at the front gates. Something about this seemed relevant, but as of yet Chane was not sure why.
The shy girl brought them their filled plates, and Wynn smiled at her. “Thank you. What is your name?”
At first the girl did not answer. She cautiously set a plate in front of Osha while glancing up as if trying not to stare at his pointed ears and large, slanted eyes.
“Eliza, ma’am,” she said quietly.
“Thank you, Eliza,” Wynn responded. “Could you spare a plate for my dog?”
The girl’s posture relaxed slightly with a glance at Shade, and she nodded. “Yes, of course, ma’am.”
Chane always noted how strangers were either frightened or fascinated by the sight of a large black wolf kept as a “pet.” Either reaction could be useful, and even Shade took advantage of this at times. The serving girl appeared to fall into the latter category, and Chane knew exactly what Wynn was up to.
Servants knew secrets, whether useful ones or not. Befriending them was thereby useful as well.
“You ain’t giving that dog my good roast,” barked the fat cook at the stove, and she pointed to the kitchen’s rear chopping table. “There’s boiled bones over there.”
At that Eliza stalled with a plate already in hand. She set it aside to hurry in gathering stewed bones for the “dog.”
And an awkward meal began.
Chane knew that, given a choice, Wynn did not care for meat, but she dove into her potatoes and carrots. As a result she was too busy to speak. Osha was silent as well, and ate like someone uncertain where his next meal would come from. Nikolas would not look at anyone and pushed his food around his plate.
Chane looked down at a plate loaded with food he could not eat. He waited until the cook turned her back. When the girl spotted him sliding a gravy-soaked slice of beef over the plate’s edge—over the table’s edge—she smiled slightly and looked away as Shade snapped up each slice before it hit the floor. Then he forked his vegetables over onto Wynn’s plate. Eliza came around with a pitcher of ale to fill the clay cups, and Wynn took her own two slices of meat and passed them under the table as well—most likely to avoid offending the prickly cook. Shade had the best meal at the table and much better than a few stewed bones.
“How was your meeting?” Chane asked as softly as possible.
Wynn shook her head, whispering, “Later.”
Nikolas picked up his cup and downed half of its ale. He had not touched his food. Osha’s plate was empty, though he ignored the ale after taking a puzzled sniff.
“I think we are finished,” Wynn called to Eliza.
The girl nodded and darted out into the passage. She returned a moment later, led by Aupsha.
Chane found the entire situation odder and odder. Were they guests, prisoners, or simply a notch above the keep’s staff? Aupsha stood near the archway as the girl hurried about in cleanup.
Chane looked down at Wynn. “It appears our escort awaits.”
• • •
Wynn’s mind was busy as Aupsha led them up to the third-floor passage and their rooms. She was eager to speak with Chane and Osha but did not want Nikolas in on the conversation. Upon reaching her door, she feigned a yawn.
“I’m exhausted. Good night, everyone.”
Openly relieved, Nikolas nodded and hurried off toward his door. As Chane passed by, Wynn tugged his sleeve, tilted her head toward her door, and mouthed, Come in a little while.
Chane eyed Nikolas entering the far room and then nodded as he headed off to the second door. Osha followed him, though not before a quick, deep look that made Wynn swallow before she slipped inside her room.
She waited along with Shade until certain that Nikolas would be settled for the night, and then she changed her mind. It would be less notable to the guards if she went to the other room instead of Chane and Osha coming back out to enter hers, so she cracked the door open.
Both guards were still in place at each end of the passage. Both glanced her way. She stepped out and ignored them as she went to the second door and knocked.
“I forgot to give you instructions for tomorrow,” she called out.
The door cracked open, and she stepped in to find Osha behind it. Before he said a word, she put a finger over her lips.
Wynn listened carefully as Chane closed the door after her. She heard no footsteps in the passage outside, so both guards had remained at their posts. Apparently they didn’t care about the guests’ movements so long as no one left the upper floor without an escort. With a sigh, she turned to Chane and Osha, and noted that the small room was much the same as her own.
“How was . . . meeting with old sage?” Osha asked.
“A disaster,” she answered honestly. “Jausiff came at me with questions about my new order that I couldn’t answer. That ended everything, when I was exposed as some type of fraud in this robe.”
Chane frowned. “You learned nothing?”
“Well . . . he’s not ill or infirm from age, and I do think he’s genuinely concerned about Karl. His loyalty to the family isn’t in question, or he would’ve left this place years ago. But something else is going on here.” She mulled over the rest of the encounter. “It appears Jausiff called Nikolas back to help with issues concerning the duke. Even that didn’t seem to be all there was to it. Once I was alone with Nikolas, I suggested that he speak to the duchess . . . to see if Sherie knows any more about how the messages were sent.”
Chane stepped closer. “Will he . . . or, rather, can he?”
Obviously Wynn wasn’t the only one doubtful of Nikolas’s usefulness. “I think he’d do anything so he can leave here. He told me he’d try tomorrow.”
“Good,” Osha said, nodding to her.
She deserved no such praise after being so poorly prepared to deal with Jausiff.
“I hate to use Nikolas like this,” she said, “but I couldn’t see any other way. The duchess is unlikely to talk to me, let alone either of you. She might not even know anything of use. We need to know if the messenger was sent from here, as that’s our only hope of learning if that person and the would-be thief are one and the same. And how Jausiff is connected, if at all.”
“As you say, and it’s more than we had upon our arrival,” Chane replied. He moved around her to the door; Osha sidestepped away as he grabbed the latch. “There is nothing more we can do tonight, so you should sleep now.”
His abrupt manner—almost as if he wanted her to leave—caught her off guard. Perhaps he was right on both issues. Feeling somewhat off center and frustrated by failures, she headed for the door as he opened it.
“All right,” Wynn agreed, still puzzled by Chane’s eagerness to see her off. “Osha, I will see you in the morning.�
�
Did Chane really want to spend the night alone, watching Osha sleep?
Chapter Twelve
Not long past nightfall, a figure garbed in a full-length hooded black robe and cloak materialized in one small room of the keep’s underground chambers and passages. Inside a voluminous, sagging hood—where there should have been a face—was only darkness. Though the chamber’s air was still and stale, both robe and cloak shifted subtly, as if upon a breeze.
Sau’ilahk awakened from dormancy, fully aware and alone, for the man who usually awaited him was late.
It did not matter yet.
He raised one arm, and his sleeve slid downward. For an instant he stared at his own thin arm, hand, and fingers all wrapped in strips of black cloth. Even to him, his arm looked so real, so corporeal, but it was not. Anything might pass through it, as if it were a mirage upon the great deserts of his homeland. Focusing with intent, he turned his hand solid as he drifted across the chamber without the sound of a single step. He paused at the one small table, worn and bleached with age, and looked down upon the single object lying there. . . . A circlet, broken by design, made of ruddy metal.
It was thick and heavy, slightly larger in circumference than a great helm, and about a fourth of it was missing. From its open ends, protruding knobs pointed straight across the gap at each other.
Some might call it a thôrhk, a neck adornment worn by few honored dwarves, but it would more correctly be called a key.
Sau’ilahk picked it up with his willfully solidified hand and turned slowly away from the table. This chamber, carved from solid rock, was not large, but it was private, secure, and suited to his needs. It had perhaps once been a storage room or a cell for prisoners. One solid but aged wooden door behind him would open into a main subterranean chamber lined with similar doors that could also be locked.
To the right of the door was an iron tripod stand.
Three legs supported a like iron ring, which held the only other object in this locked room.
The globe resting in the stand was slightly larger around than the object he held, but it was not made of the same ruddy metal. Rather, the globe appeared fashioned from some unknown material, neither metal nor stone, and it was dark as char, with a surface faintly rough like evenly chiseled basalt. A spike of matching material pierced down through the globe’s center; its broad tapered top was wider from side to side than a clenched fist. The spike’s pointed tip also protruded through the globe’s bottom between the stand’s legs. But both spike and globe appeared formed from a single piece.