By Darkness Hid

by Jill Williamson

  Sir Gavin smiled and winked his brown eye. “Aye, he does.” He sat on the bed and loosened the bonds on Achan’s wrists. “I’d expect nothing less from this one.”

  “You sent them to free me?” Achan rubbed his wrist, then the other. “Why didn’t they just say they were with you?”

  Sir Gavin shrugged and looked to Sir Caleb. “Why didn’t you just say so, Caleb?”

  “I barely understand this mission, Gavin. You expect me to spill my guts to a stranger? I left the business of talking to you. He has been bloodvoicing with a boy in Lord Levy’s manor. Lord Nathak seeks him.” Sir Caleb sat on Achan’s other side and put his elbows on his knees. “Tell us, boy, what did you discover?”

  Sir Gavin looked at Achan, his mustache curling up in another smile. “You’ve learned to bloodvoice?”

  “Sort of. Sparrow taught me some.” Achan paused, feeling somewhat embarrassed. “He says I’m strong, and his master wants to take me as an apprentice.”

  “Wait.” Sir Gavin put a hand on Achan’s shoulder. “Who’s this Sparrow?”

  “Lad who was with him in the dungeon,” Sir Caleb said. “Pudgy little thing. Screams like an old hag.”

  “A criminal?”

  “Macoun Hadar’s apprentice,” Achan said. “Sparrow took care of my wounds. Used to apprentice for an apothecary before the Kingsguards took him.”

  “He’s the one who called out to me then!” Sir Gavin reached down and untied Achan’s ankles.

  Achan’s eyes widened. “Sparrow called out to you? When?”

  “Two nights ago. He said your life was in danger and gave me the location of your cell. Freeing you couldn’t wait until I arrived, so I sent Inko and Sir Caleb.”

  Sparrow had called Sir Gavin? Then he had saved him. And now he was suffering at the hands of Nathak and Hadar. He had to try to help his fellow stray, this Vrell Sparrow.

  Sir Gavin tugged on his beard braid. “You say the boy is Macoun Hadar’s apprentice?”

  Achan nodded. “Who is Macoun Hadar, anyway? Some royal cousin?”

  “He’s King Johan’s illegitimate son.” Sir Gavin slipped off his boots and stretched his legs out. “Which makes him King Axel’s uncle, of sorts. He’s not to be trusted, Achan. Macoun Hadar operates on his own agenda. And his age drives him to desperation.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He goes through several apprentices a year, uses them to do what he cannot. He spies on people. Knows more secrets than Arman himself.”

  Achan smirked. “Can’t be that bad, then. Arman knows nothing compared to Isemios.”

  Inko sat straight up in his chair. “What? Isemios? The boy is not already believing in the Way?”

  “Why would he?” Sir Gavin said. “Who in Sitna would have taught him right? They worship Cetheria there.”

  Inko shook his head. “I am being much hesitant, Gavin. Are you having certainty about this—absolute certainty?”

  Sir Gavin yawned. “I am, old friend. But even if I’m wrong, his character speaks for itself. And anything would be better than what we have now.”

  Achan kept trying to follow but could not understand this thread of conversation.

  “But there is Prince Oren,” Sir Caleb said. “He is a believer, at least.”

  Sir Gavin folded his arms. “We shall take it before the Council and see if the truth will set us all free.”

  “Wait!” Achan yelled. “What are you talking about?”

  Sir Gavin patted Achan’s shoulder. “Nothing to worry yourself with today, lad. Did you learn anything from this Sparrow?”

  Achan reluctantly let his confusion go. “He could sense this room, but not its location. He sensed two men with me. Then Hadar used Sparrow to speak with me.”

  Inko sucked in a sharp breath.

  Sir Gavin’s eyes zeroed in on Achan’s. “What did he say?”

  “He wants me as his apprentice. He said he has a proposal for me that doesn’t involve Lord Nathak. And he said if I don’t meet him at dawn, Sparrow will die.”

  “Fire and ash!” Inko jumped from his chair and paced to the door. “I am telling you, we should not be mingling with this man.”

  Sir Gavin turned to Inko. “We’re not mingling with him. We’re avoiding him.”

  “But he will be sitting there to be hearing it all. To be knowing our plans.” Inko motioned to Achan. “It could be that he is listening right now.”

  Achan scowled. “I know how to block.” Thanks to Sparrow.

  “Don’t worry,” Sir Gavin said. “He’d find out soon enough regardless. It’s in Arman’s hands. He’ll see justice done.”

  Achan grew ill of this coded banter. “What of Sparrow? Can’t we help him? He’s a smart little twig. And he’s helped me more than once. Maybe you could use a healer like him on your assignments.”

  “We don’t get assignments anymore,” Sir Caleb said. “We’ve been banished.”

  “By who?”

  “The Council of Seven,” Sir Gavin said. “I’m the only one who still gets to serve, though even I am not considered an active Kingsguard. I don’t know how much longer they’ll use me at all. Over the past few years, Lord Nathak has corrupted several Council members. As have Macoun Hadar, Lord Levy, and a dozen others. They all seek to fulfill personal agendas.”

  Sir Gavin sighed. “When Prince Gidon takes the throne, the downward spiral will happen quickly. All who seek truth are being banished or killed. Their false gods have corrupted their minds. They’ve all lost their way and will drag Er’Rets into chaos and war if something isn’t done.”

  War? A chill ran over Achan. “What can be done?”

  “You’ll soon see.” Sir Gavin twisted his beard. “Now, tell us where you’re to meet Macoun Hadar, and we shall try to save your little friend.”

  22

  Vrell woke on the floor in front of the fireplace in Master Hadar’s bedchamber. She focused in on a kettle hanging above the flames. Her head throbbed as if someone had taken an axe to it.

  Then she remembered: Master Hadar had used her to speak to Achan. What had they discussed? Why had it hurt so? Because she had not invited him in? Or had he used her physical strength to compensate for his own?

  She struggled to her feet, thankful Lord Nathak was gone. Master Hadar sat writing at his desk. She glanced at the windows and saw that it was dark outside. Still night.

  Master Hadar rose from his desk. “Good. You’re awake.” He walked to his sideboard. “Sit, sit. I’ll tend your wound.”

  Vrell lifted her fingers to her throat and released a trembling breath. The crusty scratch stung at her touch, but it could not be bad if the blood had dried. Why had Master Hadar not cleaned it already? She shakily lowered herself onto the stool at the table by his bed and fought back tears. What would Bran say if he knew Vrell had been threatened at knifepoint twice since leaving home? Not only threatened, but cut by deranged men?

  She needed to find Sir Rigil. The sooner the better. Hope welled inside. With Achan safe, she could now leave here without any worries. And she would. As soon as Master Hadar dismissed her.

  Master Hadar offered a wet towel. “It’s only a scratch. I doubt you’ll even need a salve.”

  “Thank you.” Vrell pressed the cool cloth to her neck.

  Master Hadar hurried to the fireplace and carried the steaming kettle to the sideboard. “Some tea will calm you. Lord Nathak’s temper sometimes causes accidents.”

  Vrell watched him fiddle with different canisters. Why was he being so nice? Never had he offered her tea. Rarely had she seen him so much as move, yet now he flitted about his chamber like a firefly.

  He carried a mug of tea and a slice of bread to the table and set it before her. A blue vein pulsed on his forehead. “There now. That should help you feel better.”

  Vrell lifted the tea to her lips and sipped. A familiar bitterness flooded her mouth. The âleh flower! Master Hadar had doused the tea with honey, but its flavor could not be masked. Was he wanting to
silence her bloodvoice—or open her mind to his probing?

  She pretended to sip and nibbled the bread until the tea cooled. Master Hadar sat at his desk, eyes closed. Was he speaking to someone or spying?

  Vrell took her chance. She lowered the cup to her side and drained it into her right boot. The tepid, slimy liquid doused her foot, but it was better than the alternative. Plus, if Master Hadar thought she was immune to the effects of the âleh flower, perhaps he would not try to sneak the tonic on her again. Before she could finish her bread, someone knocked on the door.

  Master Hadar said, “Enter,” without opening his eyes.

  Jax ducked through the doorway, followed by Khai. The men were dressed in their Kingsguard uniforms.

  Vrell smiled, glad to see her giant friend. “Hello, Jax.”

  “How are you, young Vrell? Faring well in your apprenticeship, I hope?”

  Vrell nodded.

  Jax’s gaze lost focus, as did Khai’s.

  Vrell looked to Master Hadar, wondering what he was voicing to them. She tried to hear, but their connection was secure. A sudden notion grew deep within her. What if Master Hadar had discovered she was a woman? She had no memory of what he had said to Achan when he had jumped though her. Maybe he had discovered the truth while he was in her head.

  Then why give her the silencer?

  Khai’s eyes snapped open. He sneered and stepped toward Vrell. She shuddered as if millions of ants crawled over her skin. They knew! Jax also walked toward Vrell, although his expression was somber.

  Arman save her, it was all over.

  “Jax?” Vrell slipped off her stool and backed into the corner, hoping to appeal to the kinder man. The liquid in her right boot squished around her foot.

  “It’ll be all right, lad,” he said. “Don’t fight, and you’ll be fine.”

  Khai reached her first and snagged her by the hair. Vrell gasped.

  Jax lunged forward and pulled Khai away. “If you’re going to be cruel, I’ll do it. He’s just a boy.”

  Vrell froze, ignoring her stinging scalp. Boy? Praise Arman—they didn’t know. But what were they doing, then?

  Jax frowned and pulled a length of cord from his belt. “I need to tie your arms, Vrell. And your ankles. Would you like to sit first?”

  Bind her? What was this madness? “Why?”

  “No talking!” Master Hadar snapped.

  Vrell’s ears tingled.

  Jax mi Katt.

  Vrell opened her mind.

  It’s all right, Jax said. I’ll watch over you.

  Vrell offered her hands to the giant, thankful Arman had chosen him for this insane moment. Jax bound her wrists in front, then her ankles, and helped her sit in the corner.

  “Master,” Vrell said. “Why are you doing this? What have I done?”

  Khai helped himself to Vrell’s bread and stood over her, looking out the window. He chewed with his mouth open, a nasty combination of slurping and smacking.

  “Please, Master. I promise to do better.”

  The old man ignored her. He just continued writing with his quill. Jax shot her several apologetic glances.

  When Jax had finished binding her, she expected him to pick her up and carry her off somewhere. Perhaps on some new boat trip, or maybe to Achan’s former cell in the dungeon. But Jax just backed away and sat against the hearth. Khai stood at the window. And Master Hadar dipped his quill into the ink and started in on a fresh scroll. So why had they bound her?

  No one spoke for a long time. Vrell’s ears tickled again and again with no declaration of who was knocking. Dozens of attempts to enter her mind failed. She glanced at Master Hadar. It had to be him. He thought she’d taken the âleh tonic and that her mind would now be easier to invade. Hopefully, all these failures would make him think she was immune to âleh.

  She pressed her ear against the wall, attempting to ease the itch. The toes on her right foot felt cold and wet. A whisper and footsteps drew near. She closed her eyes. Someone nudged her side. Khai. She would recognize the point of his boot anywhere.

  The weasel hissed, “He sleeps, Master.”

  “Very well. Come to the fire and we’ll make our plan.”

  “Why not tell the boy?” Jax’s low voice rumbled. “He’s loyal. I’m sure he’d help.”

  “No,” Master Hadar said. “Should something go wrong, I’ll need to sacrifice him. And I doubt anyone is that loyal.”

  Vrell stiffened. Sacrifice?

  Khai’s steps faded with his voice. “He hides a secret, Master. Did you discover it?”

  “No. Vrell’s mind is a strongbox. Nothing I do can penetrate it. I forced myself into his mind to jump yesterday, but he managed to keep his walls up the whole time. Even now, after the âleh tea, I sense nothing. It’s amazing. If only I could find such immunity for myself.”

  Vrell smiled in the darkness and wiggled the pruned toes in her right boot.

  “What is your plan?” Jax asked.

  “I seek a stronger mind,” Master Hadar said.

  Khai hummed. “The new one? I’ve sensed him.”

  “His power is amazing,” Master Hadar said. “Yet he’s not immune to âleh like Vrell. And I’ll need your help to see I get to keep both prizes.”

  “I’ll do all I can, Master,” Khai said.

  “What exactly do you want us to do?” Jax asked.

  Their conversation ceased, but Vrell figured they were bloodvoicing. She drifted to sleep.

  * * *

  They left before dawn. Vrell sat in the bow of a boat, limbs still bound. Master Hadar and Khai sat together on the center bench. Jax sat at the stern of the boat, paddling down a wide canal that led away from the northern side of the stronghold. The putrid smell of the water seemed stronger in the dark.

  Vrell’s eyes drooped. The surrounding darkness gave her all the more reason to go back to sleep, though her mist-soaked tunic left her chilly and uncomfortable. She felt Master Hadar’s eyes on her as the boat moved through the canal.

  She still did not understand what had transpired between Achan and Master Hadar. Had they made some sort of deal? Was Achan so angry over Vrell reading his letter that he had agreed? Fear seized her heart. She should have gone to Bran when she’d had the chance.

  They rowed for what seemed hours. Dawn broke and lit their surroundings to a slate murkiness. Every so often, orange torchlight blared through the thick Evenwall fog. Jax stopped the boat along a dock skirting a two-story redstone building on the corner of intersecting canals. A sign above the door read Mig’s Pit. It looked like a tavern, though the place was silent. She guessed even the reveling patrons were not up at this hour.

  Master Hadar pointed to the back door of the tavern. “Sit him there.”

  Jax lifted Vrell out of the boat and set her on the dock. Her wrists ached from being bound for so long.

  Sparrow?

  Vrell jumped. It unnerved her how Achan could penetrate her mind without any warning or knock. She scanned the canal and surrounding docks but could see very little through the thick fog. The stone buildings on the four corners of the intersection loomed above, looking dark and deserted. She did not see Achan.

  She focused, closing out everything else before answering. I am here.

  We’ve got a little surprise for your friends.

  Please do not hurt the giant. He is kind.

  For Lightness sake, Sparrow. How are we supposed to—

  Achan, hush! a deep, harsh voice said. Anyone with a bloodvoice can hear you, lad. You need more practice, and this is not the time for it.

  Vrell looked to where Khai and Master Hadar stood whispering. She hoped Achan had not spoiled the plan. Her heart thumped fast under her chubby disguise. Finally some knightly heroes. It had been two months since she’d left Walden’s Watch. She had nearly given up hope that anyone good still existed in this cursed land.

  “Hello?” A wooden dory emerged from the mist. She saw Achan rowing alone down the same wide canal that led from the
Mahanaim stronghold.

  “Ah!” Master Hadar rubbed his wrinkled hands together. “This way, young man.” He waved Achan toward the dock, then leaned toward Khai. “When he arrives,” he whispered, “I want him bound. Be careful. I hear he knows how to use a sword.”

  “But his sword is still locked up in the dungeon, Master,” Vrell said. She did not want Khai to be too prepared. Let the weasel think it was no contest.

  Worry crept over her hope as she imagined how the scene might play out. Khai likely had more experience with a sword. He’d massacred all those ebens in a breath. What if he hurt Achan?

  Nonsense! Achan had the Great Whitewolf on his side.

  Plus, Arman would not let Vrell get this far only to perish, would He?

  The boat glided nearer, parting the layer of slime like film on pea soup that had sat out too long. Achan looked well. He wore the same clothing he had been wearing when he had been taken from the dungeon: the doeskin vest and brown shirt from his girl.

  The men stared, waiting. Vrell prayed fervently. Finally Achan’s boat scraped against the dock right behind Master Hadar’s boat. Jax stepped forward to help him out.

  How was this a good plan? Where was Sir Gavin?

  Master Hadar wrapped his cloak tightly around him and said to Achan, “As soon as you’re bound, we’ll lower the boy into the boat.”

  Bound? Achan was trading himself for her? Even if Achan did have some kind of trick planned, why would he be willing to give himself up for her? Didn’t he hate her for reading his letter?

  “No,” Achan said. “Sparrow gets into the boat now, then you can bind me.”

  Khai drew his massive sword. “You’ll follow the master’s rules, lad.”

  “Whoa.” Achan stepped back and raised his hands.

  Why hadn’t he brought a sword? What was he thinking?

  Vrell caught sight of a grey-skinned man on a roof across the canal. He was gathering a rope, which slowly lifted out of the water, dripping with slime. As he pulled the rope, Achan’s boat tugged away from the dock. No one else noticed. Something creaked overhead. Vrell looked up to see another rope being lowered over the side of the building, right above her head.