The Guide

by Trudie Collins

  The grates were not marked on the map, so they could not simply be counted to ascertain where they were, but Modo’s reports on what he could see above meant Tor could plot their progress on the map with reasonable accuracy. Eventually Modo reported that they had passed under Bedden’s surrounding wall. As they got closer to the city, the smell had become worse. If they did not get fresh air soon, they felt they would start vomiting. Unfortunately, the sewer was not straight; it meandered under various important city buildings, so progress was slow.

  Modo once more climbed up to take a look. He could see they were in a building, but nothing more, so Tor went up the ladder to remove the grate. It had obviously not been lifted in a while and took all of his strength, but after a few attempts it gave way. Tor climbed out of the manhole and stretched his aching back. While Grimmel was short enough to walk upright, Tor, Patrick and Seth had been forced to remain bent over. Being able to stand up straight again was a great relief.

  One by one they made their way up the ladder, taking deep breaths as they emerged. The air was thick and musty, as though it had been trapped in the room for a long time, but at least it smelled better than the air in the sewer. They appeared to be in a storage room, with a bench on one side and shelves on the other. Except for a few dead rats, it was currently empty and the amount of dust and cobwebs suggested it was no longer used. Extinguishing all of the torches, save one, they placed them in the darkest corner of the room and moved the grate back over the manhole. If anyone chanced into the room it would hopefully look undisturbed, but it left them a problem if they had to make a quick getaway.

  Following a quick discussion, it was decided that Modo should remain behind. There was no way they could disguise him as a palace servant and if he curled up under the bench he would not be seen. He could quickly remove the grate when he heard the others approaching, aiding a timely escape if one was needed.

  Tor moved to the door and gently pushed. It did not budge. The thought that it might be locked occurred to him, but he didn’t panic. Holding up the torch, he studied the hinges, concluding that the door should be pulled not pushed, though a thick coating of rust suggested that this would not be easy. A sharp tug only moved the door slightly, but it was enough for both Grimmel and Patrick to get their fingers in the gap, holding it open while Tor moved his into a better position. It took all of their combined strength, but eventually the door opened enough for them to squeeze through. Each time they tugged, it moved such a small amount that it emitted no squeak to alert the sleeping household, much to everyone’s relief.

  Finding themselves in a dark, damp corridor, they headed toward the source of the slight breeze that played with the torch flame. It led them to a set of steps, leading upward. Tor took the lead, raising the torch high above his head. The steps spiralled as they rose, making it impossible to see around the next corner before reaching it. The darkness began to recede as they climbed, indicating there was light above.

  When he was able to see well enough, Tor passed the torch to the back of the group, afraid it may be seen should someone come the other way. Dal counted the steps as they climbed, but lost count as they neared one hundred. Not willing to return to the bottom to start again, he gave up his counting. Moments later Tor motioned for everyone to keep still and quiet. Around the next corner he could see light and he went to investigate. Within seconds he had returned and was reporting that the steps came out into a corridor, well-lit and obviously frequently used, but currently empty. They extinguished their torch and stepped out.

  As soon as his eyes adjusted, Patrick looked down, then grabbed Tor’s arm while it was still in reach. Pointing down he said, “I think we had better leave our shoes behind. Not only do we not want to bring attention to ourselves by the smell, but someone may question why a group of slaves are creeping through the palace at night, wearing good quality shoes that are covered in crap.”

  Seeing his point, everyone removed their shoes and stockings, placing them on a step just out of sight, before proceeding in bare feet. Servants often went barefoot in Emvale and Tor hoped the same applied to slaves in Kinfen.

  The corridor was long, leading off in both directions, with a number of doors on both sides. They could faintly hear noise to their left and the smells that wafted toward them indicated the kitchens were probably in that direction. Tor took them to the right. Trying each door as they went, they discovered they were all store rooms, except for the last, which was full of tables with benches. That must be where the slaves ate. A quick look at the sketch confirmed they were heading in the right direction.

  The palace was huge and had been greatly extended since the map had been drawn, but eventually, after backtracking a few times, Tor stopped beside a door. “I think this is the one we want,” he whispered. They had not met anybody on their way, managing to avoid everyone by hiding in nearby rooms whenever they heard approaching footsteps or voices. Luck had favoured them so far, as none of the rooms they had entered had been occupied. Once the sounds of people had passed, or turned in a different direction, they exited the room and continued on.

  “So what do we do now?” Seth asked. “Knock on the door or just walk in?”

  Without waiting for a decision to be made, Patrick tried to open the door, swearing quietly when it failed to yield.

  Unconcerned, Tor looked at Ria, who moved close to the door. Removing a hairpin, she bent it into the shape she wanted then inserted it into the lock. It took a few minutes, but eventually they heard the quiet click of the door being unlocked.

  Immediately, Patrick gently opened the door and crept in, only to find himself with a sword to his throat.

  “Move to the centre of the room,” a voice told him as he heard the door being closed behind him. In the corridor Tor could be heard softly swearing as the door was bolted from inside the room.

  Patrick did as he was instructed, quickly looking around the room and taking everything in. There were no lights on, but the curtains were open, letting in enough moonlight to see by. The clouds had obviously cleared during their journey through the sewer. Nobody else was in the room, though any number of guards could be hiding behind the four doors that his eyes had quickly picked out.

  “Kill me if you like,” he said casually. “It has been a while since I last died so I am probably overdue.”

  Not understanding what he was talking about, the other man decided to ignore the comment. “I have no wish to kill you. I just want to know why you are sneaking into my room in the middle of the night.”

  This took Patrick by surprise. “Prince Tallon?” he ventured, sighing with relief as the man nodded. Part one of their plan had worked; they had successfully reached the right room. The Prince was supposed to be asleep, not awake and waving a sword around, dressed only in his night clothes, but that was just a minor inconvenience. “I came with my friends, the ones you have so inconveniently locked outside, to kidnap you.”

  The statement did not elicit the expected response. Instead Tallon just said, “I guess there is a first time for everything. Most unwelcome visitors to my room come to either rob me or kill me. Nobody has ever tried to kidnap me before. How much is my ransom going to be?”

  Tallon’s attitude confused Patrick. He was expecting to be attacked as soon as he informed the Prince of his purpose, not to take part in an almost pleasant conversation. “Actually there will be no ransom. We are taking you to Vada.”

  “Vada,” Tallon exclaimed, dropping his sword. “Selene is not hurt is she?”

  “All I can say is that Allias wants a word with you,” Patrick replied, an evil smile spreading across his face. “And I am not sure you will survive it.” He made a grab for the fallen sword, but Tallon had already turned his back on him and was unlocking the door. He swung it wide, allowing Tor and the others to enter the room. He closed and relocked the door, then started to light some lamps, as Tor whispered to Patrick, “What did you say to him?”

  “The truth,” Patrick whispered back. �
��He had his sword to my throat the second I got through the door, then just dropped it the minute I mentioned taking him to Vada.”

  Once enough lamps had been lit, Tallon sat down by the low table, gesturing to the others to join him. “So gentlemen, and lady, I have been told that you are here to kidnap me. How do you plan to get me out of here?”

  Tor decided to continue telling the truth. “To be perfectly honest, we do not really have much of a plan. We were hoping to find you asleep, drug you, then carry you out the way we came in.” He deliberately did not mention exactly how they had gotten into the palace and Tallon did not ask.

  “Well that is a disappointment. I expected more from you Tor.”

  “I should have known you would recognise me. I think by now every royal household has heard about the stupid quest my father’s will is making all of his sons take part in. Let me do some introductions.” This was not going at all to plan. Tallon was obviously up to something and Tor decided to play along until he could figure out what. “Going clockwise, this is Seth, my cousin’s son Dal, Ria, Grimmel and you have already met Patrick.” Each nodded to Tallon as they were introduced.

  “The six of you could easily have overpowered me and made me drink your potion if I had been caught unawares, but that is not going to work now. You need an alternative.” He looked around at the concerned faces looking at him. “Do not worry, I have not summoned any guards.”

  “I take it you just walking out of here with us is out of the question?” The way things were going, Tor thought there was no harm in asking.

  “Well, that all depends on what you plan to do with me once we are outside the palace. As you can imagine, I do not relish the thought of being bound, gagged and thrown into a box for the entire journey to Vada. Why not let me know where you are to rendezvous with the rest of your men and I will grab a horse from the stables and meet you there.”

  Patrick burst out laughing. “You have got to be joking. You expect us to believe you will let us leave, unmolested, then you will willingly meet up with us so we can kidnap you.” He turned to Tor. “Can I just hit him until he loses consciousness?”

  Tor winced. “Not yet. I would rather he walked out of here as I am not sure how we would explain carrying his body through the palace if we are seen.” He turned to Tallon. “I am prepared to trust you, but only so far. While in Vada, I visited a witch and had her make up a poison for me. It will cause a very slow and painful death unless the antidote is taken within three hours. I have the poison on me now. The antidote is in my pack, which I left with the rest of my men.”

  Seth leant closer to Dal. “I told you he would have a plan B.”

  Tallon held out his hand for the poison. Tor reluctantly handed it over. They were all surprised when Tallon uncorked the little bottle and drank the contents down in one gulp. A look of panic then crossed his face. “Your rendezvous is less than three hours ride away I hope.” Seth couldn’t stop himself laughing.

  “I think it is time to be off,” Patrick stated. “If we leave now, we should be out of the palace before anyone else wakes up.” Turning to Tallon, he continued. “I suggest you put on some clothes before leaving your room.”

  Tallon looked down at himself. “I guess you are right.”

  Seth led the way outside, checking the corridor was empty before leaving the room. Tor had the door half closed before pausing to look back at Tallon. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because of Selene. I love her. My life has been empty since we parted.” He smiled ruefully. “I know I probably do not have long to live, once we cross the border, but at least I will get to see her one last time. So why are you trusting me?”

  “I have dealt with your countrymen before. The majority have been honest and trustworthy. Also you would not have drunk down that poison so fast if you did not intend to come with us.”

  “Unless I already have the rest of your men in custody and you are walking into a trap.”

  “Do you?”

  “No. So where am I to meet you?”

  Tor gave a good description of where the wagon was left then closed the door behind him, leaving the Prince to get dressed in peace. “Did that really just happen?” Ria asked, but received no reply. Seth could remember the way back to the sewers so he took the lead. They met nobody on their return journey and were soon once again at the stairs where they had left their shoes. Gratefully pulling on their stockings, as the coldness of the floor was beginning to seep into all of their bones, they slipped on their shoes and made their way back down the steps.

  It did not take them long to find the room in which Modo was hiding, though they did try a couple of wrong doors first. They climbed down the ladder one at a time, each whistling to Tor as soon as they reached the bottom, so he could throw down a relit torch. As they did not have to stop at each ladder, the journey back along the sewer was quicker and the smell did not seem as bad as it did when they were heading toward the palace.

  It was still dark when they emerged into the fresh air and made their way to where the wagon was hidden. They arrived before Tallon and filled the others in on all that had taken place.

  Tallon, meanwhile, packed a small bag with his most treasured possessions and a few changes of clothes, making sure he took only his plainest and least regal ones, then headed toward the stables. All of the stable hands were still asleep, so he opened the door as quietly as he could. He was about to let his own personal horse out when he noticed Dobbin, the horse he had bought for Selene. Knowing how much she would love having him returned to her, he went to him instead. He said a swift farewell to his own steed, then headed out of the stable. The horses made no noise as they watched him depart, as if they sensed the need for silence.

  As Tallon made his way to the main gate, the only sounds that could be heard were Dobbin’s footsteps on the road as he trotted along. The gate guards startled awake as Tallon approached. From the smell of them, their sleep was alcohol induced. They reluctantly opened the gate to let the Prince pass, despite having orders to never open the gate at night to anyone. He told them he was going for a surprise inspection of some of his soldiers. The story sounded plausible and who were they to question royalty, but they still felt uneasy about complying with his request. Once the gates were closed behind him, one of the guards headed to the nearby army barracks, to see if the army commander knew of the Prince’s plans.

  Tallon knew the grounds around Bedden well and easily found the place where Tor and his men were waiting. Some of them had not expected the Prince to turn up, at least not alone, and had drawn their swords at the sound of an approaching horse.

  Before introductions could be made, Tallon demanded the antidote and was stunned when Tor told him there wasn’t one.

  “Relax,” he said, slapping the stricken Prince on the shoulder. “Do you think I would really give someone poison? What you drank was just something a friendly witch knocked up for me to help cure headaches.”

  Tallon was too shocked to reply. “Look at it this way,” Seth commented, grinning. “At least you do not have to worry about your head hurting for a few days.”

  Chapter 15

  Selene and Sam ran down to the garden, eager to explore the building they had found; well Sam ran, Selene kind of waddled. Her bump seemed to be getting bigger by the day. The rain had cleaned the path, making it sparkle in the sunlight. They were pleasantly surprised to see that Rupert had beaten them to it and had already started to clear the path to the front door. Between the three of them it did not take long to do the minimal amount of work necessary to reach their goal, though Selene had to be frequently reminded to take it easy. Clearing away some ivy, they found themselves standing in front of a large wooden door. Rupert gave it a push, but it appeared to be locked.

  “Frack,” he exclaimed, then looked guiltily at the ladies. “Sorry,” he quickly added. “Do you want me to break it down?”

  Selene was horrified. “Of course not. The key must be somewhere. Maybe Halvine wi
ll know where it is.” Before waiting for a reply, she promptly marched down the path back toward the palace, obviously in search of the chief steward.

  There was an awkward silence between Rupert and Sam, finally broken by the Prince timidly asking what Sam planned to do the following evening. An acquaintance was holding a ball and Rupert’s invitation had stated ‘plus guest.’ Sam was a little taken aback. She had never been asked out on a date by royalty before; a picnic lunch did not count.

  Without waiting for her response, Rupert continued talking, telling her how she would first need to visit the dress makers to have an appropriate gown made, then the shoemakers and finally he would arrange for a woman to come to the palace to do her hair. She would have to look her best when seen in public with him.

  Sam was furious. How dare he tell her how to dress! She had already been supplied with plenty of decent dresses that the King did not object to, so why would she need another one. Then she realised that she had never been out of the palace with any member of the royal family, except Selene, and maybe they had appearances to maintain. When he got onto the subject of jewellery requirements, she interrupted him. She still wore the ring that Dean had given her; that had always been enough. She could not imagine herself covered in gold and diamonds.

  Rupert got quite distressed when she mentioned this, pointing out that, as the highest ranking person at the ball, it was his duty to set the standard. He could not be seen dancing with someone who looked common enough to be mistaken for a servant.

  This time Sam did take offence. She slapped him round the face and stormed off down the path, yelling suggestions behind her as to where he could stick his ball. He watched her walk away in bewilderment, rubbing his cheek and wondering what he had said wrong.

  It did not take Sam long to find Selene and vent her anger. “Your bloody brother,” she yelled, “is a stuck up, insensitive bastard.”

  “You must be talking about Rupert, but I am afraid you are mistaken. My father was definitely already married to my mother when he was conceived and there is no question that he is his father’s son.”