Saving Thanehaven

by Catherine Jinks

  Rufus raises his eyebrows. “Cool. Okay. So this room right here—I guess it’s in a pretty central privilege ring?”

  This time, no one answers at all. The assembled company just stares at him as the silence drags on and on.

  At last, Rufus breaks it.

  “Come on, guys, don’t freeze on me!” he implores. “You can handle this—I know you can! You’re new generation! You’re cutting edge! You’ve got a lot of very sophisticated algorithms in your programming!”

  “Rufus.” Noble speaks up, at long last. “No one understands what you’re talking about.”

  There’s a murmur of agreement. Rufus pushes his fingers through his hair.

  “Fine,” he concedes at last. “You’re right. Let’s keep it simple.” His restless gaze flits around the room, skipping from bookshelf to bookshelf until it finally settles on a modest little door tucked away between the fireplace and a pair of scales on a pedestal. “What’s through there?” he asks. “More boiling cobblestones?”

  “A circular staircase,” the head guard replies.

  “Defensible?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then off you go and defend it,” Rufus orders.

  There’s a startled pause as everyone waits for Lord Harrowmage to object. But he doesn’t. Instead, he remarks in a mildly reproachful tone, “I thought you came here to discuss peace terms?”

  “We did. That’s the problem.” Rufus takes a deep breath. “Look, I can explain everything once you secure the access ports. Okay? I swear this isn’t a trick. I just want to be on the safe side.”

  After a moment’s reflection, Lord Harrowmage nods. “So be it,” he declares with a click of his fingers. The head guard immediately begins to hurl instructions around. Some of his squad leave at once, making for distant posts around the castle. Others station themselves within the room.

  Noble leans over to Rufus and says quietly but sternly, “You mentioned an enemy agent. Would you care to tell me who that might be?”

  “In a minute. I’ll get to it,” Rufus promises, then waits until all the bustling activity has died down a bit. By this time, his audience isn’t very big. Only Noble, the princess, and Lord Harrowmage have remained with him, together with four stone-faced soldiers who are guarding the doors. So Rufus doesn’t have to raise his voice.

  “There’s something you should understand,” he says. “This is a first-person shooter game—and Noble is the shooter. Which means that you guys are just bit parts.” He sounds apologetic, even though the princess and her cousin don’t look offended. Their expressions are completely blank. “What you do depends on what Noble does,” Rufus tells them. “And Noble’s always been a fighter. He was made like that. But he doesn’t want to fight anymore. Do you, Noble?”

  Noble shakes his head.

  “Which means that you’re facing a whole new scenario,” Rufus continues. “Instead of endless conflict, you’ll have peace. Because you can’t fight someone who won’t fight back. I mean, what’s the point?”

  “I don’t have to fight,” Noble interrupts. “I threw away my weapon.”

  “That’s right. He’s made a choice,” Rufus confirms. Tucking his hair behind his ears, he fixes his attention on Lord Harrowmage. “And you can make one, too. By changing your perspective on the world.”

  Princess Lorellina cuts a quick glance at her cousin, who’s pursing his lips and knitting his brow.

  “Think about the opportunities,” Rufus proceeds. “You won’t have to skulk inside. You can get out and fix things—like your river, for instance. If your river were clean, maybe your trees wouldn’t be dead. Maybe you’d be able to grow stuff.”

  “I should like to get out,” the princess wistfully reveals. “I should like to see the sun.”

  “Of course you would.” Rufus flaps a hand at the nearest wall. “In fact, the first thing you ought to do is knock a few windows into this place. Brighten it up a bit.”

  “Windows,” Lord Harrowmage murmurs. “We could have windows.…”

  “And I could go riding! In the forest!” Lorellina exclaims.

  “Uh … yeah. I guess so.” Rufus doesn’t sound very enthusiastic about that idea. “Once you get the whole marsh-mouth situation under control.”

  “But how can we trust you?” Still undecided, Lord Harrowmage trains his dark and desolate gaze on Noble. “Why have you come to us now? Suddenly? After all this time?”

  “Because of Rufus,” Noble explains. The answer is simple, yet it opens up a series of doors in his head. “Rufus told me that I could stop. Before I met him, I didn’t understand that I had a choice. I never thought of doing anything else.”

  Lord Harrowmage nods slowly. He seems to understand.

  “It was an easy choice to make,” Noble admits. “I don’t like fighting.”

  Rufus gives a snort and says, “What’s to like?” But Noble hasn’t finished.

  “My weapon made me fight. My weapon and my own blindness. I knew nothing but fear and pain.” His eyes swivel toward the princess. “And now my quest has turned to ashes, because I see that it was false. The princess has no use for me. Our suffering was needless. My quest was a cage, imprisoning us both.”

  “Hear, hear,” says Rufus. “I second that.”

  “There must be a life for me beyond the fate decreed by others,” Noble concludes, still speaking to the princess. “Maybe I can save you after all, by choosing my own path. Maybe I can free everyone.”

  Lorellina is now pink-cheeked and bright-eyed. She clasps her hands beneath her chin as she turns to plead with Lord Harrowmage.

  “Freedom!” she cries. “It is the highest goal and the sweetest victory! Cousin, we must embrace freedom!”

  Lord Harrowmage blinks. “I suppose so,” he mumbles.

  “But our bodies cannot be free unless we liberate our hearts and minds,” Lorellina insists. “We must dismantle the walls that we built around ourselves. This is our chance to free our thinking—we cannot stay trapped like sewer rats in the tunnels of our own suspicion!”

  “Good point.” Rufus eagerly backs her up. “You’ll never see anything new if you follow the same old path.”

  “And be assured that you will have my fealty,” Noble adds, “in all your endeavours to make this land peaceful and prosperous.”

  He’s speaking to Lord Harrowmage, who looks from face to face. There’s a long pause. The whole room seems to be waiting with crossed fingers and bated breath. Princess Lorellina is chewing her thumbnail.

  At last, her cousin heaves a sigh. “There must be change,” he concurs. “We have no choice. It is written in the stars.”

  “It’ll be change for the better,” Rufus pipes up. “Believe me. War’s always bad for trade.”

  But Lord Harrowmage ignores him, addressing Noble instead. “I am a man of peace. I have no quarrel with you, my lord, as long as you pose no threat to me or mine. Deal honorably with me and you will always be welcome here.”

  Noble places a hand on his breast. “Upon my oath, I mean you no harm and will hold to our treaty,” he declares. “From this day forth, let the clans of Thanehaven be at one with the mages of Harrow.”

  Rufus begins to clap. “Brilliant. Beautiful. So we’re all squared away now, are we?” Without waiting for an answer, he briskly changes the subject. “Then why don’t we celebrate this momentous occasion by freeing the gargoyles?”

  Once again, Lord Harrowmage is scrambling to catch up. In a dazed voice, he echoes, “Freeing the gargoyles?”

  “Since you won’t be needing them anymore,” Rufus points out.

  Seeing the princess frown, Noble quickly explains, “We promised the gargoyles that we would ask you to unchain them. We struck a bargain and are bound by it.”

  But the princess doesn’t seem to understand. “What gargoyles are these, my lord?”

  Her cousin heaves a sigh. “They guard the road through Morwood,” is his response.

  “And you put them in chains?” she
demands.

  “If they were not restrained, they would have vanished long ago. In times of war, we must all make sacrifices.”

  “Yeah, but the war’s over now,” says Rufus. “If freedom is our cry, we shouldn’t be chaining up our faithful minions.”

  “No! We should not!” As Princess Lorellina lectures Lord Harrowmage, he seems to shrink in on himself like a snail. “A new age is upon us!” she declaims. “Every captive should be released! Every chain should be broken!”

  Lord Harrowmage clears his throat. “Yes, but—”

  “Let me do it!” The princess won’t let him finish. “Let me go outside and free the enslaved!”

  “They’re not enslaved,” her cousin protests quietly but crossly. “They’re animals.”

  The princess, however, simply holds out her hand. “The key,” she barks.

  “Um … Your Highness?” Noble decides to intervene. He can’t help admiring Lorellina, who is obviously spirited and high-principled—with a bad case of cabin fever. Nevertheless, he can see that she’s woefully misinformed about the dangers of the outside world. “The gargoyles are not house pets. Every one of them is well equipped to kill a man. If you release them, you may find that you have unleashed a scourge far more dreadful than any plague of rats or locusts.”

  “Quite so.” Lord Harrowmage flashes Noble a quick, appreciative glance. “It behooves us to tread warily, my dear, lest we come to regret our own generous impulses. There are some actions which, when taken, cannot then be undone.”

  “Oh, nonsense!” snaps the princess, “You chained them up in the first place, my lord; you can always do it again.” Having dismissed her cousin’s scruples, she once more requests his key. “Or is there some magic spell that I should know about?”

  “No.” Lord Harrowmage fumbles beneath his voluminous robes, finally producing a heavy bunch of enormous keys. “There are no spells. Just locks.”

  “Then why don’t you release the gargoyles?” Rufus suddenly hijacks the conversation. “I’m sure they’d appreciate a visit from their lord and master.”

  “Oh!” says Lord Harrowmage, blanching. “Oh, I … I …”

  “Cousin Harry is a very private person,” Lorellina chimes in. “And not at all sociable.”

  “Ah.” Rufus pulls a face.

  “But I would be happy to go in his stead,” the princess offers, folding her soft pink palm around a key. “And I shall begin my tour by stepping outside to unchain those poor gargoyles.”

  With a swish of her skirts, she heads for the nearest door, making the two guards stationed there snap to attention. But before she can leave, Noble plants himself in her path.

  “Please,” he begs. “Your Highness—”

  “What?”

  “You mustn’t go alone.”

  “I have no intention of going alone.” She waves a regal hand at the guards. “I shall take an escort.”

  “Take me.” Noble isn’t used to monitoring his own likes and dislikes. He’s only just begun to realize that he can do whatever he wants to do. But it occurs to him, suddenly, that he wants to go with Princess Lorellina. “I should send a message to the clan caves,” he adds. “Perhaps I can persuade one of the gargoyles to fly there with my news.”

  “Good idea,” says Rufus. “Spread the word. A new age of peace, and all that.”

  The princess flicks Noble a sharp look, as if she suspects him of some deep and cunning motive. But if she has any reservations, she doesn’t voice them.

  “After what you just said about the gargoyles, I think a large escort would be wise,” she finally concedes. “It would also mark the importance of this occasion. So feel free to join us. We should all feel free to do as we wish, now.”

  “In that case, I’ll come, too,” Rufus decides. “The gargoyles might listen to me. They did before.”

  Noble can’t argue with that. He remains silent while orders are given for an armed platoon to be assembled at the front gate. He doesn’t even exchange a parting word with Lord Harrowmage.

  It’s Rufus who, on his way toward the exit, tells the gloomy old wizard, “Stay with the program. Things are going to be different. You’ve gotta take that on board because change is good. Without change, you can’t have growth.”

  “Change. Yes. And growth,” Lord Harrowmage mutters.

  “The only thing is, if you see something especially different—if someone really strange turns up while we’re gone—then you’d better sound the alarm.” Conscious of a sudden shift in the atmosphere, Rufus adds cheerfully, “It’s just a precaution.”

  “What do you mean, ‘someone strange’?” Noble demands. “Are you talking about an enemy agent?”

  “Enemy agent?” the princess repeats, aghast. By now she’s poised on the threshold. “What enemy agent?”

  Rufus sighs. “Look—what I want to do is set you free. Like I said before. Right?”

  “Right,” Noble affirms. Lord Harrowmage nods.

  “But there are certain parties who’d prefer to keep you locked into your programming,” Rufus continues, “and it’s hard to tell how they might react, now that you’re making your own decisions.”

  “What parties?” Lorellina wants to know.

  Noble, beside her, says, “Not the clans?”

  “No, no. Not the clans. Just a bunch of jerks and dingbats. Like the one who was in charge of Smite, for instance.” Again Rufus shrugs, spreading his hands in helpless apology. “What can I say? There are always people who try to keep all the power for themselves.”

  “Then we must oppose them!” the princess cries. “We must oppose those who wish to enslave us in an unfair system!”

  “Right.” Rufus nods. “Solidarity.”

  “We cannot retreat now. We will not retreat!” Lorellina’s voice rings out like a bell. “Hearts and minds are not like gargoyles! Once unchained, they are free forever! As my cousin says, there are some actions that, when taken, cannot be undone!”

  “Well, I hope not,” Rufus remarks a little doubtfully. “But it’s hard to figure out what kind of stunt these parties might pull. That’s why you need to keep your eyes open.” He surveys his audience with a lopsided grin. “Because the price of liberty is eternal vigilance,” he concludes, “especially when you don’t even know what to look for. So my advice is: Stay sharp. We’ve still got a big job ahead of us.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  After descending a circular staircase, Noble and Rufus pursue Lorellina into a long and winding tunnel. Then they follow her up a ladder, over a drain, through a series of guardrooms, under an arch, past a privy, and down another circular staircase into the gatehouse. Along the way, Noble catches the odd glimpse of what he might have faced had Rufus never shown up; things that Rufus calls anti-Noble devices. There are murder holes, trapdoors, and strategically placed spikes. There’s a net full of cannonballs poised over a flight of stairs. There’s a passage dense with cobwebs spun by a million spiders, and another that oozes something sticky from its scabbed walls.…

  With every step he takes, Noble becomes more confident that he’s made the right decision. Peace is better than war. He can’t imagine how he could have freed Lorellina if he’d tried to fight his way into the fortress, with or without Smite. There would have been too many obstacles. Too many tricks. And then Lorellina would have spat in his face at the end of it all.

  It wouldn’t have been a rescue. It would have been an abduction.

  “Is this some kind of prison cell?” Rufus asks Lorellina as they tramp through one of the smaller, damper, murkier guardrooms. It’s full of chains and wet straw. “Or is it where your garrison hangs out?”

  “Some of the guards sleep here,” the princess replies. “Not all of them.”

  “Homey,” drawls Rufus. Then he addresses the guards behind him. “How much do you guys get paid for this gig?”

  There’s no response from the guards, perhaps because they can’t hear Rufus over the noise that they’re making as they march along.<
br />
  It’s Lorellina who finally answers.

  “We give them bed and board and clothes and firewood,” she says, lifting her skirt to cross an oily black puddle. “That is their payment.”

  “No money?” Rufus inquires.

  “Money? You mean—gold? Silver?” Lorellina sounds genuinely surprised. “Why would they need money?”

  “Oh, I dunno. For the app store?” Rufus shrugs, not explaining this odd term. “Now that they can actually get out of here, don’t you think a bit of money would be nice for them?”

  “But they are our vassals. Our liegemen,” says the princess. That is all she needs to say, as far as Noble is concerned.

  Rufus, however, doesn’t seem to understand.

  “Maybe some of them don’t want to be guards,” he speculates, not bothering even to hunch his shoulders as he passes beneath an archway so low that it forces Noble to duck. “Have you thought of that? Have they thought of that? This whole world’s opening up, now—you might have to offer a few more incentives if you want ’em to stay.”

  “They belong with the fortress,” Lorellina insists. No matter how much Rufus argues, he can’t seem to get through to her. And he stops trying when they reach the front gate.

  “The gate!” she cries. “The gate is open!”

  “Yes,” says Noble, who’s just behind her.

  “And the bridge is down!” Her voice trembles. “Is that the sky? Is that the open sky?” She points at a patch of cloud framed by the dark, jagged mouth of the entranceway.

  “Yes,” Noble says again.

  A new platoon of guards is waiting for Lorellina in the gatehouse. She edges past them until she has an unobstructed view of the drawbridge, the river, the bare trees, the gray sky, and the matched pairs of gargoyles facing each other across a ribbon of white road.

  “Oh!” she exclaims, her voice catching on a sob. “No roof! No walls!”

  “No enemy agents,” mutters Noble, who’s scanning the vicinity of the fortress for possible threats.

  “Come!” The princess squares her shoulders. “Advance, Liegemen of Harrow!” she commands, with a grand sweep of her slender arm. “Let us go forth and reclaim what is ours!”