by Wendy Palmer
Sparrow took a step back. Trick decided to keep trying. ‘We have your grandson and he needs a regent.'
'Let's wait until my husband gets back, then.’ Shier swept him with her cold look and sat at the table.
'Right,’ said Trick. ‘Find some rope, Sparrow.'
'The moment I have control of the throne, I open the gates to Moraine.'
'Trick, we can't drag her back.'
Beset on both sides. ‘Shier, he kidnapped you. He raped your mother and killed your brothers. Your father died from grief.'
Shier let out a hard mocking laugh. ‘Who do you think opened the gate? I did it then, I'll do it again.'
'What?’ Sparrow's voice faltered.
Trick turned his back and went over to the window.
Shier leant forward, spitting the words. ‘He wanted to marry me, and Lanerol made my father turn him down. Lanerol had hopes, you see, LightElf prig.’ She laughed again, staring at Sparrow's appalled face. ‘Don't tell me Kiara Valley thought I was the innocent victim all this time?'
Sparrow was white, green eyes startling.
Shier poked him in the chest. ‘You go back and tell Lanerol that's what he gets for sniffing around the skirts of a princess.'
'Oh, I don't think we'll be doing that.’ Trick pulled the cords from the drapes and roughly tied her wrists together. She kicked out at him, spitting.
Sparrow had to come and get his hand over her mouth before she started screaming. Trick cut a strip from the drapes and they used that to gag her.
'We're not going to bring her, are we?'
Trick stood away. Shier looked daggers at him. ‘It's Lanerol's problem once we deliver her.'
'Trick,’ said Sparrow, on a sigh.
'The daughter's not going to be a better option, is she?'
Shier made a shrill noise behind the gag. Trick took the gag out. ‘Will you come quietly if we leave your daughter alone?'
'Take her, the little wrench,’ she said. ‘I'll be glad to see the back of her.'
Sparrow took a breath. Trick saw he was finally on the edge of outrage. ‘We have to get out of here, Sparrow.'
He shoved the gag back in, and together they dragged her behind the drapes. She would be found almost straight away, but it might buy them a little time. They went back out and down to the other end of the hallway.
Again the door was unlocked and unguarded. The living area was empty, and the door to the bedchamber stood wide open. The bed was unoccupied and stripped of sheets. These had been tied together and anchored to the leg of the bed. They led out the window and twitched occasionally.
'How did she know we were coming?’ asked Sparrow. They both ran over and looked out the window.
The girl was only a little way down. In unspoken unison, they reached out and grabbed a wrist each, hauled her straight up and in. She landed unevenly with a squeak of protest and turned with eyes blazing and face set in an expression of fearsome hatred.
'You won't stop me from getting out of here,’ she shouted. She must assume them to be her father's guards.
'Oh,’ said Sparrow. ‘Actually, we—'
She kicked him in the knee. Sparrow lurched sideways. Trick tried to grab an arm and she snapped the heel of her palm into his face. His head rocked back. She followed this up with a vicious forearm to the throat that dropped him. He could do nothing but clutch his throat and watch as she bolted for the door. Sparrow made a grab for her. His hands slid across the tight leather on her back but he got hold of her arm. She was swung around but used the momentum to ram her elbow into his stomach as she was pulled back. Sparrow doubled over with a woof of pain. She gave him another kick and ran over to the door.
Trick finally got up and bolted after her. She shot over to the main door and out into the hallway. He caught up with her halfway down, Sparrow just behind him. He had thought she was running for her mother but she headed down the stairs. Trick slowed a little. While she was moving the way they wanted, he might as well let her run.
'Wouldn't it be funny,’ panted Sparrow. ‘If she's not Sharlon.'
Trick spared a half-laugh. The girl, her long curly hair streaming out behind her, came off the stairs and went off down another hallway. She was slowing now, her breathing harsh.
Trick produced a quick burst of speed and caught her, grabbing her arm and letting his weight slam them both against the wall. That knocked the rest of the breath from her and she sagged. He tangled her in his cloak, got a hand over her mouth, and hauled her bodily back to the door they had come in by. She was kicking so hard Sparrow had to grab her legs and they carried her outside.
'You are Sharlon, right?’ asked Sparrow.
She glared at him, looking through tangled red-brown hair. She got her colouring from her father, it seemed. Trick poked her and she nodded, fiercely. Sudden cries broke out from behind them.
'Where's Mizzle?'
Trick shook his head. ‘I don't know, but we can't wait here for her.'
'How will we get through the Dryads without her?’ Sparrow brushed Sharlon's hair from her eyes, that quick thoughtfulness he had.
That had slipped Trick's mind. ‘We'll go over. She might be there.'
They set off again, but Trick felt a sudden sharp pain in his leg and staggered. He looked down. A man, reaching only to his waist and furiously bearded, stood waving a knife at him. Not a man, Trick realised, but an Ancient. A Dwarf. Thank Fortune it had tapped him with its knife to get his attention rather than the axe they were supposed to carry.
'We built these ‘ere walls, and we defend ‘em,’ it rasped. ‘What you doin'?'
Mizzle had gone to the cellar to find the defenders of the castle, Trick realised. One had got past her. He decided against naming her as his companion, in case Dwarves had the same dislike of DarkElves that Giants did.
He tried to remember anything he had ever heard about Dwarves. They were builders, and uninterested in little else. This Dwarf cared nothing for the human they kidnapped. ‘We go to our Dryad grove,’ he said at last, slowly.
The ferocious beard bristled a little less. ‘That there is a blessin'.’ He waved his knife. ‘I let you pass.'
Trick was just beginning to relax when the stolid creature added, ‘You give me token.'
He could not carry enough gold to satisfy it. He passed Sharlon over to Sparrow and pretended to reach into a pocket, truly reaching for the dagger he kept concealed against his skin. But then his hand brushed against the cold hard glass of the ruby bottle.
Trick took it out and showed it to the Dwarf, reflecting red starlight into its eyes.
It took it, held it, and then waved them past.
Sharlon let out an infuriated little yell against Sparrow's hand over her mouth.
The Dwarf didn't even look up.
They went round the corner, Sharlon making them drag her. As soon as they came out of the shelter of the castle wall, guards spotted them. Trick unsheathed his sword, and it shone. LightElf blade, he remembered.
They ran from the guards, Sparrow struggling along with Sharlon, Trick behind them, watching the guards race towards them over his shoulder.
'We have to stop,’ called Sparrow. ‘The trees.'
Trick risked a glance and saw the whipping branches just beyond Sparrow. ‘Mizzle will be here.'
The first guard reached him, and Trick fended him off easily.
Sharlon kicked his back as she re-doubled her efforts to get away. Sparrow let go of her mouth to try and hold her still and she started screaming.
'Calm down,’ said Trick. ‘You wanted out, we're taking you out.'
Two more guards forced him back and roots lashed at his feet. Suddenly they went still and the guards fell. Mizzle's swords flashed among them. She raced past Trick into the grove.
He grabbed Sharlon's feet and he and Sparrow chased after her.
Behind them, Trick heard the trees lashing out again. The guards could not follow them directly, but they would soon have the gates open and come pou
ring out.
'Can she not walk?’ asked Mizzle, when they had reached open air.
'She won't,’ said Sparrow. He was out of breath.
'This is the daughter,’ said Trick, in case Mizzle could not pick such a slight age difference. ‘Shier wouldn't come.'
Mizzle took in the implications of that. She stepped up to Sharlon. ‘You will walk with us.'
Sharlon shuddered, her gaze trapped by Mizzle. She nodded.
They went at a rapid pace back towards the horses. Trick kept looking behind him but no pursuit came after them.
'What did you do?’ he asked finally.
'I spoke to the Dwarves. They appreciate the gift of the Dryad grove.'
That was ominous. Perhaps the builders of the walls had turned on the occupants at Mizzle's command.
But she added, ‘I also set loose the horses and freed prisoners I found locked in the cellars.'
Trick had to laugh, holding his stomach and gasping for breath.
* * * *
Sparrow held Sharlon in front of him on Bet. She went mutely with a set to her mouth that Sparrow's murmured comforts could not shift. Riding hard and straight through the night, they would make Kiara Valley sometime in the mid-morning. Trick wondered how much time they would have to bring the Keep's defences into order.
Mizzle rode beside him, letting them drift away from Sparrow. ‘I poisoned their well.'
Trick stifled an outcry. ‘That was well done,’ he said instead.
'You think so?’ she said, and rode ahead again.
His spine twitched. She had done what had not even crossed his mind to do, what Lanerol had not asked them in words to do. But Lanerol would not protest. DarkElves knew about enemies. They knew about leaving live ones behind them.
Just before dawn, Mizzle let them stop to rest and eat. Trick half-fell out of the saddle. Fortune, for a good meal and a good bed—for longer than a few hours. He sat with his back to a tree and dozed while Sparrow lit a fire.
He heard Sharlon walking around. She was not tied but Mizzle held her here as sure as any rope.
'How are you feeling, Sharlon?’ he heard Sparrow ask.
'How do you think I'm feeling?'
She had her mother in her. Trick opened his eyes. ‘Be nice and you might get to see your son again.'
'Trick,’ said Sparrow, upset.
'You have Toulon?’ asked Sharlon.
'Yes,’ said Sparrow. ‘We should have told you earlier.'
'You'll be regent,’ said Trick. ‘Just don't be opening the gates to your father.'
'I hate him,’ she said, with forceful fervour.
Trick saw she was younger than he had assumed, perhaps seventeen. That made her young for the mother of a toddler, but not impossibly so. He knew that age, the black and whites of love or hate and no in-between. He had held the passions of that age for far too long.
'And I ain't fond of you either,’ she added to his silence.
'Cut to the heart.’ He spoke absently and only noticed her fury crank up a notch at the very peripheral of his attention.
'We wouldn't expect you to be,’ said Sparrow, soothingly. ‘But you were trying to leave?'
'That's no reason to kidnap me. I'm trying to get away from people who want to control my life.'
'Kiss goodbye to that treasured notion, dearie.’ Trick rubbed his eyes with his palms, still ignoring the waves of dislike he provoked. ‘How did Toulon's kidnappers get past the walls?'
Sharlon scowled but she answered. ‘They took him from me when I was out riding.'
'Why didn't we think of that?'
'Little good it would have done you. They don't let me out anymore.'
'How were you going to get over the wall?’ asked Sparrow.
Her eyes shifted. ‘I had an—arrangement—with one of the guards.'
Trick looked at the tight leathers she wore. That was a fine revenge for her parents whether she escaped or not. He wondered who had fathered her son. In Ardmore, it didn't matter and it wasn't polite to ask.
Sharlon flopped to the ground and directed her attention towards Mizzle. ‘Is that one of them? Mother hates them.'
She walked the edges of offence. Mizzle returned her look impassively.
'That's not a LightElf,’ said Trick, guessing. ‘Best you learn the difference.'
'Trick,’ whispered Sparrow, as if Mizzle could not hear them. ‘Isn't she?'
That did set him back but he shrugged. ‘Not yet.'
'We go,’ Mizzle said.
'She certainly acts like a LightElf,’ said Sharlon, not moving as both Trick and Sparrow went for the horses. ‘Do you jump to every word?'
It stung, to hear his words to Faustus paraphrased and flung at his feet. ‘Believe everything your mother tells you, do you?'
'Trick.’ That was Sparrow, warning him as ever.
Sharlon got to her feet. Her hands were fists. ‘I know about that Lanerol and I recognise flunkies.'
'Do you know what she said when—'
'Trick!’ Sparrow was past warning him.
Trick shut up and mounted.
'What?’ said Sharlon.
Trick looked at her flatly and held his tongue for Sparrow's sake. He was already ashamed of herself. Any child might rail against its parents and never expect to be told they were hated too.
'What?’ she demanded again. ‘What did she say?’ Skye was already off. He flicked the reins and sent his horse after her.
He was comforted afterwards that Mizzle had also felt safe enough to turn her back to the girl. His only warning was Sparrow's cry of pain. He turned in the saddle to see his friend on the ground and Sharlon flying at him with a knife in her hand.
Trick yanked back on the reins, meaning only to pull away so he could kick at her. But the horse reared and he fell off its back. He hit the ground hoping she had got a random hoof to the head.
Fortune had her back turned today. Sharlon landed on him, stabbing at him with the knife. He caught her wrist and tried to push the blade away from his face but she was insanely strong. She also had her knee full in his stomach.
Suddenly her weight came off him as Mizzle wrenched her away by her hair.
The DarkElf tossed Sharlon to the ground while Trick sat up gasping for air. Mizzle had her swords out now. Her back was to him, but as she stood over Sharlon, Trick saw the terror on the girl's face. Mizzle was going to kill her.
He knew he should stop her, knew it and could not call out. He saw Sparrow get up.
'Mizzle, no,’ said his friend, standing on the other side of Sharlon with outspread hands.
Could he have any concept what he faced? Trick forced himself to his feet, grabbed Mizzle's arm and turned her right around.
'We're both unharmed,’ he said. ‘Put the swords away.'
Mizzle shook his hand off and turned back to Sharlon. By then Sparrow had her up and was gently pulling her away. Mizzle stalked after them like a cat.
Trick had thought touching her would be enough to direct her anger where it belonged. Now he said, ‘Do as I say, Mizzle. Put the swords away and don't you bring them out again unless I tell you to.'
She spun to face him. He expected rage at his insolence but her face was expressionless as she sang out ‘Kyugen,’ to make her swords shrink. Her eyes on him, she tucked them away. Then she turned on her heel, brushed past Sparrow and Sharlon and mounted.
She was a shell, as she sat on Skye waiting for them. She used the DarkStone. Trick could not fail to recognise the blankness about her. Numbly, he walked over to Sharlon and took the knife out of her hand. She did not resist, pale and shaking.
He looked at her without pity. ‘Now do you know the difference?'
* * * *
They rode back to Kiara Valley in silence. They paused only so Trick could search Sharlon, a little more roughly than necessary, while Sparrow caught his horse. Trick no longer feared pursuit. If Duke Moraine's men did catch them, Mizzle would settle them without mercy. She had not turne
d to the stone even in the face of his betrayal, but Sharlon pushed her off the edge. He could only hope the LightElves could not sense that tiny use of it.
Such a tiny harmless use, nothing near the power it was capable of, and yet it was this small use that threatened to ensnare her. He could hate Sharlon, if he did not know that she was just the final straw. The rest of the haystack was his.
LightElf Rangers were scattered about the courtyard as they rode in and surrendered the horses to grooms. Their whispers went dead as Mizzle's gaze swept them. Not a single one accosted her.
They went to the hall with Mizzle leading and Sharlon walking calmly between Trick and Sparrow.
Her calmness did not bode well. He had time to wonder if he had searched her thoroughly enough.
Then they were taking that long walk towards Lanerol at his little table before the throne. The half-Elf watched them come for a moment, then flicked his fingers. The hall emptied as if by magic.
The boy, Toulon, sat on the floor beside Lanerol's chair. He leapt up and ran into Sharlon's arms.
She picked him up and hugged him, her face softening.
'This is not Shier,’ said Lanerol.
'This is the best we could do,’ Trick said. ‘And it's not much.'
'This is Sharlon, the daughter.’ Sparrow shot a stern look at his friend.
Sharlon, still holding her son, leant a hip against Lanerol's table. ‘I won't be your regent,’ she said directly.
Lanerol tensed, and Sharlon lifted her chin. ‘I will be your queen.'
Chapter Sixteen
Kintore passes out of the tavern just before dawn, and walks along the waterfront towards the southern gate. The docks are already busy and he turns away from them and stares down a small and dark alley.
Jacoby calls from behind him. He turns to her, a smile beginning. ‘I stayed too long,’ she says simply.
Kintore looks at her, frowning.
Three DarkElf males leap past her and run at him.
His sword catches on his pack as he tries to draw and he finds his dagger sheathe empty. A boot takes him in the stomach.
Kintore drops to the ground. Jacoby backs away, watching with cold violet eyes. The males kick him again as he tries to get up. A distinct crack suggests a rib might be broken. Kintore grabs the leg of one and twists him to the ground but the others punch and kick him until he stops struggling.