Artesans of Albia: 01 - King's Envoy (52 page)

The frantic jumble of words and sudden change of tack put Robin off balance. The Count’s urgency was infectious but Robin retained control.

“No, there are three more of us here. We joined your forces, Count.”

“You entered the compound?” The Count was dismayed. “What the hell did you do that for?”

Robin bridled. “It was the only way we could get close. Do you have a better idea?”

Marik glared at him. “Yes, but you have to be outside and free to move if it’s going to work.”

Robin was about to argue when Taran touched his arm. “Do you have some kind of plan?” he asked.

The thin man nodded. “I know where she is. I’ve been secretly visiting her when I can, taking her food and water. Rykan hasn’t bothered with either since he’s had her and she’s very weak. She’d have died of thirst by now if I hadn’t been able to get water to her. Luckily, one of the jailers is sympathetic and turned a blind eye whenever I could get down there. The last couple of days though, I couldn’t get near. Rykan’s given her no rest, he’s been with her the whole time. Since he’s been gone, I’ve been watched. I’m sure he suspects something.”

Marik paused, giving them a strange look. “I fear what he’s done to her, gentlemen. Rykan’s neither a patient nor a gentle man and what he can’t get by persuasion, he gets by violence and abuse. He had her flogged, she was in a bad way and … well, I fear for her life.”

Taran felt sick and Robin was bone-white. “We can’t just whisk her away through the Veils?” The Captain’s voice was hoarse and Taran realized that their most favored course of action was lost.

The Count reacted violently, surprising them both. “Hell, no!” Hastily, he modulated his tone. “No, she’s too injured for that. I have something else in mind but we have to hurry. We’ve wasted too much time already.”

Robin stared at him. “We’d better get on with it. What do you suggest?”

“First, we need to get you outside, with your horses and gear. I’ll come down with you, I’ve already told Sonten I was going to check on my men. The patrols will be in now except for the honor guard on the main gate. They’re waiting to welcome his Grace home. I’ll order the guards to let you out—I’ll say you’ve brought word that some of my men are injured and are waiting for you in the forest. They wouldn’t let me out but there’s no reason why they should stop you. Make your way westward around the perimeter wall. That’ll keep you in the trees and bring you around to the back gates from the dungeons. You’ll find them easily enough. It’s where they haul the bodies when Rykan’s torturers are done with them.”

“Won’t they be guarded?” asked Robin. Taran could sense he felt his authority was being leeched away. Clearly, he was unwilling to place his trust in a man who had already betrayed Sullyan once.

“Of course they will be guarded,” snarled the Count. “I trust you can use that sword?”

Robin nodded and rolled his eyes, gesturing for the man to continue.

“Maybe one of you should come with me. If my friendly jailer isn’t on duty, we’ll have to kill whoever is. I doubt anyone would go down to the cells before Rykan comes, but you never know. The jailer will have the keys to the chains on him, at any rate.”

“Chains?” said Robin.

The Count seemed about to snap again when he saw Robin’s stricken look. “Yes,” he said tersely. “He has her in spellsilver, too.”

Robin gasped in sudden understanding. “That’s why I couldn’t sense her. Was it on her all this time?”

“Yes, of course, he wouldn’t risk her power without it. She’s his equal, a Master-elite. Why do you think he wanted her in the first place? If he can force her to surrender her power to him, he’ll be bloody unstoppable.”

Robin’s face suddenly flooded with understanding and the Count snapped again, his pale eyes sparking with fury. “For the Void’s sake, didn’t you know? Hadn’t you worked it out? Rykan had the whole thing set up. The invasion into Albia was purely to force your general into sending her here as ambassador. Rykan was counting on it. For four days he crouched in my house, him and that fat pig, Sonten. Forced me to wait on them hand and bloody foot. Crouched like a bloody great spider, just waiting for her. He’s planning civil war, gentlemen. He’s going to challenge and depose the Hierarch. If he can force Sullyan to surrender her powers, he’ll be the Hierarch’s metaphysical bloody equal!”

He paused, his voice losing some of its strength. “If he wins the throne, he’ll kill the Hierarch, as well as Prince Aron, his Heir and only son. None of the other nobles are strong enough to stop him. Once in power, he’ll rescind the Pact and recommence raiding Albia, targeting any Artesans who oppose him. There’s a rumor he’s got an influential ally, someone who’s been supplying him with funds, although I don’t know the truth of that. I’m not in his inner circle like Sonten, privy to his personal dealings.”

Robin glanced at Taran; this was a serious piece of information that could have far-reaching consequences. His startled expression angered the Count even more.

“If Rykan becomes Hierarch, none of the realms will be safe,” he hissed. “He’s ruthless, ambitious and kills without pity. And for the past two weeks, he’s been stymied by a little chit of a human woman who’s been locked away from her powers. Can you imagine how furious that’s made him? She’s resisted his every move, no matter how violent. If he can’t overcome her bloody-minded stubbornness tonight, he’ll kill her. And if he finally succeeds in ripping her powers from her, she’ll still die.”

He thrust his face close to Robin’s. “Now do you see? Now can we stop wasting time? We have to get her away from here!”

Robin took a deep breath and laid his hand on the Count’s arm. “Alright. I’ll go with you to the cells. The others will go and wait by the dungeon gates and deal with whoever’s guarding them. What then?”

“Then we ride as fast as we can for as long as we can,” snapped Marik. “When Rykan discovers she’s gone, this whole place will be in uproar but he won’t be able to turn out more than a few patrols because of the arrangements for tomorrow. At least that’s one thing in our favor. Now that he’s issued his challenge, he can’t back out. That should make our escape easier.”

“Our?” Robin was plainly still unwilling to trust the Count. “Are you planning on coming with us?”

“Of course I bloody am! Do you think I’m here for my health? Do you think my life would be worth the effort of taking it once Rykan realizes what’s happened? The best I could hope for would be a sword in the guts, but it’s more likely he’d brick me up behind a wall and leave me to rot.”

“Wouldn’t your men defend you?” asked Taran.

The Count shook his head. “If I had men capable of defending me against Rykan I wouldn’t be here now. Even the Duke’s personal bodyguards are greater in number than the few trained swordsmen who are loyal to me. They would make pig-slop of us. Now for pity’s sake come on, we’re wasting what little time we have.”

He strode to the door, opened it and glanced out. With a nod to Taran and Robin, he stepped into the hall. They followed, Robin making sure their disguise was firmly in place.

“Walk behind me,” Marik hissed. “Don’t speak unless you have to.”

He led the way toward the kitchens but turned into another hallway before he got there. There was no one around except a few servants who Marik ignored. As they approached a door at the end of the hall, he said, “I don’t suppose you have any medical knowledge? The last time I saw Sullyan, she was in a very bad way. After two more days of Rykan’s abuse, who knows what state she’ll be in, if she’s still alive.”

Robin went white but replied levelly. “One of our group’s a healer. Shall we take her with us?”

“Wouldn’t do any harm. A woman, though? You Albians are strange. Is she combat trained?”

“No,” said Robin. “She has no weapons skills.”

The Count sighed. “We’d better keep her out of the way when we reach the cells. We’ll be incredibly lucky if my friendly jailer’s on duty tonight.”

He reached the door at the end of the hall and flung it open. It led to the compound directly opposite their campsite. Taran could see that Bull had noticed them immediately for he nudged Cal with his foot. Rienne had her head down as Robin had advised; she seemed to be feigning sleep.

Directed by Robin, Marik strode toward their camp. As he came nearer, he started yelling orders. “On your feet. I need a patrol to collect some injured men. Saddle your horses, you need to leave at once. Take remounts for the wounded.”

As Bull and Cal scrambled to their feet, Robin reached them. In a few terse words, he told them what was happening.

“You,” barked Marik, pointing to Rienne. Startled, she looked up. Taran saw Robin make a covert signal and was relieved when Rienne seemed to understand. “Come with us,” snapped the Count. Robin pointed to Rienne’s medicine bag and she grabbed it as she rose to meet them.

She looked pale and Taran didn’t like the idea of leaving her inside the compound. He had no choice though, and took his horse’s reins from Cal. They led their mounts, as well as Robin’s and Rienne’s, into the center of the compound. Quickly, they mounted.

“Guards, open the gates,” yelled Marik. The gate guards had changed, the ones Robin had insulted were nowhere in sight. Still, they hesitated. Marik, clearly nervous, used his fear to good effect, threatening them with dire consequences should his Grace the Duke learn they had delayed the arrival of more troops. They finally did as Marik bid, although Taran saw suspicion in their eyes.

He, Bull and Cal cantered through the gates, swiftly moving up the road toward the trees.

Rienne stood at Robin’s side, apprehension flooding through her. She trusted the Captain, but the sight of Taran, and especially Cal, disappearing out of sight as if they had abandoned her made her heart hammer with fear. She had no idea where they were going or who the man with Robin was. All she could do was follow his lead, she had no other choice.

“Don’t just stand there man, shut those gates.” The barked order made Rienne jump. The lean man whirled on her, snapping, “Come.”

She felt Robin’s hand on her shoulder and the touch reassured her. Allowing him to urge her, she followed the other man as he led them back to the door he’d come through. Once inside the palace, he shut the door firmly. Then he gave a great shuddering sigh and leaned against the wall. His long face was pale, his eyes closed.

Roughly, Robin grasped his arm. “Good grief man, don’t give way now. We’ve only just started.” The thin man pushed away from the wall and ran a trembling hand over his sweaty face.

Swiftly, Robin introduced him and told Rienne what was going to happen. She blanched on hearing their fears for Sullyan but remained silent, trusting Robin. The Captain shoved Marik to start him moving again, and they followed him down the hallway.

Marik led them to another doorway that opened to reveal a dark stairwell. There were no torches along its length but they could dimly see the bottom step by a light somewhere below. Marik shut the door behind them and they stood still, waiting for their eyes to adjust.

“This is where it gets tricky,” said the Count. “I have no good reason to be here, this stair leads only to the dungeons. If we see anyone, I’ll be hard pressed to explain myself. I don’t think there will be anyone here except the guard, but it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared.” He turned to Rienne. “Do you have a dagger or something on you?”