Harbinger: Fate's Forsaken: Book One (49 page)

Kael found it
hard to believe that the man staring aimlessly at the wall had rallied his
interest long enough to draw something so detailed. And yet, the plans were
exactly that: every room was drawn to scale, down to the arrangement of the
furniture inside of them. Windows were marked by width and height, entrances
labeled by the tumblers in their locks. Out to the side, he’d even written in
cramped letters when they might expect the guards to change their shifts.

“Excellent.”
Lysander clapped his hands together so loudly that Chaucer flinched. “Now all
we have to do is figure out someway inside …”

*******

Hours later,
half of every candle was burned away and they still hadn’t figured out how to
crack the Duke’s fortress. It was on an island of stone with nothing but ocean
for miles around. They thought about attacking by sea — but quickly
realized that if they were spotted, the Duke’s battlemages would have no
trouble blowing them to pieces. And, as Chaucer so bluntly pointed out: “Waves
aren’t usually tall enough to hide behind.”

They very briefly
entertained the idea of coming by land and charging across the mile-long bridge
on foot. But when Chaucer mentioned it was rigged to burn, they dropped the
idea entirely.

“He’ll wait
until you’re out in the middle before he lights it. I don’t think even the
pirates can outrun fire.”

Lysander looked
up from where he’d been massaging his forehead and glared. “Just what do you
mean by that?”

Chaucer
shrugged. “Perhaps charging in isn’t your best option. Aren’t thieves usually
better at throat-slitting and backstabbing?”

“You tell me,”
Lysander retorted, and he went back to the map. “There’s got to be a way … some
method of attack we’ve overlooked.”

“We could always
sprout wings and fly,” Chaucer muttered, propping his boots up on the table.

“That’s a grand
idea, I’ll hire a catapult,” Lysander said sarcastically. “And if you don’t get
your feet off my table, I’ll let you be the first to try it out.”

Chaucer smirked
and put his hands behind his head, but didn’t move his feet. “Just come up with
something quick, will you? I’ve got the Duke’s party in a fortnight and I don’t
want to be late.”

“Wait —
the Duke is having a party?” Kael said, interrupting whatever retort Lysander
had at the ready. “What for?”

“Power,” Chaucer
drawled. “He likes to force his managers out of hiding every now and again for
a ball. Makes us prance around like idiots while he sits on his throne and
lords it over us.”

Kael felt an end
pop loose in the back of his head. The tangled mass of information he’d
absorbed suddenly came undone, and the mystery of how to get into the castle
began to unravel. “What are the parties like?”

“Like?” Chaucer
snorted. “Have you ever had a red-hot poker rammed up your —?”

“Be serious,”
Geist said — the first words he’d spoken all afternoon.

Chaucer raised
his eyebrows, but strangely enough, he didn’t argue. “All right. They’re
nightlong affairs with plenty of food and drink —”

“And dancing?”

“Yes —”

“Is anyone else
invited, or is it only the managers?”

Chaucer made a
face. “You ask a lot of questions, whelp.”

“Answer him,”
Geist droned, and Chaucer waved his hand impatiently.

“I will, great
seas! If there’s going to be dancing, there has to be ladies. So the Duke
requires us to bring our wives and daughters of age. I’ve got neither. Do you
know what that means? I’ve got to dance with all the ugly ones —”

“What about
guards?”

“Well of course
there are guards! Are you daft?” Chaucer dropped his boots off the table and
leaned dangerously inward. “The Duke’s got them everywhere, on every level.
They swarm all over the walls and buzz through the hallways. And if they catch
you poking around anywhere you shouldn’t, you get to spend the rest of the
party in the dungeons with the castle torturer. Does that sound like fun to
you, whelp? Want me to get you an invitation?”

“Actually, yes.”

It was all
unraveled, lying open and obvious before his eyes. He couldn’t believe he
hadn’t thought of it before. He played it over again, just to make sure he got
it exactly right. As he watched his plan unfold, he found he couldn’t hear
anything — not a sound. Not even Chaucer as he roared or Lysander as he
bellowed back. Nothing.

The scenarios
consumed him, the possibilities clogged his ears. When he was finally certain,
he stepped back into the chaos of reality. “I have an idea.”

After a long
moment of stunned silence, Geist was the first to speak. He intertwined his
fingers and said: “I knew you did. And I’m very interested to hear it.”

When Kael was finished explaining
his plan, Lysander let out an astonished gasp of air. “Madness, pure madness,”
he muttered. But as he pulled thoughtfully at the hair on his chin, his smile
grew wider. “Madness.”

“Ridiculous, is what it is,”
Chaucer huffed, and he spun on Kael. “What if the Duke leaves the ballroom? What
if he wanders upstairs during your little escapade and catches you haunting his
hallways?”

Kael had an answer for that —
and for every other question he asked. Nothing said was anything he hadn’t
already thought of, and with each calm rebuff, Chaucer grew more agitated.

“But what if it
simply
fails
?” he finally blurted
out, the stern lines of his face tinged with furious red. “What if Fate herself
comes waltzing in and says it’s not to be?”

“Snake oil and
smoke,” Lysander said with a wave of his hand. “If anything, Fate’s on
our
side. And if she isn’t, then it
simply isn’t meant to be. Either way,” he continued before Chaucer could
sputter on, “your part doesn’t come until the very end. The Duke won’t know
you’ve gutted him until we’ve already got him clapped in irons. Don’t worry,
merchant — your hide is safe.”

The red in
Chaucer’s face slowly retreated. “Fine,” he said after a moment. He stood and
jerked his coat over his shoulders. “I’m ready to do my part. Quickly, now
— I’ve got mounds of letters to write.”

Lysander rapped
on the door and two brawny pirates entered. One of them wielded a rough-looking
burlap sack. Both wore menacing grins.

Chaucer rolled
his eyes at them. “Really, Captain. How much longer must I endure this
humiliation? Won’t you ever trust me?”

Lysander smiled
wryly. “Sure I will. When my beard starts growing in purple, I’ll tell you
exactly where you are. But until then …” He gestured to the pirates, and the
one with the burlap shook it at Chaucer.

“I still don’t
understand why
I
have to be
blindfolded,” he whined on. “Why don’t you ever —?”

He gestured in
Geist’s direction, but all that remained of the short, unremarkable fellow was
his empty seat. Sometime during their conversation, Geist had simply …
vanished.

“That’s why,” Lysander
said triumphantly. “Now, let’s get your blindfold on.”

The pirate
stepped forward and crammed the sack over Chaucer’s head while he cursed. They
had him nearly through the door when he turned and thrust a finger in Kael’s
direction. “I want you to know, whelp —”

“He’s to your
left,” Lysander said, and Chaucer turned until he was facing the empty room.

“If this plan
falls through, I won’t shed a tear at your execution,” he continued, shaking
his finger threateningly at the table and chairs. “In fact, I’ll gladly bring
the axe.” Then he turned … and ran smartly into the doorframe.

“Ah yes, watch
out for that. Lead him away, dogs. And do
not
throw him off the boat again!” Lysander added with a glare.

When they’d
gone, Kael gathered the map off the table and walked out into the hallway, his
head spinning with all he had to do.

Lysander caught
up at a jog. “What’s next? Naval strategies? Traps? Archery practice —?”

“We have to talk
to Aerilyn,” he muttered, hoping that might halt him for a breath. And it did.

“Aerilyn?” he
said, and Kael could hear the worry in his voice from down the hall. “
Our
Aerilyn? Whatever for?”

“Just come on,
and I’ll explain when we get there.”

*******

After a fair bit
of searching, they found her. She was tucked away in one of the mansion’s
highest wings, abusing a large canvas with a brush and a smear of atrocious
colors.

“What do you
think?” she said, her excitement showing clearly through the splatters of blue
across her face. “Uncle Martin says I have quite a gift.”

A gift for
turning a beautiful view into a nightmare, perhaps. Under Aerilyn’s strokes,
the brave white cliffs of Gravy Bay had melted into the sea, crumbling as they
bled with long drips into waves that awaited them with too-sharp peaks. Her
treetops were solid blobs of green and her clouds looked as if they’d eaten
something that didn’t quite agree with them.

“It’s lovely,”
Lysander said as he stepped up for a closer look. “Simply amazing. We ought to
have the window knocked out and hang this in its place.”

Aerilyn turned
pink and crammed her brush roughly into a nearby basin. “Don’t be ridiculous. A
canvas won’t keep the rain out.”

“But perhaps on
sunny days —”

“We need your
help,” Kael said quickly, before the conversation could spin entirely out of
hand. “We’ve finally come up with a plan to sack the Duke.”

Aerilyn gasped,
and that’s when Kael remembered no one had actually told her about it. “Are you
mad?” she hissed.

“You don’t
have
to do anything. But we could use
your —”

“We’ll all be
executed, or locked away forever!” she wailed, clutching at her apron. “I don’t
think I could bear to be so far from the sun.”

“You don’t have
to help,” Lysander gently reminded her.

She looked at
him like he’d just stomped on her foot. “Oh no, I’m
certainly
going to help. Reginald has completely destroyed my
region. He’s starved my countrymen and driven respectable families into
poverty. I’ll not stand by and let him rule a moment longer!”

“All right,”
Kael said, before her tirade could take off. “If you want to help, here’s what
you’ve got to do …”

When he was
finished explaining, Aerilyn’s fears were all but banished. She clapped her
hands and declared: “Brilliant! Reginald’s vanity will be his undoing. It’s
positively poetic.”

“So you’ll do
it?”

“With pride.”

Only Lysander
seemed to have any reservations: he stared fixedly out the window and had grown
strangely quiet. But when Aerilyn agreed, he suddenly had plenty to say. “Why
her?” he demanded. “Why not Kyleigh, or — anybody else?”

Aerilyn laughed.
“Kyleigh? Oh please. If a man laid a hand on Kyleigh, she’d break it. No, it’s
got to be me. Don’t worry, Captain,” she added with a smirk, “this isn’t my
first turn about the harbor.”

“Not your first
—? And what’s that supposed to mean? Have you lured a man to his ruin
before?”

“Perhaps not to
his
ruin
, but I’ve certainly gotten
more than a fair price on several occasions. How do you think lady merchants
get on? We have to rely on our own talents.”

“Talents?”
Lysander bellowed. “
Talents
?”

Her brows
snapped down as she crossed her arms. “Yes,
talents
.
Men have muscles to do the persuading for them, is that any different? Why
should a woman not be allowed to use her looks —?”

“Oh, I’ll tell
you why — because men are monsters,
that’s
why!”

Kael didn’t have
the energy — or the time — to try and separate them. A fortnight
would come and go if he let himself get distracted. So he left the pair to
their argument and slipped out to find Jake.

*******

“Are you sure
it’s set in right? If this shatters my window, I’ll be a very cranky old
pirate!” It was Uncle Martin’s squawking that led Kael to the dining room. He
opened the door and found him bent over, his face inches from the enormous
window.

Kael only had to
breathe in to know that the room was rank with magic.

“Mage glass is a
halfway-useful invention,” Uncle Martin went on. “You can see the spells, but
I’ll be blasted if I know what any of the squiggly little blighters mean. Are
you sure it’s set?”

“I think so,”
Jake said. He waved his staff at the window and the whole thing glowed for half
a moment. “Yes, it’s definitely covered.”

“Well, then.”
Uncle Martin straightened up and turned on his cane. He grinned when he caught
sight of Kael, blinking out through a monocle that made his eye thrice its
normal size. “You’re just in time for the demonstration, lad! Jonathan’s about
to put the spell to the test. Are you ready?”

Jonathan held up
the metal saltshaker he had gripped in his hand. “C’mon mate, this isn’t nearly
big enough. Let’s throw a chair or something.”

“We’ll start out
small,” Uncle Martin said as he joined their line. “Then if nothing too
disastrous happens, we’ll go a little bigger. Ready when you are! Arm the
catapults!”

All Kael could
think, as the saltshaker went sailing through the air, was how marvelously bad
of an idea this was.

It struck the
window and at first, he thought it’d gone straight through the glass. But then
sunlight winked off the hole and he realized that the glass wasn’t broken
— somehow it was bending backwards, stretching against the force of the
throw. It cradled the shaker like a stone in a sling.

“Duck!” Uncle
Martin cried, and they fell to the ground just as the window snapped back into
place.