Rebels and Fools (The Renegade Chronicles Book 1) (6 page)

Then
one day he received an order that allowed him to strike a blow against the Renegades.
Strangely, it came in the form of a missive that had no signature but bore the
seal of the King of Superius himself. Any elation Ragellan might have felt at
receiving orders directly from King Edward quickly turned to gut-wrenching
disappointment.

The
letter suggested that Ragellan arrange for a certain outspoken Renegade
sympathizer to be silenced forever. In essence, the king was sanctioning the
assassination of a man who was known to collaborate with the Renegades and
whose voice was getting too loud. There was but one stipulation: Ragellan was
to make it look like an accident so that the Knighthood would have no
connection to the act.

Knowing
in his heart that following the king’s “suggestion” would compromise his honor,
as well as the Knighthood’s honor, he had sent a reply, explaining that he
could not complete the mission as stated. While he was not violating a direct
order, Ragellan was nonetheless heartbroken to have to go against the wishes of
his king—no matter how immoral those wishes seemed.

He
told no one of that letter, not even his lieutenants.

A
week later, Ragellan was arrested, accused of embezzling money from Fort
Splendor’s vault and secretly funding the Renegade cause. Sacks of coins were
discovered in his room, and paperwork was found to prove that he was
misrepresenting the amount of silver he was receiving from the Knighthood.
Dominic Horcalus was the only man to speak on his behalf at the trial and was
arrested as an accomplice.

Both
Ragellan and Horcalus were sentenced to fifty years in the Citadel Dungeon,
traitors to their country and to the Knighthood. After about a month of rotting
in that prison, they learned they were to be executed. Horcalus was insistent
that it was a mistake, but Ragellan knew there was more to it than an innocent
error. Even after he told Horcalus of the strange letter, Horcalus refused to
believe that the king was in any way involved, proposing that Renegade agents
had forged the letter.

Ragellan
did not know what to believe, but he was confident that his refusal to arrange
the assassination and his arrest were related. He had gotten in somebody’s
way—but whose?

The
door to the room opened suddenly, tearing Ragellan from his memories. Grabbing
his dagger, he leaped to his feet. But it was only Klye.

“Sorry,”
Ragellan said. “I suppose I’m a bit jumpy. Where are the others?”

Klye
collapsed onto the bed, his eyes finding Horcalus, asleep on his cot. “They are
in the other room. I told them to get some sleep, though Plake was eager to
enjoy Port Town’s nightlife.”

“He
may try to sneak out,” Ragellan pointed out.

“I
know. That’s why I jammed the lock on the door. It’s a useful trick to be sure.
Keeps witnesses to a robbery as well as idiot ranchers from getting you into
trouble.”

“You
locked them in the other room?” Ragellan couldn’t suppress a chuckle at the
man’s creativity.

Then
Ragellan listened as Klye told him about their walk to the Cathedral, the close
call with the Captain of the Three Guards, and the meeting with Leslie Beryl.
When Klye got to the part where Plake had interrupted the conversation,
Ragellan no longer smiled.

“There
is no doubt in my mind that he was going to tell her about the two Knights of
Superius in our little band,” Klye spat. “I don’t think Leslie would have
necessarily used that information against us, but it would have given her
something to hold over our heads.”

“And
the fewer people who know Horcalus and I are in Capricon, the better,” Ragellan
finished.

Klye
nodded. “Sometimes, I wonder why I ever let Plake tag along. We would’ve been
better off just tying him up by the side of the road and continuing on our
way.”

“He
might have identified us to local authorities.” Klye rolled his eyes, and
Ragellan pressed on. “Oh, he probably wouldn’t have been able to tell them
anything pertinent, I’ll grant you, but we were still too near the Superian
boarder to take chances. You did what you had to do. Besides, maybe you were
feeling a little guilty. We had just stolen four horses from his uncle’s
ranch.”

Klye’s
scoff told him that guilt had nothing to do with it. “To tell you the truth,
Ragellan, I thought he would get bored with us and leave eventually. It was a
long ride from Param to West Cape. And the longer Plake was with us, the longer
his uncle and the constables would believe
he
took the horses.”

“Our
unwitting scapegoat,” Ragellan concluded. “That is clever. The poor man
probably still believes his reckless nephew stole the horses, sold them for
coin, and is living it up in some city in Param.” He silently added a prayer
for the gods to bless the ranch owner for his unwilling sacrifice.

“Plake
won’t be doing any celebrating as long as he’s with us, though gods know he’ll
try. I feel like I’m babysitting him.”

Ragellan
could empathize with Klye. He had been a trainer for the Knights before being
promoted to the rank of commander, and he had met his fair share of
undisciplined young men. “Well, we’ll be out of Port Town soon, and there is
little enough trouble for him to get into on the road. Do we leave tomorrow
morning as you had hoped?”

“Actually…”

Klye
told Ragellan the rest of the story, about Leslie’s suggestion that he come
back tomorrow afternoon to meet with a guide who would take them all the way to
Fort Faith. “We should be on our way out of Port Town well before sunset.”

“Do
you trust Leslie Beryl?” Ragellan asked.

“Not
necessarily,” Klye replied. “But I think I understand her, and that’s more
important than trust.”

Ragellan
did not argue, though he secretly pitied Klye. He doubted the former thief had
ever put much faith in the people around him. Klye only depended on people
whose interests coincided with his own at the moment. He knew nothing of
genuine respect or love, only grudging fear and convenient tolerance.

When
Klye left to go to his own bed, which he decided should be within earshot of
Plake Nelway, Ragellan continued to ponder the self-appointed Renegade Leader.
Clearly, Horcalus did not trust him, but that was understandable and perhaps
forgivable.

Ragellan
knew things about Klye that Horcalus did not. The Renegade Leader had opened up
to him at various points along the trip from Superius to Capricon. From these
private conversations, Ragellan had learned about Klye’s early days as a
pickpocket and, later, a burglar. He hadn’t talked much about his days as a
thief and had been elusive about many things in the beginning. Recently,
though, Klye had told him about waking up from what must have been a coma,
though Klye couldn’t remember what had caused it.

“Maybe
you were struck from behind during one of your robberies,” Ragellan had
suggested.

“Maybe,”
Klye allowed, “but the dream I had seemed so real. I never dream, but this one
was so vivid, so
long
…”

“Well,
you were in a coma. You were probably overdue for a good dream.”

And
it had been a good, if bizarre, dream, according to Klye, though he wouldn’t go
into much detail, and Ragellan hadn’t pressed him.

But
the first thing Klye had told Ragellan about himself was how he had ended up at
the Citadel Dungeon to begin with. Klye had been hired by Superian Renegades to
free one of their leaders from the prison. It was in their company that he had
learned of Ragellan and Horcalus’s imminent execution—which those Renegades
hadn’t understood any better than Ragellan himself, for they knew the
imprisoned Knights had not given money to their cause.

Once
Klye had used his talents to break into the prison, he left the rebels and
found his way to where Ragellan and Horcalus were being held. Freeing the two
knights was a truly unselfish act—maybe Klye’s first. Ragellan eventually told
Klye about the letter he had received from King Edward and how he thought it to
be linked to the erroneous charges.

Oddly,
it was this information that convinced Klye to join the Renegade cause in
earnest.

A
month or so later, in Port Alexis, Klye learned of the Knights plan to reoccupy
Fort Faith. The Renegade Leaders of Continae had enough problems of their own
without worrying about the island province, and so Klye volunteered to venture
across the Strait of Liliae and personally prevent the Knights from
strengthening their hold on Capricon.

Ragellan
had to admit that Klye was doing an admirable job at playing the role of
leader. He knew when to ask for advice or help, and the new Renegade Leader’s
determination was infectious. Had things worked out differently, Ragellan
imagined that Klye might have made an excellent Knight, but Ragellan could
hardly blame him for choosing the Renegades as his vehicle to self-improvement.

And
that, perhaps, was Ragellan’s own problem. He could not blame the Renegades for
being suspicious of the Superian monarchy and the Alliance of Nations, which
King Edward Borrom was instrumental in creating.

Ragellan,
rogue Knight of Superius, was himself suspicious.

Passage VI

Klye
left Oars and Omens a full hour before noon, though he knew it wouldn’t take
that long to get back to the Cathedral. Arriving early would give him an
advantage, especially if Leslie was setting a trap for him.

He
didn’t think that was likely, but one never knew. He no longer wore the monk
disguise, deciding their close call with the Captain DeGrange the night before
had been a little too close.

He
lingered a while in the marketplace again, eavesdropping. To better blend in
with the crowd, he decided to buy something and stopped at a jeweler’s cart.
What he really wanted was a sword, but Othello would take care of that when he
used the rest of their funds to buy supplies for the journey.

As
he pretended to examine a copper bangle, he listened. No one was gossiping
about the Renegades today, though he did hear bits and pieces about pirates,
who were allegedly gathering en masse all along the coast. Some said that the
pirates were going to plunder Port Town. Others predicted that the mayor had
secretly hired them to find and capture his daughter.

“You
are looking for a token to give to your lover?” a hook-nosed jeweler asked him.

“Ah,
yes,” Klye said, setting the bracelet down. Leslie’s face flashed in his mind,
but he banished it immediately

“You
seek to dazzle her with shiny baubles?” said the jeweler. In other words,
thought Klye, do I want to pay a king’s ransom to impress her?

“Actually,
she prefers jewelry of subtle beauty,” Klye replied. Translation: I’m looking for
something cheaper than a gem-encrusted crown.

“Hmm,”
said the jeweler, looking Klye up and down, deciding how much the man was
likely to spend. “Is your lady one of Aladon’s faithful?”

Well,
she does spend an awful lot of time in his church, Klye thought. Apparently,
Klye’s answer was of no consequence because before he could say anything, the
jeweler drew his attention to a necklace made from a mirror-like mineral Klye
knew to be hematite.

It
wasn’t worth much, but some believed hematite possessed the power to ward off
evil spirits. Klye was not superstitious, but he thought that the simple charm
would look nice resting between Leslie’s well-defined collarbones—not that he
was going to give it to her.

“It
is in the shape of Aladon’s holy symbol, the ankh,” the merchant provided.

“How
much?” Klye asked.

They
haggled, for Klye was not about to be cheated, and finally the jeweler threw up
his hands and cried something in a language Klye did not know. The Renegade
Leader gave him three copper coins and left the merchant to moan about how he
and his large family would end up living on the streets if he continued to
practically give away his wares.

Rolling
his eyes, Klye thrust the necklace in his pocket, glanced up at the sun, and
decided it was time to get on to the Cathedral.

When
he got to the church, he entered through the garden because he hadn’t been told
to do otherwise. Elezar did not appear to be out and about, so Klye followed
the way they had taken the night before, choosing an incorrect path only once.
Cautiously, he entered the Cathedral and stepped down into the dark passageway.

A
little light had found its way down there, and for the first time, Klye noticed
that there were doors off to either side of the corridor. He thought it
possible that valuable relics—made of gold or silver—had been stored in those
rooms and forgotten, but Klye denied his desire to explore.

He
didn’t have time to root around the basement of the Cathedral, and what would
he say if Elezar or Leslie caught him? Quickening his pace, Klye reminded
himself that he was no longer a petty thief. He was a Renegade Leader on
important business.

When
he reached the double doors, he knocked twice, just as the High Priest had done.

“Come
in.” Because of the thick, wooden doors, he did not so much hear the individual
words as interpret the inflection.

He
entered, closed the doors tightly behind him, and took a seat in the same chair
he had used yesterday. The Renegade Leader alone. No ambush. As it was, Leslie
didn’t even look up from what she was doing, which was writing a letter, by the
looks of it.

She
wore the same outfit as last night—a thin white tunic covered by an unbuttoned
leather vest—and her shoulder-length brown hair was again tied back in a
ponytail. Klye wondered if she spent the night in the cramped room. When she
finished the paragraph she had been working on, she pushed the quill and
parchment aside and met his eyes.

Her
eyebrows rose, but only for a second. “Well, Klye Tristan, you’re early. I
thought you were Scout.”

“I
found myself in the neighborhood, so I thought I would drop by,” Klye said
dryly. “Come to think of it, what is to prevent just anyone from wandering down
here? You could find yourself face to face with an enemy as easily as an ally.”

“Lucky
for me you aren’t here to cause trouble,” she replied with an unconcerned
smile. “But I wouldn’t worry about unwelcome visitors, if I were you. I’ve been
using this room as my office for more than a year now, and only those whom
Elezar approves may enter the Cathedral’s lower levels.”

Levels?
thought Klye. Just how far below ground does this place go?

“So
the High Priest has nothing better to do than keep a lookout all day and night?
I didn’t see him at all today. Was he peeking out one of the stained-glass
windows? And what could he have done to stop me if I were, say, the Captain of
the Three Guards?”

“Elezar
believes that Aladon protects us from harm and helps hide the Renegades’
secrets.”

“You
don’t honestly believe that, do you?”

“I
have no reason to doubt it,” she said evenly. “Elezar would not be helping the
Renegades if he didn’t believe his god supported our cause. You surely believe
our cause is just. Isn’t it conceivable that the gods, too, find it just?”

“I
don’t know what causes gods believe in…or what causes people to believe in the
gods, for that matter,” said Klye, a little disappointed in Leslie.

“You
don’t believe in the gods?” The way she asked the question made Klye feel as
though
he
were the one being foolish.

“No.
Why should I? What have the gods ever done for me?”

“What
have you ever done for the gods?” she was quick to counter. “But you didn’t
come here to discuss religion. What should we talk about instead, while we wait
for your guide? Your plans for Fort Faith maybe?”

All
throughout the conversation, Leslie had kept her tone light and friendly, and
he was glad he hadn’t offended her. Leslie seemed to be in a better mood today,
as though she now saw him more as a friend than a rival. Or perhaps she was
just trying to lull him into a false sense of security…

“I’d
rather talk about you,” Klye said.

“All
right,” she replied slowly, drawing out the words.

She
continued to smile, but he could tell she was trying to measure him up. Klye had
always preferred subtlety, regardless of his profession, but he thought that
Leslie Beryl wouldn’t be so easily manipulated.

Better
to be blunt and see how she reacts, he thought.

“I’m
told you are the daughter of Port Town’s mayor. What provoked you to become the
Renegade Leader of his city?”

Leslie
leaned back, crossed her arms, and gave him an indecipherable look. At first,
Klye thought he had overstepped, that she wasn’t going to answer him, and that
she might even ask him to leave. But then she spoke.

There
have been many men sitting where you are sitting, Klye, and I’ve seen that very
question on many of their faces. I think you may be the first to come right out
and ask it.” She shook her head and smiled. “Most people assume that I became a
Renegade Leader because I hate my father, and I’m content to let people believe
what they want. It’s easier that way. The truth is a bit more complicated. The
truth is…I still love him…or at least I love the man he once was.”

She
spoke quietly and no longer looked at him but at something far away. “Even
before the Alliance of Nations came into being, my mother and I started seeing
less and less of my father. With King Edward’s plan to open Capricon up to the
peoples of all nations in the Alliance, my father had a lot of work to do to
make sure Port Town was ready for an influx of foreigners.

“Slowly,
Crofton Beryl began to change. Once a kind man, he became short-tempered and
rude. The mayor had made a lot of friends in Port Town, but he no longer
visited them. He became suspicious of everyone and stopped attending Elezar’s
weekly sermons.

“He
spent a lot of time with a Superian official whose name he told neither my
mother nor me. In fact, he told us very little about what kept him at work so
late, dismissing our innocent questions with silence, as though everything he
did as Mayor of Port Town had to be a secret.

“It
got worse when my mother died of a strange sickness. Not even the best healers
from Mystel’s Temple could do anything for her. After she passed away, my
father’s moods grew darker still. He withdrew himself altogether, shutting me
out of his life. After a while, I grew fed up with his aloofness and followed
him to work. I wanted to see just what it was that monopolized all of his time.

“I
swear he must have had eyes in the back of his head because he was waiting for
me around a blind corner not three blocks from our house. He scolded me
severely and sent me home. But I was not to be put off so easily.”

Klye’s
leg began to cramp up, but he dared not move.

“It
wasn’t long before a band of Renegades formed in the city,” Leslie continued.
“Most citizens ignored them, content with my father’s governing, though perhaps
they were somewhat apprehensive about what changes the Alliance would bring.
The Renegades, however, spoke out against my father, claiming the mayor no
longer had the people’s best interest in mind. Among their grievances was his
evicting the poor from their homes for no good reason.

“I
couldn’t believe my father had become so heartless, so I investigated, hoping
to prove the Renegades wrong. I went to one of the buildings that had once
housed several families. It was completely empty. My sources tell me that it
remains empty to this day. There were other emptied apartments nearby, but they
stood heavily guarded, so it wasn’t until I joined the Renegades that I learned
they were the mayor’s private warehouses.

“Foolishly,
I confronted my father that very night. I guess I had hoped there was a logical
explanation, but rather than explain himself, my father confined me to my room
and ordered two city guards to make sure I stayed there.”

Leslie
smirked. “It wasn’t the first time I had occasion to sneak out of my room, so I
did so without much trouble. I was outside the house when I heard my father’s voice
through an open window. He was telling someone that I had been caught spying on
him and that I was to be ‘dealt with.’”

She
no longer smiled. Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears, and Klye suddenly
felt very uncomfortable. He had not expected her tale to be so personal or so
painful. He felt as though he must say something.

“You
don’t really think he was going to have you killed, do you? I mean…”

He
trailed off. What more could he say? Before his very eyes, Leslie Beryl had
transformed from confident Renegade Leader to betrayed daughter. She seemed
even younger to him now, and Klye thought that Leslie had been forced to grow
up too quickly.

She
should be attending balls, not plotting a rebellion, he thought. He wondered
how beautiful she might look in an elegant dress…

Leslie
sucked in a deep breath and became Port Town’s Renegade Leader once more.

“I
sure wasn’t going to stick around and find out,” she replied. “After I ran
away, the mayor publicly accused me off stealing from the City Treasury and put
a price on my head.

“Fortunately,
the Renegades found me before any of the guards did. To my surprise, they
wanted me to be their leader. Making the mayor’s daughter into a Renegade
Leader was a way to strike a blow against the mayor’s reputation. I was to be a
figurehead, I suppose.

“Imagine
their surprise when I turned out to be a good commander on top of that!”

Her
sly smile returned. “Since joining the Renegades, I’ve found other evidence
that the mayor’s administration is not on the up and up. The Renegades…
my
Renegades…are more concerned with setting things right in Port Town than
fighting against the changes going on in faraway Continae. But the changes in
my father started soon after the Signing of the Scroll of Alliance, so I
suppose I blame the Alliance for what my father has become, though I don’t have
any evidence to support that.

“What
about you, Klye?” she added without taking a breath.