Crouched on a stone ledge that jutted into a pitch-dark alleyway, Nightfall watched the door to the He-Ain’t-Here. Though he kept his eyes trained on the entrance, his other senses alerted him to every nearby movement. An occasional stray dog or rat nosed through the leavings, seeking whatever scraps had not gone home with the workers. Only once a human form glided across the alleyway. He seemed not to notice Nightfall lurking in the shadows, though he did leave quickly. Nightfall knew the game too well: feign ignorance, never look directly at a skulking predator, but always know his exact location.
Nightfall had seen Danyal go into the tavern, accompanied by a trio of rowdy sailors. That had not seemed like a good time to accost the boy in any guise. Now, he waited patiently, searching for the opportunity to catch the cabin boy alone. It seemed more likely than not that his patience would be rewarded, given the smaller capacity of a child’s bladder and the tendency for adults to ply a young man with drinks for the entertainment value it might supply.
The moon rose higher, and the sky became sprinkled with stars. Nightfall began concocting an alternate plan, one that might allow him to slip onto
The Sharius,
where Danyal undoubtedly spent most of his time. The boy would not have the money for other shelter and was already accustomed to the rock and pitch of the ship at mooring. Then, just as Nightfall began considering costumes, Danyal slipped from the tavern and trotted toward the neighboring alley that served as the preferred relieving place of the He-Ain’t-Here’s patrons.
Quiet as the darkness, Nightfall slipped from his hiding place and into the other alley. He crept toward the boy as Danyal splashed the narrow, packed dirt threadway. Sneaking ever closer, he watched as Danyal finished his business and readjusted his clothing with an awkwardness that displayed the alcoholic content of at least one drink. An unexpected noise, even as soft and gentle as a whisper, might startle Danyal into a scream, so Nightfall pounced like a predator. One arm whipped around Danyal’s head, a hand clamped over his mouth to muffle any sound. With the other, he caught the boy around the middle and dragged him deeper into the alley.
Danyal struggled wildly, trying to twist. Shouts gagged to silence emerged warm against Nightfall’s hand, and he could feel the boy’s mouth open and close as he searched for flesh to bite.
“Be still,” Nightfall said directly into the cabin boy’s ear. “It’s me, Danyal. Sudian. And I’m not going to hurt you.”
Danyal froze in position, his body dead weight in Nightfall’s arms.
“I’m sorry I had to grab you, but it’s not safe for anyone else to see me. Do you understand?”
Danyal nodded his head as well as he could.
“Please don’t scream.” Nightfall resisted the urge to ask the boy if he would comply. Whether or not he intended to do so, the answer would be “yes.” Prepared to run, Nightfall released Danyal.
The boy whirled toward him but made no sound or threatening movement. He examined Nightfall through the darkness.
Nightfall allowed him to look. Now costumed as a stranger and standing in near blackness, he did not expect to be recognized.
“Sudian,” Danyal tried. “Is that really . . . you?”
Nightfall hissed. “Don’t call me that, all right? It’s dangerous.”
Danyal bobbed his head, lowering his voice. “They think you killed the king.”
“I know, the fools.”
“Why?” Though a simple question, it did not have an easy answer.
“Because, Danyal, it’s the laziest way to handle a problem so complex and dangerous most can’t or won’t consider the real depth of it. If they blame me, they don’t have to look for a more difficult adversary. And, if they believe he’s dead, they don’t have to search for him either.” Though not precise, the explanation would have to do.
Danyal continued to stare into the night. “Is it really . . . you?” He finally remembered his manners. “My lord?”
“It’s really me.” Nightfall understood the cabin boy’s uncertainty and applauded these first early stirrings of discernment. He sought to make his identity certain. “As promised, I didn’t tell your captain about . . .” Though no one could overhear, Nightfall defended Danyal’s privacy as well as his own. “. . . your one-time association with . . . certain people. And I didn’t beat you.”
Danyal shivered, though whether because of the cooling night air, or Nightfall’s words, he could not tell. No one else knew about their private conversation in
The Sharius’
hold.
Having clinched his identity, Nightfall turned to business. “I understand you have some information for me.”
Danyal’s hands fell to his sides. “How did you know, my lord?”
Hearing attuned for the tiniest sound, Nightfall kept his methods mysterious. “What do you know, Danyal?”
Now, the words came tumbling out; Danyal seemed glad to be heard, happy to lose the burden of finding a way to Alyndar. “A ship slipped from Schiz’ harbor the night the king got attacked, without colors or standard.”
A ship.
The information told Nightfall little. Whether over land or sea, the kidnappers had had plenty of time to reach whatever destination they chose. “Yes?” he pressed, hoping Danyal had more.
The boy did not disappoint. “From what I could piece together, my lord, it appears the ship landed in Hartrin.”
Nightfall’s heartbeat quickened, but he continued to hold hope in check. “You’re sure, Danyal?”
“Not absolutely.” Danyal’s head drooped. “I-I did my best. I talked to crewmen from several different ships to track it, had to piece together their sightings, but . . .” He lapsed into silence. “I was careful,” he finally said, with more confidence. “I don’t think I’m wrong, my lord.”
Nightfall considered. It might just take a sailor to put the story together, especially a boy who could slip from man to man, asking questions that seemed childishly harmless. As things stood, Nightfall had no better information. “Thank you, Danyal. A brilliant bit of work. We’re even now.”
“Not by my conscience, my lord.”
“Your conscience is a hard master.”
Danyal shrugged.
Nightfall decided to take advantage of the guilt Danyal continued to suffer. “If you find out anything else, take the news to Kelryn in Alyndar. All right?”
“Yes, sir.” Danyal studied his fingers.
“Kelryn,” Nightfall emphasized. “No one else.” Although he trusted Volkmier to properly use the information as well, he dared not take a chance someone might discover his alliance with the chief of Alyndar’s prison guards. It could mean a traitor’s death for Volkmier. His relationship to Kelryn, however, was already well known and established. No one could blame her for Nightfall’s decision to send someone to her with news.
Danyal peered up at Nightfall, clearly trying to read a face he could barely see through the alley’s darkness. “Please, my lord. Be careful.”
Nightfall met the boy’s gaze, surprised to discover worried sincerity stamped across the young features. He had seen such looks before, had read the emotion on other faces, just never ones directed at him.
He really cares. He’s concerned about what might happen to me.
Though simperingly obvious, it unmanned Nightfall who found himself staring back in silence, without bothering to gather words. It occurred to him that the boy had not even bothered to ask if Sudian might be guilty of the crime Alyndar’s guards ascribed to him. Danyal embraced the man’s innocence with an exuberance that left no place for doubt.
“Please,” Danyal emphasized.
“I’ll try,” Nightfall said, energized by the new lead the cabin boy had given him. Though only a hair warmer than the Schizian trail, it at least moved his mission forward.
“And, Lord,” Danyal added. “Though it suits your status more, you might want to avoid the upscale inn.” He gestured southward.
Intrigued, Nightfall awaited clarification. He knew the Gold Lantern well, having spent many nights there in his merchant guise, and it tended to draw much safer, quieter clientele than the He-Ain’t-Here.
“Them pirates, my lord,” Danyal explained. “They’ve got themselves cleaned up and jingling with money, but I recognize them. That’s their ship out in the harbor, too.”
Nightfall rolled his eyes at the irony of Alyndar’s money buying legitimacy for pirates. He knew they would live the high life only as long as their riches held out. Then, poverty or love of cruelty and danger would drive most of them back to the sea. “Thanks for the warning, Danyal. I really can’t afford to stay in one place overnight anyway, given the size and scope of the manhunt. When I stop moving, I’m . . .” He was going to finish with “dead,” but softened it for Danyal’s sake. “. . . caught.”
Danyal lowered his head.
Nightfall wished he had kept his comments to himself. For reasons he could not wholly fathom, the boy cared about him. “But only until I find the king and clear myself. Now that I have a clue where to look, it’s only a matter of time.”
Danyal’s face rose slowly.
“And it’s all thanks to you. I’ve searched half the world for information, and you’re the first one to give me anything useful.”
Danyal beamed.
“Godspeed,” Nightfall said. “And don’t tell anyone, except possibly Kelryn, that you saw me.”
“I promise, my lord.”
Danyal’s reply disappeared into the distance as Nightfall crept silently away.
Perched on one rooftop and shielded by another from the light of stars and moon, Nightfall hunched in puddled shadow, eyes and ears attuned to the slightest sound or movement. Though driven to reach Hartrin as swiftly as possible, he forced himself to think through the problem logically. Deep in the heart of slave country, Hartrin had little to recommend it as a kingdom or a city. He could scarcely imagine the trouble Edward could get into there. As a prince, the boy-king had killed a slaver once, the very act that had pushed his father to tie his life to the demon.
If Ned’s there, he’s a prisoner. Freed, he would only wreak havoc.
Nightfall only hoped that any such havoc had not gotten the valiant and naive king killed.
Once there, Nightfall had no idea how he would locate the imprisoned king. He now knew how severely losing his underground contacts hampered his ability to work. He had gotten lucky this time, tapping a cabin boy whose loyalty stemmed from friendship rather than force. He could not expect information to fall into his lap again. The closer he got to the king, the more difficult it would become to uncover any news about him. He would have to find some way to penetrate the sources he had once blithely used as Nightfall.
Nightfall’s thoughts pulled him elsewhere. Kelryn could not help him unless she had at least a general idea of his destination. Of course, she could not sell him out either; but he now knew she would never do such a thing. It did little good to keep sending people who might uncover information to her without occasionally checking back himself. She or Volkmier could have learned some important bit of knowledge he could use, or they might need his help. Perhaps they had even unmasked the traitor, in which case they probably knew exactly where to find the missing king. Unable to pass the information to Nightfall, they would have little choice but to enlist the help of Alyndar’s army and navy, which would invariably result in war. Nightfall shuddered at the thought. The bold tactics of the military would panic the kidnappers, who would have little choice but to murder Edward and dispose of his body.
The idea of returning to Alyndar after spending two weeks traveling to Schiz seemed insanity, but Nightfall needed sea passage to Hartrin anyway. Once he had a ship, travel time became a minor issue. The merchants had a credo that aptly described the situation between Alyndar and Hartrin, one at the northern end of the Yortenese Peninsula, the other at the same end of the Xaxonese Peninsula:
opposites by politics, strangers by land, neighbors by sea.
A ship.
Danyal had tried to find passage to Alyndar for weeks, without success; yet Nightfall believed he had found a means thanks to Danyal’s other revelation. It would require caution and finesse, but he supposed he could manage both.
Nightfall shinnied down the rooftop and headed for the shops. He would need to do some thieving to make the whole thing work.
Chapter 14
I’m sure we’re learning something useful with this game, but doesn’t it seem foolish to practice disarming ourselves in battle?
—Dyfrin of Keevain, the demon’s friend
T
HE MOON HUNG low in the sky by the time Nightfall prepared to enter the Gold Lantern Inn. The regular patrons would have gone home and most travelers would be bedded down for the night, but pirates kept longer hours. Beneath the bulking garments he wore for the part of Balshaz, silver-trimmed green silks fit him well enough to appear tailored. He wore the customary jade-colored sash that identified him as a working merchant and matching cloth-covered shoes. He had not stolen these items at random, of course; few enough men boasted silk in their wardrobe. He had deliberately purloined them from the home of a merchant he knew routinely traded through the south each autumn.
Nightfall wore his hair stylishly shoulder length, combed to a copper sheen; and his crafted long-nosed face bore the pocks of a childhood illness. Clay and powder made his eyes appear wider set and larger, trustworthy. He walked with an upper class strut, tripping the latch and pushing open the door as if he owned the inn. Though it swung inward on silent hinges, unlike the He-Ain’t-Here’s squeal, every eye still jerked toward his entrance. Bawdy laughter cut off as if suddenly choked.
Nightfall took in the situation at a glance. Softra, the owner, tended bar; and his wife, Darlane, played server. Normally, the common room would have closed for the night several hours earlier, and his hires had already gone home. Nightfall saw no sign of Softra’s two adolescent daughters.