Two Heirs (The Marmoros Trilogy Book 1) (43 page)

Tad looked up, muttering under his breath but showing no inclination to move.

“And have a beer on the house, while you’re about it.”

He brightened up at that and shuffled his way off the bench to make room for them as the landlord wiped the table down with a damp cloth.

“Now then. What can I get you folks?”

“Some hot food would be good,” Seb replied. “And a jug of your best ale.”

“Very good, sir. We, uh… acquired some very nice wine a few weeks ago which might be more to the young lady’s taste.”

“Thank you but no. Ale will be fine,” Rachel assured him with a smile.

The conversations gradually resumed around the room as they settled themselves into the corner. The food turned out to be a very acceptable mutton broth served with a platter of steaming vegetables and they both felt a little guilty about Carl and Lem, stuck outside in the wagon with only cold provisions.

During the meal, Rachel felt a growing suspicion that they were still being watched and narrowed it down to a group of soldiers, standing at the far end of the bar. One man in particular kept staring at her and then turning away quickly as she looked up.

“Seb, don’t look now, but there’s a man in that group at the far end of the bar who keeps staring at me. I don’t remember him but I think I may have been recognised.”

“Okay. Let’s just wait and see what he does for the moment. He’s obviously not sure because he hasn’t done anything about it yet.”

Just then, Kemon walked in through the open door and strolled over to the bar. Nobody looked up. There was no drop in the conversation levels.
Nobody noticed.

“How does he do that?” Rachel whispered. “It’s so unfair.”

Seb laughed and as Kemon glanced at him, lifted his chin slightly towards the end of the bar. Kemon raised his eyebrows in return and turned casually to look where Seb had pointed as the landlord put a pot of ale in front of him.

The subject of Rachel’s concern was clearly talking about them because several of the men in the group turned to look down the bar and then turned back shaking their heads. The man was not to be put off though and, detaching himself from the group, made his way a little unsteadily across the bar, staring at Rachel the whole way. He passed Kemon without a second glance.

“I know you,” he stated, pointing at Rachel. “You were with that group that came through ‘ere two days ago.”

“I think you’re mistaken, sir.” Seb slid along the bench and stood up, easing himself away from the edge of the table. “We only arrived this afternoon and we’ve never been here before.”

The man ignored him. “No, you’re the one. ‘Andy with a frying pan aren’t you? You’re the one what did ‘Arry’s face in.”

Seb rested his hand lightly on the hilt of his sword. “I really think you must be mistaken, sir.”

The man looked at Seb for the first time and his eyes narrowed. “You was there too,” he accused. “I’m going to fetch the sergeant.”

He turned to go and somehow fell over Kemon, dragging both of them to the ground and hitting his head hard against a stool as he went down. Kemon got to his feet looking very apologetic.

“I think my friend has had one too many, landlord.”

Grimes came round the end of the bar and studied the man lying prone on the floor.

“Here, you lot,” he said to the group of men who had been edging closer to see what was going on. “Help me put him outside to sleep it off.” He grabbed hold of the man’s legs and two of the others took an arm each. They lifted him out through the door and laid him on one of the tables.

“Pity the rain’s stopped,” he remarked as they came back in. “Might have sobered him up a bit. Still what do you say to another round? On the house.”

He steered the men back down to the far end of the bar and arrayed a set of full tankards in front of them. Once they were settled, he hurried down to the corner where Seb had seated himself again next to Rachel.

“I’m thinking… perhaps you young folks might be more comfortable in the back room. And your friend here as well.”

Seb looked at Kemon who nodded. Grimes lit a taper and touched it to the wick of a lantern on a hook by a small door. With a final glance around the bar, he opened the door and ducked through. The room was small, with an earth floor, no windows and one other door. It was sparsely furnished with a rough table and four chairs and a cot along one wall. Kemon looked enquiringly at the other door.

“Leads directly to the livery yard,” Grimes explained. “Sit yourselves down and tell me what’s going on.”

“What do you mean?” Seb said as Kemon flopped down on the nearest chair with a half-grin on his face. “We’re just travellers on our way to Keldis.”

“Yeah,” Grimes replied. “And my uncle’s the Archdeacon of the Holy Cross.” He sat down
himself and waited for Seb and Rachel to take the other two chairs.

“Right, now then. There’s an army of Lyenar coming this way to attack Marmoros. They’re not going to bypass us and leave a hostile garrison in their rear. They’re going to take us out on their way. So when is the attack coming?”

“We’re going to be attacked?” Seb queried. “We don’t know anything about that. We’ve got to get out of here,” he said, half rising.

“It’s alright Seb,” Kemon cut in with a smile. “The lad’s quite good at this, don’t you think?”

“Very good,” Grimes replied. “If I didn’t know better, I’d almost believe him.”

Seb looked at the two of them in astonishment. “You two know each other?”

“Not exactly,” Kemon smiled. “But there was a Captain of Horse in Duke Theron’s army who looked remarkably like our landlord here.”

Grimes laughed. “Twenty years I served before I came here. Can’t say I remember your face though.”

“Nobody does. That’s why I’m still alive. Twenty years is a long time to serve the Duke. And you still serve him now.”

“Who told you that?”

“Doesn’t matter. If I answer your first question, what will you do?”

“Depends on the answer.” Grimes paused for a moment. “Okay, the Duke would not be unhappy to see a change of governance in High Falls. The penalties on the trade routes passing here are quite restrictive. Now answer the question.”

“The attack will come tonight. We’re here to prepare the way.”

“How many of you are there?”

“Just the three of us.”

“Just the three of you plus the two in the wagon outside.”

Kemon spread his hands, palm up, in apology.

“So what do you need?”

“A way in. We have ropes we can drop over the walls if there’s somewhere we can do it unobserved or…”

He broke off at the sound of a soft knock on the door. Grimes crossed quickly to open the door and stooped to listen to what was being said. When he shut the door again and turned to face them, his face was grim.

“Jatson
woke up. He came storming in to the inn looking for you and shouting at the top of his voice. When he couldn’t find you, he ran out again saying he was going to the sergeant.”

“Damn,” Kemon said. “I knew I should have killed him.”

“Not in my inn you don’t,” Grimes growled. “You’d better go. The sergeant will be down at the main gate. He sleeps in the gatehouse. You won’t get there before
Jatson but you might get there in time to stop them sounding the alarm.”

He opened the door to the yard and ushered them out. “Go now. I’ll try to keep the guardsmen here but I won’t be able to do so if the tocsin is rung.”

They collected Carl and Lem from the wagon and set off at a run with Kemon bringing the others up to date as they went.

“How long have we got before Lord David’s men get here?” Carl asked.

“They should have started crossing the ford as soon as it was dark. They’re going to meet with Feynor’s horsemen at the fork in the trail and wait for the signal. We have to prevent the alarm being sounded until they’re in position.”

They slowed down as they rounded the final corner on the slope down to the gatehouse. There were no lights visible anywhere and the cloud cover prevented any glow from the moons. Nevertheless, Kemon kept them close against the walls of the houses in case any of the sentries
happened to look back into the town.

The gatehouse itself consisted of two towers connected together by a covered gallery at the top of the walls. The gallery spanned the entrance tunnel which was about five paces long from front to back with a set of gates at both ends. Access to the gallery and the upper levels of the towers was by a pair of open stairs on the inside of the walls on either side of the gates.

From the cover of the last house, there were twenty paces of open ground to the stairs on the left of the gate and twice that to the ones on the right. They waited until the sentries patrolling the walls to the side of the towers, were moving away and then dashed across to the base of the nearer stairs. They nearly made it before the door to the guardroom burst open and
Jatson
came rushing out, heading for the same set of stairs. Light spilled out through the open doorway, catching them full in its glare and
Jatson stopped in his tracks as he caught sight of them, a yell forming on his lips even as he died with Kemon’s knife in his throat.

Another throwing knife was already in Kemon’s hand as he changed direction and ran over to the fallen body. He knelt to retrieve his blade as the others ran past him and flattened themselves against the walls on either side of the open door. The glare of light dimmed momentarily as the sergeant appeared in the doorway, still tucking his undershirt into his breeches. The
swordbelt
in his other hand, clattered to the floor as he hastily backed away from the two sword points that materialised in front of him. Seb and Lem followed him into the guardroom but the sergeant had been the only occupant.

“Secure him,” Kemon ordered Seb and Rachel. “Carl, take the stairs on this side. Try to take the sentry quietly and find out how many more are in the tower. Lem and I will take the far stairs.”

Seb pushed the point of his sword into the sergeant’s chest, forcing him back into one of the chairs. He sat down abruptly and his eyes widened as Rachel reached under her skirt and produced a wicked looking stiletto that Marta had thoughtfully given her. She pulled a sheet off the cot in the corner and cut long strips to bind his hands and feet. As a final gesture, she balled up one of the strips and stuffed it into the sergeant’s mouth.

On the level above them, Carl had dealt with the need for silence by placing one large hand over the sentry’s mouth and twisting his neck until it snapped. He lowered the body to the ground and ran over to listen at the tower door. The sound of two voices came faintly through the woodwork as he unstrapped the battle axe from his back. He eased the door open and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him. Two men were stood at the front of the room looking out over the caravanserai.

“Get back out there. You’re not due to be relieved for another half hour yet.”

One of the men half turned and then grabbed the other man’s arm as he saw Carl standing there with the axe in his hand.

“Now then lads. Let’s not have any unpleasantness, shall we?” Carl said.

The two men looked at each other and then jumped in opposite directions, both going for their swords. The one going left had less room to move and Carl cut him down with a slash from shoulder to groin before spinning round to block the other man’s sword a hand’s breadth from his face. The second man was an accomplished swordsman and he and Carl were evenly matched with neither able to gain a decisive advantage.

Carl saw a glitter in the man’s eyes and sensed rather than heard a movement behind him. He dropped to his right and rolled away, coming back to his feet as a sword slashed through the space he had occupied a second before. He felt a stab of pain as the sword caught the top of his left shoulder. There had been a third man, asleep on a cot at the back of the room.

He was on the defensive now with two swords jabbing at him and forcing him back towards the window overlooking the caravanserai. Both his attackers were still wary of the great sweeps of his battle axe but he could sense them growing in confidence as he tired. Neither of them noticed
the door opening behind them as Seb entered and immediately thrust his sword through the kidneys of the nearest guard. The man collapsed with a shriek of agony and Carl took advantage of the distraction to bury his axe in the chest of the third man.

“Good timing,” Carl grunted, holding a hand to his injured shoulder.

“Glad to be of help. You said you wanted someone to watch your back.”

“Thanks,” he nodded. “I knew you’d do all right.”

The door from the gallery crashed open and Kemon and Lem came running in.

“Everything alright here?”

“It is now. What about the tocsin?” Carl replied.

Kemon held up a leather strap with a metal clapper attached to the bottom. “It’s hard to say anything without a tongue. Casualties?”

“Carl’s got a cut on the shoulder which needs some attention,” Seb replied.

“It’s only a scratch,” Carl growled. “We’ve got three dead in here and one more outside.”

“Same on the other side,” Kemon said. “This wasn’t how we planned it but we seem to have captured the gates. Let’s hope we can hold them until Lord David gets here. I’ll set up the signal lantern. Carl, get down below and let Rachel bind that shoulder. You two get the bodies out of sight and keep watch for any patrols returning along the walls.”

The reaction to the signal lantern was surprisingly rapid. Horsemen appeared at the outer gates of the caravanserai and after what appeared to be a short discussion, two of them trotted up towards the town gates. Kemon ran down the stairs to open the postern gate and step outside. He flashed the signal lantern once and the two horsemen stopped and immediately issued a challenge. Kemon gave the agreed response and the horsemen nudged their horses forward.

“Kemon, you old devil. What’s going on?” Feynor demanded.