He stared balefully at the Barissian, took a step towards him, and snatched the dagger from his hand.
‘And I’m keeping hold of this.’
14
Ariella & Tivian
Time had passed, just a few minutes maybe, but it seemed longer. Gyrmund had been sitting in silence with Herin and Elana, none of them knowing what to say after Rabigar had been dragged away.
Herin shifted his position. ‘So, how did you get caught, Gyrmund?’
Gyrmund turned his thoughts away from Rabigar and the jailers. ‘Moneva and I arrived back at the inn and they were waiting for us. They cornered me in the kitchen, but they couldn’t find her, and hopefully they won’t. Do you know it was Salvinus?’
Elana nodded. ‘He came for Rabigar and I at the inn. He wanted to know where the rest of you had gone, but when we wouldn’t tell him he sent us here.’
‘What about you?’ Gyrmund asked Herin. ‘He said he had five of us. Is Kaved here?’
‘Yes, they got us first. Kaved and I went into town, but then split up while I went to get a sword. I arranged to meet him later on in the town square. When I got there, Salvinus himself was waiting for me, with half a dozen men. I had to give up my sword. I’d only just bought it,’ Herin fumed, as if another lost sword was the worst that had happened. ‘When I got here, Kaved was already in the cell. They took him for questioning. We haven’t heard from him since.’
The sick feeling in Gyrmund's stomach returned. He felt like vomiting. Kaved, then Rabigar—who would be next?
Herin was chewing at his lips, studying him. ‘Listen you two,’ he began, ‘Salvinus knew exactly where to find me. He knew to go to the inn; he knew to wait there for you and the others to come back. Someone’s told him. If Gyrmund was with Moneva the whole time, I suppose that rules her out. It wasn’t Soren or Belwynn or Clarin, I know that for a fact. But how else would he know where we were?’
Gyrmund thought about it. It did make sense. Salvinus seemed very well informed. ‘Does that mean it was one of us? He may have had an informer at the Boot and Saddle.’
Herin shook his head. ‘The thing is, only Kaved knew where to find me.’
Gyrmund had no reply to that. It was the first time he had seen Herin look unsure of himself. Maybe the Krykker had betrayed them. No doubt he would receive a substantial reward from the new king. Something was still troubling Gyrmund.
‘What I don’t understand is—why do they think that we have the damned dagger?’
Belwynn and Clarin turned the corner and hurried back to the alleyway. Time, they knew, was not on their side.
Clarin held the lute in his big hands, arms out in front of him. This was hardly a sight which made them look less conspicuous, but they had not been delayed in the city streets.
When they reached the alleyway, Soren and Dirk were waiting for them. Her brother’s face looked grim. ‘We’ve been waiting outside the inn, but no-one has turned up. I think we have to assume that all six have been captured. That means we have to go in after them.’
Clarin and Dirk nodded in agreement. Belwynn knew that this was a desperate move. At least the two men were committed to it. Clarin wanted to rescue his brother; Dirk was committed to saving Elana. Belwynn dipped into her pack and pulled out the robe she had chosen for Soren, throwing it over. He quickly shrugged it on over his clothes.
‘Right, it’s best that everyone leaves the talking to me where possible,’ he began. ‘We are likely to have to rely on Dirk to locate them. Our movements will be limited. Of course, it is more than likely that we will be recognised. We have to be ready to flee if necessary; it will do no good to the others if we are captured as well.’ Soren paused before continuing. ‘None of us knows why yet, but the dagger is important to them.’ He pulled it out from one of the pockets in his cloak. ‘We are going to be bringing it into the castle. I believe that it is better for Dirk to have it for now. He has a higher chance of escaping. If we fail and he escapes, he has agreed to return to Edgar and explain what happened.’ Soren sighed. ‘Any questions?’
‘Yes,’ said Belwynn. ‘How can you trust him like this?’
‘I have no other choices, Belwynn. If he was working for them, why would he still have it on him?’
It was a logical argument; she had come to the same conclusion herself. But that didn’t mean she trusted the thief. Still, what else could they do?
‘Alright, let’s get on with it,’ she conceded.
Belwynn stashed her sword in the shadows of the alleyway, just in case they had the chance to retrieve it.
Clarin, eager to get going, handed her the lute. He stroked the hilt of his sword and led them out of the alley.
Belwynn followed on, thinking over Soren’s plan to get them inside Coldeberg Castle. The four of them were to pose as travelling entertainers: Belwynn a singer and musician, and Soren a conjurer. This was a variation on a routine they had done more than once, and the twins knew their parts. Belwynn had chosen herself a lovely dress and picked out a suitable robe for Soren which had stars embroidered onto it. Clarin was their bodyguard and Dirk a servant. Quality entertainers were usually allowed into the courts of rich noblemen. Since Emeric was now a king, Soren reckoned he would be even more likely to want to celebrate and provide entertainment for the lords and ladies of his new kingdom. Once they got inside, Dirk could peel off and explore the castle.
Clarin led them on the uphill journey towards the castle. As they crossed a street Belwynn could now see the building looming ahead.
On the other side a trio of soldiers walked by in the opposite direction. Belwynn’s nerves began to jangle. Coldeberg was crawling with soldiers, and some of them would be out looking for her and her friends. Fortunately, the soldiers were laughing and joking between themselves and did not seem interested in them. It made her wonder, however, about her twin’s rescue plan. There was a fair chance that they would be allowed entry. But once inside it would not be long before they were recognised by someone. They were asking to perform before Emeric himself, for Toric’s sake! She knew that they would have to rely, again, on Soren’s powers.
How are you, Soren’ she asked, concerned about the idea. How well recovered are you?
I’ll have to be honest with you, Belwynn, he replied, looking ahead rather than at her. Since I woke up after the Wilderness, I’ve had nothing. I’ve lost my powers. I burned them out, or something, by overextending myself that day. I went to seek help this afternoon but found none. I’m sorry.
Belwynn didn’t know what to say. Her mind was already in bits, and now this? Everything she and her brother had worked for, vanished? And now when they needed his magic the most, they were about to march into Coldeberg Castle without it? She tried to collect her thoughts and make a reply, but as she did they turned the corner and came upon the gatehouse.
This stone building controlled access into the rest of the castle. If it was under siege, the drawbridge would be up and the portcullis down. Now, however, two guards stood on the drawbridge to deny entry. As they approached the two young soldiers, Soren moved to the front. They held out their spears in warning.
‘What business do you have here?’ one of them called out.
Soren approached with an air of friendly confidence. ‘Hello there! Well met, good soldiers of Barissia. I am Tivian the Magnificent, a conjurer of the very highest quality. And this,’ he said, gesturing extravagantly towards Belwynn, ‘this is the Lady Ariella, a minstrel with the sweetest voice in all of Dalriya. We have come here…’
‘Sir!’ interrupted one of the guardsmen, calling into the gatehouse.
After a few moments a portly, older man emerged from his quarters in the gatehouse. He looked the four of them up and down.
‘Well met!’ began Soren, and repeated his introductions, word for word, with the same enthusiasm. ‘We have come here to help celebrate King Emeric’s consecration as King of Barissia.’
The old soldier didn’t seem as impressed as he should have be
en. He stroked at his moustache. ‘Who are these two?’ he demanded gruffly, gesturing at Clarin and Dirk.
‘The big man is our bodyguard. It will not surprise a man of your experience to know that some of the roads we travel could be very dangerous if travelled alone. We have long found it necessary to secure the services of a hired man. In truth, it is a very great drain on our resources, but we have been left with little choice,’ Soren explained, with a self-pitying simper.
‘What about the other one?’ pressed the soldier.
‘Oh, he is nothing, nothing but our simple-minded servant.’
The old soldier stroked at his moustache again. ‘Well, they have more than enough servants in the castle, and there is no need for a bodyguard here either.’
Soren put on a troubled expression. ‘Oh no, we must have our men with us, we must!’ He skipped forward towards the soldier and grabbed his hands. Belwynn could just make out a glint of metal as he pressed something into the hands of the soldier. ‘Please allow them as well, sir!’
The old soldier pulled his hands away from Soren, but seemed to have a contented expression on his face. ‘Well, alright then, but he’ll have to hand in his weapon,’ he said gesturing towards Clarin.
Clarin unbuckled his sword and handed it to the soldier.
‘Dom!’ shouted the captain into the gatehouse. Another soldier came hurrying out. He was young looking, with big, bushy eyebrows. ‘Take these four to see Master Orlin. If he doesn’t want them, escort them back out of the castle again.’
‘Yes, sir!’ exclaimed Dom. He waved them all to follow him and began marching across the drawbridge.
Belwynn and the others followed behind. The two soldiers on the drawbridge moved aside to let them pass.
They were in.
Dom led them into the outer bailey of the castle. They were now within the walls of Coldeberg Castle. As well as the gatehouse, the castle had six towers, between which ran the high walls. Since the castle was situated in the far northern corner of the city, half of the castle walls doubled up as the city walls as well. The bailey was open to the elements, with a few wooden buildings. Belwynn noticed a stable to their left and a training yard in the distance. The other half of the site was taken up by a large stone building, two storeys high. This would be where the residents lived and where Emeric had his hall.
Dom led them towards the entrance to the living quarters. A huge wooden door was open, guarded by a further two soldiers, wearing the livery of the Duke, now King, of Barissia.
‘Are you really a conjurer?’ asked the young soldier as they continued to make their way.
Soren raised an eyebrow, but stopped and grabbed a coin from inside his robe. He placed it on his thumb and then flicked it high into the air. As it came spinning down he clapped his hands. The coin had vanished. He took a step towards Dom and placed his hand behind the soldier’s ear. When he withdrew his hand, he was holding the coin.
‘That’s amazing!’ said the soldier, his thick eyebrows raised in wonder.
Soren took a small bow. ‘Onwards?’ he suggested.
Dom nodded and took them to the door. ‘I’m taking them to see Master Orlin,’ he told the two guards. They stepped aside.
Dom ushered the group through the door and into the stone structure. They entered a sizeable hallway. Candles set in finely-worked sconces and intricate tapestries lined the stone walls. On the wall to their left, a fire blazed. A number of people were warming themselves there. On the right hand and opposite walls were doors, leading to other parts of the castle.
‘Orlin’s chambers are upstairs,’ Dom informed them, and led them to the corner of the hall where a set of stone steps led upwards. Next to them, steps led down, beneath the castle. These steps were guarded by another couple of soldiers. Belwynn exchanged glances with the others. The significance of that was lost on none of them.
They continued up the steps, which were thin and steep and circled upwards at a tight angle.
‘Is Orlin the king’s steward?’ Belwynn asked the soldier as they reached the top of the stairs.
‘He’s the royal chamberlain. He runs the castle for the King. He is in charge of the entertainment for the court. He’ll probably want to use you for the evening meal, when King Emeric feasts his lords.’
Once they reached the second floor hallway, Dom led them through a door on the right and onto a corridor. They began to pass doors to rooms on the left and right, but the soldier led them on until they reached the last door at the end of the corridor. He banged on the heavy wooden door and it was promptly opened. A smallish, balding man with a hooked nose poked his head into the corridor.
‘What do you want?’ he demanded.
Dom did not seem taken aback by the rather unwelcoming response. ‘I have escorted these travelling entertainers here who would like to perform for the King.’
‘Hello there! Do I have the pleasure of addressing Master Orlin…’ began Soren, but he was interrupted.
‘No, you don’t,’ said the man at the door. ‘I work for him, he’s busy right now. But it’s my job to sort out the riff-raff. What do you do?’ he demanded.
‘He does really great magic tricks!’ Dom answered for Soren in an excited manner.
Orlin’s man did not look impressed. ‘Show me.’
Soren produced two coins. He showed the man that both hands were empty apart from the coins. With both coins in his left hand, he put the hand into a fist. He then used his right hand to take one of the coins from the fist and gave it to the man. Soren then opened up his left hand again. The two coins were still there on his palm.
Dom gave a little clap. Orlin’s man grunted, pocketing the coin. ‘What about the others?’ he asked, waving a hand at Belwynn, Clarin and Dirk.
‘Well,’ began Soren ‘these two are mere servants, but this is my sister, Ariella. She has the sweetest singing voice in all of Dalriya!’
‘Let’s hear it, then.’
Belwynn cleared her throat. She decided to sing a well-known song from the Empire, which she thought would suit the audience. The Fight for Freedom was a song celebrating the end of Persaleian rule over the Brasingians.
Even after the first few words, Belwynn’s singing began to have its usual effect. A gift, many people had told her. A singing voice she had been given, capable of melting the hearts of the coldest men of the land. The first line was enough to bring tears to Dom’s eyes. After the first verse the other man had succumbed. His face had a look of wonderment on it, as if he was experiencing emotions he didn’t think he had. Belwynn stopped after the first verse and chorus, but that was enough.
‘Yes, well, I’m sure you’ll do just fine,’ mumbled Orlin’s man, and fully opened the door to let them enter.
As they entered the room Dom called out a goodbye and, brushing a tear from his eye, made his way back down the corridor.
Belwynn and the others had entered an antechamber. It was a well-furnished room which led on to two further rooms, but their host gestured that they should sit and wait here. Belwynn sank down into a comfortable seat and the others did likewise.
‘My name is Tivian the Magnificent,’ said Soren. ‘May I have the pleasure of your name?’
‘Urval.’
There followed an uncomfortable silence, during which it seemed that even Tivian the Magnificent was lost for words. However, Urval eventually decided to break it.
‘I will tell Master Orlin that you’re here, but don’t expect him to be hurried, he’s a busy man.’ Urval glanced over at Belwynn with a pained expression, as if he didn’t want to be reminded of any emotions he might have felt from her song. ‘I’ll get you some drinks first,’ he said.
‘That is very gracious, sir,’ responded Soren. ‘However, there is no need to get this one a drink,’ he said pointing at Dirk. ‘While we like to have our bodyguard with us at all times—for my sister’s protection, you understand—this one is little use to tell the truth. If you have a servant’s quarters he would be best
off there.’
‘Yes, it’s downstairs. He just has to say that I sent him. He’ll be looked after alright down there.’
‘Off you go, Skerit.’
Dirk got up and left the room.
Rabigar was lying face down on a table, his hands and ankles bound. He was vaguely aware of his torturers working on his back with a cutting instrument, as if they were trying to remove the scales from his flesh. They were talking, to each other or to him, he wasn’t sure. The pain in his head was dominating all of his senses. It left him feeling nauseous.
The attack in the cell had left him blind and, he thought, dying. He couldn’t scream or shout out. Herman and Greg could have done anything to him now; it would not register above the pain caused by his eye wound. Every now and again he would get a woozy sensation, as if he was about to faint. He fought against it, fearing that he would never regain consciousness if he lost it now.
He only dimly heard the knock on the door. His torturers exchanged words. The cutting of his back stopped. It went silent. He heard the door being opened. There was muffled shouting from behind him and then a sharp, piercing scream to his right. It went silent again. Rabigar concentrated on his hearing, trying to block out the pain so that he could try to understand what was going on.
Then someone spoke to him, a soft voice. ‘Rabigar? Can you hear me?’
He hadn’t been expecting a woman’s voice.
He worked up some spit so that he could reply.
‘Moneva?’
15
A Song for a King
BELWYNN, SOREN AND CLARIN were sitting in Orlin’s chambers, waiting.
Belwynn plucked nervously at the strings of the lute. She re-tuned the instrument until it sounded perfect, then adjusted it some more. Every few seconds one of them would look anxiously at the door. They hoped for the return of Dirk, that he had not betrayed them and that he had located their friends. They feared the return of Urval, that their subterfuge would have to continue and put them in greater danger.
The Weapon Takers Saga Box Set Page 19
