He thought of Einarr and Konall. Even if his friends were unwilling to accompany him, he would go himself. He took the hand, feeling an old strength within the thin skin and bones. ‘I will do it.’ He cast about for another possible location for a secret alcove where the Star Stone might lay hidden, then cursed his stupidity. If he could spot it, it would not be so secret. ‘Where is the stone? Tell me the location of this smith and I will take it and be on my way.’
‘It is not so simple as that. It is elsewhere in the keep. You will have to fetch it, though I suspect you will have to go away and work out how to do so.’
He sighed. He might have known. ‘A vault? A treasure room? A display in a throne room? Where?’
The man smiled as he told him. Brann did not.
****
She stepped through the door the instant the boy was out of sight around the corner, as he knew she would. The sound of the bell in the servants’ room, the double ring that would summon the stocky slave, was all the sign she needed.
She refilled his goblet from the fresh jug that she had brought with her. ‘So, you and he have met. You feel he will be what we hope for him.’
‘There is a chance.’
‘The two sides of him are finely balanced.’
‘They are. But the one that holds the other in check is the one we would wish. He has the speed of the impulse and the capacity to use it. But also the thought to control it. Should he unleash it, however, I would fear to be the one who faces him.’
‘Not now, I am sure, though you were a fighter who commanded respect, once.’
He grunted. ‘Once. But even then, had I faced him, I would not be here now to tell you about it. I am thankful that he has that control back.’
‘So I see.’ She wet a small cloth from the water jug and dabbed at the dried blood on his neck. ‘You were confident your efforts had succeeded with him. It was a risk meeting him alone with no protection. And with him armed, too.’
He grunted. ‘You think he would have needed steel to kill me? Two blades or none or ten, he posed the same risk.’
‘You told him you were behind what he endured?’
‘I had to. Should he have heard it from another, he would have sought me out and killed me. For him to turn to our cause, he had to hear it from me and accept it.’
‘And he did accept it?’
‘In part. We can only hope he will do so fully in time.’
Crouching beside him, she laid a hand on his arm. ‘Still, you took a terrible risk in telling him this.’
‘I knew he would not kill me.’
‘Did you really?’
He looked at her.
‘No.’
****
‘It is where?’ Hakon knocked his chair over as he leapt to his feet.
Brann sighed. He not even had time to wash and don clean clothing after the slave had brought him back through the sewers and to the streets near to their house. All he could do was grab a chicken leg and a flagon of ale before he had been sat down and question after question came from every angle. He had no option but to quieten them and tell what had happened from the beginning, uninterrupted until Hakon had exploded.
Brann shrugged. ‘It had to be in the keep somewhere.’
Grakk leant forward. ‘But where in the keep?’
‘You remember the entrance hallway? The one with the giant statues? The warrior on the horse and the monster? The warrior’s shield?’ Every question was greeted with nods from those clustered around him. ‘Remember the black stone that was the boss on the shield?’
Hakon threw his hands to his head and groaned, walking in a circle. ‘So we are not only going to steal an ancient artefact sent from the gods, but we have to take it from a statue that is a renowned wonder of an entire empire.’
‘It is easier than having to break into a guarded vault,’ Sophaya suggested helpfully.
Hakon ignored her. ‘Then we have to smuggle it out of the city to find a mad smith who many believe is demon-possessed, and give it to him to work on. This “it” being a metal that no one can work, remember. Then if, by some miracle, he can make even a thimble from it, we have to bring this back and only then will the old man deign to help us rescue our friends.’ He snorted. ‘I say if we are going into the keep anyway, bugger him and his special stone, we might as well just get Einarr and Konall while we are there.’
‘Do that,’ Cannick said, ‘and the old man, whoever he is, is right. We will never see the outside of that building, and we won’t be locked up either.’
Grakk came to stand in front of Brann. ‘My people have trusted this man for many decades, a necessary trust to receive his protection in helping to keep our truth undiscovered. He proved he was a shield, not a threat. But how do you feel about doing this for him, this man who orchestrated all that you had to face as though you were his puppet and he the master making you dance?’
Brann stared into the fire. ‘I hate what he did and I hate him for doing it. Of course I do, and that burns inside me. I’d be a liar and a fool to say it did not. But what is done is done and cannot be otherwise, and now he can help us if we help him. What is in the future for our two friends is worth far more than what is in my past.’
‘Good enough for me,’ Cannick said as Marlo drew his chair closer, his eyes shining with excitement.
Gerens was leaning against the mantelpiece at the hearth. ‘So what do we do, Chief?’
Brann stared at him. ‘Actually, I’m not at all sure yet.’
Sophaya stood and stretched. ‘In that case,’ she said, her voice as languid as her stretch, ‘it’s just as well that I have an idea.’
Gerens looked around the group. ‘Did I ever tell you she was magnificent?’
It was close to a full moon when they huddled against the final wall before the keep, but that was, Sophaya told them, helpful.
While it lit certain areas brightly, it also plunged others into contrasting shadow. In more even light, while there was more darkness overall, guards’ eyes became accustomed to it. This night the shadows offered more effective cover. Hakon hadn’t been convinced but a glare from Gerens when he had dared to suggest it had cut off any criticism of Sophaya before the sentence was even half complete.
Brann glanced at the others. Only Grakk, Gerens and Sophaya accompanied him, dressed like he was in black tight-fitting clothing, the fittings for their weapons bound in cloth to muffle any noise. Cannick and, especially, Hakon were not built well for quiet and agile sneaking, and Marlo’s geographical knowledge only covered the areas outwith the citadel walls and so he was better used in guiding the pair through the darkened streets to the point where the intruders intended to exit the great outer wall.
Brann pulled his light hood over his head in an attempt to merge with the shadow as much as he could and peered around the corner at the main gate. A small postern stood to one side, and the helmets of two sentries could be seen just above the top of the wall, their bored chatter clear in the night air. He nodded to Grakk, who whirled a sling and sent flying a collection of small stones to rattle against the thick wood of the postern door.
The sentries’ conversation was cut and two faces peered down. Seeing no one at the door, they shrugged and turned back to lean on the parapet, resuming their chat. Grakk’s arm whirled again and another tattoo of pebbles rapped on the door. By the fourth time the sling had struck, one guard was roused enough from the torpor of relentlessly uneventful night duty to grumble his way down to ground level. The door opened and he peered out, a lantern held aloft and curses spilling from his illuminated lips. Spotting nothing, he started to turn back inside just as Grakk sent another consignment of stones to patter against the wall a short distance from the gate.
‘There’s something there,’ his companion called from above, pointing to the noise.
‘Think I’m deaf?’ He drew his sword and crept along the shadow of the wall, his lantern held before him.
Grakk loosed again, this time targeting
a clump of small bushes, bright in the moonlit area. Gratifyingly, it produced movement as well as noise as the shower of rocks struck the leafy branches.
The guard above leant out over the wall, away from them. ‘There. You see? The bushes. Move your arse.’
‘All right, all right, give me a chance,’ the one below grumbled, adding in a lower voice, ‘If you weren’t twice my size you could have moved your own fat arse down to look for yourself.’
Brann had to stifle a giggle, but Sophaya was watching the guard atop the wall. He had leant at an angle, intent on trying to view the bushes as best he could, and was facing as much away from them as he ever would be.
‘Now,’ she whispered and set off at a silent lope without waiting to see if any followed. Brann felt Gerens shove him between the shoulder blades and followed as quietly as he could, certain the noise of his heart pounding was loud enough on its own to alert both sentries. Give him six guards with swords drawn any time rather than this sneaking about.
He rethought that image as he neared the door and he realised that they may be about to enter a guard room full of soldiers. Sophaya slipped inside and, welcome party or not, he had no option but to follow.
His sigh at finding an empty room – what must be a staging area for a small group, were the door to be used in wartime – was echoed by the pair who followed. Gerens looked up and Brann followed his gaze. Massive blocks were suspended, ready to be let loose should the doorway ever need to be sealed, and Brann moved nervously from underneath them. Grakk loaded his sling to send forth one final distraction, but Brann scuttled back to stay his arm. The sentries were still in shouted conversation and there was no point in delaying any further. ‘Nothing to gain,’ he whispered and Grakk nodded, stowing the sling and remaining rocks in a bag at his side as they slipped down a short passage to find a door, its studded wood as thick as the one on the outer side. Silently thanking those who maintained the hinges with a healthy dose of oil, they slipped through and past the stairs that would lead the guard back to the top of the wall once he had given up his search.
Hugging the wall, they crept around the edge of the quiet courtyard. The sentries had ceased their activity and whinnies from the stables were the only sounds to break the night-time hush. They wore the Deruul desert boots once more, their design perfect for noiseless creeping, and their passage was uneventful, allowing them to make good time. Past the smithy, they reached the armoury and Brann caught at Sophaya’s tunic as a thought struck him.
He nodded at the door and breathed in her ear. ‘Think you can open that lock?’
Her expression was withering in its disdain and she had the door ajar before he had even noticed her starting work on it. He slipped inside and cast back in his mind to his last visit here, in what seemed almost a different life. He pictured the location of what he sought and was back outside in seconds to face three querulous faces.
He pulled up his sleeves and showed the knives strapped to his forearms, similar to the ones that he had chosen when equipping himself to be Myrana’s personal guard. It felt good to take back something from that time, as though they could not strip everything from him. And while he had been through much, he had to admit he preferred his life now with his companions rather than those days of repetition at the beck and call of the girl, even if the nights had held their compensation.
They neared the switchback ramp to the main door and faced a decision: risk the exposure of the direct route up the ramp, or take the longer route internally from ground level. They looked at each other, concern on each face that they had not thought to consider this previously.
Brann weighed it up. To work their way up from the servants’ quarters and work areas would keep them from the eyes of the sentries on the walls, but it also took them past a host of sleeping servants, any one of whom could wake as they passed their quarters, or be wandering the corridors to or from a visit to a communal privy. And it would take far longer, and their time was scarce as it was. There was risk of being seen on the ramp, but also risk of being discovered at work in the hallway were they to arrive too late. He nodded. The ramp it was.
The others were waiting for him. Grakk and Gerens had recognised the look on his face and were content to wait a moment for his decision, the grim boy laying a hand on Sophaya’s arm in suggestion that she trust Brann also. He pointed to the ramp and they started up without hesitation, laying their feet softly on the wood and their bodies pressed against the cool stone of the keep. Brann found himself wishing he had never thought of the servants’ privies.
They had just passed half the distance and were starting to feel their nerves relax when a door slammed below, spilling light and a troop of guards into the courtyard from the barracks that Brann remembered was reserved for the duty soldiers. The four froze, pressing hard against the wall as if wishing they could become part of it. The moon’s light shone from the side but was more than enough to show them starkly against the stonework to even the briefest of glances.
The soldiers tramped across the courtyard, splitting partway to find those they would relieve, laughing and grumbling in equal measure. Brann found himself holding his breath, though not with as much effort as it took to hold his bladder. Even trying not to squirm from the effort was a trial.
Brann’s eyes widened with realisation. ‘We have to move,’ he hissed. There was little chance a guard would look up at the ramp – why would they think to? – but when those who had finished their shift started to make their way back, they would be staring directly in the direction of the keep. ‘Now. Fast.’
The noise of the guards as they walked would cover the most minimal movement, but no more; the men were aware that were they loud enough to wake those on the top level of the keep, they would be lucky not to lose their heads. Brann moved as quickly as he could while still being quiet, and the others – more adept at this than he – followed closely. The barely resistible urge to break into a sprint assailed him with every step and it seemed an eternity before they reached the massive doors that barred their way. Sophaya scanned them. While the others saw their size, her attention was more specific, spotting a keyhole in the ornate metalwork. A pair of rods appeared in her hands and less than half-a-dozen deft movements later, the massive lock gave the softest of clicks. Gerens pressed his shoulder against the door and eased it open just enough for them to slip through, and Brann helped Grakk to ensure it shut with only the slightest thump as it settled back in place.
‘How did you turn a lock so large, so quietly?’ he whispered.
‘What?’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘You think I play at this business?’
‘And how did you know that those would not be in place?’ He indicated two massive beams, almost vertical to one side of the doors now but pivoted at their lower ends and each ready to be dropped by pulleys into six iron holders, two on each door and one to either side. Had they been dropped into place, not even a battering ram would have opened the door.
She smiled sweetly. ‘I didn’t.’
His jaw dropped. ‘We would have been trapped.’
The smile remained. ‘With you to thank for it. It was your choice that brought us here.’
The horror was so plain on his face that even Grakk chuckled. ‘She toys with you. They are only dropped in times of attack.’
She returned his glare with an even broader smile over her shoulder as she sauntered towards the statues. ‘I believe we have too much work to be chatting.’
Gerens watched her walk away. ‘Is she not…?’
Brann groaned. ‘We know, we know.’
‘Magnificent,’ Grakk finished drily for him.
Gerens looked at them with approval. ‘Indeed.’
The statues seemed even larger in the dim lantern-light. Rearing high, they loomed above them, seeming more living creatures frozen in a moment than artwork in shining stone and precious metal. If they did not overwhelm with awe as the gods in ul-Detina’s temple had done, still they commanded respect and wonder
in each of the men beneath them.
But not in the one woman.
Sophaya bounded from horse’s raised fetlock to stirrup to rider’s knee to saddle as if she were climbing a flight of shallow stairs. She looked at the gaping trio beneath her and a forced whisper floated down to them. ‘Are you thinking of waiting for others to come along to help us, or do you want to get this done?’
They shook themselves into action. Gerens swung the pack from his back and hurled it to her. Holding on with one hand, she leant out and caught a strap with the other, swinging herself back into the rider’s lap in the same movement. She hooked the strap onto the stone hilt of a giant scabbarded sword and, standing on the rider’s thigh, she gripped the rim of the shield and rolled round to its front. Bracing one hand against it, she eased a slim dagger around the rim of the oval black rock, an arm’s length in height. Every so often, frowning in concentration, she would probe with her fingers at the rock for increased movement until, eventually satisfied, she sheathed the dagger and reached across the rock to wriggle her fingertips under the far edge. With a sharp tug, the rock came away and fell into the crook of her arm.
The three below started breathing again.
She swivelled to rest her back against the shield, allowing her to use both hands to hold out the rock, and checked below that someone was prepared to catch it. Brann stood ready, arms outstretched but, as Sophaya let the rock fall, Gerens shouldered him out of the way and let the rock land in his own arms. He looked at Brann. ‘I’ve seen you catch,’ he murmured. Brann couldn’t argue.
High above, Sophaya produced a tub and a cloth from her bag and smeared a pale paste in the cavity that had held the rock. She shuffled to retrieve the pack from the sword hilt and returned to the shield, pulling forth a large black oval object and fitting it where the rock had sat, kicking the empty pack down where Grakk caught it and Gerens slipped the rock safely inside. After a few adjustments to angle the oval to resemble the rock as closely as possible – certainly enough to make the difference indiscernible from ground level – she held it in place, her lips moving as she silently counted. A quick attempt to wobble it with her hand proved its security, and without fuss she dropped from one statue body part to another until she was standing beside them.
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