by Nikki Katz
“Where’s your captain?” Kalen called out as he slowly made his way forward. The man had appeared repentant in Belrose’s memories, but one never knew.
He scowled in their direction. “Who is asking?”
“Someone who might be interested in hiring him for transport.”
His voice lowered. “We aren’t a ferry service.”
“I think he might consider it.” Kalen paused. “Now, where is Belrose?”
The sailor straightened. He eyed Kalen up and down, his eyes catching on the gloves. He stepped away. “Not here.”
“Is he on the ship?”
“No, he’s still in the prison.”
“That’s not possible—he was released this morning.” Kalen’s forehead furrowed.
A snort. “Released? Says who?”
“Says me.” The words slipped out before Kalen could contain them.
The sailor’s eyes went to his gloves again. “I’ve heard of you. What are you doing here? Is this a trap?”
“No.” Kalen hated interactions like this, when his reputation preceded him and the immediate response was one of fear and distrust. “It’s not a trap. Honestly, I only want a few minutes with the captain.”
“He’s not here. I told you that. Perhaps you might want to revisit your cells.”
Kalen spoke through gritted teeth. “And I told you, he was released.”
“No, he wasn’t.” The sailor looked out at the ship again with a sigh. “He was released for all of five minutes before they dragged him back behind the walls. Captain Belrose has been found guilty of privateering.”
CHAPTER
6
Luna leaned over to whisper in Kalen’s ear. “This doesn’t seem to be going well.”
“Thanks for pointing out the obvious,” he muttered.
“Who’s she?” the man asked. “She’s not getting on our ship, not for any amount of gold.”
“We’ll see about that. But first I guess we need to see about the captain.” Kalen sighed. “Get your crew ready. We will be sailing out tonight.”
He spun on his boot and caught Luna’s elbow gently in his grip to lead her away.
“What’s the plan?” she asked as they walked up the street.
“Head to the brothel. Pack. Make any final arrangements for your sister. Meet me in two hours at the postern closest to the dungeon.”
They worked their way through the southern border of the town, keeping to the alleyways and side streets, weaving in and around the vacant storefronts and collapsing homes of this poorest part of Mureau.
Kalen held his cloaked arm up to his nose in an attempt to keep out the stench. They turned a corner and raced down an alleyway, dodging puddles of sludge and rotting trash. Luna’s boots slid, and she cursed under her breath. They turned onto a street just as a tavern door was thrown open and two men tumbled out. Kalen and Luna slipped into the shadowed doorframe of the tannery right beside it.
“You’re wrong.” A tall man with an even taller hat stood with clenched fists at his sides as he turned and faced his adversary.
Shorter but with massive biceps, the other man jabbed his finger in the tall man’s chest. “You’re naive. The king has done nothing to move us forward. We’re sitting at the edge of the world, waiting for things to happen, when we could be out exploring.”
Another man joined in. “We could conquer the seas!”
Suddenly all the patrons filled the street and yelled over one another.
“Our army is getting weaker!”
“They don’t care about us; they only care about growing what’s in their vault!”
“Isn’t that the truth?” Luna mumbled. She looked ready to join them, but Kalen reached out and gripped her shoulder.
The crowd’s agitation grew, even though they were all on the same side. Two of the men began to scuffle, though they’d in essence been shouting the same facts at each other. One swung at the other’s jaw. He ducked and turned around, accidentally knocking into a woman. She growled deep and charged him, the top of her head connecting with his gut.
Kalen felt drawn to the melee as well. It was as if someone were pushing on his lower back, nudging him forward, and his thoughts felt clouded, in a haze of black discord. He tripped toward the action, but his attention snagged on someone at the fringes of the crowd. A figure, short with wiry hair and wearing a cloak edged in green embroidery, whispered to a man at his side. He pointed toward the opposite side of the group.
Kalen knew that stance. He knew that hair. And he certainly knew the green embroidery of the King’s Law. What in the world was Ryndel doing here?
Shouts came from the opposite end of the street. A trio of guards ran toward the brawl. “Break it up!” one of them shouted as he withdrew a short sword from the scabbard at his hip.
Ryndel slipped into the shadows, his hands sliding into the pockets of his cloak, but not before Kalen spotted something in his grasp. Ice blue, it glinted in the light of the lamps lining the street.
The crowd turned on the guards, weapons pulled and shouts filling the air. Before Kalen could blink, Ryndel had disappeared. Kalen wondered what the King’s Law had been up to, because he certainly hadn’t been trying to talk the crowd out of their anger, and he obviously hadn’t wanted to be caught.
At the thought of being caught, Kalen grabbed Luna’s sleeve and tugged her around the door into the now-empty tavern. The barkeep eyed them warily from where he wiped spilled ale from the countertop.
A roar erupted from the crowd outside. “Down with the king!”
Kalen again felt drawn to join the crowd, but Luna stepped in front of him, pushing at his chest so he walked backward through the double doors leading to the kitchen. They were suddenly blanketed in the steaming heat and peppered scents of the back room. Nearly rotting vegetables and raw meat sat chopped on a counter slab, soon to be added to whatever meal sat bubbling on the hearth. Flour and dough decorated the floor in random intervals. Luna kept pushing Kalen through the narrow path between the counters and ovens toward the exit. She eased open the door and peered outside. She stepped through, and Kalen followed as Luna maneuvered along the alley and several streets.
“What was that?” she finally asked.
“I’m not sure, but Ryndel was involved.”
“The King’s Law definitely had something up his sleeve.”
“Literally,” Kalen said, thinking of the ice blue object.
They arrived at the brothel, and she stopped in front of the door. “Is the plan still the same?”
He nodded. “I’ll see you shortly.”
Kalen raced inside the castle walls and to his room. He grabbed a change of outfit and thrust the clothing into a travel bag. Crouching on the closet floor, he opened a chest tucked in the corner and scooped out coins. A bag of loose tea rested on his dresser, and he threw that in for good measure. A razor and comb, as he hated using other people’s toiletries. He figured that was enough for the trip.
He had another hour until Luna would meet him, so he went out in search of Terrack. He found him in the nearly empty dining hall, eating a late supper. Kalen’s stomach growled, and he realized he hadn’t had any food since noon. He slipped onto the edge of the bench, and a kitchen boy appeared with a bowl of stew and a small loaf of bread.
“Thank you,” Kalen called after the disappearing head of blond hair. He tore off a chunk of bread and drowned it in the gravy.
Terrack stabbed a piece of meat and looked out of the corner of his eyes in Kalen’s direction. An invitation to speak.
“I have a favor to ask.”
Terrack chewed slowly.
“Actually two. I need you to spend some time with Amya for me. Read to her. She gets bored over there. I also need you to check on Marcella and make sure her daughter appears healthy.”
Terrack’s eyes narrowed.
“Just a precaution.”
“For how long?”
“Maybe a week? Until I get back, whenever that
is.” He speared a piece of softened root vegetable and jammed it in his mouth.
A nod. “Of course. I don’t really need an excuse to pop in to visit Madam, but this gives me more than one reason. Where are you headed?”
“A lead on my family.” Kalen knew that would shut Terrack up faster than claiming royal business and the excuse would prove more effective because the head guardsman could bring it up to the king the next time they met.
Terrack nodded again. “Best of luck to you.”
“Thanks,” Kalen said. “It shouldn’t take too long. Hopefully, I won’t come back to an overflowing dungeon.” Every time he left for more than a few days, he would return to find a queue of prisoners waiting for him to unearth their secrets. Sometimes they were released to their own homes to await his arrival and assessment. Other times they were locked in cells. It made his return something to look forward to even less.
He truly didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up. Kalen had a fear of dying from his gift. His curse. Whatever anyone wanted to call it. The headaches only continued to grow worse, yet the king would never allow him to slow. Another reason to leave the kingdom for a bit of time.
“And one more thing.” Kalen shoved the bowl away. “Can you keep an eye on Ryndel?”
Terrack’s gaze cut to him. Kalen didn’t know how much to divulge, but he didn’t want Ryndel running wild while they were gone. “Is there anything I should be aware of?”
“I’m just a little leery as of late.” He stood and clasped Terrack on the shoulder with his gloved hand. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I return.”
* * *
THE GROUNDS WERE cast in moonlight as Kalen approached the postern at the back of the royal property where it jutted up against the tree line.
Luna waited for him, her own bag hanging from two fingers at her side.
“Let’s leave them here,” he said. They nudged their sacks against the base of the wall.
“What’s the plan?” she asked. “You’re the one that’s good with locks. I don’t exactly need to steal the prisoner away.”
“I need you to distract the guards.”
“Oh great.” She rolled her silvered eyes. “I’m here to charm them with my feminine wiles?”
“If that’s your preferred method. Or I’m sure you have a vial of night lily in one of your pockets.”
Luna was a veritable apothecary. At times she’d pull out the most random of tinctures and dried powders. The night lily would be a vial of crushed pale purple flower petals.
“Is it necessary? It’s my last one.” Luna tucked her hand in her cloak as if to protect it.
One inhale of the poisonous flower and the guards would be out for thirty minutes each. Unfortunately, the petals were rare, and any exposure to air lessened the effectiveness of the powder. There were perhaps a dozen potent doses per vial, and then it would be rendered useless.
“I’ll replenish it when we return, but for now it’s necessary. I don’t want anyone to suspect me, or you, until we are long gone.” Kalen had debated walking in and demanding the guards release the captain, or finding Cirrus to do it for him, but then the King’s Law would know exactly where they’d gone. He would certainly suspect it when he realized Belrose had escaped, but this would hopefully buy them some time. Time he could work with.
Luna nodded, and they snuck through the gate and inside the walls. They darted across the lawn to the dungeon tower entrance, where they crouched in the shadows and caught their breath.
“Try not to make it too obvious, or they are bound to sound the alarm.” Kalen peeked around the corner to make sure they were still alone. “There should only be three guards on watch. A guard or two will be stationed just inside, along with one at each level of the keep. Incapacitate them all, and then we’ll free the captain.”
“What’s the signal for all clear?”
“A whistle is fine.”
Kalen stepped around the side of the tower and waited for Luna to open the door.
He heard a muffled “How can I help you?” and then Luna’s low, smooth voice. A mere minute later and a soft whistle escaped the narrow opening left when the door hadn’t quite closed behind her.
Kalen stepped through and shut the door behind him. He threw the bolt in place and stepped over the guard’s prone body. The guard lay at an odd angle, one arm caught under his side as he had collapsed.
The room was edged in stone bricks, rough and cold gray in color. It was a small space, with three solid doors leading off to holding cells. The solid doors hid the worst of the prisoners. Two rooms were currently empty. The other held a well-spoken aristocrat who had murdered his entire family while they slept. Kalen still struggled with the nightmare of that memory.
Two thin windows cut down the length of the right-hand wall, letting the moonlight slice blades across the floor. A darkened set of stairs led up to the left, and Kalen stepped closer. He listened for Luna’s voice.
“I only need to see him for a moment,” she said.
“I recognize you from somewhere.” A pause. “Wait. What’s that?”
A thump.
“Hey. You. Boy.” The words came from the cell closest to him. Kalen recognized the voice immediately. The aristocrat. “Exhale before you pass out. I know you’re the Questioner, but you’ve never come with a girl before. I wonder what the two of you are up to.”
Kalen heard a whistle and started toward the stairs. He took them two at a time, turned at the landing, and soon reached the second floor. The layout was much the same as the floor below, although this one only held two cells, and the doors themselves contained barred cutouts in the wood, allowing visibility into the rooms lit by dirty windows placed high on the exterior walls.
“How did you get up here?” A third guardsman spoke from the floor above, the words loud as they echoed down the staircase to Kalen.
A face popped up at the bars of one of the doors. “What’s going—Oh. It’s you.” The prisoner glared at Kalen’s gloves and started to turn away before his pale blue eyes caught on the guard lying on the floor. “Say, what do we have here?”
“You’ll keep your mouth shut.” Kalen pulled at the fingers of the glove. “Or you’ll face the consequences.”
The prisoner, a thief who had stolen from the king’s treasury, threw his hands up in surrender and stepped back.
Kalen knew they didn’t have much time left. He bounded up the stairs, his elbow brushing against the rough bricks as he turned onto the upper story. The guard on this landing gripped Luna’s wrist as he tried to peel open her fingers. She twisted her arm to the outside to free herself from his grasp and jammed her knee into his groin. He doubled over with a grunt. Her other hand twisted at the cap of her night lily vial. She waved it quickly in front of his nose, and the guard dropped to the floor, heavy as a stone.
Luna slipped the vial into her cloak pocket and faced Kalen.
“You’re welcome.” She turned to the two cells. “Now which one are you freeing?”
Against one of the barred windows, yet another face wedged itself between the metal rods. “Get me outta here!” The mercenary’s stringy blond hair fell into his face, and his facial hair had grown in fuller since Kalen had seen him last … gone into his mind last.
“Not that one,” Kalen muttered.
The prisoner’s eyebrows knit together, and he spat through the bars. “You think you know everythin’, but you’re nothin’ but a spineless little ferret. I see how much you hate it. Hidin’ behind your gloves and all.”
Kalen ignored him and moved closer to the opposite cell. He peered through the slits. Belrose squatted in a corner, one wrist locked onto a cuff and chain connecting to a metal ring on the wall. He lifted his head and stared at Kalen.
“Hey.” The other prisoner spat again. “I’m talkin’ to you.”
Kalen crouched to look at the door. It was simple enough. Kalen knew his picks would open it quickly. But so would the guard’s keys. Kalen stepp
ed over to the guard and crouched at his side. He dug into his jacket pockets and finally found a key ring attached to a chain clipped to his vest.
“What, no lock picking today? I’m disappointed,” Luna said.
“While I like to keep up my skills, I think the most efficient use of our time is freeing the captain.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll go keep an eye on our friends downstairs.” Her boots whispered across the floor, and she disappeared into the stairwell.
Kalen’s fingers danced through the keys. He finally gripped one and slipped it into the lock. The key turned easily, and he threw open the door.
“What are you doing here?” Belrose scowled at him and shifted upright as much as possible with his wrist caught in the cuff and holding him close to the floor. Unlike the other prisoners, he didn’t seem afraid of Kalen, and his eyes didn’t go straight to Kalen’s hands.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Kalen twirled the keys.
“No.” He stared at him. “You could be here to inflict further pain. Seems to be a common theme around here.”
“I recommended clemency, if you remember.” He knelt at the captain’s side, fighting the urge to turn away from the angry red welts on the captain’s forearm. Instead he stared at the lock and felt his way through the keys again. He knew, even by touch, that none of them would work. He cursed under his breath.
“Your King’s Law has it,” Belrose said.
“Ryndel?” Kalen couldn’t imagine why he would keep the key to the prisoner’s bindings. Terrack perhaps, but not the King’s Law.
Belrose nodded, and Kalen let the keys fall to the ground. He removed his lock-pick tools from his vest pocket.
“You might want to speed it up.” Luna’s voice drifted from below.
“I’m trying,” Kalen shouted down.
The thief on the second floor began to realize this wasn’t a normal interrogation. He rattled the bars and yelled, “Let me out!”
“If you’re freeing people, you could let me go too,” the mercenary chimed in. “I’ll give you part of my treasure.”
Kalen ignored them both and worked the tools into the lock, deftly twisting them until the cuff clinked open and the chain fell to the ground.
