Alric continued to study them. His eyes focused on a twisted mark in the shape of an M on Royce's left shoulder. He squinted and then, out of frustration, snatched the torch from a guard and held it painfully close to Royce's face for a moment. "What is this here? Like a tattoo, but not quite."
"A brand, Your Majesty," Braga replied. "It is the Mark of Manzant. It would seem this creature was once an inmate of Manzant Prison."
Alric looked puzzled. "I didn't think inmates were released from Manzant, and I wasn't aware anyone has ever escaped."
Braga appeared puzzled as well.
Alric then moved to inspect Hadrian. When he observed the small silver medallion that hung around his neck, the prince lifted it, turned it over with mild curiosity, and then let it go with disdain.
"It doesn't matter," Alric said. "I really don't think they look like the type to volunteer information. In the morning have them hauled out to the square and tortured. If they say anything of merit, have them beheaded."
"If not?"
"If not, quarter them slowly. Draw their bowels into the sun and have the royal surgeon keep them alive as long as possible. Oh, and before you do, make certain heralds have time to make several announcements. I want a crowd for this. People need to know the penalty for treason."
"As you wish, sire."
Alric started for the door, and then stopped. He turned and struck Royce across the face with the back of his hand. "He was my father, you worthless piece of filth!" The prince walked out, leaving the two hanging helplessly awaiting the dawn.
– 4 -Hadrian could only guess how long they had been hanging against the wall; perhaps two or three hours had passed. The faceless voices of the other inmates grew less frequent until they stopped entirely, silenced with boredom or sleep. The muzzle covering his mouth became soaked with spit and he found it difficult to breathe. His wrists were sore where the shackles rubbed and his back and his legs ached. To make matters worse, the cold tightened his muscles, making the strain even more painful. Not wanting to look at Royce, he alternated between closing his eyes and staring at the far wall. He did his best to avoid thinking about what would happen when daylight came. Instead, his mind was full of thoughts of self-incrimination-this was his fault. His insistence on breaking rules landed them where they were. Their death was on his hands.
The door opened, and once more, a royal guard, this time accompanied by a woman, entered the cell. She was tall, slender, and dressed in a gown of burgundy and gold silk, which shimmered like fire in the torch light. She was pretty, with auburn hair and fair skin.
"Remove their gags," she ordered briskly.
The jailers rushed to unbuckle the straps and pull off the muzzles. "Now leave us, all of you."
The jailers promptly exited.
"You too, Hilfred."
"Your Highness, I'm your bodyguard. I need to stay to-"
"They are chained to the wall, Hilfred," she snapped and then took a breath to calm herself. "I am fine, now please leave and guard the door. I want no interruptions by anyone. Do you understand?"
"As you wish, Your Highness." The guard bowed and stepped out, closing the door behind him.
She moved forward, carefully studying the two of them. On her belt was a jeweled kris dagger. Hadrian recognized the long wavy blade as the type used by eastern occultists for magical enchantments. Presently he was more concerned with its other use-as a deadly weapon. She toyed with the dragon-shaped hilt as if she might draw it forth and stab them at any moment.
"Do you know who I am?" she asked Hadrian.
"Princess Arista Essendon," Hadrian replied.
"Very good." She smiled at him. "Now who are you and don't bother lying. You will be dead in less than four hours, so what is the point?"
"Hadrian Blackwater."
"And you?"
"Royce Melborn."
"Who sent you here?"
"A man by the name of DeWitt," Hadrian replied. "He is a member of the Duke DeLorkan's group from Dagastan, but we weren't sent to kill your father."
"What were you sent to do?" Her painted nails clicked along the silver handle of the dagger, her eyes intent on them.
"To steal Count Pickering's sword. DeWitt said the count challenged him to a duel here last night at a dinner party."
"And what were you doing in the chapel?"
"That's where DeWitt said he hid the sword."
"I see…" She paused a moment as her mask of stone wavered. Her lips began to tremble, and her eyes well up with tears. She turned away from them, trying to compose herself. Her head was bowed and Hadrian could see her small body lurching.
"Listen," Hadrian said, "for what it's worth, we didn't kill your father."
"I know," she said her back still turned.
Royce and Hadrian exchanged glances.
"You were sent here tonight to take the blame for the murder. Both of you are innocent."
"Are you-" Hadrian began, but stopped. For the first time since their capture, he felt hopeful, but thought better of it. He turned to Royce. "Is she being sarcastic? You can usually tell better than I."
"Not this time," Royce said, his face tense.
"I just can't believe he's really gone," Arista muttered. "I kissed him goodnight-it was only a few hours ago." She took a deep breath and straightened before turning to face them. "My brother has set plans for the two of you. You'll be tortured to death this morning. They're building a platform where you will be drawn and quartered."
"We have already heard the details from your brother," Royce said dismally.
"He is the king now. I can't stop him. He is determined to see you punished."
"You could talk to him," Hadrian offered hopefully. "You could explain that we're innocent. You could tell him about DeWitt."
Arista wiped her eyes with the insides of her wrists. "There is no DeWitt. There was no dinner party here last night, no duke from Calis, and Count Pickering hasn't visited this castle in months. Even if any of that were true, Alric wouldn't believe me. Not a person in this castle will believe me. I am an emotional girl; that's what they'll say. 'She is distraught. She is upset.' I can do no more to stop your execution tomorrow than I could do to save my own father's life tonight."
"You knew he was going to die?" Royce asked.
She nodded, fighting the tears again. "I knew. I was told he would be killed, but I didn't believe it." She paused for a moment to study their faces. "Tell me, what would you do to get out of this castle alive before morning?"
The two glanced at each other in stunned silence.
"I'm thinking anything," Hadrian said. "How about you, Royce?"
His partner nodded. "I'd have to say I'm good with that."
"I can't stop the execution," Arista explained, "but I can see to it that you get out of this dungeon. I can return your clothes and weapons, and I can tell you a way to reach the sewers that run under this castle. I think they will take you out of the city. You should know that I have never personally explored them."
"I…I wouldn't think so," Hadrian said, not really certain he was hearing everything correctly.
"It is imperative that when you escape, you leave the city."
"I don't think that will be a problem," Hadrian explained. "We'd probably do that anyway."
"And one more thing, you must kidnap my brother."
There was a pause as they both stared at her.
"Wait, wait, hold on. You want us to kidnap the Prince of Melengar?"
"Technically, he's the King of Melengar now," Royce corrected.
"Oh, yeah. I forgot," Hadrian muttered.
Arista walked back to the cell door, peeked out the window, and then returned.
"Why do you want us to kidnap your brother?" Royce asked.
"Because whoever killed my father will kill Alric next, and before his coronation, I imagine."
"Why?"
"To destroy the Essendon line."
Royce stared at her. "Wouldn't that place you at ris
k as well?"
"Yes, but the threat to me will not be serious as long as Alric is thought to be alive. He is the crown prince. I am only the silly daughter. Besides, one of us has to stay here in order to run the kingdom and find my father's murderer."
"And your brother couldn't do that?" Hadrian asked.
"My brother is convinced you killed him."
"Oh, right-you have to forgive me. A minute ago I was about to be executed, and now I'm going to kidnap a king. Things are changing a bit fast for me."
"What are we supposed to do with your brother once we've gotten him out of the city?" Royce asked.
"I need you to take him to Gutaria Prison."
"I've never heard of the place," Royce said. He looked at Hadrian, who shook his head.
"I'm not surprised; few people have," Arista explained. "It is a secret ecclesiastical prison maintained exclusively by the Church of Nyphron. It lies on the north side of Windermere Lake. You know where that is?"
They both nodded.
"Travel around the edge of the lake; there is an old road that rises up between some hills; just follow it. I need you to take my brother to see a prisoner named Esrahaddon."
"And then what?"
"That's it," she said. "Hopefully, he will be able to explain everything to Alric well enough to convince him of what is going on."
"So," Royce said, "you want us to escape from this prison, kidnap the king, cross the countryside with him in tow while dodging soldiers who I assume might not accept our side of the story, and go to another secret prison so that he can visit an inmate?"
Arista did not appear amused. "Either that, or you can be tortured to death in four hours."
"Sounds like a really good plan to me," Hadrian declared. "Royce?"
"I like any plan where I don't die a horrible death."
"Good. I will have two monks come in to give you last rites. I'll have your chains removed and the stocks opened so you can kneel. You will take their frocks, lock them in your place, and silence them with the gags. Your things are right outside in the prison office. I will tell the warden that you're taking them for the poor. I'll have my personal bodyguard Hilfred escort you to the lower kitchens. They won't be active for another hour or so. You should have the place to yourselves. A grate near the basin lifts out for sweeping debris into the sewer. I will speak to my brother and convince him to meet me at the kitchens alone. I assume you are capable fighters?"
"He is." Royce bobbed his head toward Hadrian.
"My brother isn't so you should be able to subdue him easily. Be certain not to hurt him."
"This is likely a really stupid question for me to ask," Royce said, "but what makes you think we won't just kill your brother, leave his body in the sewer to rot, and then just disappear?"
"Nothing," she replied. "Like you, I simply don't have a choice."
– 5 -The monks posed little problem and once dressed in their frocks, with hoods carefully drawn, they slipped out of their cell. Hilfred stood waiting just outside and quickly escorted them as far as the entrance to the kitchens where, without a word, he left them alone. Royce, who had always had better night vision, led the way through the dark labyrinth of massive pots and piled plates. Dressed as they were with loose sleeves and long, disabling robes, they navigated this sea of potential disaster where one wrong move could topple a ceramic stack and cause alarm.
So far, Arista's plan was a success. The kitchen was empty. They shed their clerical garb in favor of their own clothes and gear. They located the central basin under which was a massive iron grating. Although it was heavy, they were able to move it out of position without creating too much noise. They were pleasantly surprised to find some iron rungs leading into the void. In the depths below, they could hear the trickle of water. Hadrian looked around and found a pantry filled with vegetables. He felt around until he located a burlap sack filled with potatoes. He quietly dumped out the spuds, shook it as clean as he could, and then rooted around for twine.
They were still a long way from free, but the future was looking considerably better than it had only minutes before. Although Royce had not said a word, the fact that he was responsible bothered Hadrian. Waiting there together, the guilt and silence became overpowering.
"Aren't you going to say 'I told you so'?" Hadrian whispered.
"What would be the point in that?"
"Oh, so you're saying that you're going to hang on to this and throw it at me at some future, more personally beneficial moment?"
"I don't see the point in wasting it now, do you?"
They left the door to the kitchen slightly ajar, and before long, the distant glow of a torch appeared and Hadrian could hear approaching voices. At this signal, they took their positions. Royce took a seat at the table with his back to the entryway. He put the hood of his cloak up and pretended to hunch over a plate of food. Hadrian stood to one side of the door, his short sword raised above his head.
"For Maribor's sake, why here?"
"Because I'm offering the old man a plate of food and a place to wash."
Hadrian recognized the voices of Alric and Arista and surmised they were now just outside the kitchen door.
"I don't see why we had to leave the guards, Arista. There may still be danger. Other assassins could be loose and plotting to kill me, or even you. Have you thought of that?"
"That's why you need to talk to this man. He says he knows who hired the men who killed father, and he refuses to talk to a woman. I get the impression there may be a conspiracy at work here, and I'm not sure who to trust. He said he will only deal with you, and only if you are alone. Don't worry, he's an old man and you're a skilled swordsman. We have to find out what he has to say. Don't you want to know?"
"Of course, but what makes you think he knows?"
"I don't. I don't know anything for certain. But he says he knows. He's not asking for money, just a fresh start. That reminds me, here are some clothes to give him." There was a brief pause. "Look, he seems trustworthy to me. I think if he were lying, he would request gold or land. I'm reserving judgment until I know what he knows, and as I said, he won't tell me anything."
"It's just so-strange. Hilfred is not even with you. It's as if you're walking around without a shadow. It's unnerving is what it is. Just coming down here with you it's…well, you and I, we…you know. We're brother and sister, yet, we hardly see each other. In the last few years, I think I've only spoken to you a dozen times, and then only when we visit Drondil Fields on holiday. You always lock yourself up in that tower doing who knows what, but now-"
"I know, it's strange," Arista replied. "I agree. It's like the night of the fire all over again. I still have nightmares about that evening. I wonder if I'll have nightmares about tonight."
Alric's voice softened. "That's not really my point. It's just that we've never gotten along, not really. But now, well, you're the only family I have left. It seems strange to be saying it, but I suddenly find that matters to me."
"Are you saying you want to be friends?"
"Let's just say I want to stop being enemies."
"I didn't know we were."
"You've been jealous of me ever since mother told you elder daughters don't get to be queen as long as little brothers are around to be king."
"I have not!"
"I don't want to fight. Maybe I do want to be friends. I'm the king now, and I'll need your help. You're smarter than most of the ministers anyway, Father always said so. And you've had university training; that's more than I've had."
"Trust me, Alric I'm more than your friend. I'm your big sister, and I'll look out for you. Now go in there and see what this man has to say."
As Alric entered the door, Hadrian brought the hilt of his sword down on the back of his head. The prince collapsed to the floor with a dull thud. Arista rushed in.
"I said not to hurt him!" she scolded.
"He would be screaming for the guard right now otherwise," Hadrian explained. He tied a gag ar
ound the prince's mouth and placed the sack over his head. Royce was already up from his seat and securing Alric's ankles with twine.
"He's all right though?"
"He'll live," Hadrian told her as he secured the hands and arms of the unconscious prince.
"Which is a whole lot more than he had in store for us," Royce added, pulling tight the noose around the prince's ankles.
"Keep in mind he was certain you killed his father," the princess said. "How would you react?"
"I never knew my father," Royce replied indifferently.
"Your mother then."
"Royce is an orphan," Hadrian explained as they continued to wrap the prince in twine. "He never knew either of his parents."
"I suppose that explains a lot. Well then, imagine how you will treat the person who sent you to the chapel tonight, once you find him. I doubt you will be very charitable when coming face to face with him. In any case, you gave your word. Please do as I ask, and take good care of my brother. Don't forget I spared your lives tonight. I'm hoping that fact will keep you to your word."
She held out the bundle dropped by her brother. "Here is a set of clothes that should fit him. They used to belong to the steward's son, and I always thought he looked about the same size as Alric. Oh, and remove his ring but keep it safe. It bears the royal seal of Melengar and is proof of his identity. Without it, unless you encounter someone who knows his face, Alric is just another peasant. Return it to him when you reach the prison. He'll need it to get in."
"We'll hold up our end of the bargain," Hadrian told her as he and Royce moved the bundled body of the prince toward the open basin. Royce pulled the opulent dark blue ring from Alric's finger and stuffed it in his breast pocket. He then climbed to the bottom of the cistern. Using the rope tied around Alric's ankles, Hadrian lowered him head first to Royce. Once the prince was down, Hadrian grabbed the torch and dropped it to Royce. Then he entered the hole and dragged the grating back into position. At the bottom of the ladder was a five-feet-wide, four-feet-high arched tunnel in which a shallow river of filth flowed.
"Remember," the princess whispered through the metal grid. "Go to Gutaria Prison and speak to Esrahaddon. And please, keep my brother safe."
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