by Jane Glatt
The sound of splintering wood echoed down the stairwell and the priest looked up, startled. There was a shout from the top of the stairs and the priest turned wide eyes to him and pointed to a room down the hall.
“The High Bishop is in there. Save him,” the priest said before he dashed up the stairs.
Kane flicked his cloak over the pommel of his sword to make sure it was hidden. He loped down the hall way pounding on two doors and shouting for help along the way. Three priests came out of the rooms and then hurried up the hall towards the sounds of fighting. Then Kane was in front of the final door. He raised his fist to pound on the wood but the door opened and a Kingsguard glared at him, his sword drawn.
“What do you want?”
“The church is under attack,” Kane said. “I was told to warn the High Bishop.”
The expression on the Guard’s face went from annoyance to surprise when he heard the sounds of shouting that trailed down the hall from the stairs. When the Kingsguard turned Kane tried to slip past him and into the room.
“Where are you going?” the Guard asked. He clamped a hand on Kane’s arm and closed the door with his other hand.
“High Bishop,” the Guard said. “There appears to be fighting on the stairs and this man warns of an attack. I’ll take one other Guard to investigate.”
Kane turned his head and followed the direction of the Guard’s gaze.
The High Bishop, his red robes stained black in places, stood holding an iron rod over a red-streaked body. Beldyn. He lay on the same slab of rock that had previously held Neal Ravershaw and Kane swallowed. As with Neal, a priest huddled near the slab with a bowl and a red-stained cloth. Three more Guards were stationed around the room. When the one holding Kane motioned, another Guard drew his sword and came forward.
“What about this one?”
Kane was jerked backwards by the first Guard.
“Leave him. You’re harmless enough, aren’t you old man.” The second man gave Kane’s beard a tug and he grimaced at the pain.
“You’ll come back quickly?” the High Bishop asked.
The second Guard pushed Kane to the floor before replying. “We’ll make sure you and the King are safe,” he said then they were gone, shutting the door after them.
“Bar the door at once,” the High Bishop said. “We’ll let them in when it’s all clear.”
A third Guard moved to door and Kane, on his knees, looked up into Beldyn’s open eyes. A single blink told him that Beldyn was conscious and aware and Kane felt relief flood through him. He stood up, slipped his cloak from his shoulder and drew his sword and knife.
“Untie your King,” he said. He pointed his sword at the guard by the door and forced him away from it. “A true Kingsguard would never allow his king to be treated in such a way.”
“And what would you know about a true Kingsguard anyway, old man,” the Guard sneered at Kane. “I bet you can’t even use that sword.”
Kane stood quietly, his hand steady as he leveled his sword at the Guard’s throat. The man swallowed nervously and sweat beaded his upper lip. Kane smiled.
“Why don’t you tell them who I am Beldyn?”
“This is Kane Rowse, former Captain of the Kingsguard.” Beldyn’s voice was hoarse, as if he’d only used it to scream lately. “And nephew of a former Captain of the Kingsguard. He’s more a true Kingsguard than you could ever be.”
“Rowse!” the High Bishop yelled. “Kill him.”
Kane flicked his gaze eye to the man he held at sword point before he looked over at the High Bishop, the priest and finally the other Kingsguard. Neither Guard had moved at the High Bishop’s order.
“I suggest you keep the priests under control if you want to live through this,” Kane said quietly. “You and your partner here.” He twitched his hand and his blade flicked just enough to break the skin on the Guard’s throat. A small bead of blood welled up and the man swallowed again.
“I said kill him!” the High Bishop screamed. He threw the iron rod he held.
Kane ducked and the rod smashed into the Guard behind him with a sickening crunch. The man crumpled to the ground, his skull dimpled in, and the rod rattled to the stone floor. Kane sprang sideways when the High Bishop grabbed at the tools on the rack beside him. With a downward thrust of his knife, Kane caught the left arm of the priest when he launched himself at his legs. The man screamed in pain and Kane kicked free of him, moving toward the High Bishop.
Kane turned and a second iron rod struck him in the back. He winced and sucked in a breath. He switched his knife to his right hand and in one smooth movement he rose and spun, throwing the knife with all his strength. It caught the High Bishop in the right hand, the force of his throw sending the blade through the flesh and into the wood of the rack with a thud. The High Bishop screamed and clutched at the knife with his left hand. Blood ran from his hand and pooled on the floor. Gasping for breath, Kane raised his sword at the last Kingsguard who faced him, sword drawn.
“I have no argument with you,” Kane said. “I simply want Beldyn. But if you fight me both you and the High Bishop will die.” The Guard turned to look at the High Bishop, who still clutched at the knife that held him trapped. He looked back at Kane, nodded and lowered his sword.
Kane warily stepped over to Beldyn. With his sword he carefully sliced through the ropes that bound him and gently peeled them away from his raw skin.
“Can you stand and walk Beldyn?”
“I think so,” Beldyn said. He sat up and swung his feet over the side of the block. Kane grabbed the boy’s shoulder to steady him. When Beldyn’s bare feet touched the ground his breath hissed out of him.
“We need to go.” Kane looped Beldyn’s right arm over his left shoulder, keeping his sword arm free. At the door, Kane slid the bolt and maneuvered Beldyn through it. He grabbed his cloak from the floor and turned and looked across the room at the High Bishop.
“Valden, I’ll gift my knife to you. It’s old steel, just like the ones you had been collecting for Duke Thorold. Perhaps he’ll be satisfied with that.”
Kane turned and left the room, slamming the door shut on his way. The sounds of fighting were louder in the hallway and he tensed when he heard booted feet on the stairs. He let Beldyn slide to the floor and pushed the cloak over the boy’s naked body. Kane squared himself in the hall, sword ready. And smiled when he saw gray uniforms turn the corner.
Brenna paced the room, two steps one way, two steps back. The room in the White Whale was way too small to hold her anxiety. She gripped her knife hard, her hand white from the pressure. Where was Kane? He should be out by now. He’d expected this to be quick, over before she was due to dine with King Mannel and she was a half hour late for that already. When they hadn’t been able to contact Martyn and Eryl, she’d been worried, but now she was frantic. Where was Kane?
She reached out through the old steel. She could sense him, his weapons anyway, but there was something blocking her, as if she was trying to find him in a dense fog. She knew he was there but she could feel someone else as well, someone who made her skin twitch.
“Jemma,” she called. “Where’s Kane?”
“He’s not here yet Brenna,” Jemma said, her tone soothing. “I told you that Gaskain said the Kingsguard arrived a few minutes earlier than expected but that he has more than enough men to hold them off. They’ll get him out. They’ll get them both out.”
“But where is he?” Brenna asked. “I should be able to feel him clearly, not this muddle. And what about Martyn? I can’t feel him either.”
“Maybe you’re tired,” Jemma suggested. “You’ve been at this for hours. I know I’m tired and you’re the one using your power. Besides, you’d know if Kane was hurt, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, I would. Maybe I am just tired.” Brenna severed the connection and went back to her pacing.
“No word yet?” Dasid asked from where he sat on the bed. He’d been in the room’s only chair until Brenna had started kn
ocking into while she paced.
“No. Jemma says to wait.”
“Then we should wait,” Dasid said.
She glared at him for being so calm while she was worried to distraction. There was no point going to King Mannel’s yet, she wouldn’t be able to concentrate, let alone eat, until she heard from Kane.
“Brenna,” Kane called and she slid to her knees in relief.
“I’m here. Are you all right?” He had to be all right she thought, he had to be.
“I’m fine. Beldyn’s hurt but he’s with me. We’re safe.”
“Kane and Beldyn are safe,” she said out loud to Dasid.
“I’ll let the others know,” he said and left the room.
“Kane, what happened? I couldn’t track you. There was something odd about your old steel.”
“Huh.” She heard his grunt of surprise. “It could be my knife. I had to leave it behind,” Kane said. “I used it to pin the High Bishop to the wall. That might have confused you.”
“His blood and his flesh,” she said. “He’s still alive?” An old steel weapon embedded in the living flesh of non-Brother, could that be the cause of the murkiness?
“Yes,” Kane replied. “I didn’t want to risk Beldyn for the sake of killing the High Bishop.”
“Of course not.”
“We met up with Gaskain’s troops in the church,” Kane said. “We’re on our way to meet with Gaskain and the rest of his force.”
“Stay safe,” Brenna said. Relieved, she tucked her knife back into its sheath. She was over an hour late for her dinner with King Mannel. She hoped he would understand. She headed to the door to track down Dasid and the others.
“Brenna.”
She stopped in the middle of the street and gripped her knife. “Jemma? Are you all right?” Dasid, Pater and Wils looked at her and Brenna waved for them to follow her as she ducked into an alley. “It’s Jemma,” she said and the three men took up sentry positions around her.
“I have news,” Jemma said. “Bad news. Eryl’s dead.” Jemma paused. “And Martyn is missing.”
“Eryl …” Brenna said aloud. Her legs gave out and Dasid grabbed hold of her. She leaned into him and closed her eyes in grief. “Are you sure?” she asked Jemma.
“Yes. Guild Master Brunger sent word. He had it from a man named Larkly who saw Eryl killed by the guard during the riot. Brunger said it was a reliable witness.”
“Yes,” Brenna replied. “Larkly has been in Eryl’s gang for years.” She turned to Dasid. “Eryl’s dead. The Guard killed him during the riot.”
Brenna wiped a tear from her eye. Eryl, the first true friend she’d made in Kingsreach. When she’d arrived in the city heartbroken and naïve after running away from Thorold and his murder of her mother, Eryl had helped her.
“Brenna, there’s more,” Jemma called. “Eryl was disguised and only a few people knew what he looked like. Martyn was one of them. This man Larkly, he said,” Jemma paused again and Brenna could feel her distress. “He said that Martyn was the one who pointed Eryl out to the Guard.”
“Oh no.” Brenna looked over at Pater. “Are you sure?” If it was true it would break the old man’s heart.
“No,” Jemma replied. “Martyn couldn’t have done such a thing, could he? Larkly swears he saw it. Martyn was taken away by the Guard and they came after Eryl. No one has seen Martyn since.”
“Ask Marcus to keep looking for him,” Brenna said. “Maybe there’s another explanation.” Even as she said it she didn’t believe it - as much as she disliked Larkly, the man wouldn’t accuse another resident of the Quarter of something this appalling unless he was positive. How many times had Eryl said that the Quarter looked after its own? And now he’d been betrayed by one of its own.
Brenna turned to her companions. “Eryl’s dead,” she said again out loud. “He was killed during the riot.” She reached a hand out to Pater. “Jemma says that Martyn is missing. They’ll keep looking, but they fear the worst.” No need to tell him that the worst included betrayal.
“He’ll turn up,” Pater said, his voice hoarse. “He has to. His ma will be devastated if somethin’s happened to him.”
“I hope he will,” Brenna said. She stepped up to Pater and hugged him. “I hope he will.”
“Brenna,” Dasid said after a few minutes. “I know it’s difficult but we really do need to go.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Brenna smoothed her shirt over her knife. She closed her eyes and straightened her shoulders. She’d have to mourn Eryl and Martyn later. Tonight she had work to do.
Furious, Thorold strode down his hallway, tying his robe as he went. Whoever had disturbed him had better have a very good reason or be prepared to suffer. He pushed the doors to his salon open and they banged loudly against the walls.
“What is the meaning of this!” he demanded. “Captain Barton,” he said, seeing the blue uniform clad figure. “What is going on?”
“Beldyn is missing and High Bishop Valden has been injured,” Barton said and Thorold felt his heart clench tight.
“What do you mean Beldyn is missing? He was under your protection! Yours and the High Bishop’s.” Thorold sat down heavily on a chair near the door.
“It was Kane Rowse, my Lord. He broke into the church and stole the boy away.”
“Stole the boy away,” Thorold said, feeling his anger rising. “I thought you made sure the church was secure after the last disaster with Avery’s captain.” He glared at Barton. “Well?”
“We did my Lord. We had half a dozen Kingsguard in the basement as well as four weapons-trained priests in the church. Rowse was able to get past them. They had a sizeable force that surrounded and then entered the church.”
“A sizeable force. How did they get into the city? And what about the Kingsguard?” Thorold asked. “Where were they during all this?”
Barton paled and looked away.
“There was a riot near the castle my Lord, over two thousand men, women and children looking for food. Most of the Guard were keeping the crowd under control. When we heard about the disturbance at the church it took us too long to regroup.”
“It was planned!” Enraged, Thorold jumped to his feet and stood glaring into Barton’s eyes. “The riot to keep the Guard busy was a ruse. And you fell for it Captain. You’ve failed me again.” He stepped back from the man, sure that if he’d been wearing a weapon Barton would be dead at his feet by now.
“We knew about the riot in advance, my Lord,” Barton said. “We were out in force to capture the ring leader, a thief by the name of Eryl Fentin.” Barton looked up. “We’re told that he was very close to Brenna Trewen. Your previous orders were to capture or kill anyone close to her.”
“But not at the cost of losing my son! Who told you about this riot?”
“A fruit peddler from Thieves Quarter, my Lord. His mother was being readied to go to the mines. He told us about the riot and promised to point out Eryl Fentin in exchange for her safety.”
“And did you think to ask him why they were rioting?” Thorold asked.
“No my Lord,” Barton said. “An error on my part.” He held a knife out to him, hilt first. “This belonged to him.”
Thorold snatched the knife from Barton’s hand. As soon as he touched it he knew what it was. He flung the knife at a mirror - it smashed the glass and fell to the floor. “The Brotherhood,” Thorold spat. “You let yourself be tricked by the Brotherhood.”
“I’m sorry my Lord,” Barton said. “But the information about the thief was correct. He was exactly where we were told he would be.”
“So he gave us the thief but not the witch or Rowse,” Thorold said. “And Beldyn is gone. Where is the thief now?”
“He’s dead my Lord,” Barton said. “He refused to surrender and my men had no choice.”
“And the fruit peddler?” Thorold asked. “I trust you didn’t reward him.”
“No my Lord,” Barton said. “Both he and his mother have been handed over
to the witch haters.”
“That should suffice for them,” Thorold said. “I’m sure the witch haters are very unsettled tonight. And Captain, I will not allow you to fail me again. You must retrieve my son.” He jabbed a finger at Barton. “Or better yet, bring me Kane Rowse. With him I can get that witch. Yes, bring me Kane Rowse.”
“Yes my Lord. I will do that.” Barton turned to leave the room.
“Have the High Bishop sent here. The church obviously can’t be defended and I see no reason to put myself in danger by visiting him there.”
“Yes my Lord,” Barton said and left.
Thorold sat back down. After the mistakes he’d made, if Barton didn’t find Rowse, he’d be wise to die trying. But for now he had to dress for his discussion with the High Bishop. Unfortunately that sweet he had in his bedroom – what was her name? ah yes, Carolie – unfortunately she would have to wait. And he’d barely begun to play with her.
Someone would pay for tonight’s failure. He would prefer it to be Kane Rowse but the girl would help take the edge off his anger.
nineteen
Brenna stared at her plate and tried to concentrate on what King Mannel was saying but her thoughts kept returning to Eryl. It didn’t seem possible that he was dead. She wanted someone to tell her it was a mistake, that Eryl was playing a joke on her. Thieves Quarter wouldn’t be the same without him - she wouldn’t be the same without him. And Martyn! What could have made him betray Eryl when he was helping the Brotherhood? The Brotherhood that Martyn had been so proud to be part of? She shook her head and looked up to find five sets of eyes looking at her.
“I’m sorry,” she said. She felt the warmth of her blush creep over her face. “I’m a little tired this evening. You were saying?”
“I was just asking if you had come up with any young men my daughter might want to meet,” Mannel said. He smiled over at Evlan, who looked back at her father, pleased.
