Dark Jenny

by Alex Bledsoe

  “Then do one more thing for me. Even with Tom here on your side, watch your back. There are a lot of secrets in Grand Bruan, and you may trip over others without meaning to. Some people might go to extremes to keep things hidden that have nothing to do with Patrice’s murder, on the off chance you might expose them by accident.”

  I would’ve agreed to anything after that kiss, so I had no problem saying, “Thanks. I’ll be careful.”

  chapter

  SEVEN

  But I wasn’t. When she left, I sighed with almost teenage happiness, which lasted precisely as long as it took Gillian to uncuff himself and remanacle me. “You,” I said, “are a mood-killer.”

  “Duty before pleasure.”

  “That’s why I’m my own boss,” I muttered. I poured myself another drink. My arm had begun to ache almost up to the elbow.

  To my surprise, Gillian poured himself a drink as well. He raised it in salute, then tossed it back in one gulp. “Have you got any questions for me?”

  “I will. I assume if you thought you knew anything, you’d have volunteered it by now.”

  “True. Like you, I’m still collecting information and considering how it fits together. It’s a bit disconcerting to be plotted against.”

  “Even for a Knight of the Double Tarn?”

  He smiled for real. “Don’t believe everything you hear in those ballads. Remember how the queen said I was knighted on her wedding day?”

  I nodded.

  “What she didn’t mention was that I was barely fifteen. I’d lived a sheltered life on a windy piece of rock out in the northern sea. I knew the skills of arms because we had nothing else to do. But I’d never faced a real opponent determined to kill me until Marcus came recruiting.”

  “How did he convince you? Appeal to your patriotism?”

  For the first time, Gillian presented a genuine, full-face smile. “Remember, he wasn’t much older than me. He convinced me that girls would like my scars.”

  I laughed and gestured at the tapestries decorating the room. “You seem to have risen to the challenge. Was he right about the girls?”

  Gillian’s smile turned wistful. “Let’s just say he was, and leave it at that.”

  Since he was being so open all of a sudden, I pressed forward. “So tell me, straight up: Do you think the queen tried to kill you? Or have you killed?”

  “I don’t know.” He pondered for a long moment. “Do you know why we’re called the Knights of the Double Tarn?”

  I shook my head.

  “The next-to-last battle of the wars of unification took place on a narrow isthmus between two tarns. Do you know what a tarn is?”

  Again I shook my head.

  “It’s a lake that’s deceptively deeper than it should be. Some are claimed to be bottomless. And they have currents at different depths that often go in opposite directions. At any rate, when we’d won, Cameron Kern declared that our brotherhood of arms needed a name and chose that.”

  I waited. Gillian wasn’t a man to be rushed, and if I prodded him, he might drop the whole thing.

  “The tarn is a good representation of Grand Bruan society as well. It looks placid from the outside, but it’s made up of levels and currents that often run in opposing directions and at cross-purposes. I have tried to stay above these considerations and simply do my duty, but even that can generate unseen conflicts.”

  I risked a comment. “It’s hard to imagine you and Dave Agravaine in the same organization.”

  “I agree with you,” he said with another little smile.

  “So you believe you might’ve inadvertently antagonized the queen?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to decide. She and I have never been close, but since her marriage we are family, and I’ve respected that.”

  He looked off into one of the tapestries, and I chanced another question. “Are the rumors about the queen and Elliot Spears true?”

  He did not look at me. “Only the two of them know the answer to that.”

  “What do you think?”

  His gaze returned to me, and the little glimmer of candor vanished. “I think it’s time for you to be sequestered somewhere else.”

  Visions of dungeons and torture implements filled my head. “I can sit quietly in the corner, if you’re tired of talking to me.”

  “I don’t mean a cell. This castle has plenty of secure rooms that are quite comfortable, and Sir Robert ordered one readied for you. I’ll go see if it’s done.” He went to the door and paused before opening it. “If I reach any conclusions about today’s events, or if any useful information comes my way, I’ll pass it along.”

  “Thanks.”

  “In return, I’d like your word that you won’t try to escape.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “That was fast. Do you always give your word so casually?”

  “Nothing casual about it. Even if I got out of the castle, I’d still have to get off the island. I believe in luck, but not in miracles.”

  “I see. Well … enjoy your drinks, and I’ll return shortly.”

  He closed the door, and the bolt slid into place. I took another sip of my drink and shook my head. The man had to be the straightest arrow in the quiver, all right.

  I paced around the room some more, pondering what Gillian had told me. Well, trying to ponder it. The promise in Iris Gladstone’s kiss kept intruding, so I finally gave up. I leaned back against the one tapestry-covered wall and let myself fantasize.

  And promptly fell into the open doorway hidden behind it.

  When I got free of the heavy cloth, I saw that the short passage ended at a stairwell that led both up and down, and women’s voices came from beneath me. They spoke in whispers, but the tone was unmistakably urgent. I gathered the manacle chains in my hands to silence them, tiptoed down the dark stone stairs, and stopped when the words became clear.

  “I cannot allow this, Your Majesty!” one woman hissed.

  The answering voice was unmistakably Queen Jennifer Drake’s. “Are you pulling rank on me, Rebecca?”

  The girl Rebecca, the same one who’d been so snotty to Kay and me earlier, snapped, “Rank isn’t important. What if someone sees you? How will you explain it?”

  “The queen’s spending some time alone in the moonlight after a particularly trying day. Who would care?”

  “The queen of Grand Bruan does not worship the moon goddess.”

  “No, but apparently I wear jewelry in my most intimate feminine parts,” she said bitterly. “Who would start a rumor like that? Who would believe it?”

  “I’d rather them believe that,” Rebecca said, “than know you’re a moon priestess.”

  My eyes had adjusted enough that I saw moonlight streaming in from an open door at the bottom of the stairs. Two figures cast long shadows onto the landing.

  “I know you’re scared,” Rebecca continued firmly. “So am I. But I forbid this.”

  “Then you are pulling rank.”

  “Marc will be here tomorrow. He’ll take care of everything. Like he always does.”

  Jennifer said something so softly I couldn’t catch it, but the defeated tone conveyed its gist.

  Rebecca was having none of it. “Then let them pin it on that man with Kay, LaCrosse or whatever his name was. Let them convict some stableboy, or some old enemy of Gillian’s from the wars. It doesn’t matter who takes the blame, as long as it’s not you. Marc needs you, Jennifer. Grand Bruan needs you. And so do we. You’re so close.”

  Jennifer said nothing. I saw her move into the light and head up the stairs toward me. As fast as I dared, I rushed up and closed the door to the lounge. She passed me on the stairs without seeing me in the darkness.

  But I saw her. Beneath the cloak that billowed behind her in her haste, she was totally naked.

  Rebecca followed. A few moments later a door opened and closed above me, and I heard the unmistakable noise of a big dead bolt slamming home.

  I stood in the dark going
over what I’d heard. I’d rather them believe that than know you’re a moon priestess, Rebecca had said. Which meant the queen was breaking her own laws. But why was that against the law in the first place?

  And what exactly was she “so close” to?

  I pulled the handle on the door behind me. It did not budge. I felt for a latch, but found none. I pulled as hard as I could with my good hand and leaned my weight into it. Nothing. I didn’t know if I’d accidentally locked it or it was just stuck, but either way it wasn’t going to open from my side. The only way out was the staircase.

  If I went up, I’d find the equally locked door of the queen’s private chambers. So I went down and emerged into a small courtyard, with tasteful shrubbery and a lone tree providing shade during the day. Faceless stone walls fifteen fight high surrounded it. I saw no other exit, which made sense if this place was intended for royal recreation. Or surreptitious moon worshipping.

  For a moment the night sky mesmerized me. I’d been inside, under ceilings, since I got to Nodlon Castle. This sudden reminder that there was, in fact, a world beyond these walls made me smile.

  Then, from out of the tree’s shadow, emerged Cador, Hoel, and Agravaine.

  They fell into formation, Agravaine in front, the other two behind and to either side. They had shed their armor and wore loose civilian clothes. They weren’t visibly armed, but they were professional soldiers, so against what they saw as an over-the-hill amateur, they didn’t need to be.

  Running wasn’t an option. Neither was calling for help. I couldn’t believe I’d walked into such a blatant trap.

  “Where’s the queen?” Hoel said, puzzled. “We have a message for her—”

  “Shut up,” Agravaine warned. Then he glared at me and said, “Well, if it isn’t the asshole.” His nose was huge by now, swollen and crusted with blood at the nostrils, so that his words came out as Ip it ibn’t the asshobe.

  I looked around. The moonlight provided plenty of illumination and confirmed that not a single weapon-size object lay within reach. I had the emergency knife in my right boot, but with my useless hand and the manacles, I’d never get it out quickly. I was screwed.

  “We have business to finish, and this is as good a place as any,” Agravaine said as he approached. His distorted voice would’ve been comical in any other situation. “You killed Sam and want to pin it on the queen. Now we’ll show you what happens to people who mess with the Knights of the Double Tarn.” He stepped right up to me, fearless because of his backup. He pushed me in the chest like a schoolyard bully.

  My rage flared. Well, hell, I thought. If I’m going down, I’ll go down swinging. And then once more I punched him in the face with every bit of my strength. And like a moron, I instinctively used my right hand again.

  This time the sound was like two bags of muddy gravel crashing together, and if the fresh pain that shot up my arm was any indication, it must’ve been agony for Agravaine. He let out a shriek and stumbled backward, his hands clutching his face. I won’t comment on the sound I made as my fingers gave way like a bundle of dry twigs.

  My punching hand was now officially out of commission, although I used my forearm to block the handle of the spiked club Cador swung at my head. Where the hell had that come from? I kicked Cador in the balls, just before Hoel sucker punched me in the kidney. I fell to my knees but had time to sweep Hoel’s legs out from under him with the manacle chain. He landed on his back and his head struck the ground, hard. He was out.

  Before I could capitalize on this, Agravaine roared out of the dark, blood streaming down his face, and hit me with his whole body. The impact knocked me flat, and he jumped on my chest. Moonlight twinkled on his dagger as he raised it high over me. “I’ll cut your fucking heart out!” he yelled.

  Then he felt my knife under his chin. Drawing it left-handed and with my hands cuffed had not been easy, but I was highly motivated. He froze; his arm was raised to strike, but there was no way he could sweep it down into my chest before I buried my own knife in his neck. If I died, we died.

  Blood from his nose dripped on my face. The only sound was our mutually labored breathing and, for me, the cacophony of my heart.

  “Who goes first?” I asked. I hoped it sounded more like a cool whispered threat than a panicky gasp, but I wouldn’t bet on it.

  One of the other knights moaned. Neither of us dared glance away to see who. I couldn’t make out Agravaine’s eyes clearly, but I knew the dark rage and arrogance in them warred with the realities of his situation.

  “Hello?” a male voice called from upstairs inside the secret passage.

  “Someone’s coming,” Cador said in a pained squeak.

  Agravaine slowly rose. I sat up with him and kept my knife under his chin. As soon as I could get my feet under me, I scrambled backward out of range, trying to look as if I always held my knife left-handed. Cador lifted the unconscious Hoel onto his shoulders, and Agravaine slipped his blade back out of sight. Without a word they vanished back into the shadows beneath the tree. The hinges of a hidden door creaked.

  I backed into the nearest wall and slid to the ground. My hand hurt like my first broken heart. I waited to see what fresh threat would emerge from the secret passage.

  It was Thomas Gillian. “Mr. LaCrosse? Are you down here?”

  “Yeah.” I slid the knife back into my boot before he appeared from the stairwell. He looked at me with a schoolmaster’s disapproval. I said, “Would you believe I wasn’t really trying to escape?”

  “Of course. You gave me your word that you wouldn’t.” If he was being ironic, it was too dry for me to catch. “You seem to be bleeding.”

  “I tripped over my new jewelry.”

  “I see,” he said, as calmly as if he saw this sort of thing every day. “Are you in any condition to make it back up? Your room is ready.”

  “I’ll make it,” I assured him.

  chapter

  EIGHT

  We went up the stairs, through the lounge, and crossed the main hall so quickly that the nobles didn’t have time to demand my head. We went through another door, up a second flight of stairs, and down a wide corridor. We were now above the royal chambers; it meant that, unless you were a lizard capable of scaling sheer rock walls, you couldn’t leave your accommodations without passing the queen’s guards below.

  Gillian opened the huge wooden door at the end of the hall. “Here you go. I think you’ll find everything in order.”

  My hand throbbed with every heartbeat, but I still wondered why Gillian accepted my lame excuse so easily. He couldn’t be that oblivious. He gestured for me to raise my hands and removed the manacles from my wrists. The sense of relief was akin to a burning man’s hitting the water. “Thanks. I’d tip you, but I’m tapped out.”

  “Since I’m a Knight of the Double Tarn, that would be considered an attempted bribe. Best you don’t pursue it.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He nodded and, without another word, left.

  They’d given me a small but lavish guest room. The main door was reinforced, and bars protected the windows; I was as safe as if I’d been in prison, and that may have been the plan. But double mattresses and Bob Kay’s promised supply of ale went a long way toward making jail bearable.

  I rubbed my wrists, careful with my right one. Numbness had set in, but I knew that wouldn’t last. I wanted to sit down, drink myself stupid, and awaken anywhere but in Grand Bruan. Instead, after washing Agravaine’s blood off my face and eating some of the fresh bread set out for me, I paced the room and methodically studied it. All castle rooms had secrets, whether openings into passageways or peepholes for observation. Royalty liked to keep their enemies, as the saying goes, even closer than their friends, and anything embarrassing about the personal habits of a rival was as good as a freshly edged battle ax. Many treaties had been signed, to the consternation of the general populace, to preserve the dignity of a king with a soft spot for little boys or livestock.

  I sp
otted two peepholes right away and plugged them with pieces of the bread. Then I searched even more closely because those were so obvious, I suspected them as decoys. Sure enough, I found a third hidden ingeniously in the mortar between two wall stones, positioned to give a good view of the entire room, especially the bed. I stuffed the sharp end of a quill into that one, on the off chance a peeper might put out his own eye before he noticed it. I found no hidden seams indicating a secret passage and finally declared the room secure.

  The closets and dressers contained clothes that were close enough to my size. I sat on the edge of the huge canopied bed and wrestled my boots off with my good hand. I took off my shirt, soaked Agravaine’s blood out of it in the basin, then hung it up to dry near the fire. I put my trousers neatly between the mattresses, an old bachelor trick to restore the creases. I changed into some comfortably baggy black pants and a nice pullover tunic. All this domestic effort took the last of my energy, so I fell back on the mattress and stared up at the canopy’s design. Like everything else here, it depicted another scene of battle triumph for King Marcus Drake.

  I fell asleep staring at it. My own memories of battle easily conjured the appropriate sounds.

  * * *

  I awoke to a fanfare of horns and cheering. My first thought was, That’s more like it. It was the least I deserved after what I’d been through.

  Then I winced. Way too much sun blasted into the room, and judging from its angle, I’d slept until noon. I rolled out of bed and nearly howled as my injured hand came back to aching life. I stumbled to the window, blinking against the glare, to see what caused the commotion.

  People filled the central courtyard below. Many were the irate guests from the previous night, but now they cheered as if this parade had been the whole reason for their trip. The rest were castle staff and, of course, the entire complement of the Knights of the Double Tarn.

  Another blast of music announced the arrival of, I assumed, King Marcus Drake. Certainly the number of men in armor standing in neat, shiny rows along the parade route implied the visitor was important. Then Bob Kay rode slowly through the gate, followed by a tall man with long brown hair, a beard, and a flowing purple cloak.