Sentinals Justice: Book Three of the Sentinal Series

by Helen Garraway

  Taelia gasped, though she nodded. “I’m sorry, I’m just so happy.”

  “Well, wait till you see him. He might not even be there.”

  “He will be. Jerrol was sure Lady Guin’yyfer was being held at the Summer Palace. That is where he would have gone,” she replied, demurely smiling as she heard the grand duke arrive.

  Birlerion stood away from the door and stiffened impersonally as Randolf passed. Randolf’s lips twitched, but he refrained from comment and Birlerion breathed a sigh of relief. The Grand Duke had gotten to know them quite well the past few days, between Taelia and the Grand Duke, Birlerion wasn’t sure his position as a lieutenant in the Elothian army would hold for much longer. Owen acted as if he was still under his command, and to be honest Birlerion was most comfortable as a Chevron lieutenant. He didn’t remember being a Sentinal. The conflicting memories confused him, and although he answered to Birlerion, Leyandrii’s absence and the growing sense of loss threatened to consume him and he avoided thinking about what that meant. Marianille and Niallerion were here, that was enough to anchor him, for now.

  The Duke and Taelia both seemed to think the Captain would be waiting for them at the Summer Palace ready to hand them what they both wanted on a plate, and probably tied up in a nice bright ribbon.

  Birlerion sighed as he mounted his horse and fell in behind the carriage. Owen scowled at him as he passed to the front. They hadn’t even left yet and he was already in a foul mood. Birlerion made sure Marianille was perched on top of the baggage carriage, and then he tugged his cloak tighter around him as he settled in for what he trusted would be a peaceful journey to the Summer Palace. He cast a glance up at the brooding clouds, and hoped they would reach their overnight stop before the snow began to fall.

  41

  Summer Palace, Elothia

  The Summer Palace seemed to hover above the early morning mists clinging to the river that lazily looped around it. The sheer, grey stone walls were more reminiscent of a fortified castle than a palace, especially with the serrated edging around the battlements connecting the four round towers, which guarded each corner. The only way in, was, as Jerrol had said, to walk up to the front door. Jerrol didn’t stop. He kept his column marching up to the river crossing where he arrogantly demanded the ferryman transport them over, refusing to pay the toll. The grand duke’s army never paid a toll.

  Cursing his luck, the ferryman unhooked the rope and ferried them over, glowering silently at Jerrol. Jerrol ignored him and observed the palace instead. It looked deserted. The stone walls towered over them as they reformed on the other side of the river. He glanced back at Landis. “Remember, lieutenant. Third Chevron, unit three, lately from Retarfu. Leave the talking to me.”

  Landis nodded, happily relegated to a lieutenant.

  Jerrol searched out the Sentinals. “Try to blend in; let’s not alert them to the fact that we have Sentinals in our midst.” Yas made a face at Serenion. She had rejoined them at the ferry crossing, slipping into the ranks unnoticed. Their silver eyes didn’t always attract attention, though they both studiously looked at the floor and bowed their shoulders slightly. Taurillion grinned and stuck close to Jerrol; he hadn’t let the Captain out of his sight, and he wasn’t going to start now.

  Jerrol marched straight up to the palace and halted his column at the gate. He strode forward, alone. “Captain Finn, Third Chevron, unit three, reporting for duty,” he snapped to the guard on sentry duty.

  The guard almost dropped his logbook in shock. “I-I’m sorry, sir, but we are not expecting anyone.”

  “That is not my problem,” Jerrol said. “I have a unit of the Third Chevron here to take over the security of the palace, in preparation for the visit of His Grace, Grand Duke Randolf the fourteenth.”

  “W-what? The grand duke is coming here?” the guard squeaked in horror.

  “That’s what I said,” Jerrol said, glaring at the guard.

  “Y-Yes, sir, if you would follow me, sir.”

  Jerrol stared at the guard. “You would leave the gate unattended?”

  “Yes, sir, there’s only me. I need to let you into the palace.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Private Mattison, sir.”

  Jerrol turned to his unit and glared at Landis. Landis struggled to keep his face straight. “Lieutenant, assign two guards to man the gate; the rest of you, follow me.” He turned back to Mattison and gestured for him to lead the way. “Who else is here?”

  “A housekeeper and the steward, a few maids and footmen. Oh, and an aunt of the grand duke and her retinue are staying in the East Tower. They keep themselves to themselves. We don’t really see them as she has her own cook and servants.” The private struggled with the lock in a small door set in the larger gate. Jerrol watched in resignation. Oh, how the mighty are fallen, he thought as he stepped through the palace defences.

  “What happened to the rest of your unit?”

  “They were recalled, sir. A relief unit was supposed to have been sent months ago, but they never arrived. I guess you must be it, sir?”

  “I suppose I must be,” Jerrol said, barely a quiver in his voice. “Very well, show us the barracks so my men can settle in, and then lead me to the steward.”

  Mattison led them to the barracks on the outer edge of the west tower, where Landis began blandly assigning beds.

  “Mattison, give Lieutenant Landis the gate key. I think you’ve been on gate duty long enough. It must be time for you to have a rest.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mattison gladly handed Landis the key. Jerrol turned away from the expression on Landis’ face and glared at Taurillion. “Taurill, with me,” he said, gritting his teeth.

  “Yes, sir.” Taurillion stepped up to his shoulder.

  Jerrol looked at the eager young guard. “Do you have a map of the palace? My lieutenant needs to assign posts.”

  “Yes, sir,” he rifled through some papers on a shelf and held out a shaking hand.

  “Excellent.” He inspected it before handing it to Landis. “Where do you sleep, private?”

  “In there, sir.”

  Jerrol peered into what looked like a small storeroom. He looked at the private and nodded and then led the way out of the barracks. “The steward. What is his name?” he asked as they mounted the steps to the main entrance hall.

  “Bracken, sir, and the housekeeper is Mrs Stokes.”

  “Well, Private Mattison, let’s hope they are better at withstanding shocks than you are,” Jerrol said as he followed the boy down the corridors and into the palace kitchens before dismissing him back to the barracks.

  They were not. Bracken had to catch Mrs Stokes as she half fainted when she heard the grand duke was arriving.

  “He’s not arriving today,” Jerrol snapped, losing his patience. “I am here to prepare for when he does arrive. You need to stock the kitchens, open the state apartments, lay the fires, clean the house,” he said, wiping the dust off the sideboard.

  “We don’t have the staff, sir,” the steward stuttered.

  “Who do you have?”

  “Apart from us, six maids and four footmen, and the guard,” he added as an after-thought.

  “How many staff does the duke’s aunt have? And what is her name?”

  “Lady Agatha has two maids, her cook, a page, and two guards.”

  “I see. Well, I will speak to her about borrowing her staff, as well. But I would suggest it is about time that your staff earn the money His Grace pays them.”

  Bracken started at the bite in Jerrol’s voice and nodded, his eyes bulging with fear.

  “I have sixteen men in the barracks. They will be on roving patrols on six-hour shifts. I assume you have enough supplies to feed us? I expect you to have meals available for those who are off duty. It will be cold enough outside without them going hungry. Am I understood? They will eat in the staff hall. The grates in the barracks need preparing, and the beds need linen and blankets.”

  “Yes, sir,” Br
acken replied, in a daze.

  “I suggest your footmen start chopping wood and preparing the grates. It will take some time to warm this palace up. I imagine we have two weeks to prepare, if we are lucky. If you have staff you can call on, then I suggest you get them here, now. Advise my lieutenant of anyone you expect to arrive at the palace; if they are not approved, they will not be allowed entry, even if it is a routine delivery of milk. If they are not on the list, they will not be granted entry, do you understand?” Jerrol softened his voice upon seeing their terrified faces.

  “Yes, sir.” Bracken was incapable of saying anything else, and Mrs Stokes looked like she was about to swoon again.

  “Where is the captain of the guard normally based? Are there rooms near the grand duke’s apartments?”

  “Yes, sir, in the south tower.”

  “Prepare those first. I will move in tonight.”

  “Yes, sir,” Bracken whispered.

  “Thank you. I know this is a shock, but I am sure you will all manage fine. After all, the grand duke has been in residence before, hasn’t he?” His words did not seem to reassure the staff as he had hoped. “Very well, I will leave you to it,” he said as he turned and left, Taurillion behind him. He let his breath out in a whoosh. “Well, that didn’t go so well, did it?”

  “Once they get over the shock, things may improve,” Taurillion replied.

  “What do you reckon on the aunt? Real or not?”

  Taurillion pursed his lips. “I would think not; the staff would know if there were any other captives in the palace.”

  “I’m not so sure, with so few to guard them?”

  “Ascendants rely on their powers to restrain. They don’t believe they need very many people, Captain.”

  “True. Let’s check out the south tower, see what view I have.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jerrol laughed as they left the kitchens and crossed the empty dining hall. Their footsteps echoed as they skirted what looked like a private temple. Carved wooden screens guarded the temple entrance, and the scent of lilies drifted on the air as they passed. Peering into the small chambers that lined either side of a narrow passage they arrived at the base of the stone stairs that spiralled up the south tower. “Keep your eyes open for any of Lady Agatha’s people,” Jerrol murmured as he led the way up the stairs. The first landing opened into an airy study, across from which sat an empty office. A library extended between the duke’s study and the east tower.

  Continuing to the second floor, they reached an ornate door which led to an opulent bed chamber, and across the hallway were the captain’s rooms, comprised of a small bedroom and a tiny office with a desk and a chair. Jerrol shivered. The rooms had not been aired in months. He walked back into the grand duke’s bed chamber and gazed out of the window. The tower looked south over the river; he could just see the gleam of water curving off towards Vespiri.

  He rotated, figuring that the north tower would have a view of the ferry crossing, and the west tower would overlook the other river crossing, and the east tower looked towards the ridge; no roads, rivers, or sight of visitors. He hoped they hadn’t noticed the arrival of the grand duke’s new guards. All the same, he would have Landis position guards in all four towers. With two on the gate and one roving per floor, that was nine guards per shift. They would all have to pitch in for twelve-hour shifts and not the six he had hoped for.

  He descended the stairs in deep thought. Lady Agatha and her people were bound to notice the sudden activity. If it was Lady Guin’yyfer being detained, then they needed to ensure that the Ascendants didn’t make off with her before he could rescue her. He was the most likely person an Ascendant would recognise if they were familiar with Vespers.

  Arriving in the barracks, he called Landis over. “This place is bigger than it looks. We need two guards on the gate, one in each tower, and one roving for each floor. Oh, and guests are in the east tower. Go careful; we don’t want to scare them away. Split the Sentinals. You know the drill.”

  “Got it,” Landis turned away to issue instructions.

  Glancing around the barracks, Jerrol realised that the fires were lit, and the beds were made. “My rooms are in the south tower; office on the first floor, bed on the second. Both you and the Sentinals can use my office when I’m not on duty.”

  Landis nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Have you got that map? We need more copies.”

  “I’ve got young Perks copying it out for us.”

  “Is he now?” Jerrol eyed the lad conscientiously copying at the table. “You found some paper?”

  “Yeah, the steward came by with some when he got the lads to clear the fires. He said he would leave some in your rooms.”

  “Good, I’ll leave you to it. I suggest you put Mattison in with the lads and take his room.”

  “Already done, sir. The lads already moved him. Yaserille has the other room.” Landis grinned as Jerrol raised his hands in surrender.

  “I’ll be in my office. Put me as a roving for the night shift.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Avoid the east tower, for now. We’ll deal with them tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  42

  Summer Palace

  In the end, it was Jerrol who first met the Ascendant Pev’eril in the deep of the night as he patrolled the second floor. The explosive exclamation as Pev’eril rounded the gallery had Jerrol swinging around in response, sword drawn.

  “Who are you? Where is Mattison?” Pev’eril peered through the gloom, his once plump face pinched and drawn and nothing like the assured man who had led the young lord of Deepwater astray.

  “Your worst nightmare,” Jerrol replied.

  Pev’eril flinched at the sound of his voice. “Haven,” he exclaimed in shock, beginning to back away. “How did you get here?”

  Jerrol advanced on the Ascendant who had caused so much trouble in Deepwater. “Those who kill guardians have to pay the price in the end,” he said.

  “We’ll kill her, with just one word.”

  “No, you won’t,” he replied as he swung his sword at the unprepared man. His blade penetrated cloth and skin and he twisted, thrusting his sword deeper. Jerrol stood, frowning over the crumpled body. The man was pale and gaunt, a shadow of his former self. Whatever they had been doing here had drained his power and his health. Jerrol had not expected to overcome him so easily. He hoped the second Ascendant would be just as easily overpowered.

  Serenion burst out from the top of the stairs of the north tower. “I heard voices,” he said as Jerrol pivoted to meet him. Serenion had been patrolling the floor below.

  “Ascendant Pev’eril and I were having a short discussion,” Jerrol replied, relaxing his grip on his sword as he rolled the body over with his foot.

  Serenion crouched and searched the man. He held up an ornate key, and Jerrol looked at it thoughtfully before slipping it in his pocket.

  “Let us deal with the second Ascendant, before he realises his companion is missing. We need to speak to him first, though, find out what they have done to Lady Guin’yyfer. Check the rest of the chambers on this floor.” Serenion darted off down the corridor, silently opening doors while Jerrol dragged Pev’eril’s body into the shadows.

  Once Serenion confirmed the floor was deserted, they silently traversed the galleries to the east tower. On reaching the ornate double doors which led into Lady Agatha’s suite, Jerrol paused and listened intently. All was silent behind the wooden doors. According to the floor plan, there would be an antechamber which led off to three bed chambers and then the main suite. He lifted the latch and eased open the door as Serenion followed behind him, his staff at the ready. The chamber was lit by the soft glow of a candle. Signs of occupation, an open book, a half-empty glass, indicated that Pev’eril had been standing the night watch. A hollow cough from a room off to the left had Jerrol raising an eyebrow, and Serenion drifted over to investigate.

  Jerrol tried to lift the wrought
iron latch on the more ornate door and released it as it resisted. He eyed the keyhole before moving to check the door of the next chamber. The latch lifted, and he eased the door open. An older woman wearing a lacy nightcap was snoring gently in the moonlight. He shut the door without disturbing her.

  Serenion silently returned. “Looks like a sick room, pasty-looking dark-haired man in bed, asleep but restless. There’s a whole apothecary next to his bed.”

  Jerrol nodded at the ornate door. “The Lady Guin’yyfer is locked in. The maid is asleep in there. The other servants must be upstairs. Let us have a quiet chat with her protector.”

  Serenion flashed a quick look at the Captain’s face, noticing the edge in his voice, but he followed.

  Jerrol paused by the bedside of the sickly man and stiffened, his face darkening with anger. “You,” he snarled as he grabbed the man’s neck. The Ascendant gasped awake, choking, his fingers scrabbling at the hand viciously squeezing his throat. His eyes bulged as he recognised the man standing over him.

  “He needs to breathe,” Serenion cautioned, and Jerrol reluctantly eased his grip.

  The man coughed, trying to draw breath, and then he began babbling. “It wasn’t my fault, they made me do it. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “What did they make you do?” Jerrol asked his voice cutting.

  “They made me subdue the Lady Guin’yyfer; we only used the gentler drugs; trealt, valenia, nothing permanent.”

  “You used trealt on the Lady Guin’yyfer?” Jerrol said, and the man flinched at the expression on his face. “This is Isseran, the ex-Chancellor of Vespiri,” he said, as if introductions were needed. “Though I suppose that’s not your name, is it? Who are you really?” Jerrol gritted his teeth and tightened his grip as Isseran hesitated.

  Isseran blanched at his expression. “Alright, alright. It’s Iss’aren.”

  “Ascendant Iss’aren. You tried to kill King Benedict using trealt.”