Vivi turned to Fain. “I think he’s talking about you.”
“You know what? I think you’re right.”
“ I will find you, and when I do, I will make you feel my wrath a thousand times over, until you beg for death!”
“Isn’t that a shame?” Fain had a feral smile on his face. “I think we’ve upset him.”
“I’m wracked with remorse.”
“ I will grind your bones to make my bread, MacTíre!”
“Now he’s just being silly.”
They kept careful watch on the fighting force. Brannon had set them to ransacking the keep, looking for clues as to where the men might have gone. They’d expected that, and Fain and Connelly had burned every scrap of paper they weren’t bringing with them. After a few hours, men began emerging into the woods, gathering firewood, and bringing down what game they could find. Brannon was preparing to stay in the keep and search it thoroughly.
Fain nodded grimly at the news. They had assumed he would, but now that they knew for certain, they had to resolve another dilemma. He and Vivi stood among the lichen and mushrooms, arguing.
“If they catch you, they’ll kill you!” Vivienne was adamant. “We know he wants me alive. Let me go.”
“So instead I should let you risk being captured again, and forced to marry that black-hearted tyrant?”
The only way into the keep was through a gate or over the walls. The gates were guarded, and there was a security patrol manning the walls. Whoever went was going to have to scale the wall: not a difficult thing to do by itself, but there was a high risk that they’d be spotted.
She begged. “Please, Fain, please. If something happened to you my heart would stop.”
“I know the feeling,” he murmured back. He gently cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. Vivi pressed into the kiss, sealing her body against his, molding herself to him.
The moment was broken by the gruff sound of Connelly clearing his throat. “Oh fer the love of all creation, give me mushrooms. I’ll go. Just cease yer constant moonin’.”
“No, Connelly.” Fain broke off the kiss, and took a step backwards. “Vivi is going to let me go this time.”
“I am?”
“You are. This isn’t just about you and me. Albion needs you to return, safe and sound, and without an insane, power-hungry husband who will poison your lawful king the first chance he gets. No one needs me.”
“ I need you,” she whispered back, but she knew she was losing this argument. She thought of her mother, and how Isabelle had given up her husband and daughter for so many years to prevent a war between the two nations. She had understood, but she hadn’t felt the truth of it deep inside. Not until now.
It hurt.
Fain was watching her in silence.
“If you don’t come back—” Her voice caught. “If you don’t come back, Fain MacTíre, I will never forgive you.”
He caught her hand, a wealth of feeling in his eyes. Against her side she felt the reassuring brush of fur, as Grey Tip pressed into her hip, comforting her as well. She let her free hand come to rest on the top of the wolf’s head.
Then she snatched it off.
“How did you get here ?!”
The pack leader wuffed in amusement, and lolled his tongue at her. She stared at him in amazement. They were in the mushroom cave, and the Shapherds were watching the entrance. There was no way for the wolf to come in, unless...
“Connelly!” Vivi tore across the cave, to where the little medic sat among the toadstools. “There’s an entrance here, isn’t there?” She was breathless. “Into Fa—”
Connelly cleared his throat sharply.
“Into the mist, I mean. There’s an entrance. I know it.” She was practically hopping with excitement. “Tell me there’s an entrance!”
“Aye, lassie,” he drawled. “Though it took ye a si ght longer than I expected ta figure it out.”
Vivienne flung her arms around him, and then dashed back across the cavern to where Fain was standing, bewildered at her sudden madcap motions.
“ We can both go! And Brannon’s men will never be the wiser!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Fain stared at Connelly. “You’re joking, right?”
“Not this time, lad.” The little man held out a long wooly scarf.
“You want me to blindfold myself?”
“Fain,” Vivi broke in anxiously, “there are things in the—” she hesitated, “—passageway, that you shouldn’t see. Really.”
“You’re lying again.” He scrutinized them both, closely. “What is it you aren’t telling me?”
Oddly, he wasn’t angry. He trusted Vivienne and Connelly. If they weren’t telling him something, then they must have a good reason. But he was on fire with curiosity.
“’tis a family secret, lad. We canna tell ye.”
“But you aren’t related.” He gave a quizzical smile.
“’Tis a bit of a far-flung relation, but sure enough, ’tis there.”
Vivienne looked struck. “I had never considered it that way.”
“Now ye know why I tolerate yer foolish ways, lass.” Connelly grinned.
“So, let me get this straight,” Fain interrupted their interchange. “There is a secret tunnel running from this cave to Connelly’s still room in the keep. For some reason, you don’t want me to see what is in the tunnel, so Vivi is going to lead me in, blindfolded?”
Connelly nodded vigorously, while Vivienne answered him. “That’s more or less the sum of it.”
“You’re both crazy.” But he was taking the scarf as he said it. Vivienne helped him tie it securely, and Connelly handed him the bag that held the tightly sealed pot of mushrooms. Fain heard them muttering to one another while his eyes were being bound.
“Will we make it in time? I mean, the hours pass so strangely—”
“Dinna fear, lassie. The ways are fixed. Keep yer feet on the path an’ ye’ll be fine.”
“I’m not deaf, you know.” Fain said. “I can hear you.”
“Ah, but kin ye understand, lad?”
Before he could think of a retort, Vivi took his hand and led him carefully forward.
“I’m still not sure I like you doing this, princess.”
“I’ll be perfectly safe. If things start to go wrong I can always run back through the tunnel. Besides, it isn’t as though you can lead yourself through.”
“Will I ever get to hear this mysterious family secret?”
Connelly’s amused voice came from behind him.
“All ye need ta do is join the family, lad. I suspect yer well on yer way.”
Fain shuffled his feet as he walked along. He didn’t want to trip on the uneven floor of the cave. After a few steps forward, Vivienne stopped him and stretched his hand towards the wall.
“Do you feel, right here in front of you, the break in the wall?” It was a tiny crevice, only about an inch wide, running parallel to the floor. “Keep your fingers on it, and turn to walk along the wall.” She guided him to the left, so his right hand was still touching the crack. With his hand on a solid surface he felt more secure, and their pace quickened.
“It’s coming up here, just ahead,” she warned him. “Don’t be startled.”
Fain felt the rock beneath his fingers disappear, and Vivi pushed him, hard, so that he stumbled a few steps to his right.
Fain caught himself, astonished he hadn’t bashed his head on the wall. “What happened to the back of the cavern?”
“Family secret.”
“That explanation is going to get tiresome.”
“Then I suggest you stop asking me questions.” Fain felt Vivienne’s lips brush lightly against his, and then she took his hand once more. “Follow me.”
It was a strange trip. Fain had expected a sense of claustrophobia, but the passage felt open and airy. A soft glow came around the edges of the blindfold, occasionally highlighted by stronger bursts of light. The scarf obstructed his vision
, but it didn’t impede his hearing at all. He jerked when he heard a faint, ghostly laughter echoing all around them, and his hand almost slipped from Vivienne’s.
“Fain!” She clutched his fingers, then wrapped both her hands securely around his wrist. “Do not let go of my hand.”
“But what is that?”
“Fam—”
“Never mind.”
Further on, he heard the sound of rippling water.
“Is that a river?”
This time she just ignored him. A moment later she spoke.
“No.”
“No it’s not a river?”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” she said in her normal voice, then hissed, “You may not take him to the Neverending anything. “
“Who are you talking to?”
“Be quiet, Fain. Now, you, you listen to me. He does not want to play. He does not want a drink. And he definitely, definitely is not going anywhere with you. “
Fain heard a shrill, barking cry.
“Is that a fox?”
“No,” muttered Vivi. “Not technically.” She paused a moment. “I think.”
The gentle splashes from the river gave way to the giant crashing of a waterfall. Fain didn’t even ask. He was halfway convinced that this was all a dream he was having. It was certainly the weirdest trip in an underground tunnel he’d ever taken.
“Watch out for the threshold.” Despite the warning Fain tripped. Then he heard a muffled thud and the roaring water was greatly diminished.
“One more doorway.”
Hinges creaked, and then another set. Vivienne pushed him through a little wooden space, so small that his shoulders brushed the walls, and then both sets of hinges creaked again.
“All right. Take off the blindfold.”
Fain did as he was told, and looked around. They were standing in Connelly’s still room, inside the keep. Vivi was watching him, nervously.
“I’m not going to ask. It doesn’t matter.”
She smiled in relief.
“Let’s go add the finishing touches to dinner.”
The still room was a mess. The smaller containers had been shattered against the floor, while the larger baskets had been upended. Connelly’s neat herb bundles had been ripped apart and scattered, along with the rest of the gathered ingredients, and there were obvious knife marks on the lock that held shut the large poisons cabinet. Fain and Vivienne picked their way across the mess and glanced out the partially open door into the laundry.
The still room, laundry, and kitchen were all centrally located, in order to be near the main well. They didn’t have far to go, but the area was in frequent use, so they moved cautiously. Like the still room, the laundry was empty, but in utter disarray. Voices could be heard echoing down the corridor to the kitchen, however, so Fain motioned for Vivi to stay put by the giant copper wash kettle and he crept down the darkened hall.
Men came and went, carrying firewood, buckets of water, and provisions. Like all mounted troops, they carried an abundance of their food dried. The “chef” was whichever of the men was on rotation that night, and his main duty was to open packages of preserved foods and break them apart into a large pot of boiling water. Dried meats, vegetables, and grains would become a thick, hearty—albeit tasteless—stew. Apparently the king demanded more from his dinner, because, after adding all the usual ingredients, Fain saw the cook add a smattering of dried herbs, as well as a healthy sprinkling of salt. Then he started foraging through the kitchen supplies, pulling out stored dried goods and mixing up trail bread while the boiling mass cooked.
The cook seemed in no rush to leave the kitchen. Fain crouched on his heels in the shadowed corridor, resting his head against the wall while he watched. The trail bread was simple, and was soon nestled in the coals in cast iron pots. Apparently this cook had a real flair for the duty. He went back to poking among the cabinets, and crowed in delight when he found the stash of tea. Grabbing up a kettle, he headed for the hallway where Fain was hidden to fill the kettle with water.
Fain eased back into the laundry room. When he motioned to her, Vivienne immediately darted back into the still room, returning the door to its partially open position as she went. Fain ducked down behind the large, copper wash basin and readied himself. The cook came into the room and headed for the well cover, and Fain circled around the basin to keep it between them. When he was at the closest point to the open door, he turned and moved swiftly and silently to the kitchen.
The mushrooms had spent most of the day simmering over low heat. According to Connelly, that was the way to bring out the full potency. Opening the stoppered crock, Fain dumped the contents into the large bubbling pot and stirred vigorously, mixing the mushrooms in so that a quick glance would reveal nothing amiss. Then he slipped over to the pantry and hid himself behind the flour sacks.
The cook returned and gave the pot of stew a judicious stir, but never noticed the additional ingredients. He set the water to boil for tea and whistled while he checked the trail bread.
After half an hour, Fain began to hear sounds coming down the corridor from the great hall: chairs scraping, benches thumping, and voices laughing, signs that the troop was preparing to eat. The chef carried the bread out first, then returned with helpers to transport the large steaming pot off to the other room. Fain, overcome with curiosity, sneaked down the hall after him, keeping close to the wall and trusting in the shadows to hide him. He arrived in time to see the cook send a portion of the stew out to the men on the walls, and then present the rest to the king. Brannon took a huge helping, and began shoveling it into his mouth.
It was the first time he’d seen Brannon since the day his father had been murdered, cut down for this evil man’s ambition. He was heavier, no longer the lean, grasping whipcord he’d been as a prince. His face was sallow with dissipation, and his eyes were full of self-satisfaction. Fain’s fingers curled into fists, and he felt his mouth pull back in a hideous, silent snarl. He wanted to run from his hiding spot and throw himself on the king. He wanted to tear Brannon’s black, traitorous heart from his chest. He wanted to whisper in his dying ear that this was payback for the life of his father.
Instead he tore his eyes from the table where Brannon sat. Vivi was here in the keep with him. He couldn’t risk alerting them to her presence. Not for a wild impulse that likely wouldn’t succeed. He began looking around for something, anything to distract himself, and found it when he spotted the man they’d come to rescue.
Fain saw, with a pang, that Marlplot sat alone, chained in a corner farthest from the fire. While he watched, a surly man with a great ring of keys on his belt tossed a hunk of bread over to the prisoner. Fain was sorry his friend was missing a hot meal, but was relieved that he and Vivienne wouldn’t have to corral a drugged giant out of the keep. He wasn’t sure they were up to the task.
Connelly had said the mushrooms would require about half an hour to take effect, so Fain lingered as the men finished their meal and pulled out their flasks. A few sat in the corner to play cards, and several others went back for a second helping. Fain grinned. He had no idea what a double dose would do, but it was going to be entertaining to find out.
Brannon had been the first served, and so was the first to begin acting strangely. The king lifted his hand in front of his own face and stared, wide eyed, while he wiggled his fingers back and forth. Then he repeated the motion with his other hand, before weaving both in front of his eyes like a gypsy dancer. The men around gazed at him strangely, and then got mesmerized looks on their faces. Before long they, too, were watching their own hands dance, or staring into the fire, or trying to look at the tips of their own tongues.
The men who had eaten last were alarmed, and tried to intervene, but the damage was already done. The surly key-bearer stood abruptly and charged for the kitchen, yelling about poison, while the others looked at each other with white faces. Fain quick stepped backwards, and when the guard came charging in he tripped the man and th
en fell on him, banging his head into the floor with force. The fellow dropped into unconsciousness, and after listening a few moments to be assured no one else was following, Fain stripped him of his blue regimental jacket and key ring. He needed to go fetch Marlplot, and while the men were drugged, they weren’t completely oblivious, so he threw the regimental jacket on over his own. It could still get dangerous in there if they noticed him.
He slipped down the hallway and eased into the great room, trying to move casually so as not to attract attention, but it hardly mattered. The men of the troop were so absorbed in the new sensations they were feeling that they barely noticed anything. Brannon was trying, with steadfast devotion, to walk up the wall. Fain suppressed a snicker and hurried to Marlplot’s side. The young giant’s eyes widened when he saw who was approaching, but he had the sense to keep quiet. Fain unlocked his chains and rubbed at the chaffing on his wrists and ankles before pulling the young man to his feet. Marlplot smiled at the chaos around him, and gestured for Fain to lead the way out.
“You!” One of the men blocked their way. “What are you doing?”
Fain cursed inside. This man was obviously resistant to the mushrooms.
“I said, what are you doing?”
They could fight their way out, but that was likely to turn into a brawl, and John was unarmed. Fain tried to think of something, but his wits failed him.
“I’m going to ask you one more time.” The fighting man’s voice was slow, and menacing. “ What are you doing with my jewelry?! “
Fain glanced down at his hands, where the chained cuffs still lay.
“Forgive me, I didn’t realize these were yours.” He handed them to the enraged soldier, who slung them grandly on his own wrists and then sashayed across the floor, calling back over his shoulder,
“Don’t let me catch you in my gemstones again, boy.”
They picked their way carefully through the men. Fain let Marlplot go ahead of him, motioning towards the corridor to the kitchen. The young man hurried, eager to leave, but Fain went slower, observing the effects that the stew had on Brannon’s men. Some were counting the stones on the floor, others were plucking hairs off their own heads and staring at them with fascinated concentration. Brannon himself was gathered with several others around the stew pot, eating, with great delight, the remainder of the mushrooms.
As the Last Petal Falls Page 26
