by Sharon Green
“Tell it to the prince’s magistrate when they drag you up in front of him,” the guardsman advised while Derand’s ears rang. “You men bring him outside and get the chains on him. We’ll head straight back, and get the word spread that the search can be called off.”
Derand felt himself being dragged out of the house, the knowledge that no one would stop the guardsmen a bitter but unavoidable truth. His fighters must have been able to see the sword at his throat, and for that reason would not have tried to interfere. If they’d attacked, the guardsmen would have killed him first before turning to defend themselves, a standard practice and one that made sense. If you know your attack will accomplish the one thing you don’t want to happen, you tend to refrain from attacking.
But at least Listan and the others will know what happened to me,“ Derand thought as he was shoved into a cart where manacles were immediately closed on his wrists and ankles and even around his neck. And someone has to know what this escaped murderer looks like, so once they find out I’m not him they’ll have to release me. As long as I can come up with an innocent reason for having been in disguise
The cart, pulled by a single horse, was started along the street at a moderately slow pace. That was to allow the guardsmen to continue to surround him, since there wasn’t enough room in the cart itself to hold them. Derand set his mind to working on that innocent reason he needed, but after a minute or two he was distracted. There were a lot of guardsmen in the streets, all of them apparently searching for that fugitive. Who could the man have killed that even members of the army would be used to –
Derand groaned as the true answer finally worked its way through his thick skull. It wasn’t a murderer being searched for it was Gardal, the part about his being a murderer added just to confuse the issue. Waysten wanted his unofficial prisoner back, so that’s who would be coming to identify the man his guardsmen had captured. Prince Waysten of Ramsond, who would recognize Derand as soon as he saw him
The slow ride to the palace didn’t take nearly long enough to suit Derand. He’d been trying desperately to think of a way out of that mess, but absolutely nothing had come to him. Oh, there was one thing he might end up having to use on Waysten, but he would have preferred to think of something a bit more practical. That one thing would be tried to keep himself alive when it looked like the end, but there was no guarantee it would work.
And nothing in the way of other ideas came up. The cart rolled through the palace gates, was turned right, and then was guided along the outer wall until it reached a heavy wooden door. The cart was then stopped and two of the guardsmen surrounding Derand reached for the chains where they were attached to the wooden sides. A moment later the manacles were free of the cart and then so was Derand, the guardsmen pulling him out and to his feet.
Walking through the opened door was slow and difficult going for the manacled Derand, but not as slow and difficult as descending the stone steps he was dragged to. The steps went down and down, curving around in a way that made it perfectly clear they were headed for the palace dungeons. That was a part of Ramsond Derand had no desire to see, but he wasn’t being given the choice. The guardsmen refused to relax for a single instant, not until they reached the bottom.
Once there they found an empty cell, unlocked it and pushed him in, then relocked it. That clang sounded very final to Derand as he sat down on the old, dirty straw he’d seen while the door to the cell was still open. He had no idea how long he would have to wait, but chances were it wouldn’t be nearly long enough.
And it wasn’t long enough. It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes or so before a sound came at the cell door. It opened to show someone carrying a torch held high, and behind the newcomer was a man Derand recognized immediately. Prince Waysten of Ramsond was tall and blond and husky, the strongly defined lines of his face breeding confidence in men and attraction in women – or so it was said. Derand felt neither confidence nor attraction, especially when Waysten frowned for a moment, then showed a wide, insulting grin.
“Well, it looks like my net caught a bigger fish than I expected to land,” Waysten said with a laugh.
“And all those fools kept assuring me that you couldn’t possibly have gotten into the city without them knowing about it. There will be a lot of punishments handed out over this, as well as a promotion or two. It’s nice to know that someone in my guard is worthy of the uniform.”
Derand felt the urge to make the sort of nasty comment Waysten usually hated, but that wasn’t the best position to do it from. So instead of speaking he simply relaxed back in the filthy straw, pretending he wouldn’t have been anywhere else even if he’d been given the choice.
“Apparently wonders never do cease,” Waysten said when it was clear that Derand wasn’t going to be speaking. “You’ve run out of fatuous comments to make, and so you remain silent. Very well, I’ll give you something to speak about. Tell me where the other one is, and you may get out of this with your life.”
The other one. Derand swallowed a smile, realizing that Waysten had just told him that he thought Derand was the one who had freed Gardal. The misapprehension was perfect where Derand was concerned, as it had just given him a plan of sorts.
“I think I’ll reserve that bit of information for the time when we come to a firm agreement,” Derand drawled, no longer trying to hide his smile. “And now I’d appreciate being let out of here, and given a chance to clean up.”
“Would you really,” Waysten muttered, his own amusement entirely gone. “And you really believe I’ll make a deal with you. I’d rather see the information tortured out of you, which will be done as soon as my people can be sent for. Only the best for an exalted visitor like you.”
Waysten’s bow was pure condescension and mockery, but Derand ignored it to speak before the man turned away.
“Torture won’t get you what you want to know,” he said at once. “Haven’t you heard the stories, or did you simply disbelieve them?”
“Do you mean about the time you were supposedly captured by one of those savages calling themselves kings in Arvin?” Waysten seemed to be working hard to show skepticism, but that wasn’t what came through in the way he’d hesitated briefly before he spoke. “Everyone’s heard those stories by now, about the way you resisted torture until your people were able to free you. Do you expect anyone above the age of four to believe that?”
“I’ll show you the scars, if you like,” Derand offered, holding the other man’s gaze easily. “My then enemy wanted to know where my main forces were, and I couldn’t afford to tell him if I wanted my campaigns to continue to be successful. The pain was like nothing I’d ever experienced before, but I still found it possible to hold out. This time, though, I have a different end in mind. You’d better understand that if I’m hurt in any way at all, I won’t even consider exchanging the other’s life for my own.”
“I’m supposed to believe you’d do that under any circumstances?” Waysten demanded with a snort of ridicule. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be so honorable, and aren’t you and the other old friends?”
“Yes, we certainly are old friends,” Derand agreed easily. “But honor has to be kept in its place, otherwise it does you no good. I’d never exchange the other’s life for anything but my own, and that’s as honorable as I’m prepared to be. Now, about getting me out of here ”
Waysten actually took a moment to think, which surprised Derand no end. The man had always before acted without thought, and whether or not the change was for the better depended on what his final decision turned out to be
“Yes, I believe I do want you out of here,” Waysten said after a long moment, looking down at Derand with no friendliness whatsoever. “But if you’re picturing yourself being released entirely, I’ll advise you not to be a fool. Or to consider me one. There’s a private room in my wing that should do nicely as a place for you, and I’ll see you settled in after I have them scrub you clean. We’ll come to that agreement yo
u mentioned rather quickly, or you’ll have more than scars to show for my methods of extracting information. Or should I say you’ll have less? Bring him.”
Derand made sure that the shudder he felt at Waysten’s comment was kept completely on the inside. That, however, did nothing to protect him from the icy clutch of it. The stories never mentioned how short a period he’d actually been tortured that time, or how long it had seemed to him. Waysten was diverted for the moment, but how long could he delay giving the man what he wanted? Derand didn’t know, but he was certain he would find out very shortly
Wyole had been gone again by the time Elissia and Renni went downstairs, so Elissia took a tray of food up to Gardal and then went to have her own meal outdoors. After eating she fully intended to go back up to keep Gardal company, but she remembered that she’d spent a lot of time outdoors the day before. If she rushed right back to her room someone might begin to wonder why, and even beyond that Gardal might appreciate a short time of privacy. He hadn’t seemed to have had much of it during his captivity, so he might as well have some now.
It was a fairly nice day despite the way clouds seemed to be gathering, so she sat and enjoyed the private garden while firming up her plans for after they left the city. That took some of the enjoyment out of the day, and she was just about to go back inside when she saw Gardal coming out to join her. He wore a cloak as though cold and walked bent over to suggest advanced age, but even the staff he used as a walking stick didn’t fool her. It was Gardal, all right, and the idiot was right there where anyone could see him.
“Don’t start scolding me, sister,” he murmured low as soon as reached her, heading off what she was about to say. “I’ve had too much of being locked up in places lately, and need some time in the peace of outdoors. I won’t stay out long, and we’ll pretend we don’t even know each other.”
“It’s still not a good idea, but I can understand how you feel,” Elissia grudged after a moment. “But do your enjoying of the peace behind that row of bushes, sitting on the bench behind them. You’ll be hardest to see there, and I’ll stay here on guard.”
Gardal muttered something rebellious about being guarded by a woman, but he still hobbled over to the bench without argument. Once he sat he really was hard to see, so most of Elissia’s objections disappeared. She really should have used that spot herself the times she’d been out here, but the grass beside the hedge had appealed to her more. It was in the open to a certain extent rather than being completely separated from the world, and enough of Elissia’s life had separated her from the world. Now, almost at the end of it, she found she couldn’t endure any more of it
She stood in a patch of bright sunlight for a moment or two, then turned around to go back to the hedge. She’d forgotten to ask Gardal where he’d gotten the cloak and staff, but they had probably come from Renni. Without Renni none of what she’d done would have been possible, and Elissia knew she’d have to get Gardal to promise to find a really special way to thank the small woman. Elissia would have preferred to find that way herself, but there would hardly be enough time before –
“Please don’t be frightened, I’m a friend,” the man who had suddenly appeared in front of her said, standing with one hand up. “I’m here because I need your help.”
“What help can I give?” Elissia asked at once in her boy’s voice, wondering who this plainly dressed man could be. “If you need something carried into the inn – ”
“Please, Your Majesty, I do know who you are,” the man interrupted, but the words weren’t as shocking as they might have been. The man was really upset, something Elissia hadn’t noticed earlier. “One of my men located you for the High King a short while ago, but when we went to tell him we’d found you we discovered that he’d been taken by guardsmen. He’s in Prince Waysten’s hands by now, and if we try to fight our way into the palace he’ll be killed before we can reach him. But we have to get to him before the prince kills or maims him anyway, and you’re our only hope. Do you have any idea how we can – ”
“Derand is in the city?” Gardal demanded, suddenly striding out from behind the bushes where he’d been sitting. “And he’s in Waysten’s hands? How could that have happened?”
“It happened because we were all out looking for you and your sister, Your Highness,” the man said to Gardal with a bow. “I’m Listan, the man in charge of the High King’s fighters. We found the place where you were being held, but when we tried to rescue you we found that it had already been done. We came to the conclusion that your sister had gotten there ahead of us, but it was vitally important that we locate you both.”
“What made it so vitally important?” Elissia interrupted Gardal’s next comment to ask. She knew how stiff her voice sounded, but she found it impossible to change the attitude. “Was it because I’m a helpless woman, and so needed the aid of you exalted men to be safe and get Gardal safely away? Well, if that’s the case, then let me tell you – ”
“No, no, that’s not it at all,” the man Listan interrupted in turn, gesturing the idea aside. “We had to find you before dark, because we knew you would probably wait until dark before you tried to leave the city. And anyone out on the streets after dark tonight could very well end up dead, because that’s the time our people in the High King’s personal guard are scheduled to begin taking the city.”
“Your people in his personal guard,” Elissia echoed, more than a little confused. “You’re going to try to take this city with twenty men?”
“Of course not,” Listan replied with a small sound of ridicule. “Twenty is the number of men the High King takes with him when he goes to visit your father. He’s convinced he’s safe there and so would go even without the twenty, but I refuse to allow that. His enemies could use the opportunity to try reaching him, and twenty are enough to hold off anything but an army until the rest of the guard can be summoned. They’re never camped very far away from where he is, and their full number is five hundred.”
“Five hundred?” Elissia said, wondering if she would be nothing but an echo from now on. “Five hundred men are going to try to break into this city tonight?”
“They came in last night, by scaling the walls in a number of different places,” Listan corrected again.
“Once they were in they scattered and hid, which is why I can’t contact them. There’s no possible way to call off tonight’s attack, and I’m not sure I should even if I could.”
“Yes, Derand might have plans of his own that are based on the attack,” Gardal commented thoughtfully. “So what are we going to do?”
“That’s for your sister to decide,” Listan said at once, again shocking Elissia. “The High King felt that her ability at this sort of thing was far and away better than most people’s, so we have to try taking advantage of that. She slipped you out from under our very noses, and I’m hoping she can do the same for the High King.”
“I think we might have to try an exchange,” Gardal said, apparently ignoring what Listan had told him.
“It’s me who Waysten really wants, so we can – ”
“Give him the chance to get his hands on the two of you?” Elissia interrupted to finish. There had been so much scorn in her tone that Gardal flushed and tried to protest, but she refused to allow that. “Making a deal with Waysten would be useless, because he’d never uphold his end of the bargain. He’d get his hands on you and then refuse to release your friend, and what would you do to make him sorry? Besides, you’re forgetting about that attack tonight.”
“So what do you suggest?” Gardal challenged, partly in embarrassment but also partly in hope. “What bright idea can you come up with?”
“I don’t know how bright it is, but I do have an idea,” Elissia murmured, her mind working furiously. The idea of the savage in Waysten’s hands was upsetting for some reason, almost as though she cared what happened to him. Of course she didn’t, not when he cared nothing about her, but still
“Listan, how much gold do you
have?” Elissia asked as she turned to the man. “I hope it’s a lot and I hope you have contacts in this city, because we don’t have much time at all. Here’s what we have to do.”
Listan paid close attention as she outlined her plan, nodding even when Gardal began to protest. It was the only thing they could do, and the savage’s lieutenant began to grin with full understanding
“Oh, good, you’re already settled in,” Derand heard. He looked up to see Waysten coming into the room, and unconsciously pulled at the thick leather bindings holding his wrists. “I may not use chain in here, but I don’t think you’ll find it possible to get loose.”
Derand had already found that out for himself. He’d been trying to free himself from the restraints ever since the men who had put him in them had left the room, but he’d had no luck. He was seated in a wide, high-backed chair of heavy wood, his wrists clamped to the chair arms with thick leather cuffs. There was also a leather strap around his middle, and his ankles were cuffed with more leather to the legs of the chair. The restraints also seemed to be padded for some reason, but that fact did nothing to help him get out of them.
“I usually bring women in here rather than men, but in your case I’m making an exception,” Waysten went on from where he’d stopped, about three feet away. “I’m sure it will be harder to convince you to be cooperative, but we’ll find some way to manage it. Now about where your friend can be found ”
“We still haven’t made our deal,” Derand reminded the man, keeping his attention away from the two men behind Waysten. Derand was sure he knew why they were there, but he couldn’t afford to show
that he knew. And that comment about the room being used for women rather than men It explained some of the other pieces of “furniture” and accoutrements found in there
“Oh, yes, our deal,” Waysten drawled, clearly having a marvelous time at Derand’s expense. “What sort of conditions did you have in mind?”
