The Emerald Crown

by L J Chappell

  Slorn turned the handle and pulled: the door opened easily. They were in a short corridor – to the left was another door, one that presumably led back into the guards’ rooms. Facing them, spaced along the corridor at even intervals, were three doors. There was no-one in sight.

  ‘Vander of Arrento?’ Kiergard said, concealing his sword.

  ‘Yes?’ a voice answered from the door at the far right.

  They walked over and pulled at the handle, but it didn’t open. Rather than a simple latch on the outside, the door had a proper lock and there was no sign of a key.

  Magda brought out a pair of short, slender black metal rods, bent at the ends. She crouched down, level with the keyhole, and began to work. No more than seven or eight seconds later, the mechanism clicked loudly, the door swung open and they walked through.

  The room inside was completely different from anything Lanvik had been expecting from a “cell”. It was spacious and comfortable, filled with furniture, lush fittings and colourful fabrics. There were a few shelves of books against the back wall, and a separate door led to a private bathroom.

  A young Dark Elf was standing in the middle of the room staring at them. ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

  ‘Vander of Arrento?’ Kiergard repeated.

  ‘Yes. What do you want?’

  ‘My name is Kiergard Slorn, and I am here to rescue you.’

  ‘To rescue me? What do you mean?’

  ‘I have been contracted to ensure that you are not sacrificed tomorrow, at the solstice, to the Gods of the Heavens.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘But …?’

  ‘But the sacrifices must go ahead. That’s why I’m here.’

  ‘You don’t want to be sacrificed, do you?’ Magda asked.

  ‘It’s my duty,’ he shook his head. ‘A lot of people will suffer if the sacrifice does not go ahead.’

  ‘That’s not my concern,’ Kiergard Slorn said. ‘Here – I was told to show you this.’ He brought out a small ring from his pocket and handed it to Vander.

  He looked at it and then closed his hand around it: ‘Is she here?’ he asked. ‘Is Aruel here?’ There was a sudden urgency about him, a nervousness. An eagerness.

  ‘Steady, lad. I don’t know any Aruel and there’s no-one here but us. We were paid to fetch you, and we were given that ring so you would know to trust us.’

  ‘Are you coming with us?’ Magda asked.

  Even after seeing the ring, Vander of Arrento paused for a moment. Eventually he said: ‘Yes. Yes, I will go with you. But how? Do we just walk out of here?’

  ‘Yes, but first you have to dress in appropriate clothes.’

  Slorn, dressed in his bright red costume with black and gold trim, was noticeably bulkier than he had been earlier, and now he began to remove his costume. Underneath, he was wearing an identical costume, one or two sizes smaller. ‘You’re shorter than me,’ he told Vander, ‘so you wear this tunic and jacket, but these trousers.’ Slorn removed the underneath pair of trousers and passed them over, before pulling the baggier pair back on. Vander of Arrento did exactly as he was told.

  ‘And finally one of our caps,’ Kiergard passed him a spare cap from one pocket. ‘They’re all the same size. Now, turn around.’

  Slorn, Magda and Lanvik inspected Vander. He certainly looked like one of The Queen’s Players now.

  ‘Right. Let’s go.’

  As they closed the “cell” door behind them, a voice called from the neighbouring room: ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘I am leaving,’ Vander said. ‘But it will be alright.’

  ‘Alright?’ the other voice asked. ‘How can that be alright?’

  ‘I don’t know. But it’s someone I trust.’

  ‘We have to go,’ Slorn urged him quietly. He placed his arm around Vander’s shoulders and steered him towards the kitchen. At any moment, someone could enter the cell block from the other door: even though they were in their costumes, it would have been impossible to maintain the subterfuge or slip away in any confusion.

  ‘You took a while,’ Bane said when they rejoined him.

  ‘Sorry,’ Kiergard apologised. ‘We were as quick as we could be.’

  ‘We were very fast,’ Magda added. ‘Less than three minutes. Have you had problems?’

  ‘I don’t think they even know I’m here,’ he nodded towards the noise of the kitchen staff, still talking among themselves. He had turned off the taps and had been waiting in silence.

  ‘Let’s go, then.’

  They left as a group, walking leisurely and chatting; no-one noticed that four people had arrived and five were leaving, or that they had taken a surprisingly long time to fill three jugs with water.

  ‘Wait in here,’ Bane told Vander, when they reached the dressing room. ‘We will be finished shortly, and then you will walk out with us.’

  There was a pause in the music: Bane, Magda and Kiergard Slorn jogged back to the audience hall.

  Through the open door, Lanvik heard Kiergard announce: ‘And now, to finish our celebration of traditional Arvedan dance music, we will end with a performance of The Mountains Are Weeping followed by The Emperor’s Jig.’

  The audience cheered. Lanvik closed the door, and started to tidy and pack the others’ clothes away: by the looks of things, some of their changes had been quite rushed. As he worked, he surreptitiously watched his Vander of Arrento.

  Vander was a typical Dark Elf, with dark black-green skin, a narrow face and a permanent brooding look: he was in his late teens or early twenties, probably. His long fingers twitched restlessly, and his eyes glanced at the door from time to time.

  He was starting to have doubts, or second thoughts.

  Lanvik rested his hand, on the handle of the thin knife in his pocket. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘we’ll only be a few minutes.’

  Vander stood up, a little nervously. ‘I think …’ he started.

  ‘Ah,’ Lanvik said. ‘If you have questions, then you’re probably best waiting for Kiergard to come back. I don’t really know anything, but he’ll be able to put your mind at rest.’ There was a burst of applause from through the wall: that would be the end of The Mountains Are Weeping. ‘Only one more tune, and then we’ll go.’

  Thankfully, Vander seemed to decide to wait: he calmed whatever doubts he was having, nodded to himself, and sat back down.

  Sure enough, five minutes later, the rest of the Company came in, some skipping, some laughing and some red in the face.

  ‘Listen to that applause,’ Menska said, grinning. ‘Oh, we’re good!’

  They all nodded a quick greeting to Vander, but didn’t say anything and didn’t act in any way curious or surprised to see him. They simply packed their instruments away.

  ‘We didn’t bring a spare jacket for outside,’ Slorn warned. ‘But you can wear Garran’s. It should fit you. If anyone stands out because they have no jacket, I’d rather it was him.’

  ‘Great,’ Garran grumbled, passing his jacket to Vander. ‘You forget to bring a spare jacket, and I have to walk back in the snow.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Kiergard Slorn confirmed, with no hint of sympathy.

  ‘Yes, ready,’ everyone chorused. And they left.

  As they emerged through the guarded door, a few of their audience turned and clapped appreciatively. None of them noticed the addition of Vander to the ensemble.

  ‘Wait a moment,’ Kiergard told the others.

  They stopped as a group in the middle of the hall as he walked back to the edge of the raised stage, smiling, and beckoned Master Urbold Pendisson across.

  ‘Well played. You performed admirably,’ the Master of Amusements congratulated them.

  ‘Thank you, Master Pendisson. And our fee?’

  ‘You will be paid tomorrow. I will send a man round to your lodgings with fifty Crowns, as we agreed.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ Slorn repeated. ‘Our agreement was that we would be paid on completion. You said “immediately” on co
mpletion. Well, we have finished playing so this is clearly completion.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t believe this,’ Vrosko Din muttered quietly.

  ‘Is this a question of trust?’ Pendisson asked. ‘Do you not trust the Imperial purse to honour our contract?’

  This is insane, Lanvik thought. At any minute, Vander could change his mind, could run or shout for help. We have him here, all we have to do is walk out that door, but instead we’ve stopped to argue. What is he thinking?

  ‘It is not trust, Master Pendisson. I simply wish you to honour your obligations under our agreement, now that we have honoured ours. I think it is clear that “immediately on completion” means now.’

  Their discussion was beginning to attract the attention of several members of the audience. Master Pendisson looked uncomfortable.

  The next group of performers, who seemed to be a troupe of actors, was filing into the audience hall behind them. Slorn drove home his point: ‘We are not going anywhere, until you honour our agreement.’

  ‘Oh, very well!’ Pendisson was exasperated. ‘Wait over there.’ He pointed to the back corner of the audience hall, and then turned and left through the second of the guarded doors.

  The others didn’t say anything as they waited, but the tension was gradually rising. The longer they simply stood waiting, the more likely it was that Vander’s absence would be discovered and that they would be apprehended. But eventually, just as the actors finished assembling their set, Master Pendisson re-appeared at the back of the dais and beckoned to Slorn.

  They met at the edge of the platform, and a small brown purse with a drawstring was handed over. Slorn weighed it in his palm, nodded, and shook Master Pendisson’s hand. He pocketed the purse, rejoined the others and they left. No-one was interested in searching them, counting them or seeing any paperwork on the way out.

  ‘There!’ Slorn announced once they were out of earshot of the Imperial compound. ‘A successful evening in every sense, and we got paid for it.’

  ‘Have you finally gone completely mad?’ Ubrik demanded. ‘You kept us waiting there for a handful of coins? The alarm could have been sounded at any time! Anyone on the stage could have recognised Vander as we stood there!’

  ‘It would have seemed suspicious otherwise,’ Slorn said, ‘since we’d agreed on immediate payment. And anyone they sent to the inn tomorrow with our fifty Crowns would have discovered that we left without waiting for it. And that would have been particularly incriminating. I imagine they’d have sent the Imperial guard to stop us, here or in Stormhaven.’

  ‘Well, now they’ll definitely remember us,’ Thawn said.

  ‘Yes, but they’ll remember us as a money-grubbing group of musicians, obsessed with their fifty Crowns who obviously didn’t slip away suspiciously as if they had something to hide.’

  ‘How long before they notice he’s gone?’ Karuin asked.

  ‘Not long, probably.’

  ‘Well?’ Magda asked Vander directly.

  ‘Someone usually comes by at around midnight, to ask if we want anything. But one of the others could raise the alarm at any time.’

  ‘So we need to hurry,’ Karuin agreed.

  ‘When do we leave Darkfall?’ Vander asked.

  ‘Early tomorrow morning, for Stormhaven,’ Kiergard told him. ‘From there, we have passage booked south to the Isthmus. But tonight, we rest. We sleep.’

  ‘We sleep? Here? Instead of making our escape?’

  ‘Setting out at night will be cold, difficult and suspicious. Tomorrow morning will be better in every way.’

  ‘But what if they come looking for us?’

  ‘Then they will not find us. Darkfall is a large city, and it is not their city. Even if they realise that we were responsible, they will try The Devout Supplicant first, where the innkeeper will tell them that we left around midnight and they will spend all night searching for us on the road south.’

  ‘This is a bad idea,’ Vander shook his head. ‘I should have stayed.’

  ‘Stayed?’ Magda laughed. ‘Are you mad? They were going to kill you. Tomorrow.’

  ‘You don’t understand.’

  ‘Bane, Magda, Menska, Vrosko Din, Lisamel and Tremano – take Vander to our new lodgings,’ Kiergard directed them. ‘The rest of us will fetch the bags and settle up.’

  Lanvik went with Kiergard, Ubrik and the others back to the inn where they had spent the last few nights. They collected everything from their old rooms and headed back out into the night. It was almost midnight and quiet: there were no guards in the streets and no evidence of any alarm or panic from the Imperial delegation.

  Their new accommodation was a single long room on the first floor of a dormitory block, and was much more basic than the inn. There were no public areas of any sort, no washrooms and no food or drink served on site. In addition, they smelled the toilets long before they passed them. There were fires in each room, thankfully, and their room was intended for twenty people, so it felt less cramped than at the inn, even with all of them inside.

  They all changed into their normal clothes: no-one wanted to remain in the bright red costumes any longer than they had to.

  Slorn looked around when they arrived: ‘What happened to the boy? Where is he?’

  ‘He’s in the bed at the end.’ Bane pointed towards the back of the room: there was a shape on one of the beds which, on close inspection, was breathing.

  ‘He’s not talking much … or moving.’

  ‘He was starting to change his mind.’ Bane explained. ‘To struggle.’

  ‘So you hit him?’

  ‘No, we drugged him. And now he’s sleeping.’

  ‘Fine. Can we tie him down as well, in case he wakes in the night and decides to leave?’

  ‘Already done.’

  ‘Then we should all try to get as much sleep as we can. We’ll leave before dawn.’

  They stoked the fire so that it would burn long into the night, and extinguished the two burning brands mounted on the walls. Bane took the first watch, staying awake by the door … just in case. Ubrik, Garran and Menska slept next to Vander, in case he needed quietened or restrained through the night. Kiergard and Magda were closest to the door, and Lanvik had the bed next to Magda.

  It wasn’t especially cold that night, certainly with the fire blazing at the far end of the room, but he noticed that Magda had changed into all her outer clothes – her top, her trousers and her thicker pair of socks – before pulling the blanket over her. She had left her jacket lying on the floor by the bed, beside her boots. Lanvik guessed she was planning to go out again.

  He feigned sleep, deciding to stay awake and see where she went and what she did, but ended up nodding off for real within a few minutes. Some noise or draught or movement must have woken him an hour later: he sat up and looked around. Magda’s bed was empty as was Kiergard Slorn’s, and Bane was no longer on watch. Their boots and jackets were gone.

  The room had a single, small window. Braving the cold, Lanvik tiptoed across the room and looked out at the street below through a crack in the shutters. He saw Kiergard Slorn, with his grey sack over one shoulder, walking back out into the night through the lightly falling snow. Beside him were Bane and Magda – the two members of the Company that he seemed to trust most: the two he had taken with him to rescue Vander, and to free Lanvik.

  They had another job, he guessed. One that they hadn’t mentioned to anyone else …

  2

  Well after midnight, Pireon was awakened by the noise of people moving about in the dormitory. He didn’t move, but he opened his eyes just enough to see.

  ‘Come on’, he heard Dach’s voice whispering. His brother and a few of the others were dressing: their travelling clothes, rather than their bright ritual vestments.

  Steophine, one of the oldest of the Initiates, was grumbling about the hour.

  ‘You said you wanted to come,’ Dach said, firmly, ‘and when will we ever get an opportunity like this again? If you�
�re not ready in the next thirty seconds, we’re going without you. The girls will be waiting.’

  The girls? Pireon wondered.

  ‘Come on, Steo,’ one of the others urged. ‘The longer you mess about here, the more likely it is that one of the Fathers will hear us.’ The Priests slept in a nearby room.

  ‘I’m just about ready,’ Steo assured them. ‘Should we wake Pireon?’

  ‘No, leave him.’ That was Dach’s voice.

  And then they were gone.

  Pireon sat up, pulled his Initiate’s cowl over his head and slipped his feet into his sandals.

  The Temple was quiet at this late hour, but the outside doors were always open and one of the stairways from the inner rooms led down almost to the narthex. Every temple had concealed passages between the outer and inner walls, with tiny windows all around the public spaces. Dach and the others could watch and wait until the few Priests on duty were all further inside the Temple and away from the entrance. Pireon watched from a different opening above the Temple vestibule.

  Eventually, after a couple of minutes, he saw Dach’s group – ten or twelve of them – emerge and head out into the night.

  When they were gone, a voice behind him asked: ‘You didn’t go with the others?’ It was Father Ykerios, the Hierarch.

  ‘You know?’ Pireon didn’t tell him that he wasn’t asked.

  ‘Of course I know. I may be old, but I am neither blind nor stupid.’

  ‘And you don’t mind?’

  ‘Do you think they mean any harm by it? Anything evil?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Then why should I mind?’ Ykerios chuckled. ‘Besides, I’ve sent Father Anthedon after them, to make sure they don’t get into too much trouble.’ There was a pause, and then the Hierarch asked him: ‘Pireon, isn’t it? Dachaeron’s brother?’

  ‘Yes, Father.’ He was used to people thinking of him as Dach’s brother.