A Mighty Fortress (124 page)

He wished he had a better notion of exactly how Portyr was doing, but timing was actually less critical than it might have been. Portyr’s objective was, ultimately, as important as Gahrvai’s. But unlike Gahrvai, Portyr was supposed to be pouncing on a mostly empty—or at least currently unoccupied—building. Gahrvai’s objective, on the other hand, was most definitely occupied. Which, considering who the occupants were, was the real reason it had been assigned to a completely Corisandian force.

He peered down the boulevard at the luxurious, walled mansion. Like the city itself, Storm House was of fairly recent construction—no more than fifty years old—and it had little in common with old- fashioned, fortified seats like Baron Larchros’ manor in Serabor. Or, for that matter, even Earl Craggy Hill’s residence in Vahlainah. It had lots of doors and windows, and very little in the way of built- in defensive features. The wall around Storm House, no more than seven or eight feet tall, was more for privacy than protection, although it was probably enough to at least delay any intruders. Especially if anyone behind it knew the intruders were coming.

According to the letter which had been delivered to his study, Storm Keep had no more than a couple of dozen armed retainers here in his town house. Telitha might be his city, but there was a limit to just how openly he dared to operate, even here. On the other hand, Gahrvai had to assume any retainers he did keep here knew all about his plans and were fully committed to them. Which suggested they might well offer resistance . . . especially if they didn’t immediately realize just how outnumbered they actually were. And it wouldn’t take a great deal of delay for the really important fish to slither out of the net before he could scoop them up.

“Get your second company in position, Major,” he whispered to Naiklos, and heard the major’s own murmured order being relayed from man to man.

A few moments later, the designated company moved off, gratifyingly quietly, and he settled back down in the shadows, waiting. He gave the moving company long enough to get into its pre- chosen position, covering the back side of the town house from the spacious park attached to it, then waited that long again, as a cushion. Only then did he turn back to Naiklos and nod.

“Go,” he said simply.

The first inkling any occupant of Storm House had that something untoward was happening was the sudden, voiceless rush of booted feet on cobblestones. It was understandable that it should take at least a few seconds for anyone to recognize that sound, especially when it came out of absolutely nowhere in the middle of the darkest night of the month. The pair of armsmen assigned to the gate were reasonably alert, but they’d never actually expected to be assailed here in the middle of the earl’s own city. The idea was preposterous! And so, even after their instincts had begun to recognize what they were hearing, their brains insisted they had to be wrong. There must be some other explanation!

Unfortunately, there wasn’t. And, perhaps even more unfortunately, Sir Koryn Gahrvai’s instructions to his guardsmen had been very clear. No one was to be allowed to raise the alarm. As a consequence, the earl’s armsmen were ... neutralized with a maximum of efficiency and a minimum of gentleness while they were still trying to figure out what that “other explanation” was. Still, the guardsmen weren’t actually trying to kill them, and both of them recovered consciousness within two days.

As the gate guards went down under vigorously applied Guard musket butts, Gahrvai and the bulk of his men went flooding into Storm House’s courtyard. There was some jostling as they funneled through the constricting gate, but this was the same company Gahrvai had selected for the raid which had netted Aidryn Waimyn. By now, they’d become experts at raiding monasteries or town houses in the middle of the night, and they’d been even more carefully briefed to night than they’d been
that
night. As soon as they were clear of the gate, they spread out once more, individual squads heading for individual objectives under their sergeants.

Bishop Executor Thomys Shylair had been delighted to accept Earl Storm Keep’s invitation to visit Telitha. While he was confident of Earl Craggy Hill’s security in Vahlainah, Shylair was of the opinion that it was better to stay on the move. Allowing himself to loiter too long in any one location was too likely to give some potential in for mant the chance to recognize him, however secure his hiding place might appear, or even actually be.

Craggy Hill had disagreed, arguing that it was wiser for him to find a single, really safe hiding place—obviously, in Craggy Hill’s opinion, in Vahlainah—and then simply stay there. If he never went out, Craggy Hill had reasoned, the chance of someone recognizing him would be non ex is tent.

Shylair could appreciate the logic, but there were four telling points against it, in his opinion. First, wherever he set up his headquarters, there was going to be a steady flow of messengers and visitors in and out. It had to be that way, if he was going to stay in contact with the princedom’s Temple Loyalist clergy. All that traffic was likely to draw attention sooner or later, if he stayed in one place, whether or not anyone realized he himself was present. Second, he simply wasn’t prepared to stay cooped up in a single suite of rooms, no matter how luxurious, for literally months on end. He
had
to get out, breathe at least a little fresh air, and moving about—cautiously—between the residences of the senior members of the resistance was the best way to stay on top of the situation. Third, he was uneasy about trusting men with whom he had no personal contact. He wanted to see them, look them in the eye, listen to the firmness of their voices, and, in his opinion, it was safer for one man and his personal aide—him—to move around discreetly than it would have been for all of the others to come to
him
.

And fourth—though he was unprepared to discuss this one with
any
of his secular allies—he had less than absolute faith in the selflessness of Craggy Hill’s motives. For that matter, he nursed at least some suspicion about the altruism of all of those allies. Which meant he had no desire to find himself as the permanent guest of, and ( just coincidentally) under the physical control of, any of them.

His own logic was not universally accepted, yet there wasn’t a great deal anyone could do about it. Shylair suspected his fellow conspirators had recognized that and organized their own schedule of “invitations” as the best compromise available to them, but that was fine with him. He didn’t mind being “managed” a bit, as long as he did have the opportunity to avoid permanent incarceration.

Of all of the town houses and manors in which he’d been a guest since fleeing Manchyr, Storm House was his favorite. It was the newest and most modern, the rooms assigned to him had a magnificent beachside view, and he loved the climate here. The soothing sound of surf helped him to sleep, as well, and that was what he was doing, deeply and peacefully, at the moment Sir Koryn Gahrvai’s guardsmen put the Storm House gate guards into an even deeper slumber than his own.

Less than three minutes later, however, the bishop executor’s repose found itself rudely interrupted.

Sahlahmn Traigair, the Earl of Storm Keep, was sound asleep, snoring peacefully beside his wife, when something penetrated his slumber.

Unfortunately for the earl, while Storm House might not have been designed as a fortress, it was solidly built. In fact, it had intentionally been constructed with an eye towards holding down noise from the nearby city streets, especially in the earl’s personal apartments and bedchamber, and that same noise- baffling design meant the muffled sound wasn’t loud enough to actually wake him. His sleeping brain roused a bit, trying to identify it, but before the fish of consciousness reached the surface of his sleeping mind’s pool, the door to his bedchamber burst violently open.

Storm Keep bolted up into a sitting position even as his wife screamed and clutched at the blankets.

“What the h—?!”
he began thunderously.

“Earl Storm Keep,” a flat, cold voice interrupted him, “I arrest you on the charge of treason and conspiracy against the Crown.”

Storm Keep froze, mouth still open, as he recognized that icy voice. A flood of adrenaline brought him fully awake, but his brain was still slithering across a surface of shock, like a man trying to find his feet on the surface of a frozen lake. He blinked against the light streaming from the opened slides of three bull’s-eye lanterns, and as he looked past Sir Koryn Gahrvai he saw half a dozen of Gahrvai’s guardsmen... and the lantern light glinting on the razor edges of their bayonets.

Bishop Executor Thomys was in the midst of a dream—inspired by the surf sound coming to him even in his sleep, no doubt—of a sunny day on one of the beaches outside Manchyr when the door to
his
bedchamber flew open. He was also a sounder sleeper than Earl Storm Keep. He sat up, blinking in the sudden light, startled, yet too sleep- sodden and groggy to feel truly alarmed.

“Wh—?” he started.

“Thomys Shylair,” a voice said, and even in his confused sleepiness, a corner of Shylair’s rousing brain noticed the absence of any ecclesiastic title, “I arrest you on a charge of treason and conspiracy.”

Imperial Palace,

City of Tellesberg,

Kingdom of Old Charis

So it went well, did it?” Sir Rayjhis Yowance asked.

“Yes, My Lord. Very well,” Merlin Athrawes replied with a smile.

He and Earl Gray Harbor were alone in the earl’s office in Tellesberg Palace, and despite his smile, Merlin found himself once again regretting the fact that they dared not tell Gray Harbor the entire truth. He knew it bothered Cayleb and Sharleyan, as well, just as it bothered them in Baron Green Mountain’s case. It wasn’t simply that not telling their two most senior councilors prevented them from getting the best out of two very able men’s advice and counsel, either. What really bothered them—and Merlin—was that they felt as if they were sneaking around behind the backs of men who were also friends. Confidants. In Green Mountain’s case, a second father, even, at least in Sharleyan’s case.