Artesans of Albia: 01 - King's Envoy (49 page)

Cal flushed and Taran smiled to see him so thoroughly put in his place.

“Well, at least we know the how, if not the why,” said Bull. “Harva, what are our chances of getting into Rykan’s palace unobserved? Would we be able to get her out of there?”

The old woman looked sad. “I really couldn’t say, master. I did go there once with the Count but that was years ago. I only saw the Count’s rooms, I don’t know what the rest of the palace is like. But I do know the Duke keeps a full complement of guards. And if he’s planning a revolt, he’ll have called out his levies. The province will be full of his troops. How would you get past them without being seen?”

She began to weep and buried her head in her hands. Her voice was muffled. “Oh, I wish I’d known what he was planning, I could’ve warned you properly when you were all here.”

Rienne moved over and sat on the arm of her chair. She patted Harva on the back and spoke soothingly to her. Bull drew the others to the far end of the room.

“Sounds pretty bad,” he admitted. “What do you think, Robin?”

The Captain’s face was a study in anguish, his dark blue eyes almost black with grief. “We can’t just leave her there, Bull, who knows what torments she’s enduring? No matter how many troops there are or how secure the palace is, there has to be a way in. No place is impregnable. We’ll just have to scout around and try to find a back way. Perhaps we can pass ourselves off as servants, or stable hands, or even mercenary forces.” Struck by this idea, he stared at the big man. “Bull, you know how chaotic it’ll be with all those unfamiliar companies camped around. We could blend in with Rykan’s levies, no one would know the difference.”

Suddenly seeing Bull’s expression, he stopped. “What?”

“We’re not Andaryans. Our eyes will give us away.”

Robin’s face fell.

Taran thought they were missing something. “Not necessarily. Isn’t there something we could do about that?”

Robin’s expression cleared and he perked up. “Try illusion, you mean? It might work, Bull. There are enough of us to form a respectable Powersink. As long as we stay together, it could work.”

Bull looked unconvinced, but didn’t say so. In the absence of any other plan, thought Taran, it had to be worth a try. They could experiment on the way to the palace.

Bull turned back to the old woman, whom Rienne had soothed. “Harva, could you tell us how to find the palace without showing ourselves too early?” She nodded, wiping a shaky hand across her eyes. “How far is it?” he asked.

She sniffed. “Only a day’s ride away, on good horses.”

“So close?” said Robin.

The look she gave him was reproachful. “We’re right on the borders of Kymer, master. Right on the edge of the Duke’s province. Why else do you think the Count’s supported him? He’d rather fight for the Hierarch but he’s not powerful or wealthy enough to oppose his Grace. You could say he’s been held to ransom all these years.”

Taran thought Robin looked less than convinced by Harva’s interpretation of the Count’s loyalties.

“But if you’re set on going,” she continued, turning back to Bull, “then you’d do best to cross the River Yrrin and approach the palace from the south. Kymer’s mainly rolling hills but from what I remember, the palace is in a valley surrounded by the southern end of Haligan Forest. Unless they’ve cleared it since I was there, there’s tree cover right up to the walls. His Grace will have patrols there but most of his vassals live to the east, so that’s probably where his forces will be.”

Taran was impressed by Harva’s thinking and remembered Sullyan telling Robin not to underestimate her. She might be a servant but she was obviously capable of using her wits.

“You leave worrying about them to us,” Bull said. “Is there any food left in the kitchens? We’ll need extra supplies now, this could take some time.”

They left the suite, taking Sullyan’s things with them, and followed the old woman to the kitchens. She told them to help themselves to whatever they wanted. “Half of it’s spoiling anyway,” she sniffed, plainly disapproving of the waste.

Harva tried to get them to stay and rest until morning as it was growing late and the wind, which had been gusty all day, was cold with the promise of frost. Taran wasn’t surprised when Robin hustled them away, he was clearly fretting to be gone.

As they took their leave of Harva at the gates, she caught Robin’s stirrup. “Master,” she said, her wrinkled face full of care, “when you’ve released the Lady, come back to me. I know a little house where no one would think to look. I could take care of you all until you’re ready to go.”

Taran could see Robin was touched by her offer despite his urgent need to leave. He supposed the Captain was remembering Sullyan’s genuine affection for the old crone. If not for her determination to wait and warn them, he realized, they would still be riding the open countryside, desperately searching. They owed her thanks for that, at least.

The Captain thought so, too. He reached down and patted her aging hand. “Thank you, Harva. We won’t forget your help today.”

He led them out of the huge wooden gates. Without another word, they galloped off in the direction Harva had given them, wind tearing icily at their cloaks.

Bull’s knowledge of the area was sketchy, so he recommended they make a large eastward sweep to come at Rykan’s palace from the south. They made good time through Marik’s province as the horses were rested and strong and had no difficulty finding a good place to cross the wide but shallow River Yrrin. But evening was coming fast and Robin decided they should camp; it would be too easy to stumble into a patrol in the darkness. Besides, they had their strategy to plan and a disguise to attempt. If Taran’s idea didn’t work, they only had hours to come up with another.

They found a suitable spot to camp and quickly took care of camp duties. Bull lit a tiny, well shielded fire and once they had eaten some of Harva’s food, they discussed their plans.

The idea of a disguise appealed to Robin because it would allow them free movement and the chance to gain information. None of them knew if it would work, though. Their first task was to see if they could create and maintain the illusion of the slit-pupiled Andaryan eye.

They sat in a circle, Rienne off to one side, and formed a Powersink. Robin took control and Taran sensed him concentrating on the color of his eyes. First, he attempted to fade his dark blue irises and Taran watched in amazement as they slowly bleached to a lighter hue. Robin’s handsome face looked very strange in the firelight; the frost-pale color made his eyes seem larger.

“That’s enough,” said Bull, “or your eyes’ll end up white.”

“Some of them do have white eyes, so I’ve heard, so it wouldn’t look that odd.” Robin was clearly pleased with his efforts.

The pupils, thought Taran, would be trickier as they had to react to light the same way as round pupils. Narrowing the pupils would be easiest; learning to expand them would take some practice. Robin mastered it after about fifteen minutes and Taran thought it looked very convincing.

Under Robin’s guidance, everyone tried the disguise. Cal was the only one who had any real trouble, and he had to draw heavily on the Powersink. Not surprising, Taran told him, given his limited experience. He eventually got the hang of it after an hour of intense practice.

Rienne sat quietly throughout this process, faint worry on her face. At first, Taran thought she was simply concerned about Cal’s ability to hold the disguise, but then, with a leap of intuition, he realized she was unsure of their plans for her. Obviously, she couldn’t alter her own appearance and he guessed she was worried they might leave her behind. He was uneasy about taking her into Rykan’s stronghold, he knew it would be extremely dangerous. One tiny mistake and they could all be killed.

He did know, however, that she would be happier if they stayed together. She had no expertise in concealment and didn’t have the skills necessary to avoid Rykan’s patrols. She wouldn’t even be able to defend herself were she unfortunate enough to be found. If the worst should happen and they were all killed inside Rykan’s palace, Rienne would never see Albia again. She had no means of crossing the Veils and would be an obvious and vulnerable intruder wherever she went. She might, he supposed, manage to return to Harva, but she must surely be aware she wouldn’t survive long away from home.

He was distracted from his thoughts by Bull, who got to his feet to replenish the fellan pot. The big man turned to Rienne, passed her a cup and said, “Come on, my little lovely, your turn now.” Helping her up, he drew her into the circle. “Right, lads. Let’s see what we can do to improve our healer’s looks, eh?”

Taran could see Cal about to defend Rienne and nudged his elbow. “Ease up, Cal,” he murmured, “Bull’s only joking. We’re all in this together.”

Rienne sat in the center of their circle and Taran could feel relief and apprehension radiating from her. “Will I feel different?” she asked.

“Shouldn’t think so,” said Robin. “You might feel a sensation on your skin as the power touches you, but no more than when we shield you. Your eyes won’t feel any different and it would be better if you try to ignore what we’re doing so your reactions will be normal.”

She sat stiffly, clearly trying not to think about what was happening, and Robin began to work. Taran, Cal and Bull all stared critically at her, making comments while Robin altered her appearance. The Journeyman shuddered when he finished; he’d never imagined that the color and shape of someone’s eyes could make such a difference. All their faces had taken on a feral appearance and it was no longer easy to read what they were thinking.

They let the disguise settle before feeling confident it was as natural as it was going to get. Robin suggested they maintain it even when they were alone. If they should come across one of Rykan’s patrols unexpectedly, the disguises would already be in place.

“Will it last overnight?” asked Rienne.

Robin shook his head. “We need the Powersink to maintain the disguise and that would be an unnecessary drain. It’s going to tire us enough as it is. I suggest that whoever’s on watch keeps up their own disguise, it’ll be good practice. Who knows what might happen if we manage to join Rykan’s forces? It’s likely we’ll have to do some quick thinking if we’re not to get separated.”

He flicked both Taran and Cal a grim glance. “I’m not going to pretend this will be easy. Far from it. It’ll be risky and dangerous and we’ll be lucky to get out alive. The only way it’ll work is if we’re tight, sharp and swift. Ideally, I want to be able to ride in there tomorrow, use our cover as mercenaries to do a bit of reconnaissance—which shouldn’t be too difficult as the place will be in chaos—find out where he’s keeping her, and effect our rescue during the night.”

Noting Taran’s raised brows, his mouth tightened. “Yes, I know it won’t be as simple as that, but I have nothing else to offer until I know what we’re up against. One thing I can tell you. The longer we’re there, the greater the chance of discovery. Our only advantage lies in surprise, but it’s no guarantee of success. If anyone wants to back out, now’s the time to say. Bull and I won’t think any less of you.”

Taran traded glances with Cal and Rienne and then shook his head. Robin’s relief was plain.

“We need to be up early in the morning, so unless there are any questions, I suggest we grab some sleep.”