By Darkness Hid (52 page)

“Aye, sir.”

Vrell heard the slapping of boots on stone. And just like that, Bran was gone.

Sir Rigil spoke to someone else. “Are you sure you’re all right? Those cuts look nasty.”

“I’m fine.”

Vrell peeked over the pickle barrel. She spotted Achan, his face covered in blood. He leaned back against the wall and slid down to a sitting position, straightening his legs out in front.

Tears flooded Vrell’s eyes and she stood. “Achan! What’s happened?”

Sir Rigil drew his sword, and Achan dove away from the wall.

Vrell flinched and met Achan’s eyes. His head cocked to the side. He huffed and leaned back against the wall. “You. Sparrow, where did you come from? And what’s with you today? What was that stunt you pulled at the Council meeting?”

Vrell ran to him and crouched at his side. The cuts on his cheeks were not so deep, but they needed to be tended or they would scar terribly. “How did this happen?”

“Just
Esek
venting a little steam.”

“Oh, Achan.” She stood and her foot caught on something. She looked down. His scabbard was empty. “Where is your sword?”

Achan’s expression drooped. “Lost. I dropped it when Sir Kenton bested me. The guards took me away, and I don’t know if anyone picked it up.”

“I am so sorry. What a terrible loss.”

Vrell took in the shelves that filled the wall behind Sir Rigil. They were stocked with baskets of apples, pears, onions, and turnips. A shelf of hard bread lined the next wall. Vrell took a deep breath and her stomach pinged at the scents of food.

Sir Rigil sheathed his weapon. “You’re Hadar’s apprentice. The one they dragged out of the Council chambers.” He turned to Achan. “You sure you trust this lad?”

Achan sighed. “I don’t know who to trust anymore. Every time I think I’m on the right track, something happens to prove me wrong.”

Vrell opened her mouth to speak, to reveal to Sir Rigil who she really was and perhaps hasten the rescue of her mother. But no words came. How embarrassing to admit such deceit in front of Achan—her king—especially when he felt he could trust no one. Maybe she could wait until he was away. Then he never need know.

Her ears tingled.

Jax mi Katt.

Vrell let him in.
Jax?

Are you safe now?

Yes. Thank you.

I have your sword. I ran into a blacksmith’s apprentice, who mentioned you had it commissioned. I paid the balance. Would you like it before you go?

Vrell clapped her hands.
“Yes!”
Oh, Jax, thank you!

“Are you talking to someone, Sparrow?” Achan asked.

“Yes. Just a minute. Achan, this is a cellar. Grab a sack and collect some food for your journey. If you are to go with Sir Gavin, he might not have had time to gather supplies.”

Sir Rigil’s jaw dropped like a drawbridge.

Achan held up his hands. “Hey! Who’s the king? You or me?” But he smirked at Sir Rigil and clambered to his feet. “As if I don’t know what a kitchen cellar looks like. I only slept in one all my life.”

Sir Rigil glared at Vrell. He dumped out a sack of potatoes and started filling it with chunks of bread from the back shelf.

Jax voiced to Vrell.
You deserve proper training to go with this weapon. Perhaps our new king can teach you.

You will not serve Esek?

I never really did. I am a Mârad spy, Vrell. I served Prince Oren Hadar until he swore fealty to the true king. Now I serve that king myself. Can I do anything else for him or you?

Vrell looked at Achan, who cradled a pile of green apples in his arms, holding the top one under his chin. A thick stripe of blood dripped down his cheeks, off his jaw, and onto the apples.

Vrell wrinkled her nose.
I need the satchel from my room. It is my healing kit. The king was wounded.

I shall bring it right away. You are in the cellar?

Vrell paused a long moment. She trusted Jax, but if she was wrong, it would be a terrible mistake.
The first kitchen.

I’ll be there soon.

Vrell turned to Achan. “Someone is coming with my healing kit so I can tend to your wounds. I suggest you stay here in case he turns out to be against you. I do not think he is, but it is best not to risk it.”

Sir Rigil gave the bag of bread a spin. “Who is this person?”

“His name is Jax mi Katt. He is a Kingsguard giant from—”

“I know him,” Sir Rigil said. “He’s on our side. Still, it’s best he doesn’t see us. That way, if he’s interrogated he won’t know anything. Let us hide ourselves, Your Highness.”

“Fine.” Achan bit into an apple, then froze, eyes narrowed, jaw stiff. “That hurts.”

“Then do not eat,” Vrell said.

He pouted. “But I’m hungry. In case you forgot, we didn’t have breakfast or lunch.”

“Then eat bread or something soft.”

Achan dug his thumbnail into his apple, ripped out a chunk, and slid it into his mouth.

Vrell rolled her eyes.

Jax’s voice came like a whisper,
Vrell?

“He is coming,” Vrell said. “Go.”

The corner of Achan’s mouth curved up. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

Vrell sneered as Sir Rigil ushered Achan to the shelves filled with flour sacks. She had had her fill of his teasing. It would be nice to be a woman again and spend time in the company of people with manners. In Bran’s company, especially.

Vrell hurried out into the first kitchen and made her way past cooks and servants bustling between the tables and hearths. The smells of fresh bread, pheasant, and mince pies set Vrell’s stomach to growling. She had not eaten a bite all day, either.

A massive shadow spilled through the doorway and over the stone floor. Jax ducked inside. He smiled down, eyes twinkling, and held up a steel sword and her satchel.

“Afternoon, Mr. Jax,” a serving girl said. “You hungry?”

“Not now, thanks. I’ve just come to see Master Sparrow.”

The serving girl smiled and went back to her kettle.

Vrell led Jax to the far corner of the kitchen, where they would be out of the way. She took the satchel and draped its strap over her head and one arm. “Thank you, Jax, so much.”

He shook the sword. “You know how to wear one of these?”

“I am certain I can manage.”

He lowered his bulk onto his knees and waved her over. Vrell stepped toward him. He drew a metal ring out of his pocket. “Untie your belt.” Vrell did and Jax took it from her. He looped the cord through the metal ring, securing it with a knot so it wouldn’t slip. Then he handed it back. “You need this to hold your weapon, since you have no scabbard or sheath.”

Vrell retied the belt over her tunic so the ring sat over her left hip. Jax handed her the sword and she threaded the point through the loop. The metal hung at her side, resting against her leg. She beamed. Now she could protect herself on the journey home, though traveling with Sir Rigil and Bran, she would surely have no need.

“Don’t go using that without training. You can get yourself killed in a wink.”

“I shall be careful.”

Vrell?
Jax voiced.

“Yes?”

Are you truly all right going with the men?

She had no plans to go with Achan once she revealed her identity to Sir Rigil. Still, it might be better if Jax thought she had. Then, if rumors spread, Esek and Master Hadar would not look for her in the castle. She didn’t know how long it would take Sir Rigil to sneak her to a safe place.
Of course,
she thought to Jax.
I am getting away from those who seek to exploit my skill. I will be with the true king and Sir Gavin. I will be fine.

Aye. But they are men, and you are not.

The blood drained from Vrell’s face. Had Khai confided his discovery to Jax? She studied the giant’s soft and caring expression.
How long have you known?

Since I first saw you.
He smirked.
You do not smell like a man.

Vrell’s eyes went wide, then she laughed. “I am so happy you were on my side.”

“As am I, Vrell.”

She said farewell—in case she never saw him again—with a big hug, then hurried back through the second kitchen to the cellar.

The room appeared empty. “Hello? Sir Rigil?”

A hand popped out from behind the shelf stocked with flour sacks. “In here.”

The secret passage. Vrell found the crack and squeezed through.

On the other side of the door, everything went dark. She bet this tunnel continued on to the canals. She felt along the wall. “Sir Rigil?”

“He’s left.” Achan’s voice came from very near Vrell’s right shoulder. It made her jump. “It’s just us,” he said.

“And we should have left by now.” Sir Caleb spoke from near Achan. “Have you got what you need to mend Achan’s wounds?”

Vrell shuddered, tears stinging her eyes. No Sir Rigil? No Bran? They must have left when Vrell had been speaking with Jax. If only she had stayed in the cellar. “But where are they? Won’t they be joining us?”

“No. They’ve gone back to assist Prince Oren,” Achan said.

“Boy?” Sir Caleb said. “Have you got it?”

“Uh…y-yes. Yes, I have it.”

“Good. Let’s go then. The sooner we get Achan out of here the better for everyone.”

But Vrell wanted to stay. She wanted to be with Bran. She needed to go home. A heavy tear fell down her cheek. She
could
reveal herself now, but…

A flame whooshed to life and Achan and Sir Caleb’s faces appeared in the darkness. They looked orange and shadowed. Sir Gavin carried the torch down the tunnel. Achan shot Vrell a crooked grin, then touched his cheek as if the smile had been painful. He stumbled after Sir Gavin.

He needed her help. How awful for her to even consider deserting her king. Poor Achan. He had had the most terrible day. Vrell had forgotten that this morning Achan had been a stray and now he was king of Er’Rets. She could serve her king a while longer, could she not?

She sniffled and scurried to keep up with the men’s long strides.

*          *          *

Achan sat in the center of a small boat, clutching two moist handkerchiefs to his face, at Sparrow’s insistence. The boy had said they had some kind of healing ointment on them.

Inko paddled the boat through the mist. The water smelled rank and slapped against the sides of their boat, no doubt leaving a line of green slime. The Evenwall muted the afternoon sun, and the damp air clung to Achan’s face like sweat. Or was that blood? Achan could only see a foot or two of the scummy water on any side of the boat.

Sparrow and Sir Caleb sat in the bow. Sir Gavin and Inko sat in the back. The two knights had rescued Sir Caleb when Sir Rigil and Bran had rescued Achan. They had been waiting in the cave when Achan, Sir Caleb, and Sparrow had arrived.

Achan looked the boy over. Sparrow sat on the front bench facing him, mixing something gooey in a jar with a stick. The boy’s eyes were puffy as if he’d spent the day bawling. He still hadn’t explained his behavior in the Council chambers that morning. Achan didn’t entirely trust the little fox. His eyes caught sight of a sword hanging from Sparrow’s belt.

“Where’d you get the blade?”

Sparrow’s wide eyes darted to his. “I bought it. Jax delivered it with my satchel.” He glanced down. “Where did you get yours? I thought you lost it.”

“He did. Twice,” Sir Caleb said. “And twice we’ve rescued it for him.”

Achan looked at his boots. He was so thankful Sir Caleb had found Eagan’s Elk. If only he could learn to use it as well as Sir Kenton used his. He sighed. He couldn’t believe the incredible turn his life had taken. He didn’t want to think about it, which wasn’t difficult, considering their destination. They would soon enter Darkness, a place Achan didn’t want to go.

He turned to Sir Gavin. “I thought you said never go into Darkness.”

“Aye, that I did.”

“And yet toward it we go?”

Sir Gavin glanced at a sign on a building that they were gliding past. It read: Tanner. “Aye, that we do.”

“Won’t we all go crazy in there?”

“Not if we stay together. And right now we need a place to hide.”

Great. Achan had gone from an invisible nothing to a hunted king. Way back in that barn in Sitna, when he’d rescued Mox from Riga and Harnu, when he’d longed to change his station, he’d simply wanted a cottage of his own and the right to wear whatever color pleased him. Now look at him. “Do you have a plan?”

Sir Gavin chuckled. “Of course I have a plan. We head for Tsaftown.”

“Lady Tara lives in Tsaftown.” Achan’s heartbeat upped a notch at the idea of seeing her again. Would their meeting be different with his new identity? He couldn’t help but grin. “How long will it take to get there?”

Sparrow clunked the jar down on the bench and ripped the handkerchief away from Achan’s right cheek.

“Ow! Take it easy, will you?”

“Sorry,” Sparrow mumbled.

It was not yet dark in the Evenwall, though it had to be nearing dusk. Few boats were out on the narrow canal they traveled. Inko wanted to steer clear of the main waterways, for fear that they were being watched.