Chaos Storm (The Flight of the Griffin Book 2) (3 page)

'No we won't worry about that rose at all, will we, Pardigan…
Pardigan?
'

'What? No… don't worry I'm not going to get myself hung, Quint. I'm brave, but not stupid.' He grinned at his friend and they stood and made their way out into the street.

'Course none of the other thieves can place-shift or go invisible can they,' mumbled Pardigan thoughtfully as he pulled his cape around him.

When they all met up back at The Owl that evening, there was a lot to talk about. Sitting around a large table in the busy drinking room, close to the crackling fire, they drank warm apple juice and munched on hot pies. When Tarent heard about the golden rose and read the parchment, he sighed. Putting down his glass, he looked at Pardigan, screwed the King's proclamation into a ball, and threw it into the fire.

'Pardigan… don't do it.'

'Do what?' asked Pardigan offering Tarent a look of innocent bewilderment. 'Do you really think I'm daft enough to risk my neck trying to get that dumb rose?'

'Yes, Pardigan, unfortunately I do,' said Tarent. 'And if you do try, you'll get caught, and we aren't going to be able to help you, not here, not in the palace, so just don't do it, all right.'

Quint placed a hand on Tarent's shoulder. 'He's not going to, don't worry.'

Tarent shook his head. 'Of course he will. Think who we're talking about.' He locked eyes with Pardigan. 'Just don't… prove me wrong, if you can.' Pardigan glared back without answering.

'Well, we had a great afternoon,' smiled Loras breaking the tension. 'We found some wonderful bookshops. I got
An Examination of Magics
and,
An Encyclopaedia of
Transfiguration.
' The one on transfiguration is something I've wanted to look into for ages.

'Trans-finger what?' asked Pardigan with a frown.

'Transfiguration, it's the magic of changing shape… like Mahra. I'm hoping that one day I'll be able to change into a panther or something! Can you imagine?' He grinned around happily at his friends.

Pardigan shook his head. 'I think we need to talk to Parish, Loras is going to need his own room, or he's going to end up transfingerizing one of us into a worm or something!'

Quint smiled and turned to Tarent. 'And you?' What did you find?' Tarent leaned under the table and brought up a huge book wrapped in sacking and thumped it onto the table.

'Oh, I found two things. I found this book,
Prayers and rituals to the Source
, which I'm hoping will explain more of what I'm meant to be doing as a warrior priest. And I also found something else today. He leaned forward, careful to keep his voice low, 'I also found out that the skulls have been stolen from Sterling Temple.'

* * *

'For the love of the Source man, will yeh keep still. I've enough trouble on me plate dealing with this damnable ship without watching you pacing up and down, glaring at everyone and everything all the time.' Bartholomew scuttled back as the Hawk spun around and scowled at him.

'Hush yeh prattle, Mr. Bask, just you concentrate on taking us north. I'm as eager as you to finish our negotiations and move on. Thankfully, our partnership will soon end, so if you wish to stay alive until that end, just you deal with your boat and leave me to my thoughts and my pacing.' He spun on his heels, black cloak billowing and strode to the side of the ship where he stood staring out through sheeting rain at the turbulent horizon. The little black demon scuttled from his shoulder and up into the rigging, careful not to stray too far from the hunter. The Hawk frowned at it.

'Don't wander off, Nhasic, you know what will happen if you do.' The demon moved down a little closer to the Hawk, and then with obvious reluctance leapt back onto his shoulder, hissing and chattering its teeth. 'I know you hate me Nhasic, but I really don't care.' He reached up and patted the little demon on the head, then flicked its ear with his finger making a leathery
thwack
. The demon hissed angrily shaking its head, which only served to bring a rare smile to the hunter's face. 'Life's tough in the realm of man isn't it, my little friend eh?'

The Esmerelda
sailed on, passing the great northern mountains of the Massif range and the treacherous reefs that guarded them, and on towards the land of the Warrior Queen, Morgasta.

The weather this far north, was foul at any time of year but now, as winter closed in, the seas were colossal, driven by hurricane force winds that battered the great ship incessantly, straining both boat and crew to their limits. As the ship rose to breach each great wave, those on deck were exposed to the constant misery of wind-driven, icy rain and sleet that numbed any skin left bare and made rags of coats and clothing. Once the ship had broken through the top of each colossal wave, it would abruptly drop away sending the ship surging down into the depths in an explosion of spray that washed across the decks seeking to claim anything and anyone for the sirens of the deep.

Bartholomew Bask, now reluctantly captaining his own vessel after the previous holder of the position had deserted was making up for his lack of nautical knowledge by being as hard as the weather. The merchant was exhibiting qualities of stamina and command previously undiscovered, pushing his crew on into the very teeth of each new storm.

The skulls had cost him plenty, but now they would make him rich for they were the key to the Kingdom and the Barbarian Queen's agents had promised she would pay handsomely for their safe delivery. Bartholomew held no allegiance to King Hugo Payne and the Kingdom; his only allegiance was to himself and to a profit, a profit that so far he considered long overdue on these skulls. He stared at the Hawk who was standing oblivious to the elements, the little black demon holding onto his shoulder trying to stay balanced as the ship and the weather sought to claim it.

Soon we shall part, Mr. 'awk, and good riddance it shall be,
thought Bartholomew.
I don't like a man so cold that money cannot warm his heart.
He was well aware that the Hawk wasn't doing this out of any thought of riches; power and revenge were all that drove that evil soul. Since he'd returned from his journey across the Great Expanse, the man was changed, changed into something altogether more evil and powerful, and Bartholomew was eager to see the last of him. He shivered, and it wasn't just from the cold.

'Soon be rid of him and his nasty demon, then I can get back to me own life instead of sailing to his beck and call' he muttered, the wind stealing the words from his mouth. He spat downwind then glanced up at the sheets of straining canvas driving the ship on.

'Sail… Sail ahead, sail ahead!' the cry came down from the crows-nest, and Bartholomew scrambled to find his telescope.

Staggering over to the side of the rolling ship, he joined the Hawk who was already scanning the waves with his own telescope, searching for sign of the sail on the horizon.

It wasn't easy to keep focused as
The Esmerelda
rose and fell, salty spray soon clouded the lens, but Bartholomew could just make out the sail in the distance as they rose to the peak of each new wave.

'It's a ship of the Queen,' rasped the Hawk still peering through his telescope. 'Let's hope they received your message, Mr. Bask, or we may have to defend ourselves.' He smiled down at Bartholomew. 'We may have to send the Queen's ship to a watery grave. Now that wouldn't do much for our cause, would it?' Bartholomew closed his telescope with a snap and glared at the Hawk saying nothing. It would be just like this fool to sink the Queen's ship and ruin any chance of a profit. He would just see it as some kind of fine entertainment to send it to the bottom of the sea with its crew still aboard and little chance of finding favour with the Queen. Bartholomew turned and shouted at the helmsman who was fighting to keep the wheel from spinning out of control.

'Bring us two points into the wind and keep her steady… run up our colours so she can identify us.' The sailor responded with a nod and
The Esmerelda
slowly turned to meet the Barbarian Queen's ship.

* * *

Pardigan, for his part, felt both Quint and Tarent were overly concerned about the golden rose and the effect the challenge might be having on him. He was almost sure he had allayed their suspicions concerning his interest, and after a few days they'd at least stopped talking about leaving Deniah.

'What possible reason could I have for trying to take the rose? I don't know anyone in the dungeons, and we don't need the reward the guild is posting,' he'd argued. 'I would also like to point out that I'm very attached to my neck and don't really like the idea of having it stretched, so stop treating me as if I'm stupid.' Even so, Quint or Tarent had always found some reason to be with him whenever he'd attempted to go out alone.

It was, therefore, late one night when the opportunity finally presented itself. He had been lying awake for ages listening to the sound of the rain drumming on the window and splashing down on the street outside. The snores and snuffles of his friends finally convinced him that they were all asleep, and he decided it was time to make his move, just to take a look. He smiled at the thought of all the gossip it would cause to take the rose, and the questioning looks he would get from the others.

I'll just smile and say nothing and let them decide if it really was me. There isn't any need to steal the rose, I'll just move it; put it on the King's pillow or something. That'll show them the King of thieves is about, but nobody will know who it is… except me. He grinned as he crept out of the room, made his way carefully down the creaking stairs and, leaving the Inn, set off into the rain.

Parish, the landlord at The Owl, had been a whole mine of information, about both the palace
and
the challenge of the golden rose.

'Word is that it's displayed in the library. That's about half way up the western tower. How any fool thief could think to get up there without being seen is beyond me, but try they do and get caught and hung they do as well, a nasty business it all is and that's a fact.'

On various walks past the palace, Pardigan had already worked out which was the west tower, and been listening eagerly whenever anyone had talked about the rose or the palace. Others in The Owl's drinking room had spoken of the problems the King was having with the war, how it was both a drain on the Royal treasury and the household guards. What nobody could tell Pardigan was what, or who was guarding the rose and making it so difficult to steal.

Having learned all he could about the palace from the drinkers at The Owl, Pardigan had decided a nocturnal investigation of the palace's defences was called for. He had convinced himself that tonight was just a scouting mission,
if
he then decided to go after the rose, then he would leave that for another night, tonight he merely needed information.

The stories he'd heard told that several other thieves had tried posing as deliverymen, or had feigned an appointment with an official in order to get past the guards on the gate. Others had climbed the wall at a point that they'd thought was unobserved, but all had been caught and hung.

Skirting the puddles and keeping to the shadows, he moved cautiously towards the palace, thanking the Source that, at this late hour, the streets were mostly empty. Whenever the sound of voices or footsteps did sound from ahead, he simply muttered 'Hide,' and became invisible.

The invisibility spell was becoming much easier to hold. Even when walking he could hold it for about thirty beats of the heart. If he was standing still, then he could almost hold it for as long as he wanted.

Blinking back to visibility, he shivered and waited while three members of the city watch disappeared around a corner, the heavy, echoing footfalls of their boots splashing in puddles fading into the night. Pardigan smiled, they hadn't a clue that they'd passed so close to him. He looked up through the rain at the palace and walked around towards the western tower as thunder rumbled in the distance threatening an even heavier downpour to come.

Almost opposite the tower was an Inn, The Blind Beggar. It was an old building in a bad state of repair, its worn sign creaking as it swayed in the wind still showing a faded likeness of a crouching beggar, hand outstretched and a cloth binding his eyes. Water was cascading down to the street from a broken gutter, the splashing noise covering almost all sounds of conversation that filtered through the thin, cracked glass from inside. Several strained notes came from an accordion, and someone was trying hard to sing, a woman's voice cackled with laughter as she tried to hush him.

'Ya daft ol bugger… buy me a drink an stop yer caterwauling…'

Casting around the deserted street, Pardigan blinked invisible, eased open the door and slipped inside.

He found himself in a darkened hallway just off the main drinking area, which was to his left whilst a wooden staircase, directly in front of him, lead up towards floors above. Pardigan started to climb, taking care to place his weight at the edge of each step to make as little noise as possible. Reaching the top of the stairs, he entered a longer hallway with several doors to either side, which he assumed opened into bedrooms. Light was spilling from under one door about halfway along the passage; the only other light was from a lone candle fluttering feebly in a wall bracket at the far end.

A board squeaked under his boot, Pardigan stopped, carefully holding both the spell and his breath. The muted sounds of the drinkers below may have muffled the sound but…

'That you Sim… Sim?' the voice came from behind the door with the light and Pardigan's heart skipped a beat. Moments went by, and the door remained closed. Softly, easing out his breath, he crept on towards the two last rooms at the end of the corridor, the rooms overlooking the street and the palace beyond. When he had studied the building from the street, it was from these rooms that he hoped he might be able to place-shift into the tower opposite.

Reaching out a hand he cautiously tried each door, but found them both locked. Muttering a silent curse, he became visible so he could concentrate better and dropped to one knee by the first door. Pulling out a piece of stiff leather from the folds of his cloak, he gently forced it between the lock and the doorframe. With his other hand, he worked a curved spike of metal into the lock itself and with all his concentration, patiently felt for the mechanism.

Someone coughed, and he stopped what he was doing and instantly went invisible. He turned around… nobody there… a shiver travelled the length of his spine. It must have been one of the sleepers behind another door. Light flashed beneath the doors and, moments later, thunder rumbled; the storm was getting closer. Despite the chill of the night, a bead of sweat rolled down Pardigan's forehead, and he absently wiped it away. Visible once more, he returned to the lock and gave a sigh when the leather finally obliged, easing further in as the door creaked open. Quickly replacing the tools in his cloak, he slipped into the room and closed the door.

It was dark, but Pardigan could just see that the bed was made-up and some travel bags were on the floor beside the table. Obviously, the occupant was still out, or more likely downstairs getting drunk. He crossed to the window and pulled it open. Damp night air rushed in, blowing the threadbare curtains around like loose sails, he ignored them and gazed across the gloom at the palace and the windows of the western tower, there were several. The rain was really tipping down now, the air filled with a cacophony of noise as it pelted the roofs and street coupled with the wind, which was gusting harder. He could still make out the dark looming shape of the palace through it all. The most promising window was almost level with the one he was on and showed a well-lit room; however, the problem was he was still about fifty spans away, further than he had ever shifted before. He looked up and down the street for alternatives, and saw a warehouse a little further along that appeared to be a little closer and was definitely taller than the Inn. It may give better access to higher rooms in the tower and was worth investigating to compare the two approaches. He started to close the window.