Guardian Last (Lords of Syon Saga Book 2) (18 page)

As tired as she was from the ride, she’d bedded down on the
hard floor fully clothed and armed, with only her cloak to cover her.  Partly
so she could hear any commotion through the floorboards and respond quickly,
but mostly so she would be forced to sleep lightly and keep watch.

Chul had not so much as closed his eyes in at least two
days, so she’d insisted that he take the bed.  Besides, should need arise, she
had no doubt she could rouse him quickly and quietly.  Like Aidan, the boy
could sleep like a bear and still come fully awake in a second.  She envied him
that.

She smiled to think how accustomed to sleeping in beds Chul
had become, and even to wearing a nightshirt.  The few times the boy had gone
padding about Graymonde by night without his leathers had scandalized and then
entertained her maidservants, drawing them all out with some excuse of a night
to look upon him, to the point where she’d had to explain to him the virtues of
a nightshirt.  She counted herself lucky that he had yet to notice the
attraction he held for “Invader” women.  She’d been so careful to protect him
from the Hadrians that she’d not yet had a chance to warn him about this other
hazard.

Tonight, though, made aware of her worries about the
innkeeper’s loose tongue, he slept in his leathers beneath the blankets, his
hand resting comfortably on his knife.  Only the boy’s boots were off, set by
the chair where Colaris stood asleep, an eerily headless little silhouette with
his face tucked under his wing.

Sleep.  A nice thought, certainly, but her mind danced
crazily between the worried jumble of Chul’s story of the glade and Nestor’s
fears about an army of mages.  Such things were unthinkable, yet within the
space of a day, it seemed they had all come to pass.  The gods had battled in
the glade, Castle Brannagh had fallen, and now the last of Syon’s protectors
were all heading to Byrandia.

Every story, every reference, every four thousand year old
word she’d ever heard or read about Byrandia played through her mind assuring
her of nothing so much as that she knew absolutely nothing, and with the
fearful imaginings that filled the gaps of her knowledge, she wondered if she’d
ever sleep again.

“Gikka.”

She opened her eyes to see Chul crouching beside her, his
hunting knife still in his hand.  Beyond him, she could see the early sunlight
peeking in at the open window where he’d stood to greet its first rays, and she
could feel the cold breath of the morning air on her face.  Apparently she had
fallen asleep after all.

“How now?” she whispered, her mouth feeling pasty and dry
from the tea the night before.

“All is well, I think,” he answered quietly.  “The household
are awake and seeing to the morning meal.”

“Aye, I hear them below.”  She listened against the floor
for a moment.  “Sure they’re making a right clatter of it.  It’s a wonder
anyone sleeps.”

“Jath is already below in the stable, seeing to the horses. 
I saw him from the window.”  He frowned.  “I think they want to be away soon,
and all the better if we are.”

She rose silently to her feet, not wanting to creak the
floorboards.  She looked into his eyes.  “What’s wrong?  What did you see?”

He cocked his head.  “I’m not sure,” he began.  “It’s more
what I don’t see that bothers me.”

“Sure it’s something or you’d not be wrinkling your brow
thus.”  She rubbed the cold from her shoulders and splashed water from the
basin on her face.  “Trust yourself and speak of it.  If it’s nothing, I’ll
tell you.”

He nodded and showed her to the window.  “I watched an hour
ere the sun rose, and time and again, I watched the patrols pass just there,
tight on the clock.” 

“Aye, so they did all the night.  Every half hour.”

He nodded.  “Yes, that’s how I marked it, as well. Two
different groups passed, four men in each.”

“Those would be the marquess’s men patrolling,” she said,
yawning.  “They’re no concern of ours, as blind and useless as they’ve ever
been.”

He shrugged.  “But come the sunrise, the patrols stopped.  They
were not late.  They just didn’t come at all.  Now, it could be they only
patrol by night, or it could be they change the guard, but…”

“The town patrols do not stop at dawn, and they ever take
care not to leave a gap.  Not by accident, anyway.”  She looked out the window
in alarm, careful not to be seen.  “How long is it since the last patrol
passed?”

“Only an hour.  Another should be passing now, but as you
see…”

“We cannot wait.”  She tied her cloak about her.  “Go help
Jath with the horses.”  She gestured quickly to Colaris, and he fluttered his
wings for only a moment where he stood to shake the blood into them.  A moment
later, he flew out the window, taking himself high above Durlindale.

She listened a moment at the door.  Voices.  Male.  Calm. 
She cracked her door quietly to see the innkeeper standing in the corridor
talking with Nestor.

“But surely you would stay for breakfast ere you depart!  My
wife and daughters have gone to such trouble!”  He smiled.  “Besides, you’ve
paid for it already.”

“Sure we thank you,” answered the duke’s retainer in the
oddly nasal accents of the north, “but as I’ve been at pains to tell you, I’m
afraid our business will not wait for crumpets, what.”  Beside Nestor, another
figure stood quietly, patiently waiting upon him, hood raised to cover his
head, and it took a moment for Gikka to realize who that must be.

She pushed the door closed again.  “Not this way, lad.”

Chul nodded and went to the window.  He extended a hand to
her.  “Come, I’ll ease you down.”

She shook her head.  “Nestor and the duke are trapped in the
hallway by the landlord.  I’ll see to them,” she said, fastening her cloak.  She
looked down over the yard below, plotting a course between the inn and the
stable.  “You have everything?”

He nodded.

“Go.  Meet us with the horses round the back of the stable
there, out of view of the road in case a patrol does come by.  Mind we’ll be in
haste.”

She closed the window behind him and barred it, then took a
deep breath and opened the door.

“Please.  You simply cannot ride on an empty stomach!”  The
innkeeper’s jovial tone was almost hysterical now.  “Just a bite or two!”

She found the innkeeper’s presence more than merely annoying
now.  He was obviously trying to delay them with hospitality, but in the
process, he was blocking the stairs, which was more sinister since they could
not push past him without violence.  He was taking advantage of their good
natures to victimize them.  Several possibilities crossed her mind for solving
the problem, most involving her dagger, but in the interest of leaving
Durlindale clean today rather than tomorrow amidst a pile of corpses, she
settled on one that did not.

“Innkeeper,” she shouted angrily, “there you stand,
groveling and kissing the toes of this northerner, teasing him to stay with…crumpets,
is it?  And all the while, this room of mine smells of rotting meat.”

“Pardon?” he said, horrified.  “Surely not!”

“You heard me, bloody rotten meat!  Has done all the
night!”  She raised her voice, letting it become more and more shrill.  “Mayhap
the smell rises from your cold cellar, or perhaps you have dead rats in the
walls!”

“Rats!  Please, Mistress,” the innkeeper muttered, moving a
bit closer to her, “keep your voice down.  I’ll not have you worrying my other
guests. Yes, well,” he said loudly, casting a smile to Nestor, “I will see to
it later.”

“Later?  You will see to it now, you will!” she bellowed. 
“My ward and myself, we’re both sickened by the stench!  Kept up the night with
retching and heaving!  A wonder it is that we’re well enough to ride.”

“Now see here!” broke in Nestor, “This poor lady spent the
night smelling dead rats in the walls, what?  I say, what kind of inn are you
running here?  See to it, man, see to it!”

She watched the innkeeper consider.  He would have to
abandon his post blocking the stairs to see to her room, but he decided the
drama could serve to delay his moneyed guests further if he played it right. 
“Gentlemen,” he smiled, “Pray you, stay a while.  You shall see, I will resolve
this in a trice, and then we can all sit down to a nice breakfast.”

Gikka gave a subtle nod to Nestor.

“Oh, very well, then,” Nestor said with exasperation, “but
make haste.”

The innkeeper stepped past her into the room and gave a
quick sniff.  “I smell nothing,” he said and turned to leave.  “There, you
see?  Whatever it was, it’s past.”

“Past, nothing!  Have you no nose at all?  It’s worst by the
bed.  Go on, smell for yourself.  With the window closed, there’s no air at all
but smells of a three days corpse, withal.” 

“There’s your answer, then.  Open the window!”

She glared at him and crossed her arms, blocking the
doorway.

“Oh, very well.”  He sighed and moved further into the room
sniffing until he was on the far side of the bed.  “Truly, I smell nothing,
Mistress!”

In one motion, she stepped out, closed the door and locked
it with her key, which she left in the lock.  It would be a full minute before
he grasped what happened, as dull as he was, and his shouts would be drowned
out at least for a while by the clang and clatter below.  She doubted he’d even
consider climbing out the window.

“Gikka,” breathed the duke as they ran down the stairs,
“That should not have worked.”

“Aye, my Lord,” she grinned, “but it did.”

Suddenly she stopped and signaled them to caution.  On the
porch outside the front door of the inn she could hear the creak of boots
coming to the door, several pair, guards or military by the sound of the step,
and beyond that, she could hear horses and men shuffling on the street.  She
cursed under her breath.  The innkeeper had delayed them enough, it seemed.

“So be it, then,” she whispered, drawing her dagger. 
“Nestor, take him through the kitchen and to the stable.  Take Chul with you,
an it please you, but leave me Zinion, and I’ll follow hard upon.  I’ve in mind
to see to this ere I go.”

“No, no, lass,” he said.  “We’ll all away together and leave
them here to wonder.”

“What?” She looked angrily at the door.  “These men have in
mind to rob us and whoever else they can, besides!”  She nodded up toward where
the innkeeper banged on the door.  “He’s already told them of you, is why
they’re here.  Best we stop them, or who else will?”

The duke touched her arm.  “We cannot.”

She looked at him helplessly.  He was the duke she was sworn
to serve, but she could not help but believe he was making a mistake in letting
these naughty men live to follow them.

“Gikka,
Pro’chna
,” whispered Nestor, squeezing her
hand, “come away.  Trust an old man.” 

Without waiting for her to argue, the two men made their way
out through the kitchen and through the mudroom into a rude maze of woodpiles
that filled the space between the inn and the stables. 

Gikka swore under her breath and followed Nestor and the
duke.  Amongst the woodpiles, her cloak blended effortlessly against the bark
of the logs as she moved.  She moved ahead of them to scout and to allow them
to move toward the stable unhindered.

She crouched and crept along the last of the wood to see how
many of the men remained without and how many horses waited.  Her guess had
been no more than twelve, but there were easily eighteen in view, all bearing
the marquess’s own colors.  Fortunately, all the men seemed to have gone inside
by now.

Nestor chuckled darkly as he and the duke crouched beside
her.  “The marquess’s own men, and quite a few of them, at that.”

Trocu nodded.  “But these are not the same that stopped us
yesterday. Are they all corrupt, then?”

Gikka looked between them.  “Ever was the marquess known a
sluggard and a coward,” she said, “and his men, blind, lazy fools.  This much
industry in them speaks of a spur somewhere.”

“So it does,” Trocu sighed.  “It seems that with the war’s
end, the marquess’s negligence has given way to frank corruption, and I think
the spur you seek is none other than his greed.  I wonder sometimes what good
we thought we did when we liberated Durlindale from Kadak.”  He squeezed her
shoulder.  “We must away.”

The boys had already led the horses out through the rear
door, and within only a moment, they were all horsed and moving through the
smith’s yard on the far side of the stable, still not visible from the road,
but unfortunately visible from the top floor of the inn.

High above them at the now open window to what must have
been Gikka’s room, the innkeeper was shouting and pointing down at them, and
beside him stood one of the marquess’s men, seemingly someone in charge.  The
man turned and barked orders to someone within.

Chul slowed at the rear of their line and drew his hunting
knife to aim at the commander in the window, but Jath put a hand on his arm.

“Peace, Chul,” the stable boy warned.  “You will start a
war.”

The commander was shouting now.  “They’re below in the
stables!  They’re to their horses already!  Quickly!”

“But…” the Dhanani continued to watch the window.  “It’s an
easy throw from here.  An I don’t, they’ll be on our heels!”

“An you do, your people will be destroyed!”  Jath looked
into Chul’s eyes.  “The knife you would throw is Dhanani, and you will not get
it back.  Don’t you see?”

Chul looked down.

“You don’t throw, and they will follow, but for a few miles
only.  They want our coin, and that not as much as they want to fill their
cups.  The men are not moved as their masters are, but they are loyal.  Do not
kill their laziness with anger.”

Chul’s eyes blazed.  “These are the marquess’s own men! 
Their corruption is his!”

“Aye,” said Jath softly, “You see true.  But we five will
not stop this today, not even an we kill the marquess himself.  This takes a
patient hand.”