Many Roads Home (34 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

The castle came into view a little after four in the afternoon, a majestic and graceful presence rising up out of the flat fields around it. Yveni pulled up his horse and drew a deep breath as Gil reined in his mount alongside him. “A fine sight, isn’t it?” Gil remarked. “One I thought I might never see again.”

Standards flew from all the tall towers, though Yveni scowled to see the Enholt flags scattered here and there. Konsatin had a damn nerve. “Where did Markov say he’d meet us?”

“By the Stag Inn. Are you ready for this, lad?”

“Never readier.” Yveni nodded at Gil, and at Paole, intently watching him. “Forward!”

Nearly as many civilians as soldiers surrounded the Stag Inn a half mile from the castle, and they cheered Yveni soundly as he rode up. He stood in the saddle and waved to the well-wishers, keeping his distance. Commander Markov spurred his horse and rode over at a gallop, saluting Yveni as he came to a halt.

“Markov, greetings. How goes it?”

“I’m happy to report we’ve taken prisoner what we believe are all the remaining mercenaries. So far as we can tell, the castle is now only guarded by three hundred Enholt troops. We’re ready to make the final assault at your command, Your Grace.”

“Wait. As soon as you do that, Konsatin will use my sisters as hostages. We have to get them out of there first.”

“How?” Markov frowned. “When we attack, he’ll do as you say.”

“Yes. Which is why we sneak in. Gil, Sofia? This is where I need you. Commander, we’ll want a quiet place to talk.”

“Inside, Your Grace. We’ve taken it over with the kind cooperation of the owners.”

“Remind me to thank them personally. Lead on, please. Paole? Would you like to join us?”

His lover started, as if the invitation hadn’t been expected. “Won’t I be in your way?”

“No. Not you.” Yveni tried to infuse his tone with tenderness. Paole had been sidelined since they’d left the ship, and Yveni didn’t want him to feel unwanted.

They entered the cool, dark interior of the inn, the smell of stale beer and sweat pungent after the fresh air outside. An elderly man and woman came out to greet them, bowing respectfully. “Your Grace,” the man said. “Welcome to our inn.”

Yveni bowed his own head. “Thank you. Sorry for the inconvenience, sir.”

“No matter, Your Grace. It’s an honour.”

“Honour or not, you’ll be compensated for the lost business. Hopefully we’ll dispose of this little local difficulty and you can present a bill to the castle. Some of your fine ale too. I’ve missed good Sardelsan beer.”

“Then let me fix you right up, Your Grace.” The woman gave him a little bobbed curtsey.

Yveni smiled. “Ah, you know the way to a man’s heart, my lady. Thank you.” A blush coloured her aged cheeks and the old people rushed off to attend to their orders.

They sat down at one of the tables, and Markov smiled at him. “You might want to watch the beer, Your Grace. It’s a potent brew.”

“And how would you know that, Commander? Surely you don’t drink on duty.”

“Even for you, Your Grace, I’m not on duty all hours of the day. Now, to business. What plan do you have?”

“The walls of the castle, and the castle itself, have a secret network of tunnels. Originally they were built for servants to use, but they were extended during the civil war. They’ve fallen out of use, but my sisters and I discovered them. I, uh…researched them extensively.” Gil gave him a grin for that. “They were useful in avoiding certain huntmasters bent on tanning my bottom from time to time. They were also a way for my sisters and me to move between each other’s rooms. I’m certain Serina would never have told Konsatin about them.”

“Well,
I
knew nothing of them, so I’m sure none of the mercenaries or the Enholt troops do. Though when this is over, Your Grace, you and I need to have a little chat about such matters for benefit of castle security.”

Yveni refused to be abashed—secrecy on the subject of the tunnels was ingrained in all his family, and he had hoped not to reveal their existence at all. “In good time. So what I propose is this—a few of us, perhaps those of us here, should go in and take my sisters out in the night, while your men distract attention at the front.”

“Agreed. But I think we can do better than that.”

Yveni listened as Markov outlined his ideas. They seemed sound enough to him, and though he was no military tactician, none of the other listeners raised any concerns. He turned to his lover. “Paole, you understand I’ll have to go in myself. I can’t draw sufficiently accurate plans.”

“I know,” Paole said, mouth turned down unhappily. “But I want to come with you. You’ll need muscle.”

“Agreed. I think three others apart from myself—Sofia, perhaps you should stay to assist the army?”

She turned to Gil. “Husband?”

“I think the fewer people the better, for speed’s sake. What do you foreSee?”

Sofia concentrated. “I See…yes, Serina and Olana outside the castle.”

“So that means it’ll succeed?” Markov asked.

“It means it’s a possible future,” she explained. “I can’t promise it will definitely happen, or that it will happen as a result of this. It’s most likely to happen, but the future can change. Like me Seeing Yveni dead when Konsatin plotted against him—he changed that by escaping.”

“Ah. Very well. Then we do it the old-fashioned way. I’m not sure we need Master Paole—”

“I do,” Yveni insisted, taking Paole’s hand under the table.

“Very well. Then we put it into effect at nightfall,” Markov said.

Yveni shook his head. “No, later. Wait until people are asleep and servants aren’t in the halls.”

“Good point. Your beer’s coming.”

Yveni smiled at the woman bringing over a tray with a jug and beer mugs. “Perfect timing, my lady. Thank you.”

She set the tray down. “Blessings on Your Grace. We prayed for your safe return and mourned when they said you died.” She gave Gil and Paole a quick, suspicious glance. “They said it was Uemiriens what done it.”

“A mistake. I owe my life to them. I hope those who left will return, because I have many friends in that country.”

“Yes, Your Grace. Thank you.” She curtseyed again and left quickly.

Sofia sighed. “It’ll take more than kind words to convince your people, Yveni.”

“Sadly true. I know the truth of it, though. Paole, let me pour you your first Sardelsan beer, and Commander, let’s refine this plan. There won’t be room for error.”

Paole’s hands would not stay dry not matter how many times he wiped them on his trousers or his shirt. Yveni, damn him, was as calm and cheerful as if he carried out rescue missions every night of his life. The waiting around had been torture. The army had moved into position, cutting the castle off from the outside world. No contact had been made between those on the inside and those laying siege. As darkness fell, and the area around the castle gate became a sea of flaming torches, outshining the electrical lights on the castle towers, it looked almost festive to Paole’s eyes. The castle wall remained in darkness, and nothing could be heard or seen of the residents. He thought it a very strange situation, and a very strange reaction, but then what did he know of margraves and regents and castles? Nothing. Kind of Yveni to indulge him by letting him go with them tonight, but Markov had been right—Paole didn’t add anything that the others couldn’t provide just as well.

The lights held by the soldiers were intended to distract the guards on the wall. An hour before midnight, Paole and the other three slipped into a tiny archway four hundred metres or so from the main gate. Inside was pitch dark but Yveni lit a lamp to reveal a narrow, low-ceilinged tunnel. “Sorry,” he whispered, as Paole crouched. “Opens out farther on.”

Paole grunted quietly and kept his head down as they crept single-file along what felt like kilometres of tunnels. Yveni moved with assurance, which made Paole feel better about the whole thing. At several points, he stopped before a wooden panel or more obvious door and whispered to Markov, who made careful notes before they moved on.

As promised, the ceilings lifted a little, even though the tunnel was no wider, as they entered the residential section within the castle. They’d been warned that only these doors separated the tunnels from many rooms and corridors in the castle, and their voices and footsteps would carry. They walked slowly and with great care, and spoke as little as possible. Paole imagined Yveni as a child, light and quick, using these as his secret highway to gain a little privacy from the constant attentions of servants and even his friends. Had he and his sisters enjoyed the joke of suddenly appearing where they should not be? Yveni was so serious now, so mature. Hard to imagine him being a prankster.

Yveni stopped and held up his hand. “Serina’s room,” he mouthed, indicating a panel. He pointed along the tunnel. “Olana, next one, same side.”

Their plan couldn’t guide them now, for Yveni didn’t know if Serina still slept in her old room or if anyone would be with her. That was why they all carried guns. Even though he’d learn how to handle and shoot firearms onboard the ship, Paole hoped he’d not have to test his skills this night. He didn’t want to kill someone, or shoot one of his friends in the leg.

Yveni listened at the panel for some time, before signalling he was going in. Paole held his breath as the panel opened. From the room on the other side came faint lamplight, the kind he’d expect in a bedroom where someone was asleep. Yveni mouthed “wait” and crept through the doorway. Seconds later he was back and motioning them through, finger to lips to indicate they needed to be quiet.

The door emerged behind an artfully placed wardrobe, making it easy to check their path before they exposed themselves to danger. But there were no guards, and the four of them entered the bedroom without challenge.

In the dim light, the room appeared huge, twice the size of Mathias’s entire cabin. A large bed stood in pride of place, and on it someone slept—and at the foot of it, on a narrow couch, another sleeper. Serina’s attendant, most likely. Markov took up a position near the door, listening. Yveni motioned to Gil and pointed at the servant. Gil crouched and put his hand over the woman’s mouth. She briefly struggled, but then clearly recognised him. He took his hand away and repeated the finger-to-lips gesture. Yveni put his hand over his sister’s mouth and gently shook her. She took longer to waken, staring a little dazedly before she realised who he was. He took his hand away.

“By the gods…Yveni…Gil…” Her voice was a weedy, thin thing.

“Quiet, Serina darling. Where’s Olana?”

“In her room. What are you doing?”

“Getting you out of here. Inie, can you fetch her clothes?”

The maid lit another lamp from theirs, raising the light a little, and went to the wardrobes, moving silently and quickly. A sensible woman. Good.

But Serina was whispering to Yveni, who frowned, and motioned to Paole. “She can’t walk far,” he said. “Could you carry her?”

“Of course. Get dressed, Your Grace, and leave the rest to me.”

She smiled sweetly, but the brighter light now revealed how drawn and thin she was. Gil had said she only pretended to be sick, but this girl looked really ill. He used his gift, and to his horror, discovered she was starving, her body failing for want of sustenance. “Are you fasting, child?”

She jumped. “To make them think I’m sick,” she murmured. “Or he was going to marry me and seize everything. I didn’t know else what to do. Doctor Kardwil left. I had no one.”

Yveni hugged her and whispered in her ear. The resilience of this family amazed Paole.

The maid dressed her mistress while the men all discreetly turned away, and then Paole came back and lifted Serina up. Much too light for a girl of her height. She’d come very close to death with her fakery. “Relax, my lady,” he said. “You’re safe.”

She sighed. “You’re nice.”

“We have to go,” Yveni whispered. “Markov, lock the door. Inie, you’re coming with us. It’s not safe otherwise.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Paole waited in the tunnel with his precious charge while the others, with Serina’s maid, rescued the younger sister. Serina’s dark eyes burned into him. “Are you a friend of Gil’s?”

“And your brother’s. How long have you not eaten properly?”

“Too long. I…forget. I just remembered I had to stop
him
. Did it work?”