Templar's Destiny (9780545415095) (5 page)

Gaylen's exclamation was joined with a solid palm to the table. Gaston jumped at the quick violence, and I could feel his indecision.
No, stay.
I put everything into the push, but this was not the kind of link that worked that way. He moved toward the door, still reluctant, but moving. My heart dropped. I knew that I had lost him.

The knowledge infuriated and frightened me, and I released Aine's hands and made for the door, but Bertrand barred the way and Aine had a strong hold on my tunic. “Stop, Tormod. Ye risk yer brother's life if ye don't let this meeting follow its course,” Bertrand said firmly.

I knew his words to be true, but it was a sore trial to heed him. The call of the Holy Vessel was strong. Though I could not feel Gaylen's presence, I felt the Vessel, and I knew he had it. To be this near and not wrest it from his body and make him pay for the nightmare of his previous trespass was torture.

Aine's song rose in my head and when I felt the need begin to grow less insistent, I slammed up my shields to her. I would not be whispered into forgetting he was here.

Aine recoiled as if I had struck her. Long moments pulsed between us. Then a soft knock at the door broke the tension. Bertrand put up a warning hand for silence, and Aine and I backed away from the sight of whoever waited there. He opened the door a sliver, then reached quickly into the hall and jerked the visitor in.

Gaston's gasp was sharp, and I exhaled abruptly.

“I have been dismissed by one of the party.” His guilt for failing in his duties hung over him like a foul smell. “I found nothing. I thought ye should know that I'd been put out, so that ye could follow another path.”

Gaston had found far from nothing. He had located the one person I detested more than any other in the whole of the world, the one I would gladly kill if I had the chance. “It's all right,” I said. “There was nothing ye could have done.”

“Have ye seen this one before, lad?” asked Bertrand.

“
Non
, this is the first time he has been here,” he replied.

“We have to get into that room,” I said, beginning to pace in the confined area. “We need to hear what's said.”

“I will read the room once they have gone. Ye an' Bertrand will follow Gaylen when he leaves. I will catch up to ye when I can.” Aine seemed to have it all worked out, except for the part that there was no way I was leaving this to her and slinking away.

“Alone? With a tavern full o' cutthroats below an' no idea where ye are?”

“Aye.” Her answer held challenge. “I can find my way.”

“Ye know it's a bad idea. We have to stay together.” I was frustrated. “There has to be something we can do.” Aine dropped heavily onto the pallet, and Bertrand went back to his chair, a resigned expression flattening the furrows above his brow.

“I'd best go below before I am missed,” said Gaston. “I'll be back for your trenchers when I can. I'll tell them you need more ale.” I handed him a copper to cover the expense, and he was out the door, a shadow in silence.

As the door swung shut behind him, I caught it, grabbed my cloak, and moved beyond it. “I'm going to have a look around,” I mumbled. Aine's protest followed me into the empty hallway, where I drew the dark wool about me and ducked into the hood. The need to hold the carving was so heady I nearly hesitated before their door, but the soft murmur of voices and the thought of Torquil kept me moving past.

The end of the hall was in near darkness, and the window I had seen from below easily swung open at my touch. The bite of cold air filled my chest as I leaned out and laid my hands on the overlapping boards. They were moist and rough beneath my fingers, and I clenched the wood tight.

Climbing out was not as simple as it seemed. My feet touched the edge of the boards just as a wind whipped across the side of the inn, and the shutter banged against its mooring. I moved quickly, crablike along the outer wall, hoping and praying that no one would come to investigate, while my uncooperative cloak billowed and tangled around my legs. In moments, I was cursing the quick impulse that had allowed me no time to think through this plan. The ground below was farther away than I had anticipated, and though I vowed to hold my eyes level and not look down, the oath proved difficult to keep.

Only thoughts of Torquil and the carving kept me moving. Pressing my boots hard to the wood, I badly missed the toes that I'd lost to the freezing sickness. The windows at the back of the inn were farther away than I'd thought.

As I climbed around the corner, voices drifted toward me from the nearest room. My calf was cramping, and I began to sweat. It was then that de Nogaret's voice rang in my ears. “I don't care what it takes, you bring me proof and I will see to the results.” His words hung in the air, and darkness crept around the edges of my vision. “No,” I whispered. “Don't let it take me. Lady, please.”

I fought against the encroaching vision with a will I had never known. My fingers were white and grasping tight to the edge of the wood, sending splinters into my skin.

Men in the dark. The clink of sword and mail rustling. De Nogaret in the lead.
“Spread out and make sure no one escapes.”

My fingers were loosing. Fear beat at the edge of the blackness, pressing the vision away, and yet in its place a tremble of weakness shook my arms and legs. I looked at the ground so far away below me, and a swirl of dizziness whipped through me.

Tormod.
Aine was suddenly in my head, her song giving me strength, her read of the situation immediate. I blinked in the darkness, my heart beating painfully, my fingers and legs burning.

It's useless. I canno' hold on.
I felt faint and weak as the threat of a second vision pressed the back of my eyes. I fought it off with all of my strength.

Stay with me, Tormod. Help is on the way.
A length of rope slithered down the side of the inn, and I felt rather than saw the small body that slipped over the edge of the roof. Gaston was like an animal of the forest: quick, steady, and fearless. He was beside me, looping the rope around my waist and tying it off nearly before I knew what he was doing. “Transfer your hands to the rope, monsieur. Bertrand will pull you up,” he whispered.

My fingers were growing numb and my grip on the wooden slats was lessening. One hand slipped, and in my quick twist to right it, the rope around me cinched painfully tight.

“Here. Take hold,” Gaston coached me softly, slipping the rope into my fingers and wrapping my hand tight. “Slowly. We go together.”

“That was the most asinine thing I ever witnessed. What were ye thinking?” Aine hissed, as I lay on a bale of hay in the animal byre a short while later. Gaston had gone back to his duties, and Aine and Bertrand sat beside me, the former attending the welts the rope had given my sides and hands. Through the cracks in the slanted wooden slats above my head, the light of the stars beckoned. With Aine's song still ringing in my ears, the worst of my recovery was over.

“Thank ye, Bertrand,” I croaked. Aine's wide and furious stare pinned me to the straw. I owed her thanks, it was true, but I could not make myself say it aloud for the mood she was in.

“I had to know what was happening, Aine. We didn't have time to waste waiting for them to leave.” My teeth were chattering. The cold air had worked its way around the chinks in the walls, and I had taken off my tunic to be examined by Bertrand.

“Was it worth it?” she muttered. “Ye're lucky Gaylen did no' know ye were there. I canno' imagine how ye got away with it.” Aine was fuming and perhaps she had the right to, but I could hardly waste the time or energy on it right now. I stared hard at the wood above me as if it held the answers I sought.

“What is it, lad? What did ye see?” Bertrand asked.

“I saw de Nogaret leading soldiers through the night, to a place I've no' seen before.” I shook my head and sighed. “But I feel as if I
should
know it.”

“They are leaving.” Gaston's head popped into the byre. “Some are off to the castle, others to the preceptory.”

“Gaylen?” I asked.

He glanced toward Aine, hesitating. “He slipped away. While you were being pulled onto the roof.”

The news was crushing. I'd already felt the distance between the carving and myself growing, but the knowledge that it was truly once again gone squeezed my heart. I stood and dressed quickly. “Let's go in,” I said to Aine. “While it's all still fresh.”

The room was cold and dark. As I waited for Gaston to light the half-burned candle, I noticed a draft. I crossed to the window as Aine's hum spread out over the room. The shutters were ajar, and I opened them wide and called on the power of the land to expand the vision, including Bertrand in our sight. The dimness instantly came to life with the pale ghostlike images of the bodies that had recently been there.

The Templars sat in chairs around the table. One stood by the window, his hand resting on the ledge as he gazed beyond the trees across the river. There were no lights over the land. Paris was shut up for the night, battened down against the damp mist that hung on the water.

“Close the shutters, man. I'm near frozen,”
de Nogaret snapped. I turned and looked at the image of him, committing his features to my memory. What I saw did not impress me. Though he was, no doubt, rich and influential, I could read the cruelty and pettiness I had already witnessed through Gaston's memories.

The Templar by the window quickly turned from his post, absently drawing the shutters closed, not bothering to secure the latch. I released the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. I had worried that they had heard or seen me outside.

I moved to the window and looked down. Sure enough, my ghosted image clung to the slats beneath the window across the way. I had been more than lucky.

My gaze returned to the room's interior, and as I focused toward the table I saw and heard Gaylen.
“Let us proceed.”
With his dagger he cut a hunk of the cheese from the wedge on the table.

De Nogaret appeared to bristle at Gaylen's taking charge, and led the conversation as if it had begun before Gaylen's arrival.
“You're certain you can trust the men chosen?”
he asked of the Templar seated quietly at the table. This knight was older than the rest, though not by much. Broad shouldered and strong, he wore the Templar mantle easily and intellect shone in his eyes.
“Of course,”
he replied.

“It is not an easy thing to gain the ear of the Pope. We will have but one chance, and all must be in place well before,”
de Nogaret said.

“Difficult, even if he is a friend of the King?”
said the Templar near the window. He was the youngest. His face was barely whiskered, and his body had yet to fill out the shape of a knight. He was petulant and clearly not at ease.

De Nogaret's cold gaze pinned the man in place.
“The King has no role in these proceedings. Is that clear?”

The man dropped his eyes. “Oui,
milord.
”

Gaylen spoke then.
“The evidence must be unquestionable. If 'tis brought to the highest o' courts, there must be little doubt in the minds o' those who will pronounce sentence. They have many friends who will seek to intercede on their behalf. It must be recorded an' undeniable.”

“They are powerful,”
mumbled the youngest, chafing the beads at his waist, clearly afraid to speak again.
“If any should find out our part in this, our lives will be forfeit.”

“Your reward will be well worth the risk,”
said de Nogaret, dismissing the danger.

“And what of the other task you have been assigned?”
de Nogaret asked Gaylen.
“You have promised delivery of the artifact.”

Gaylen's hand dropped beneath the table, and he seemed to unconsciously touch the bundle tied at his waist.
“The Abbot has hidden it away. Tell the priest to question him about it. I have enough to arrange. I delivered the boy — my part in that is finished.”

I felt the heat of the carving flare at the mention of Torquil. Who had him? The Abbot? The unknown priest?

“Your part is fulfilled when we say it is. You require a favor of the King. It would be wise if you still have such a need to continue to seek the artifact. If it is in the hands of the Order, we cannot hope to succeed in this endeavor,”
said de Nogaret.

They stared at one another, a battle of wills to discern which was the more powerful. My wager would lie on Gaylen. I did not believe de Nogaret had any idea who he was dealing with.

The information we read here was important. Far more than any other vision I'd had so far.

“Establish contact with the Pope's man,”
said de Nogaret.
“And find out where that artifact lies.”

“Do no' presume to tell me where my duty lies,”
said Gaylen.
“Do yer part an' I will do mine.”

De Nogaret stood as if to challenge, and Gaylen raised his hand, a motion for silence. He cocked his head and his face became still, his eyes alert and darting. He glanced toward the beams above his head and stood, his hand going for the sack at his waist.
“I will contact ye when I know more.”

Aine dropped her link with the room's memories. I felt faint. The air seemed to grow colder, and I drew my cloak strongly about me. “He knew I was there,” I said. “An' yet he did no' seek me out. Why?” I asked.

“He had the carving with him. He knows now a little o' what it can do. He is perhaps no' ready to do battle with ye again an' take the chance on losing it,” said Bertrand. “I need to go to the preceptory an' tell the Grand Master what we've seen here. We know no' what it means, but none o' it is good.”

“We should all go,” I said.

“Nay, lad. We canno' take the chance that this is a trap. There is no way to know how many are on the side o' these.” He snuffed the candle, and the room dropped into darkness.