The Black Robe (The Sword and the Spell) (55 page)

They too were clearly waiting for someone’s arrival as there was an empty goblet on the table. Red Hair’s partner, who he had named Muscles, was nearly as broad as he was tall. He sat at the table by the door watching who was coming and going and eating his second bowl of stew. Despite the inn being crowded nobody had taken the spare seat at Muscle’s table. It wasn’t surprising, he looked dangerous.

Sadrin took another sip of his drink and wondered how his master could drink so much of the tongue-shrivelling, sour stuff. It was probably because the man didn’t have enough intelligence to find something better. He scowled and berated himself for his derogatory thoughts. The Goddess knows he needed to be careful or one day his disdain for the king would show on his face and then there would be trouble. It was true though; the King was a fool but a dangerous and unpredictable one. This inn was a perfect example, it was full of Vinmorians of fighting age, but Vorgret hadn’t conscripted them into his army because he doubted their loyalty.

Of course they wouldn’t be loyal but they were better in the army where they could be watched rather than sitting in inns plotting against him. When he’d discovered what this little group of rebels were up to he would present them to his master and make that very same point again. Perhaps this time Vorgret would listen to him although it was unlikely, the bastard never listened to anyone. That’s why they were still sitting in Alewinder waiting for Borman to attack and not returning to Essenland where he really wanted to be. He hated Vinmore with its sour wine and sickly food and where people looked down at you all the time. He just wanted to go home where he was appreciated.

A movement by the doorway caught his attention and he was just in time to see Muscles slip out of the door leaving his stew half-eaten and his wine untouched. In a moment he was back in his seat but the man who had followed him in continued weaving his way through the other patrons heading towards the two men at the corner table. He could tell he was their leader by the way Red Hair dipped his head as he passed as well as the unmistakable air of authority about him. Sadrin wondered if this was the one who had been responsible for the recent attacks on the inner guard posts and the release of prisoners right under the noses of Essenland’s guards. If he was, Vorgret was likely to be very pleased with him when he handed the rebels to him on a plate.

Barrin took the spare seat at the corner table and poured himself some wine. It had taken him almost a moon cycle to get these two to meet with him. He probably wouldn’t have managed it then if the threat of another army fighting their way through Alewinder’s streets hadn’t scared them into action. Both had lost a sizeable portion of their wealth when Vorgret had invaded and neither wanted to repeat the experience when Borman marched through.

The money man had most to lose; he had all his assets in Alewinder and had no way to get them out. However, if the arms merchant didn’t sell his consignment of bolt bows soon one king or another would commandeer them and he would go out of business. He had provided the perfect solution; he wanted the bows but had no money, the merchant needed a customer and the counting house wanted a legitimate reason to move its assets. Why it had taken so long for them to agree to a meeting was beyond him, but now they were here he wasn’t going to let them go until they had a deal.

One of the things Sadrin had never been able to master was the ability to listen in on other people’s conversations. It wasn’t the only thing he couldn’t do, but it was a piece of magic which he really wished he’d been able to use. The skill would have been particularly useful now so he could find out what the three men in the corner were talking about. They were clearly up to no good, of that he was certain, but would that be enough for Vorgret? He doubted it, Vorgret would want details.

It wasn’t as if he could get up, walk over to them and ask them what they were plotting. Red Hair would never let him get that far. Not that his intervention worried him, he could blast Red Hair and his mate out of here with just a snap of his fingers, but then everyone would know who he was and in the ensuing scuffle the three men were bound to disappear. What’s more Vorgret would find out he’d been going into inns without his permission and drinking. He might even wonder where the money had come from to purchase the wine.

No, he had to be more subtle. When he was ready he knew where to find the two rebels and there were ways to make them tell him where their leader was. He knew the master of the counting house from when he’d been summoned to the palace to pay his taxes so that just left the other one. If he had them all he would have something worthwhile to give to Vorgret and perhaps the king would be pleased with him for once. The thought made him feel uneasy and if he had been alone he would probably have sighed at their souring relationship but instead he just glowered into his goblet of wine.

He didn’t know what had gone wrong as their relationship used to be so good. At first he’d been inordinately grateful to the king for rescuing him from the depths of Essenland’s silver mines and giving him a chance to develop his powers, whilst Vorgret had found his youthful naivety amusing and his powers useful. The problem was he couldn’t go around fawning to the king for the rest of his life like some pathetic houndling. He wanted to be his own man and do the things he wanted to do. Most of all he wanted to be the High Master of the Enclave as Vorgret had promised him.

When he looked up again from his bitter thoughts the scene had changed and he cursed himself for a fool. The leader was almost at the door and Muscles was standing, waiting to follow him out. At the corner table the counting house master had already left, probably through a rear door, and by the look of it he’d taken Red Hair with him. That just left Black Hat who waited until the leader had disappeared out of the front door, swallowed down the rest of his wine and made his way slowly through the inn. He took a quick look around him and then stepped out into the night. Sadrin didn’t hesitate. He slapped a silver gellstart down onto the table to pay for his barely touched wine and left the inn as quickly as he could, hot on the heels of Black Hat.

Fortunately the inn was in the best part of the city, quite close to the palace, so there were enough lanterns to cast sufficient light to see by. Their flickering light also threw long shadows up the walls and made the doorways little havens of darkness. Sadrin slipped from doorway to doorway, keeping to the shadows and following the man in the hat who strode purposely along the lit roadway in the opposite direction from the palace.

As the man moved further away from the inn Sadrin really began to enjoy himself. He rarely left the palace at night, at least not without a guard, so being free and doing something a little bit dangerous made him feel alive with excitement. Vorgret had spies in the city only when they reported that they had followed a suspect they always made it sound so dull, but this was exciting. In fact he hadn’t had so much fun since he’d burnt the tanner’s market down in boredom and frustration. Vorgret hadn’t been pleased that he’d incinerated most of Alewinder’s leather workers but he would be pleased with this night’s work.

He was disappointed when the man eventually stopped and entered a large, stone building which he knew well. It was where wealthy merchants strayed when they came to Alewinder from other parts of Vinmore or the other kingdoms. For a moment he thought about following the man inside or even finding a shadowy place where he could watch to see if the man came out again, but he was tired.

In any case he could return in the morning with a squad of guards and take the man to the palace cells for questioning. It wouldn’t be quite as exciting as taking the man himself but the outcome would be the same, and sitting in a cold doorway all night was very quickly losing its appeal. He took one last look at the closed door of the building, wrapped his cloak tightly around him and set off back to the palace and the comfort of his warm bed.

A little further back in another shadowy doorway, Redruth watched the cloaked figure hurry away. He’d returned from the inn’s back yard after relieving his bladder just in time to see the cloaked man from three tables away disappear through the inn’s main door. Barrin had told him to look out for anyone acting suspiciously, and they didn’t come any more suspicious than a hooded man sitting in a hot, crowded inn wearing a heavy cloak and not drinking.

The fact that the man had been staring at the corner table for most of the night and had left straight after the arms merchant meant that he had to be an amateur. Fortunately the arms merchant had done what he was told and walked in the lantern light where he could be seen so it had been simple for Redruth to follow them both. Now he had a decision to make. Should he report back to Barrin that their merchant had been followed or should he follow the follower and discover who he was?

Clearly he wasn’t one of Vorgret’s spies. If he had been he would have cut the man’s throat at the first dark alleyway they had come to. However, he had been following the merchant and was therefore a threat to Barrin and their growing band of freedom fighters. He made his decision and set off after the cloaked figure who was now making no effort to conceal himself and was heading in the direction of the palace. It took him by surprise when his quarry suddenly turned down a dark side street that led to the back end of the palace. He knew the area well; he and Barrin and the other cadets had often used the side gate as a short cut if they were late for sword practice.

If his quarry’s sudden detour had taken him by surprise it was nothing compared to his shock when the cloaked figure suddenly produced a ball of elemental fire to light his way. Redruth stopped dead. There was only one person in Alewinder who would be out at night and who could produce elemental fire. Images of men and women running from the blazing tanners’ market and being changed into flaming torches flashed through his mind.

He would kill the murdering bastard if he could, but the chances of getting near him without being burnt to a crisp were slim indeed. It wasn’t that he was a coward but if he was turned to ash then Barrin and Tuckin and the others would have no warning that Vorgret’s black robe was onto them. He waited until the magician was out of sight, turned around and then ran back the way he had come as fast as he could.

*

Sadrin swallowed his disappointment and resisted the temptation to incinerate the troop leader. It wasn’t his fault that Muscles and Red Hair were not at the inn as he had expected them to be and that the merchant had already left the city. If he’d acted last night to apprehend them or stayed to keep an eye on the merchant, he would have had them all in the bag and Vorgret would have been impressed. As it was, the rebels had flown and all he was left with were suspicions.

Still, he had the innkeeper of the Soldier’s Rest locked away in the cells below the palace and the counting house master could be picked up at any time. All he needed to do was convince Vorgret that they were plotting against him and both would be put to the question. Vorgret wouldn’t take much convincing, he enjoyed watching his questioner at work too much to worry about whether his prisoners might be guilty or not. The innkeeper looked tough and might hold out for a candle length, but the money man would crumble the moment a hot iron was waved in front of him.

If he’d had the authority he would have already started the questioning, but that was something Vorgret kept to himself. In fact Vorgret kept everything that smacked of authority or power to himself as if he didn’t trust his black robe to do anything of importance. It was most annoying and belittling, but he would show him. When he was High Master and lord of the Enclave he would show the king that he knew how to rule and command others. For a moment he let his imagination slip free. He could see himself in his crimson robes with a cloak tipped with white fur around his shoulders, sitting on a throne bigger than the one Vorgret had, whilst all the grey brothers and the populace of the Enclave knelt in front of him. It was a pleasing thought and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Lord, will there be anything more?”

Sadrin jumped slightly as he came out of his daydream. Yes, there would be more when he was Master of the Enclave. “No, that will be all for now.”

“Thank you, Lord.” The troop leader hesitated for a moment. “I thought you would wish to know that there was word from Tarbis that King Borman has crossed the border into Vinmore and that a messenger has just arrived from the Enclave.”

Sadrin nodded absently to the troop leader and waited for him to leave. The news from the border was disturbing but not unexpected, whilst a message from the Enclave was just what he needed. Whenever Razarin sent messages to Vorgret, the king would get all hot under the collar and threaten the High Master with all sorts of retribution. Perhaps this time, if he could show that he was good at unearthing plots, Vorgret would send him to the Enclave with a troop of guards behind him so that he could dispose of Razarin and take up his position as High Master.

 Hoping that his chance had come at last he hurried from his small sleeping room, passed Vorgret’s grand chambers and down the servants’ stairs to the lower floor where the state rooms were located. The servants he met scurried out of the way, so he was a little surprised when the Guardcaptain, accompanied by two guards armed with pikes, stepped into his pathway to stop him. He quite liked this Guardcaptain, who was younger than the last two he had incinerated on Vorgret’s orders, and hoped that he would last longer than they had. It would be a shame to turn the friendly young man into ash. The Guardcaptain didn’t look very friendly now, in fact he looked terrified.

“Lord, His Majesty is calling for you.”

That was a good sign. Vorgret only ever sent for him when he wanted some service done. He smiled at the Guardcaptain and hurried on towards the receiving room, not in the least concerned that the three soldiers fell in behind him. When he reached the receiving room another guard opened the door and closed it after him, leaving the Guardcaptain outside, which was a bit strange, as most times he stood by waiting for orders. The king sat on his throne on the raised dais with an odd look on his face and a piece of crumpled parchment in his hand. There was no sign of the messenger, but as far as he was concerned, that was all to the good with the story of the plot he had uncovered to tell. He hurried forward not bothering with the formality of bowing.