The Crimson Crown (48 page)

“Surrender, Alister,” Bayar called after him, his nasty laughter following Han down the passageway. “How long do you want to continue this dance in the dark? I wouldn’t want you to get hurt too badly before you tell me what I want to know.”

Han had to get his amulet back or he wouldn’t survive. Which meant he’d have to take it off of Bayar’s dead body. He needed better turf for this fight. And he knew where to find it.

He ran on, heading directly for the armory, noisily and slowly enough to bring the wizard along, disabling magical barriers along the way. This was unfamiliar ground to Bayar, which was to Han’s advantage.

He jogged down the side corridor, to the wooden door at the end. The only one not protected by magic.

He waited, pretending to fumble at the door, until the light of Bayar’s amulet washed over the stone toward him.

As Bayar prepared to launch his charm, Han opened the door and slipped through, crossing the room to the far door.

“Don’t prolong this,” Bayar said, slamming open the opposite door and following after. “You’re beaten, Alister.” He conjured light on the tips of his fingers, scanning the room for Han.

“Look up,” Han said, pointing toward the ceiling.

Bayar did, still keeping a wary eye on Han.

Overhead, dozens of birds opened their eyes, cocked their heads, and ruffled their bright feathers.

“Birds, Alister? Is that all you have?” Contemptuously, Bayar lifted his hand and launched a bolt of flame into a row of birds perched together by the door. They exploded in all directions like a gaudy fireworks shell, then settled back onto their perches. They’d sucked in Bayar’s magic, and looked bigger and brighter than before.

And then the birds began to sing.

Han covered his ears and bellowed out a song about pirates in Carthis that Mam had taught him when he was a little boy. It was one of Mari’s favorites, too. He used to sing her to sleep with it when she was too hungry to settle easily.

Three brothers sailed from Baston Bay

From Baston Bay sailed three.

Fair Ailen wept to see them go

Saying you’ll not come back to me.

The brothers laughed to see her tears,

Saying, Lass, you must be brave.

No pirate born in Carthis

Will make of me a slave.

Bayar stared at Han, brows drawn together. Then he looked back up at the birds, extending his hand toward them as if he meant to flame them once again. Slowly, his arm drifted down to his side as he gazed up at them, transfixed.

As the birds sang on, Bayar dropped to his knees like an acolyte on Temple Day, raising both hands in affirmation. His eyelids drooped shut, his face gone slack as a turtled mark. He knelt there, eyes closed, a beatific smile on his face.

Birds gently coasted toward him, circling to land on his shoulders, his arms, his back.

A handful scouted Han, but he swatted at any that came near. All the while, he continued to sing as loudly as he could, desperate to block out the deadly music.

They’d sailed for only three long nights

And three short winter days
.

When the Dragon sailed from out the west

And set them all ablaze.

Now Ailen haunts the Widow’s Walk

And mourns her brothers three.

For there is blood upon the Indio

And three graves beneath the sea.

It was rather grim for a lullaby, but Mari had always liked it.

Bayar slid forward onto his face, his arms outstretched in front of him, the serpent amulet still clutched in his right fist. He was so covered in seething birds that he looked like he’d grown feathers himself.

Still singing like a Mad Tom, Han crossed to where Bayar lay. Taking his hand off his right ear, he scooped up the Waterlow amulet. The birds scarcely noticed him, intent as they were on Bayar.

Blood spattered onto the stone floor around Bayar’s body and pooled under him. Birds rose, their beaks smeared with blood and flesh, then settled again, fighting for access.

Say hello to the Breaker, Bayar, Han thought. Time to answer for Dancer and all the rest.

Shuddering, he staggered out the door, slamming it closed behind him. He fell to his knees and was violently ill.

When he’d retched his last, he sat back on his heels. Now that the battle was over, he took no joy in the winning. He rocked, tears stinging his eyes, sick with grief and despair. Bayar was gone, but so was Dancer—his best friend. Dancer had come to help him, and now he was dead.

How could he possibly tell Cat? If she cut his throat, he deserved it. It would break Willo’s heart, after a lifetime spent trying to protect her only son.

Gingerly, he explored his head with his fingers, found the lump where he’d hit the wall. Questions still rattled around in his grief-muddled mind. How had Dancer found his way into this area? How had he passed the barriers meant to keep him out?

He stood and lurched down the corridor, his amulet lighting the way. He would carry Dancer’s body to the entrance on Hanalea, close to Marisa Pines Camp, then go to Willo and tell her what had happened. Somehow, he had to get word to Cat; but if he went down into the city, he stood to be arrested.

But the Bayars had said the city was under siege. His steps faltered, his plans dwindled to dust. He’d nearly forgotten the story the Bayars had told, to try to get him to tell them where the armory was.

No, he decided. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

Ahead, he saw a faint glow that might be torchlight. He was close to where he’d left Fiona, where Dancer had died. Han eased forward, peering around a rock, to see somebody in clan garb kneeling next to a body. He seemed to glow, illuminated like an angel come to claim a soul.

“Dancer?” Han breathed, thinking he must be hallucinating.

Dancer looked up at the sound of Han’s voice. They stared at each other for a long moment, each startled into silence.

“Hunts Alone!” Dancer exclaimed, pushing to his feet. “Thank the Maker you’re alive! I need your help.” He focused in closer. “You look terrible!”

Han careened into speech. “You’re dead!” he said. “I saw it. Bayar destroyed you.”

Dancer shook his head. “That was a shade,” he said. “A projection. Crow suggested we send it ahead to draw the Bayars’ fire, because we weren’t sure exactly where you were. It worked, but then…”

“Crow?” Increasingly confused, Han came closer and looked down at the body. It was Night Bird.

For a terrible moment, Han suspected he was still chained to the wall, suffering hallucinations. He pressed his hands over his eyes, but when he removed them, Dancer and Bird were still there.

Han embraced Dancer, relieved to find him flesh and blood and breathing.

Dancer squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “I went to Aediion, looking for you, and Crow was there. He told me you were being held at Aerie House. Bird and I were coming to rescue you when we ran into you here in the tunnels.”

Dancer knelt again, stroking Bird’s forehead. “Bird shot Fiona, but Bayar hit her a glancing blow before she could get out of the way. She has a pulse, and she’s breathing, but I can’t get her to wake up. Can you do anything?”

Han sank to his knees next to Dancer. “I’m lost,” he said, running his hands over Bird, looking for a wound or entry point, searching for the cold place that meant that death was coming for Bird. “How did she get involved in this?”

“I asked her to come,” Dancer said. “I knew I needed help.”

Han’s probing fingers found the entry point—just below her rib cage. The chill was centered there. It was mild, though, and spread throughout her body.

Odd, Han thought. Then it came to him, the diagnosis, and he sat back on his heels, smiling like a fool. “Bayar got mixed up,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Dancer said.

“He’d been firing immobilization charms at me. He was fixed on keeping me alive long enough to…” Han hesitated, then plunged on. He was through keeping secrets from his friends. “He meant to torture me into leading him to the Armory of the Gifted Kings.”

“What?” Dancer whispered.

“It’s a long story. I’ll explain later. I’m sure he meant to kill Bird, but he used an immobilization charm instead.” Taking Bird’s hands in one of his, Han took hold of his amulet and disabled the charm.

Bird stirred, scrunched her eyes, and then opened them, gazing up at Han with a blank look on her face.

“How do you feel?” Han asked, brushing curls off her forehead, revealing a bruise that must have happened when she fell.

“My head hurts,” she said groggily. Then she bristled. “Why are you smiling, Hunts Alone? What’s going on?” She flinched away from his wizard hands. “What did you do to me?”

“Nothing,” Han said. “I just undid something, that’s all.”

Bird struggled to sit up. Han helped her, letting go of her when he could see she was stable. “What happened to the—?” Her eyes lit on Fiona’s body, and she trailed off. “Is she…?”

Fiona lay where she’d fallen, eyes open, silver hair spread around her, hands clutching at the arrow shaft.

Han knelt next to Fiona, probing for a pulse. “She’s dead,” he said. Poor Fiona, he thought, brushing his fingers across her eyelids, closing them. Her own father wouldn’t make a move to save her life. He hoped the Breaker had a special in-between place for the offspring of parents like Gavan Bayar.

Including Micah?
a sardonic voice said in his head.

“And the other one?” Bird said. “The High Wizard?”

Dancer looked at Han, raising his eyebrows.

“If you mean Lord Bayar, he’s dead, too,” Han said, shivering as the horror of the bird chamber came back to him. And then, recalling what he’d suffered at Aerie House, he shook off regret. “I…He got what he deserved. I just wish he’d been awake to enjoy it.”

Dancer kept looking at Han as if waiting for an explanation. When he realized that nothing more was coming, he said, “I tried to follow you, but you disappeared so quickly I lost you, so I came back to help Bird.”

Dancer tilted his head, his eyes inwardly focused, as if lost in his own thoughts.

“Dancer?” Han said.

Dancer blinked at Han. Then he focused on Han’s wrists. “Crow wants to know what happened to you,” he said, gently turning Han’s blistered arms.

“Crow?”

Dancer looked almost embarrassed. He tapped his forehead. “He’s here. The way he was with you when you came through the tunnels. He’s been guiding us along the way. He told me how to cast the shade that fooled Bayar. And you, apparently.”

That answered some questions but raised others. “But you mean you…you let him?”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” Dancer said, grimacing. “I told Bird to shoot me if I turned into a demon.” He paused, as if listening again, then prompted Han. “Your arms?”

“It was the darbies…the manacles,” Han said, his breath hissing out as metal touched his tender skin.

Dancer reached out and gripped the serpent amulet. Han felt a ripple of consciousness as Crow passed back into the jinxpiece.

Dancer slid his hands under the wristcuffs, supporting them. They glowed for a long moment, then shivered into glittering dust.

Han’s wrists looked awful—like they belonged to someone who’d guested in the queen’s gaol for decades, chained to the wall.

“Maybe Willo can do something about this,” Han said, gritting his teeth against the pain.

“If we can find her,” Dancer said. “I’m not sure exactly where she is right now.”

“What do you mean?” Han looked from Bird to Dancer. “What’s happened?”

“Marisa Pines Camp was destroyed,” Dancer said. “The clans have gone to high ground. And Gerard Montaigne’s army has surrounded the capital.”

After more than a year of scheming and plotting—of dreaming of a blade-to-blade throwdown with Bayar—Han found his enemy’s death curiously unsatisfying. Bayar was dead, but it seemed there were scores of new enemies elbowing forward, eager to take his place. He was no closer to his goal than before. In fact, there was an army between him and Raisa now.

What he wanted more than anything was to storm back to Fellsmarch Castle and free her. But he couldn’t do it by himself. He needed help. And for that he needed to retrieve the movable the Bayars had taken from him.

If the Crimson Crown wasn’t at Aerie House, he’d have to return to the armory and find something else. But the crown was the most recognizable glitterbit in the armory—the key to bludgeoning wizards and clans into working together.

He’d sent Bird and Dancer to lay the groundwork with the clans. He had to do his part.

Han knew one way into Aerie House, and that was through the tunnels into the dungeons. Though he had no desire to pass that way again, it had its advantages. It seemed the residents of Aerie House were more interested in keeping people in their dungeons than keeping people out.

This time, there were no Bayars in the way. Shielded in glamours, Han soft-footed it up through the cellars into the main servant corridors.

It was darkman’s hour, and the corridors were deserted. He’d have to watch for servants and others returning from late-night trysts. He’d avoid the kitchens, where the baker’s helpers would be proofing the bread for the next day.

The question was—where would Bayar have stowed such a prize? Some marks kept their valuables in strongboxes under their beds; others in strongholds under the stairs. He hoped he wouldn’t have to slide under a bed with somebody in it.

Just where was Micah Bayar? Where had he been during the torture sessions in the dungeons? Why hadn’t he come with Fiona and Gavan when they’d gone looking for the armory? What mischief was he up to while Han was trapped underground?

Han did a quick search of the common areas. No strongholds in the cellars, nothing in the central keep. There was no choice but to head into the sleeping wing. But as he turned down that corridor, he saw light seeping under one of the doors. Somebody was awake.