The Red Knight (33 page)

“I trust your judgement, Captain Stenna,” said Thea. Alyda thought it best not to tell her the full extent of Corvinius treachery. She bowed to the Queen.

“If we keep off the main roads and stick to hunting trails and back routes, we’ll avoid search parties and be at Gallen in less than two days.”

“Then let us make haste, while we still have the night on our side,” said Thea.

It took three of them to lift the sewer lid, but eventually the rust and accumulated filth relinquished its grip on the iron grate.

Garian was the first out. Keeping low to the ground, he did a quick sweep of the area before deciding it was safe for the others to climb up. He was relieved to have got them here after taking a few wrong turns in the confusion down below. He was used to solitary trips through the sewers not leading dozens of angry and scared civilians.

The square was in the poorer quarter of the city and too close to the tanneries for any but the lowest vagrant to set up home there for long. The air was rank with the stench of rotted fat, piss, and dung, but it was like perfume compared to the smell of the sewers.

Garian sent the footman to watch the entrance to the main street. The other agents shepherded the bedraggled survivors into a derelict building out of sight of any passing patrols.

Hyram detached himself from the group and steered Garian out of earshot. The King’s Councillor fished a chain from the folds of his robes. It had a chunky signet ring dangling from it. Garian saw the old man’s hands were shaking as he struggled with the chain’s clasp. Hyram was grey, and sweat beaded his forehead. After mumbling a few curses he pulled the chain apart and slid the ring off.

“Here, take this.” He pressed the ring into Garian’s hand. “Those who need to, know it’s mine.”

It was gold, comfortably heavy, with two diamonds set in the shoulders of the mount. Blunt claws gripped a polished carnelian engraved with the King’s griffin. It was a grander version of the ring Hyram had given him on his fourteenth birthday. Garian threaded it onto the leather thong he wore around his neck and tucked it into his shirt.

“You must find out what has happened to Thea and the Princes,” commanded the spymaster. “I know Talin lifted the Wards, but that doesn’t mean they escaped. When you’ve done that, you must go to Daris. Pray gods it’s not too late. He must know what has happened here, is that clear?” Garian frowned. “Crystal. Aren’t you coming with me?”

Hyram laughed. “Ye gods, boy! My days of haring across the countryside are long gone. No, I shall remain here and cause as much trouble as I can for that treacherous bastard Corvinius. I’ll send Fingal to Daris tonight, just to make doubly sure the information gets through.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll reach the King.”

“Of course you will—and I’ll see you when we’ve cleaned up this mess. Now get going, time is our enemy.” He snorted. “One of many!”

He watched the boy disappear into the winding maze of streets, a dark scrap of shadow flitting between buildings. Hyram could just about remember the locations of three or four safe houses dotted around the city. He’d split the group and send them off with his agents. They were an unwelcome burden, but he couldn’t leave them to make their way alone in the city, some of the noble escapees weren’t bright enough to find their arses with both hands. When they’d gone on their way, he’d head over to Swift Street and a rather ordinary looking tailor’s shop.

The merchant who owned it was highly skilled with a pair of shears and like all talented artisans, measured twice and cut once. If anyone could get to Corvinius and deal with the treacherous bastard, he could. He could also make very flattering robes for those with a fuller figure.

Hyram leaned against a wall and waited impatiently for the pain in his chest to ease. Sitting there, rubbing the ache from his arm, he was struck with an uncustomary pang of regret when he realised that he hadn’t thanked the boy for rescuing him.

It had started to rain, but Alyda was much happier now that they were putting some miles between them and the city. The narrow hunting trail didn’t look like it had been used in a while, which was also good. The rain beat a steady rhythm on the leaves, and from across the valley she caught the occasional glimpse of rosy light spilling from cottage windows. As night drew on and they rode deeper into the forest, the only illumination was the moon, shredded into slivers by the thinning canopy.

They rode through the dreary night and the monotonous drizzle. Alyda was grateful for the cloaks Bainley had packed. She wondered if he’d set off yet to find the King, wondered if Nessa was cursing her name for drawing her family into this mess. Her thoughts turned back to Corvinius and the devastation his treachery had wrought.
Now that a few hours had passed, the only thing she regretted about his death was that she hadn’t killed him sooner.

It was almost midday when she decided it was safe enough to call a halt. They found a sheltered dell with a trickle of a stream running through it. It wasn’t the best campsite, but it was out of sight of the path.

While his mother and brother stretched their legs, Talin helped Alyda with the horses.

“So what’s for lunch, roast duckling? Beef stew?” he asked brightly.

“How about stale bread, hard cheese, and a couple of apples.” She looked over to his mother and brother. “How are they doing, Highness?”

“Better than I would have thought, but I’ll be happier when we reach Gallen Arth—and why are you calling me ‘Highness’? We don’t need to hide our affections.”

“I’m not trying to hide anything,” she said, even though that was exactly what she was trying to do.

“No? My mother doesn’t call my father
Majesty,
you know.”

“She’s his wife and a Queen. I’m neither, and…it’s just better if we observe protocol.” This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have right now, or ever. This kind of talk smacked of plans for the future. When it came to her relationship with Talin—
the heir to the throne
, there was no future.

He smiled. “Why, Captain, you’re not ashamed of me, are you?”

Alyda checked her horse’s hooves, flicked a wedge of mud from under its shoe as it hungrily tore at the grass.

“No, of course not,” she said and moved on to the next horse. “But I need to keep my mind on my duty.”

“Then I command you to stop frowning and smile at once. There, how’s that? I keep forgetting you warrior-types like being ordered about.”

She laughed at that. “I’m a Knight Captain. I like
giving
orders. I’m sorry by the way. I should have listened to my instincts instead of leading you into a trap back there. I knew something was wrong the moment I read that letter.”

“There’s no need to apologise. If we hadn’t gone back to Weyhithe my mother and Oli would now be in the hands of the Guthani. I should be thanking you for saving them.”

“That isn’t necessary,
Talin;
it’s what your father pays me for.”

“That may be, but when we reach Gallen Arth I insist on showing my gratitude personally.”

She made sure that his mother wasn’t looking and gently cupped his crotch. “I look forward to it.”

They ate the last of the food Bainley had packed and set off again. The Queen’s mount didn’t want to go anywhere, so Alyda rode beside her to encourage it to get going.

“It’s good to hear them laugh,” said the Queen, “especially Olin. This has all been very hard on him.”

Alyda looked at the brothers.
It is good,
she thought.
Talin’s face lights up when he smiles.

“You have quite charmed my son, Captain.”

Alyda wasn’t expecting that. She felt her cheeks redden. “It has been a privilege to help mentor him. He’s a fast study and—”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

Alyda was acutely uncomfortable. There was nothing she could say without entering very awkward territory and so she tried to change the subject.

“If we can maintain the same pace we’ve kept thus far, we should arrive at Gallen Arth before nightfall tomorrow.”

The Queen smiled and graciously let the previous conversation die. Alyda took the opportunity to ride ahead.

“You have to be firm, let them know you’re in charge and not to be trifled with, but you also have to be calm and reassuring.” Talin was trying to instruct his brother in horsemanship from over his shoulder.

Olin wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Easy for you to say, you like the brutes and they don’t make you sneeze. What if we’re attacked? I’ll probably just fall off and break my neck. Make sure you hold onto me, and warn me if you’re going to make the bloody thing run.”

Talin felt sorry for Oli. He spent his time in libraries, not the practice yards. Court scholars gushed effusively about his academic talents, but living rough wasn’t a skill that could be learned from a book.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall. We’ll soon be at Gallen Arth, where I hear they have a fine library.”

Olin laughed. For the first time in days he looked something like the annoying little brother Talin knew and loved. He ruffled his dirty blonde hair.

“Actually, it’s quite small, but then you probably wouldn’t know that, unacquainted as you are with our own magnificent library. That’s the room with all the books, in case you were wondering.” He sniggered. “Lady Vorsten did send me a rare copy of ‘
The Moon and the Stag’
last Midwinter. It’s in old Tamalak, but I got through it easily enough. It’s a…” Olin looked round at him and frowned “…You’re not remotely interested, are you?”

“I can’t say I share your love of books, little brother.”

Olin giggled. “I know what you do love though, or should I say
whom?
” He stared pointedly at Alyda.

Talin cuffed his ear. “The sooner you’re back in one of those, ‘book rooms’, the better, methinks.”

That night, Alyda and Talin hunted up a meal of blackberries, wild mushrooms and a fistful of hazelnuts that the squirrels had missed. Alyda wouldn’t have minded eating the squirrels rather than their leftovers, but without a bow they could perch in safety and mock her from the treetops. Before darkness fell, Thea and Olin turned in. Huddled together on a bed of bracken beneath their borrowed cloaks they were soon asleep.

Alyda took the watch after Talin; the early hours of the morning that the Tamalak called the
gralc mai
which roughly translated meant ‘little death’. These dead hours belonged to the Lord of Shadows; when sleep was at its deepest, when those abed had a little taste of death and those awake struggled to remain so. It was also the best time for an ambush, so she kept her sword unsheathed and her wits about her. To give her something to do other than conjure monsters from the shadows, she re-braided her hair.

Being alone in the dead of night was also when the grim thoughts she’d been able to ignore during the day clamoured loudest for her attention.

The worst was that she didn’t know if the Hammer had got through to Gallen. The thought that her comrades might be injured or dead, knotted her guts. Then there was the King. If he was dead, she was guarding the sole ruler and her heirs. Tonight the world was made of blades. One slip, one wrong move and they would be undone.

The next morning Alyda roused the Queen and Princes and gave them a handful of blackberries she’d managed to scavenge before they set off.

It was cold and damp; a biting wind followed them along the trail, twisting flurries of fallen leaves into swarms that danced in their wake. They’d gone as far as they could on the hillside paths and now had to drop down into the heavily wooded valley.

The brothers remained in good spirits, despite the privations. Alyda could see that they were close by the way they talked to each other, even though there were almost ten years between them. She wondered briefly about her own brother, and if her family even knew that war was coming. At least in Bear’s Tooth they were as safe as anyone could be.

Unlike her sons, the Queen looked ready to drop, despite the sleep she’d had. It was unfortunate, but they had to push on for as long as Alyda could keep them in the saddle. They were so close; allowing them to rest longer would be a false kindness.

As dusk approached it began to rain more heavily. The horses’ heads went down; their ears flattened to their skulls as they tiredly plodded along the boggy path. The closer they came to Gallen Arth the more people they began to encounter.

Alyda pulled her cloak around her in an attempt to hide her blood-stained clothing. Not that anyone was giving them a second glance thanks to the weather. Everyone they passed was more intent on getting out of the rain than staring at the dishevelled group riding towards the Arth.

The fugitives reached the main road through the forest without incident. It ran from the village of Kellimarsh to Gallen Arth and was far busier than Alyda would have expected on such a miserable day. A man and a woman were sitting under a tented shelter by the side of the road. Tendrils of smoke drifted up from their campfire. They were scrubbing pots and plates with grass, cleaning up after what smelled to Alyda like the best meal in the world.