The Return of Nightfall (19 page)

Nightfall doubted the captain could inflict anything worse than the demon. “I’m the one robbed, humiliated, and wounded. What makes you think the captain would beat you half as hard as I would?”

The tears came faster, but Danyal raised his head bravely. “I’m not afraid of any beating. I deserve that. But the captain’ll throw me off the crew.” Face smeared, Danyal choked out the words. “Sailing’s all I know, all I ever done, all I ever wanted to do. I’ve suffered worse than a beating for it before. Nothing you can do to me’s worse than that, my lord.”

Nightfall did not dwell on the fact that he could inflict worse. He knew all the rules, written and unwritten, between sailors. “You do realize, Danyal, if anyone else finds out about this, your only hope for sailing is the pirates themselves.” He studied the boy to make sure he had captured Danyal’s full attention. “It’s not a happy life. And rarely a long one.”

Danyal’s weeping became so intense, he could not reply.

Nightfall had once considered himself heartless, but the boy’s plight touched him. “I’m not going to tell the captain.”

Danyal sniffled, still incapable of speech.

“Or anyone else.” Nightfall smiled wanly. “I’m not even going to beat you.”

Danyal managed to blurt out, “You have to!”

“I don’t ‘have to’ do anything.”

“But . . .” Danyal started and stopped. “But . . . if you don’t . . . I . . .” Racked by sobs, he could not continue.

Try as he might, Nightfall could not complete the sentence for the boy. It made no sense for Danyal to beg for punishment, and Nightfall had spent too much of his own early life dodging thrashings to believe anyone would want one. He waited patiently for Danyal to regain enough composure to finish.

After a long interval of intense crying, Danyal finally did. By then, he seemed to have lost his train of thought.

But Nightfall still needed to understand. “I’m not going to hit you,” he reminded.

This time, Danyal took the news stoically. He twisted his rough little hands around the rag.

When that did not elicit the conclusion Danyal had dodged speaking, Nightfall pressed. “I would think that would be good news.”

Danyal nodded, still kneading the cloth in his fingers. “It is, my lord. In a way.” He looked up, the whites of his eyes now a soggy crimson. “No one likes getting beaten, of course, my lord. But . . .”

This time, Nightfall would not let the boy off. “Yes?”

“I’m not sure I can explain it, my lord.” Danyal unclenched his hands and spread his fingers, his gaze growing distant. “When something really bad happens, I’d rather get beaten and be done with it. Otherwise, it’s . . . it’s like it’s in my head . . . bothering me all the time. Making me feel like . . . like I’m not . . . worthy of any joy.”

Now, Nightfall remembered Dyfrin describing a similar feeling, one Nightfall had never shared. “Haunted by guilt,” Dyfrin had called it. It first required a functioning conscience, and Nightfall, like many of his ilk, seemed not to own one. If it worked the way Dyfrin had said, it would prove a worse burden than any beating; and it might leave the boy beholden to his victim. “I’m afraid you’ll have to live with that, Danyal, because I’m not going to punish you and I’m not going to tell the captain. But I do ask two things of you in return.”

Danyal nodded and made a gesture to indicate Nightfall should continue.

“First, never sell information about your ship or its crew to anyone again.”

“I won’t, my lord!” Danyal said emphatically. “Not ever.”

“Second.” Nightfall leaned closer to emphasize the seriousness of his next condition. “If you find out anything about King Edward’s disappearance: who has him, who took him, where they might have gone, you find a way to get that information to me in Alyndar as swiftly as possible.”

“I will, my lord.”

The agreement came too fast for Nightfall to believe the boy had considered the implications. “That might mean an extra voyage for you. A different ship. Or that you pay someone to bring the message in your stead.”

Now, Danyal hesitated in clear consideration. He nodded grimly and spoke through teeth gritted in solemn promise. “I’ll do whatever it takes, my lord. I owe you that much.”

Nightfall knew emotion and expression like other men knew their hearts. Danyal held his vow sacred. Relaxing, Nightfall sat on the pallet. “Thank you.”

“You miss him, don’t you, Lord?”

The question blindsided Nightfall. Most adults would simply have seen his stipulation as loyalty to a ruler, but the boy saw through it to the raw emotion that would overwhelm him, if he were not deliberately holding it at bay. “Terribly,” he admitted. “I might be the only one to believe this, but Ned has the potential to become the best king Alyndar ever had.”

Danyal nodded politely.

Now it was Nightfall’s turn to catch his companion by surprise. “Where are your parents, Danyal?”

The boy looked at his feet, again twisting the rag in his lap. “I never knew my father, my lord. My mother died two years ago, and . . .”

Nightfall sat back and listened to a story that could have been his own.

 

Rain clouds scudded across the sky, muting late morning to a grayness that simulated evening. Men scrambled over Alyndar’s docks like ants through tunnels, hoisting and tossing crates and boxes, drawing on lines, shouting gruff epithets at the cargo and one another. A dozen stood at the ready as
The Sharius’
sailors began the careful, all-too-familiar sequence that would steer her safely into an empty berth. Avoiding the riggings so as not to interfere with their work nor become tangled with furling canvas, Nightfall stood at the bow and scanned the docks for a welcoming party.

At first Nightfall saw no one except the men who habitually handled the docks, sun-darkened, work-callused men with muscles hardened to steel by years of assisting ships and hauling cargo. Suddenly, he spotted a female figure sprinting up the planking, flanked by two men and a boy. He knew her at once, memory filling in whatever details distance and intervening objects hid. She ran with an unmistakable dancer’s grace, short locks as white as an elder’s flying, manelike, from the back of her head. Though he wanted to give her his full attention, Nightfall’s wariness would not allow him to. He also noted the two men scurrying in her wake, dressed in Alyndarian colors and decked with swords. The boy appeared to be a page, clutching his hat to his head as he hurried after the others, needing two and a half strides for every one of the guards’.

Unable to wait for the ship to tie up, Nightfall sprang to the gunwale, then made a broad leap for the dock. He landed lightly, barely remembering to restore his weight in time. A startled dockhand grabbed his arm, attempting to steady him and nearly knocking Nightfall sprawling in the process. A moment later, Kelryn hurled herself into his arms with a force his already precarious balance could not handle. The dockhand let go, sparing himself, but the two lovers tumbled to the planking. Resisting the urge to roll, Nightfall scrambled to place his body between hers and the sea, surprised to find the feel of her body against him excited him wildly despite their predicament.

The two guards who had accompanied Kelryn took her arms and hoisted her easily to her feet. Nightfall scrambled up before anyone could think to help him as well. He had barely reached a standing position, when he found Kelryn filling his arms again. This time, he remained firm, taking her into his arms and reveling in her warmth. He buried his mouth and nose in her hair, which smelled of salt wind and flowers, though his eyes remained wide open and aware of every nearby movement. “I missed you,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

“I missed you, too,” Kelryn said, so softly he could barely hear her. “And I worried so much.”

“Edward will be all right.” Nightfall tried to reassure her, though he did not know if he spoke truth or not. “We’ll find him.”

Kelryn pushed Nightfall away to look him in the eye. “I worried for you.”

“Me?” Nightfall laughed. “I was never in any danger.”

Kelryn studied him sternly, bright blue eyes nearly lost in narrowed sockets. Nightfall no longer saw any of her imperfections; her features had become the very definition of beauty. “Don’t lie to me, Sudian. You could’ve been killed. You’re hurt right now.”

Nightfall wondered how she knew, certain he had covered all of his injuries and bullied through pain rather than dare show any weakness, even when the salt air stung his myriad cuts and abrasions. She knew him with a dangerous intimacy that scared him. He had never allowed anyone, not even Dyfrin, that close; and he thought he had divested himself of any predictability. No typical gestures. No repetitive reactions. No patterns. Kelryn saw through all of it, however, just as she had recognized him the first time he had presented himself to her in the guise of Sudian. “I wasn’t there when they took Edward, gods damn him.”

Kelryn sucked in a mouthful of air. “Sudian!”

Anger overtook common sense. “He’s the one whose damnable honor sent me off on a damnable fool’s mission because of a damnable crackpot promise. If I’d’ve been with him, no hell-damned gang of bastards could have damned well kidnapped him.”

“Is this a game?”

The question came out of nowhere. Nightfall could scarcely believe Kelryn could fail to see the gravity of the situation. “What?”

Kelryn continued, “Are you trying to see how many times you can use ‘damn’ in the same sentence?”

“Damn it, Kelryn!”

“And again, Sudian? You do know, there are ladies present.”

Irritated by Kelryn’s belittling his rage, Nightfall resorted to ruder teasing. “Ladies? Where?” He scanned the docks around her, then jerked away, certain she would slap him.

She didn’t. Kelryn never resorted to physical violence. She knew enough not to use his mother’s tactics against him. She lowered her voice. “Whether or not he deserves it, the king cannot be spoken of in that manner. The law—”

“Piss on the damned law.” Back in familiar surroundings, Nightfall found himself more angered than upset by all that had happened, enraged by his own mistakes. He looked around Kelryn to find the guards staring at him. “There’s a chest on board that belongs to Alyndar. If you can tend to it, I’m sure Kelryn and I can get ourselves safely to the castle.”

The guards hesitated, clearly weighing their orders against his rank. Finally, one bowed. “Yes, my lord.” They both scurried to
The Sharius
to pass words with the Schizian guardsmen.

Nightfall took Kelryn’s arm and wove between the dockworkers. The page looked uncertainly from the guards to the couple before falling into step behind Nightfall and Kelryn. Nightfall wondered how far he would have to go to demonstrate their desire to remain alone. He considered starting with a passionate kiss, but decided against it. After such a long absence from his fiancée, he suspected romantic gestures would punish him more than embarrass the page. He could not afford to perform anything obscene or improper before understanding where he stood when it came to Alyndar. He knew he lived in the palace only by King Edward’s grace and suspected the other nobles would thrill to see him go. “So,” he said softly. “How do things stand here?” He did not mention his suspicions about a traitor . . . yet. If Kelryn broached the topic, he would discuss it. Otherwise, he did not want to further burden her until it became necessary.

Kelryn snuggled against Nightfall as they walked, forcing him to guard his every step. She bounced along easily beside him, seeming not the least inconvenienced by his closeness. “A bit troubled, but no lapses into chaos that I can see. The nobles seem certain a ransom demand will arrive soon, and they’re willing to await the king’s return to consider the need for retribution.”

The sounds of the docks grew faint behind them, replaced by the distant cries of merchants from the open market, the murmurs of passersby on the streets. “So, ransom really is expected.”

Kelryn managed a shrug. “It seems certain.”

Nightfall nodded thoughtfully, pleased the duke had told the truth, at least on that point. He kept to the main street, ignoring the scurrying peasants, even the ones who paused to salute the pair with bows or curtsies. “So things should go back to normal soon.”

“Mmmm-hmmm.”

Nightfall felt his muscles uncoil. His rage dissipated. The sights of the city did seem ordinary, the distant spires of the castle towering over the trees. He considered the possibility he had made a mistake in reasoning that someone near Edward must have tipped off the kidnappers to his travel plans and vulnerability, but found himself unable to abandon a theory based on sound reasoning. His concern required investigation, which, however, could wait until after a proper reunion with his betrothed. “What would you say to a warm bath and a long . . . snuggle?”

Kelryn’s hand slid down Nightfall’s arm as she pulled away far enough that only their fingers touched. “I don’t think anyone would begrudge you that bath, my love. But the rest will have to wait until after court.”

Nightfall groaned at the bare thought of that stuffy pretension, with its parade of malcontents and its incomprehensible rules. “I wasn’t planning to couple in the Great Hall.”

Kelryn’s delicate fingers enwrapped his hand. “Of course not, silly. But, as the highest ranking official, you will have to preside.”

“What?” Nightfall came to a dead halt, hoping he had misunderstood.

A sudden side step saved the page. Beside him, a woman jerked into a clumsy dance to keep from running into the pair, startling a mule who reared, overturning a small cart of vegetables. The man who had led it cursed softly, careful not to aim any of his harsh language directly at the noble and his fiancée.

Kelryn cringed at the spill. “You are the chancellor, Sudian.”

Though Nightfall had now heard his rank proclaimed for about the tenth time, he refused to acknowledge it. “Ned just asked me to be an adviser. Not a chancellor.”