To Darkness Fled (47 page)

Gren's face flushed and she wrung her hands.
I assure you, sir, Bran has always treated me real nice.

I do not doubt Master Rennan's character, or yours. I simply must do what I can to protect both your reputations. Ideally, it would be best if you did not go out for a while, but--

You intend to cage me? All I've done is lose my husband. How's this fair?

Please, you misunderstand me. I only suggest keeping to the cottage as an extra precaution, but if you do go out, you must have a female companion.

I only have my mother.

She will do perfectly.

But she has her own work.

Then I will speak to the duchess about finding you a companion.

Gren bowed her head.
Thank you, sir.

Master Rennan will be taking a new post in the stronghold. I will take over his position here until we can find a suitable replacement.

Gren's brown eyes shot to Bran's, glistening. She straightened and held her head high.
Thank you for telling me about this change. I know Master Rennan has to think about his reputation and betrothal. I never meant to harm either.

I thank you for your understanding, madam.
Sir Rigil nodded at Bran, then walked to the door.

Bran crossed the room.
Gren, I'm sorry.

She shook her head and a single tear dropped to her chin.
Don't apologize. I appreciate all you've done for me.

Bran glanced back at Sir Rigil, then stepped closer and lowered his voice.
I'll miss talking to you, Gren. This isn't my idea, you know. I only want to do what's best, and Sir Rigil says--

She pressed a finger to his lips.
I forgive you, Bran.

He gripped her hand, held it to his cheek, then kissed her fingertips.
Thank you.

Vrell's throat stung.

Sir Rigil cleared his throat.

Bran let go.
I'll see you around.

Gren smiled.
I hope so.

Sir Rigil opened the door and Bran exited.

I'll be outside, madam, should you need anything,
Sir Rigil said. He closed the door behind him and slapped the back of Bran's head.
What was that?

Bran shrank back.
I don't know.

You don't know. Well, you'd better start thinking before you act.

You're always kissing maiden's hands. At least four or five a day.

I
am not betrothed to the duchess's eldest daughter and heir.

Nor am
I.
Bran blew a gust of air out his nose.
The duchess never gave her blessing.

The villagers believe it. Your attention to Miss Fenny fuels their hatred of her. They feel you betray Lady Averella in her absence.

I miss Averella terribly, but what if she never returns? What if Arman sent Gren to me because he knew I'd lost Averella? I've never been worthy of her, anyway. And Gren needs someone. She's all alone.

Sir Rigil set his jaw.
Lady Averella
is
coming back.

Then why has she not sent word?

Jax tells me she is in Tsaftown, so it won't be long now.

She sends word to everyone but me. Either her messages aren't genuine and she is truly lost, or she cares too little to send word to me.

Regardless, you will remain faithful until her return. Then if you must, break your engagement in person, like a man. I will not employ a coward.

Vrell blinked away from Bran's mind, taking deep, calming breaths. In over eight months she had never send word to Bran. Why had it not occurred to her? She focused on the spider in the web. Had Gren caught Bran in her web? Or could it be that Bran and Vrell had never truly loved one another as much as they had claimed?

And why did this realization not bother Vrell more?

28

Turning his back to these criminals could get Achan killed. Sir Gavin's men hadn't come forward. Who could he trust? He still held them all at knifepoint, rotating slowly.

TRUST ME. I WILL PROTECT YOU.

Achan gasped at the swell of heat that accompanied conversation with Arman.
It's been awhile since I've heard from you.

YOU HAVE BEEN TOO FOCUSED ON YOU TO HEAR ME.

Achan supposed he had been busy, but surely he couldn't have missed it if Arman had spoken.
A lot has been going on.

TRUST ME. I WILL PROTECT YOU.

Okay...
"This is hardly a shirt anymore anyway." He pulled out the cord from around his neck and unlocked the shackles on his wrists. He tossed them against the wall. They clattered down the privy trench. Silence reigned a long time before a soft clink echoed from below. "Blazes."

Achan unlocked the shackles on his ankles. He tugged his scrap of a shirt over his head and dropped it. Gripping the knife tightly, he stepped to the center of the pit and turned.

Bare feet shuffled over the sticky stone floor. Achan cringed inwardly as stale breath wafted over his neck and clammy fingers pawed at him. The crowd murmured.

"It's on the wrong side," the nasal voice said.

"Lord Nathak branded me over my birthmark in an effort to hide it."

"Lord Nathak's a snake."

"Won't argue with you there," Achan said.

The prisoners were silent a moment. Whispers rose to murmurs. Achan turned to see them hashing it out, grappling with the facts, deciding whether they agreed with one another.

Finally, a man in the back said, "I'll stand with you."

"And I."

"I will."

"Me too, eh?"

A chorus of affirmatives rose out of the darkness. Achan held back his smile, determined to look the part of a leader. He thrust the knife above his head. "For Arman!"

"Arman!" the crowd yelled.

Achan lowered the blade. "Now, who is my master thief? I have a knife and a lock to pick."

Bazmark, the big man who'd been imprisoned for looking too long at the queen, became the designated booster. He hoisted Brien, a sliver of a man, to stand on his shoulders and gripped the man's ankles. Brien made quick work of the lock. He silently flipped back the grate door and climbed out. The men cheered. Then several mobbed Bazmark, trying to climb up his body. He growled and threw one man to the floor.

"Quiet!" Achan said. "We must not call attention to ourselves or none of us will get free."

Brien's thin face peered down through the open grate. "I don't see no guards."

Bazmark waved Achan over.

It went against instinct to say it, but he forced himself. "I'll go last." He needed to look out for his people, after all.

Liquid dripped against stone. Every eye stared. Achan pushed a man toward Bazmark. "Go. Let's go."

"I can help too, I can." A broad-shouldered, blond man, who was as hairy as Shung, stepped forward.

"What's your name, man?" Achan asked.

"I'm called Kurtz, I am. I'm a friend of Chion, eh?" Kurtz grinned, his cheeks dimpling under his bushy beard.

Excellent. Hopefully Sir Gavin's other man would come forward soon. Kurtz started hoisting men alongside Bazmark. For over forty in the pit, they made quick time of it.

Achan checked in with Sir Gavin.
What's happening?

Insurrection. Our men, along with most of the other prisoners and the guards who released them, are fighting Esek's men with us. We're on the roof. It may be awhile until we can get back down to you. How do you fare?

We're coming up but have no weapons. Am I leading these men to their deaths?

My Kingsguardsmen know how to fight with their fists.

Sir Gavin, these men are rail thin. Yours have been here thirteen years. Some others not as long, but I doubt many will have the strength.

Others?

I freed all the men from the Pit.

Eben's breath, lad. Be careful.

You as well.

Bazmark hoisted up Kurtz, which left only him and Achan in the pit. "I doubt you can lift me, Your Highness."

"Perhaps we can lower that other fellow down or..." Achan scanned the dark floor for his leg shackles, thankful he hadn't tossed them down the trench. He draped them around his neck and gasped as the cold chain fell against his skin.

Bazmark bent down, fingers interlaced. Achan stepped into his hands and jumped at the same time Bazmark lifted. He flew up through the air, barely managing to get his other foot on Bazmark's shoulder. He would have fallen back, but a hand from above grasped his and pulled him up. More hands grabbed his arms and torso and set him on his feet.

A man with a weathered face and deep, brown eyes set Achan's boots at his feet. "Forgive me, Your Majesty."

Achan set a hand on the back of the man's head. "You're forgiven. Now stand and help me lift Bazmark."

They lowered the chain to Bazmark and pulled him out. When all stood in the center hold, Achan slipped the grate door closed. The cackling man, tall and red-haired, loped along the cells, banging on the doors and laughing.

Achan groaned. "Someone stop him."

Bazmark took off after the cackler.

Achan peered up the tower and found the corridors empty. "Strange no guards stayed behind."

"There are usually only two in the center hold, Your Majesty," a raspy voice said from behind him. "And it appears they have gone elsewhere."

Achan turned to a dark-haired man with lazy, blue eyes. He might have been Achan's height if not for his hunched posture. His once-white shirt was so thin Achan could see his chest hair through the weave. A tattered black beard covered his round face. He had a hooked nose--once broken, perhaps?

"My fellow Kinsman," Achan said, "you are called?"

"The prisoners call me Elk. Kurtz and I are friends of Chion. The false prince spoke Gavin Lukos' name. Is he here?"

Elk. Of course. This must be Eagan Elk, the owner of the sword. "We came together and will hopefully leave together."

"You came to rescue us?"

"Sir Gavin says we cannot take Armonguard without you. All of you."

Elk lowered his eyes. "Thirteen years have passed, Your Highness. I am not the soldier I was."

Achan set a hand on Elk's shoulder. "Let us focus on escape for now."

Achan waved the men close. Bazmark hauled the red-haired cackler to Achan's side. The stench seemed worse now that cleaner air surrounded him. The prisoners stared. Their long beards made them appear wise and intimidating.

Arman, help me.
He took a deep breath, unsure what to do. "We'll take the western tower." He glanced from face to face, unsure why he'd said this. Thankfully, no one questioned him.

The weathered man offered Achan his boots again.

Achan shook his head. "You need them more than I."

The man's eyes widened. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Achan flushed, coming back to himself. How could he lead these men? These prisoners? Was he mad?

Brien handed Inko's knife back, handle first. This Achan accepted gratefully. "Thank you, Brien. We're going up, armed with only this." He held up his knife. "Stay together and pray."

Sir Gavin? I've found your men. We climb the western stairs. Can someone meet the other men and show them where to join our army?