Luck in the Shadows (66 page)

Having the higher ground saved them. Alec and Seregil struck out with their swords before their attackers could get their weapons up. Two men fell, their bodies blocking the stairs long enough for them to retreat. Another man came at them from above, swinging a short club. In the lead, Alec ducked the blow and thrust his sword between the man’s ankles. Seregil got in a good jab as the unfortunate man tumbled forward, then heaved the body on down the stairs.

Someone was trying to batter down the second-floor door as they passed. Dashing on, they found themselves back on the third floor.

Alec set the bar across the door, then doubled over panting. “Where now?”

“Let me think!” Seregil wiped his brow with one tattered sleeve. They’d been up and down how many towers? And how many doors had he blocked? No matter, really; by now all of them would be guarded.

Just ahead of them a corridor door flew open and they found themselves faced with four more men.

Falling on the newcomers, Seregil managed to strike down one before the man could draw his sword. The rest put up a savage fight but were no match for their attackers. Seregil ran a second man through, then turned in time to see another stab Alec in the left arm. The boy recovered in an instant and seized the advantage, cutting his attacker across the thigh. The man fell back with a cry and Seregil dispatched him. In the melee, the fourth man took to his heels and escaped down the corridor.

“Let him go,” Seregil ordered as Alec started off in pursuit. “You’re wounded. How bad is it?”

Alec flexed his bloodied arm. “Just a nick.”

Angry shouts interrupted them as a gang of men dashed into view beneath the night lamp. “Here. They’re back here!”

“This way!” Seregil bolted through the open doorway the four men had appeared from.

Beyond lay a small storage chamber, and on the far side of it another door stood open. Charging on, they raced up a narrow stairway, threw open the trap door at the top, and came out on the flat roof of the keep.

“We’re cornered!” cried Alec, looking around.

A quick circuit of the ramparts proved him right. There was no other way down; looking over the low parapets, they found impossible drops on every side. Behind them, Kassarie’s men were already clambering up through the trap door with torches, swords, and clubs.

“We make our stand here,” Seregil growled, retreating to the southern rampart.

Back to back, swords at the ready, they stood fast as the grinning mob advanced to form a menacing half circle around them.

“We have them, my lady. The boy and a beggar man,” someone called out.

More torches bobbed into view, and the men parted for Lady Kassarie. Wrapped in a dark cloak, hair in a loose braid over one shoulder, she advanced to inspect the interlopers. Alec recognized the old manservant, Illester, at her side.

“Beggar man? Oh, hardly that.” She frowned. “Lord Seregil í Korit. And—Sir Alec something, isn’t it? Had I known of your interest in my affairs, gentlemen, I would have extended you a proper invitation.”

Seregil threw back his tattered cloak and made her a small, mocking bow. “My Lady Kassarie ä Moirian. Your recent interest in
my
affairs was invitation enough, I assure you.”

Kassarie gave him an appraising look. “Your reputation fails to do you justice. Your little jaunt up to Cirna exhibited far more initiative than you’re given credit for, and now this! Who would have suspected such enterprise? But then, that was foolish of me. The dandified wastrel you’re made out to be could never have inveigled himself so skillfully into the chambers of power.”

“You flatter me, lady.”

“You’re too modest, my lord. After all, you’ve captured the ear of wizards and princesses.” Kassarie’s mouth twisted with a bitter sneer. “But then, you’re one of them, aren’t you? Some kin to our mongrel royalty? I trust you enjoyed your reunion with Lord Corruth.”

Seregil’s jaw tightened. “For that abomination, my lady, you have my family’s curse.”

“I shall do my best to be worthy of it. Now tell me, on whose behalf have you invaded my home?”

“We’re agents of Idrilain the Second, the true and rightful queen of Skala,” Seregil replied.

“Bravely spoken!” laughed Kassarie. “And how unfortunate
for me if that were so. Yet I have my own agents, you see, very skillful and reliable ones. If you were working for the Queen I would know. No, I think your Aurënfaie ties go a bit deeper than is generally supposed. Your people would be only too happy, I’m certain, to discredit Skalans loyal to the true line!”

A strange, hectic light came into her eyes as she spoke these last words. Gripping his sword more tightly, Seregil thought with disquieting certainty,
She’s going to kill us
.

“It’s of small importance, I suppose,” she went on darkly. “Your disappearance may cause a certain stir, but few, I think, will mourn you.”

“Others will come,” Seregil retorted. “Others like us, when you least expect them.”

“And find me flown. That fool Teukros did more harm than you could. But you know about Teukros, don’t you? This boy came asking for him.” Her gaze shifted to Alec. “And repaid my hospitality by seducing my scullery maid.”

“She didn’t know anything,” Alec told her, suddenly fearful for the girl. “I tricked her into letting me in.”

“Ah, the gallant suitor speaks.” Kassarie gave him a mocking smile. “A position in the great city, promises of passion to come—How pathetically common, but so effective. But she proved a poor choice for your dupe. Her aunt caught her sneaking out with a traveling bundle a short while ago.”

“We soon beat the truth out of her,” Illester cackled. “The girl never was very reliable.”

“Please, don’t hurt her,” Alec said weakly.

“Of course, I can’t help feeling a bit sorry for the poor, homely thing,” Kassarie continued. “She was heartbroken to learn of your perfidy. But you’ll have a little time to reflect on that. Gentlemen, throw down your swords!”

Seregil felt Alec tense behind him, awaiting his lead. Studying Kassarie’s imperious face in the torchlight, he weighed the chances of coming down off this roof alive. It seemed doubtful.

“I’ve little faith in your hospitality,” he replied, stalling for time.
Think, man, think! Find a thin spot in the mob! How far to the stairs, the tower door?

“You’ve given me quite enough trouble for one night,” Kassarie snapped, losing patience. “Look around! You can’t fight your way out. Look behind you. A thousand feet down. Teukros
screamed all the way to the bottom when they threw him off. Will you?”

Beside him, Seregil heard Alec’s tiny, choked groan. If surrender offered even the sliver of a chance—

Leap, dear boys!

Nysander’s shout jolted them both like a war cry, though it was obvious that no one else had heard.

“My lady commands your surrender,” Illester barked.

“Did you hear?” hissed Seregil.

“I can’t!” Alec whispered back. He was white with fear, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Enough of this,” snarled Kassarie, eyeing them with growing suspicion.

“You must!” Seregil pleaded, his own belly lurching at the idea.

“No—”

Seregil, Alec, leap! It must be now!

“Seize them!” cried Kassarie. “Take them alive!”

“Alec, go!”

“I can’t—”

Now, Seregil, for the love of Illior!

“Now!” yelled Seregil. Flinging his sword aside, he seized Alec around the waist and heaved him over the parapet. Trying not to hear the scream that fell away into the blackness, he vaulted after him and launched himself into the abyss. Kassarie’s sardonic laugh lashed out after him.

For a horrifying instant Seregil simply fell, eyes squeezed shut, the insubstantial wind beating up into his face.

Then the magic struck.

A swift, wrenching sensation shot through him, as if his soul were being pulled from his body. This was followed a splendid lightness, though he was still falling, dragged down by some entangling thing. Opening his eyes to a wondrous blaze of stars, he struggled free of his tunic and flung out his …

Wings!

Lovely, powerful, striped wings that sliced into the air and found purchase there. Leveling out into a glide, he looked down with his new eyes and saw another bird floundering awkwardly up toward him, hooting wildly all the way. He wouldn’t have thought it possible for an owl to look flabbergasted, but Alec did. Their empty clothes tumbled into the darkness as they winged up and over the keep.

Kassarie had moved to the parapet overlooking the road and was gesturing at a body of riders thundering up the road toward her gates. Torches streaked and veered in the courtyard below as her people scattered to meet the attack.

The wind sang deliciously through their feathers as Seregil and Alec spiraled down to meet the riders. Alec let out another excited hoot as his sharp eyes made out the insignia of the Queen’s Horse Guard. Klia rode at the head of the party, flanked by Myrhini and Micum.

Diving in low, Seregil flew in front of Micum.

“Seregil, is that you?”

Seregil swooped down again and landed on Micum’s outstretched arm, feeling the roughness of chainmail grating under his talons.

“Is it him?” Klia asked as the large horned owl flapped for balance.

Seregil bobbed his head and winked one great yellow eye.

“It’s him!” cried Micum. “Is Alec with you?”

Seregil bobbed again as Alec winged by.

“Go to Nysander,” said Micum. “He’s back down the road with Thero and Beka. Wait, what’s this you’ve got?”

Micum lifted the ring that hung against the owl’s buff breast. The loop of string had held, though Seregil had not noticed the slight weight of it as he flew. Micum pocketed it for him and Seregil spread his broad wings and flapped off to join Alec.

Following the road, Alec soon spotted a small fire below. Nysander and Thero sat cross-legged beside it, watched over by several uniformed riders.

Landing was a far trickier business than flight, it. turned out. After several unsuccessful attempts to copy Seregil’s smooth descent, he finally ended up in an ungainly heap at a soldier’s feet.

“Alec?” asked a familiar voice.

Beka knelt and set him upright, then smoothed his feathers gently. Spreading his toes out for balance, Alec blinked up at her and gave a soft hoot. Something moved under his foot; it was the silver Aurënfaie ring, still around one feathered toe. Raising his foot, he hooted at Beka until she took it.

Seregil, meanwhile, had settled gracefully on Nysander’s upraised arm.

“Thanks to the Lightbearer! We were not certain the spells found you in time,” Nysander told him, looking utterly exhausted.

“We were lucky to locate you at all,” added Thero. “We nearly didn’t, you know, with all your dashing around. Shall I change them back now, Nysander?”

“If you would. I am quite depleted.”

This transformation occurred as swiftly as the first, and with the same momentary disorientation.

After an instant’s dizziness, Alec found himself standing naked in front of Beka.

“You might want this.” Beka handed him her cloak, doing her best not to laugh at the expression of shocked realization spreading hotly over his face.

Mortified, Alec hastily flung it on. In the excitement of the moment he had not anticipated such complications. Taking the ring back from her, he turned to Seregil, who was kneeling beside the older wizard. “I lost the papers with my clothes, but I still have this.”

“And another,” Seregil gasped, cradling his head in his hands as the usual wave of post-magic nausea swept over him. “The Consort’s seal. Micum has it—Nysander, we found it. There’s a room below the ruined tower. We have to— We— Tell him, Alec!”

Retching, he staggered off into the shadows.

“Kassarie’s a Leran for certain,” Alec continued excitedly. “She’s still got some of the stolen gold and the body of Lord Corruth!”

“Poor fellow. I always feared something of the sort had happened to him,” sighed Nysander. “But what is this about rings and papers?”

“We took Corruth’s rings and some papers to prove what we found,” Alec explained, handing the wizard the heavy Aurënfaie ring. “Micum has the Consort’s seal, but we lost everything else when—” Alec paused with a stricken gasp. “My sword! Oh hell, that went, too, and my black dagger.” These, along with his bow, were chief among the very few material possessions he felt any attachment to; they had been the first things Seregil had outfitted him with at Wolde.

“We shall do our best to recover them, dear boy, and all the rest,” Nysander assured him.

“We have to get back in there, and quickly,” said Seregil, returning to the fire looking haggard but determined. One of the
riders held out a cloak and he wrapped himself in it. “She’ll destroy everything, Nysander; she may have already. Even with the ring, our word won’t be enough against her!”

“He’s right,” Thero agreed.

“She’s the head of the serpent, I’m certain of it,” Seregil continued emphatically. “Get her and you get them all! But Klia and the others will never find that room on their own. I’ve got to go back in!”

“Not without me, you’re not!” declared Alec.

Nysander assented with a weary nod. “Sergeant Talmir, please get these men clothing, horses, and weapons.”

Beka stepped forward. “Let me go with them.”

The wizard shook his head firmly. “It is not for me to countermand Commander Klia’s orders. She stationed you here.”

“But—”

“You stay put,” Seregil warned. “It’s worth your commission to leave your post. You haven’t even been invested yet!”

Alec stepped away with his usual modesty to dress, while Seregil threw his cloak off with no thought but haste. As he did so, Alec was dismayed to see that the obscuration spell covering the scar had failed again; the strange scar was clearly visible. Nysander saw it, too, and shook his head slightly at Alec. Fortunately, Seregil pulled on his borrowed tabard before anyone else noticed.

Beka, who’d kindly looked away until Alec had gotten his breeches on, offered him her sword. “Take it,” she urged. “I’ll feel better, knowing you have a blade I trust.”