The Crystal Chalice (Book 1) (47 page)

 The Prince threw up his
hands in despair. “He is probably sitting in his room with one shoe on and the
other shoe off and his nose stuck in a book, having forgotten completely the
reason why he was in the room in the first place,” he declared, in a masterly
summary of Relisar’s character. “I’ll go and fetch him.”

 However, when he
returned a few moments later he looked alarmed. “He’s gone. His room is empty.
His belongings are all there but - well, it’s difficult to tell because his
room is always in chaos - but there appear to be signs of a struggle. A table
has been knocked over and a lamp is lying broken on the floor.”

 Celedorn let out a
breath. “So now we know. That is why we are not being guarded. The old woman
must have read his mind and knows that we cannot open the curtain of adamant
without him. With Relisar in the King’s power, we are trapped here.”

 “He acted quickly,”
Andarion said between his teeth.

  Triana had not quite
been keeping pace with events. “You’re not actually suggesting that the King
has abducted Relisar, are you?”

 “You are too civilised,
Triana,” Elorin advised her. “The King has no scruples. He will have Relisar
securely locked away in prison by now, that is, if he has not already......”
she halted, shocked by what she had been going to say.

 “Until we know
otherwise,” said the Prince, “we must work on the assumption that he is still
alive but incarcerated somewhere. The question is where?  I have no idea
where to begin - and I can hardly ask the King.”

 Celedorn, who had been
standing to one side, deep in thought, spoke up: “I think I know someone who
might be persuaded to help us but I cannot contact him until morning.” He
glanced towards the darkened window. “Dawn is not far away. We have no choice
but to wait.”

 “If you are thinking of
asking Naldian.....”  began the Prince, but Celedorn shook his head.

 “I wasn’t. I know he is
loyal to the King, I was thinking more of a friend of Relisar’s.”

 “The librarian! Of
course! I will go with you.”

 “No, leave this to me.”

 Celedorn entered the
library so early in the morning that it was deserted. He peered down the aisles
that separated row after row of bookshelves but there was no one in sight. At
last he ran the librarian to earth in one of the side rooms.

 The librarian, who had
met Celedorn before, greeted him cordially. “Good morning to you. A fine
morning is it not? And where is my learned friend today? Not over-indulged with
the wine last night, I trust?”

 But his joviality
disappeared when he heard Celedorn’s brutally direct reply. “He is in prison.”

 “Oh dear, you tried to
leave didn’t you? No one is ever allowed to leave this place.”

 “Relisar was seized in
his room last night and we have no idea where he has been taken. I was hoping
you could help us.”

 The librarian clutched
distractedly at his sparse grey locks, making them stick out at all angles. “Oh
dear, oh dear, I dare not. You are strangers and can have no idea how fearsome
the King’s anger can be.” His voice sank. “They say that nothing, not even the
most secret of thoughts, can be hidden from that old witch in the palace. I
used to be the King’s personal librarian, you know, with access to his most
treasured volumes but I was suspected of taking some of his books home to read.
I denied it, of course, but the witch-queen knew. She
knew
, and I was
sent out here.”

 “She cannot read my mind,”
Celedorn declared. “She has tried and failed. If you give me the information I
need, no one will ever know it came from you.”

 “I don’t know,” fretted
the old man, wringing his hands. “It is a terrible risk.”

 “If you don’t help,
Relisar will be executed. Do you want that on your conscience?”

  The librarian gazed at
him like a trapped rabbit. “Swear to me, swear that she cannot read your mind.”

 “I swear it.”

 “Very well. There is a
prison in the city for petty thieves and those who drink too much wine and make
a nuisance of themselves, but he will not be held there. He will be held
somewhere secret, somewhere within the palace walls. It was rumoured that the
King had converted one of his wine cellars into a prison where he can hold
those who particularly displease him.” He glanced around the library to make
sure they were alone, then leaned conspiratorially towards Celedorn. “I know
where the cellar is. During my years at the palace I got to know the buildings
very well. I will draw you a plan that you must promise to destroy if you are
caught.”

 “I promise.”

 “The map will not help
with the fact that the prison will be guarded.”

 Celedorn smiled in a
manner that made the librarian glad that he was not a palace guard. “I will
deal with such matters. All you have to do is show me how to get there.”

 The librarian had been
busily scribbling on a piece of paper as they spoke and passed it to Celedorn.
“One other thing, if you succeed in getting away, there was a rumour
circulating a while ago of the existence of a monastery of the White
Brotherhood in the forest south of here. It may not be true, but if it is, the
brothers would offer you shelter.”

 Celedorn returned to
the palace to find the others anxiously waiting. “The librarian was more
helpful than I dared hope. He has given me a map showing the part of the palace
where he thinks they may be holding Relisar.”

 “When do we go?” asked
Andarion, leaning over his shoulder to look at the map.

 “
We
do not go. I
will go alone - there is less chance of being detected that way.” He saw the
Prince draw breath and realised that an argument was impending. “I know you
want to come. I expected no less, but you must get Triana and Elorin beyond the
city walls as soon as it is dark. Take all the horses and our belongings with
you and go to a copse that Elorin knows just beyond the eastern gate. If all
goes well, I will bring Relisar to you. However, if am not with you one hour
before midnight, leave two of the horses and ride to the border. You are on no
account to wait longer, as the King will be expecting us to put in an
appearance at midnight to give him our answer.”

 “This is too risky,
Celedorn.”

 Andarion found himself
drawn to one side. “The King has no intention of holding us prisoner. He is
playing a cat and mouse game with us. If we do not escape, we will not long
survive Relisar.”

 “What if Relisar is
already dead?”

 “Then all this will
have been in vain and there will be no escape for us.”

 “I still don’t like you
going alone.”

 “I must. If I am
caught, I am the only one who can keep secrets from the old Queen.” Then with a
sudden change of mood, he grinned impudently. “Besides, the Scourge of the
Westrin Mountains has never yet been caught - even with half of Eskendria
trying.”  He directed so knowing a look at the Prince that he was forced
to laugh. “It’s true, you have the devil’s own luck, Celedorn, let’s just hope
it holds tonight.”

 As soon as darkness
fell, the Prince and his two charges slipped into the quiet maze of back
streets leading to the inn. Celedorn, watching their departure from the cover
of a doorway to make sure they were not followed, satisfied himself that their
exit had been unobserved, and then melted like a shadow into the darkness of
the parkland.

 He had memorised the
map the librarian had given him, before destroying it, and consequently did not
hesitate to circle the palace until he came to a long, dark wing that projected
from the western side of the building. Unlike the rest of the palace, no lights
showed in its windows, there was no coming and going of servants, it was as
silent as the grave. But it was not quite as deserted as it seemed, for as he
stood listening, he heard the faint clink of metal. Peering around a corner,
using the voluptuous fronds of a creeper as cover, he saw a guard standing on
duty at the only doorway leading into the wing. The guard was some distance
away and was clearly bored but still much too alert to be taken by surprise.

 Swiftly his eyes
scanned the windows on the ground floor, only to find them all tightly shut.
However, a small casement on the first floor appeared to be slightly ajar.
Grasping the creeper and hoping fervently that it didn’t give way under his
weight, he began to climb.

 The casement opened
with a loud creak but he was through in an instant and found himself in a
darkened corridor. He knew from the map that the ground and first floors of the
wing were occasionally used as state apartments, and that the cells were
located below ground level in some disused wine cellars. Silently as a ghost,
he moved along the corridor until he reached the head of a descending flight of
stairs. A faint glow of lamplight illuminated the foot of the stairs, coming
from a source just out of sight. Once again he paused to listen intently but
reassured by the silence, he soon glided down to the floor below. At the bottom
he peered around the corner to find another long passage with many doors
opening off it. An oil lamp on a small stand was the source of the light. The
passage, like the one above, was utterly deserted. Mentally positioning himself
on the librarian’s map, he realised that the door to the cellars lay beyond a
sharp corner to his left. He had already begun to move in that direction when
he detected voices coming towards him. Quick as a thought, he ducked into one
of the side rooms. It was in darkness but the faint gleam coming from the
window revealed some sort of dining room. The long table was stacked with
dishes and wine glasses, however, the air smelt a little musty as if it was
seldom used.

 The voices drew nearer
and passed the door without stopping. From the fragments of their conversation
that he could make out, Celedorn concluded that they were guards coming off
duty and heading with resolution to their favourite tavern in the city. When they
had gone, he cautiously opened the door and peered out. The next instant he was
at the bend in the corridor. One swift glance around it informed him that his
luck had come to an end. The door to the cellar lay at the far end of a
straight corridor and was guarded by two alert-looking guards who had obviously
just come on duty. They stood on either side of the door, long pikes in their
hands, swords by their sides, their attention very far from wandering. The
empty corridor completely deprived him of the element of surprise, on which he
had intended to rely. There were no windows, no other doors, before he got even
half way along that passage, he would have a pike stuck in his belly. He was
leaning back against the wall, his mind desperately searching for answers, when
into his thoughts flashed the memory of the guards coming off duty. A bold idea
began to form in his mind. He returned to the dining room and set wine glasses
and a decanter on a tray, then returned with them to the corner. Unbuckling his
scabbard to render his appearance more innocuous, he picked up the tray and
stepped boldly into the corridor whistling nonchalantly.

 The two guards
instantly snapped to attention, their pikes levelled pugnaciously, but when
they saw an unarmed figure approaching with such obvious confidence, a tray
balanced on one hand, they were more puzzled than alarmed.

 “Your comrades sent me
to bring you something to relieve the tedium.” said Celedorn. “A fine wine,
with the compliments of the tavern of the Blue Boar.” He hoped desperately that
in the poor light, they could not see that the decanter was empty.

 The taller guard was
suspicious. “Is this one of Jaldeth’s practical jokes?” he asked, his eyes
narrowed. “I’ve fallen for them once too often. Perhaps he has put rat poison
in that wine.”

 But his companion
dismissed his fears. “If you won’t risk it, I’ll drink your share as well. The
Blue Boar has the finest wine in the city.”

 Celedorn was now just a
pace or two away. He handed the tray to the first guard with his left hand, and
simultaneously delivered such a powerful punch with his right, that the man
dropped in an unconscious heap without so much as a groan. The tray crashed to
the ground, the glasses shattering. As the guard fell, like a flash, Celedorn
wrenched the pike from his hands and rammed the butt hard into the other
guard’s stomach. The breath exploded from him and he doubled up. A heavy blow
to the head dispensed with any possible resistance and he fell beside his
companion.

 Celedorn glanced around
anxiously, wondering if the crash of the tray had attracted attention. He
sprinted to the corner and snatched up his sword, then returning to the two
inert bodies, he searched them for keys. A truly enormous bunch was his reward
and he frowned at it in frustration but as luck would have it, the fifth key he
tried opened the door.

 A flight of stone steps
descended steeply into darkness. Lifting the torch from the wall outside, he
began to descend, uncertain as to what he would find. The flickering light lit
cold, bare stone walls. Lying curled up in a corner, looking very small and
alone, was a figure in a grey ink-stained robe.

 “Relisar!” Celedorn
called sharply.

 But there was no
response. Fearing the worst, he descended the last few steps and crossing the
figure, grasped it by the shoulder.