Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two (19 page)

“Rolls first?”

The cook nodded. “Make it fast. The
Kirken Ambassador is not one to be kept waiting.”

Stepping into the kitchen, Kip
snatched up the rolls and popped one into his mouth. Crisp and
sticky on the outside yet light and fluffy on the inside, it was
perfect. The High Priest would find little fault with
these.

Number two and three followed in quick
succession. The cook offered him a wet rag to clean his fingers
then handed him the tray.

“You will find the Ambassador in the
Amber Suite.”

Before he could hold the words in, Kip
asked, “Amber Suite?”

The cook frowned. “Don’t you know
where the Amber Suite is located?”

Kip thought hard. “Uh, not really.”
Excuses and alibis came easily to one who had been raised on the
streets. “I have only been here a few days.”

“Humph. You’d think a Page would know
where everything is.”

Ducking his head in feigned
embarrassment, Kip replied in a cowed voice, “I am
learning.”

The cook eyed the emblem on his chest,
turned a thoughtful look upon Kip, then shrugged. “Come with
me.”

Stepping from the kitchen, the cook
entered the hallway and pointed in the direction Kip had been
traveling. “Take the first stairs on the right. Follow them to the
second landing. Turn right into the hallway and count five doors on
your right. When you get to the sixth, you will be at the Amber
Suite.”

Kip bobbed his head in a nod. “Yes,
sir.”

Making a shooing motion with his
hands, the cook said, “Now hurry.”

The directions were easy to follow.
Along the way, he encountered other denizens of the Keep. Each
time, he thought for sure his masquerade would be uncovered. But
other than a cursory glance at the contents arrayed upon the tray,
they paid him little heed.

Once at the second landing, he turned
to the right and began counting doors. The fourth on his right
opened just as he was passing the third and a comely maid perhaps a
little older than himself emerged bearing a stack of folded linen.
Upon spying Kip, she broke into a smile.

“Hi.”

Kip dipped his head in a brief bow.
“Good evening to you, miss.”

“My, aren’t we formal.” Her lilting
tone and congenial attitude quickly put him at ease.

He gave her his most charming smile.
“Always treat the ladies with respect. That’s what my ol’ Granther
used to say.”

Eyes dancing in amusement, she
replied, “Wise man.”

“I always thought so.”

She eyed the tray. “Where are you
taking that?”

He nodded to a distant point down the
hallway. “To the Kirken Ambassador.”

Her face transitioned from gay to
solemn in a flash. “I’ll be glad when he’s gone.”

“Bad?”

“He can be. Just get in, drop off the
tray, and get out as quickly as you can.”

“I’ll do that, thank you.”

Her smile returned. “You’re welcome,
uh…”

“Kip.”

“Kip?” She mulled over his name for a
moment. “Haven’t heard of a Page called Kip before.”

“I’m new.”

“You must be. I’m Sara.”

“It was good to meet you, Sara. But I
must be going.”

Nodding, she replied, “Yes. Maybe I
will see you around later?”

Kip shrugged. “Never know.”

As he turned to continue to deliver
the food, he paused. “You wouldn’t know where I could find Ceadric,
would you? I was supposed to deliver a message to him but the cook
sidetracked me.”

Her laughter filled the hallway. “He
does that to me, too. I think Ceadric is in his chambers.” Seeing
his blank look, she pointed to the ceiling. “Up two flights of
steps and down the hallway to your left. Find the niche with the
bust of Lord Coranthi, his door will be opposite.”

Kip gave her a wide smile then turned
to hurry down the hallway.

“Bye.”

Her voice echoed after him. He
hollered an answering, “Bye,” over his shoulder.

As he passed the fifth door, he heard
raised voices coming from the sixth. Though the language was
unfamiliar, the anger coming from the most vociferous of the two
was unmistakable. For a moment he considered leaving the tray in
front of the door and getting out of there.

What would happen to the cook if he
did? Visions of the poor man getting berated for Kip’s lack of
courage plagued him. He sighed and approached the door. His
conscience wouldn’t allow him to leave. Steeling his courage, Kip
knocked on the door.

The voices within grew silent and the
trod of a large man approached.

He held his breath as the door swung
open.

“What is…?”

A man easily six and a half feet tall
with shoulders like an ox gave Kip a gaze that sent a tremor of
fear coursing through his body. Turning to look back in the room,
the man said a few words in the unfamiliar language.

From within came a reply. He turned
back toward Kip and motioned for him to enter.

“Sit it on the table.”

“Yes, sir.”

Entering, Kip moved to the main table.
Maps and papers were strewn across its surface. To the right of a
very, very fat man seated on the opposite side, lay an area barely
large enough to contain the tray. Where the first man was extremely
tall and muscular, this one was short, fat and his neck jiggled
like a turkey’s when he gestured to the cleared area and said,
“Quickly, boy.”

Kip bobbed his head and swiftly
crossed the room. Though withering under the fat man’s stare, the
novice was quick to notice how the obese man’s clothes were of a
finer cut than the tall man’s. This must be the
Ambassador.

Kip’s hands trembled as he deposited
the tray upon the table. If not for Sara’s words of caution, he
might not have been as nervous. As he turned back to the door, a
chubby hand clasped the neck of his tabard, bringing him to a
stop.

“You are a Page, are you not,
boy?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Kip
nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

Beneath a matched pair of bushy
eyebrows atop twin, droopy rolls of fat, the Ambassador’s eyes
bored into Kip’s. “I want you to tell Lord Black Hawk that I am not
accustomed to being kept waiting. You tell him that I leave on the
morrow, and if our business is not settled by then, it will be upon
his head.”

“But…”

The hand clenched into a fist and the
fat little arm lifted him from the ground. The collar of his tabard
bit painfully into his neck. “But nothing, boy.” Pulling him
closer, the man brought Kip’s face to within inches of his
own.

“You tell him I will see him, tonight!
Do you understand?”

Fear ran wild as he stared into the
most merciless eyes he had ever encountered. Kip knew that his life
was as nothing to this man. He may be protected by the designation
of Page of the Keep, but that didn’t make the fear any less. In a
voice slightly louder than a mouse’s squeak, he said,
“Yes.”

“What?”

Louder. “Yes. I understand!” The last
word he practically shouted.

The hand let go and his feet landed
upon the floor. Kip quickly backed away from the Ambassador. The
large man opened the door and Kip scrambled from the room. His
posterior had just cleared the doorway when the door slammed shut
behind him.

“See.”

Turning toward the voice, he saw Sara
standing several feet away, minus the stack of folded
cloth.

Heart calming, the shaking of his
knees subsiding, Kip nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

“He can’t hurt you, you know. Pages
are protected.”

“They are?” Leaning against the side
of the hallway, he allowed his nerves to recover a little bit
more.

She nodded. “Oh, he’ll yell at you,
but it is considered a breach of hospitality to hurt a member of
the Lord’s court.”

Kip was surprised by that. “I’m a
member of court?”

“Well, not exactly. But Pages are
protected. They are considered part of the Lord’s household, and as
such, can’t be touched.”

He thought back to the Page lying
bound and unconscious he had left in that guest room. “What, uh,
happens to someone who hurts a Page?”

She shrugged. “I don’t think that has
happened for some time. It would probably be up to the Lord on what
to do with the miscreant. I think the punishment would be severe,
though. Lord Black Hawk can’t very well allow people to think such
an act is without consequences. Though it probably depends on who
hurt the Page.

“If it was a noble, probably not much
more than concessions in whatever it was they were in talks
about.”

“How about a commoner?”

“Cut off a hand? Prison? Death? An
attack on Lord’s household is like an attack upon the Lord himself.
So don’t worry about it.” She reached out and patted him upon the
chest where Black Hawk’s insignia lay. “As long as you wear this,
you’re safe from harm.”

“Great,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Lose a hand. Death?
Kip hoped the Lord Black Hawk would understand the
circumstances that led Kip to attack the Page.
The High Priest wouldn’t allow it, would he?

“I best be finding Ceadric and deliver
my message.” He moved away from the wall.

She came up and patted him on the
cheek. “Hope to see you again.”

The personal attention unexpectedly
flustered him. “Uh, yeah. That would be great.”

After flashing a smile, she turned and
proceeded down the hallway.

He watched her departure for several
seconds before realizing he was standing still. Shaking his head,
Kip hurried down the hallway in the opposite direction in hopes of
finding the steps leading to the upper levels.

Not far past the Ambassador’s room the
hallway ended at another passage running to the right and left. A
glance to the right showed the beginning of an upward staircase. He
moved in that direction and then stepped lively as he ascended to
the next level.

Fortune smiled upon him for the
stairway continued to the second level where Sara said Ceadric
could be found. The steps continued on to a third level, but Kip
stepped from the landing and turned left into the
hallway.

“Now…” he mumbled to himself, “need to
find the room across from the bust of some lord or
another.”

The trappings upon this level were
much finer than those in the ones below. A soft rug ran the length
of the hallway and displayed not far from the stairwell was a fine
tapestry. Taller than Kip and wider than he could stretch his arms,
it was perhaps the largest of its kind that Kip had ever seen. The
Temple had nothing to compare.

Two armies fought upon a field of
snow. One held the high ground and the other strove to expel them
from it. Neither side looked to be winning and the uniform
designations were unfamiliar to the young novice. They definitely
weren’t the Lord Black Hawk’s or that of Madoc’s soldiery. He
recalled overhearing a conversation between Jiron and the Dark Mage
in which he learned that this castle had once belonged to the
Empire. It had been liberated several years ago near the end of the
war.

Upon realizing he had paused a length
of time before it, Kip pulled his eyes away and hurried
on.

The first door had no niche or bust
opposite it upon the wall. The second had a torch sconce. The third
had a less than spectacular tapestry hanging next to it while the
fourth had nothing.

A little farther ahead, the corridor
came to an end. There was but one door remaining. He sighed in
relief upon spying the wall niche opposite the door. As he drew
nearer, the bust of a helmed man sitting within came into view. Kip
paused before the door. This was the one.

As he raised his hand to knock and
make his presence known, muffled voices came from the other side.
Years on the streets had made him cautious about interrupting
someone at an inopportune moment. Lowering his hand, he placed an
ear against the door.

One voice definitely belonged to a
man. The other could possibly have been a woman though the
thickness of the door made it difficult to tell.

This was the meeting
Ceadric was involved with? A tryst?

Kip sighed. There was nothing for it.
Raising his hand again, he rapped smartly three times upon the
door. Instantly, the voices within quieted. A moment later the door
opened.

He who opened the door was of average
height with a touch of gray around the temples and retained a
strong physique. Battle scars lined his arms, and his face bore a
long ago wound, two inches in length that traveled little less than
horizontal along his left jaw line. Though dressed in night
clothes, he could be none other than the Ceadric whom the Dark Mage
described.