Oberon's Dreams (15 page)

Panic burned behind Corin’s breastbone. He couldn’t let Ephitel suspect the druids’ involvement. Corin pushed forward and raised his chin. “I came to rescue Avery.”

“I have seen something of your tricks,” Ephitel said. “This is not your handiwork.”

“It is!” Corin shouted. He pointed to the guard he’d overcome earlier. The unfortunate soldier was stirring now, groaning softly, and matching bruises blacked both his eyes. Corin darted toward him. “Ask this one. I fell upon him like a storm at sea.”

Ephitel followed Corin until he sat staring down at the stirring soldier with the same disdain he had shown to Corin before. “Yeoman Kellen. I should not be surprised to find you embroiled in this affair.”

Yeoman Kellen stopped stirring, although he did give one more heartfelt groan.

Ephitel leaned one arm against his pommel and asked icily, “Do you need aid, Yeoman Kellen?”

“No, sir,” the fallen soldier said. His eyes snapped open, and Kellen winced once, then began the laborious process of climbing to his feet. “No, Lord Ephitel. I am able.”

“Hardly,” the prince said. “What happened here?”

“Riot, sir. There might have been a thousand angry citizens—”

“Rebels,” Ephitel growled.

Kellen swallowed hard, then shrugged. “As you say. Torches and stones.”

“What was their intent?”

Kellen swallowed hard again, and this time he looked away. “I couldn’t make it out.”

“Ha!” Ephitel leaned back and shook his head. “You’ve never had a spine, Yeoman Kellen. I feel your time among my men is at an end.”

The yeoman hung his head in shame and gave no answer.

“And what of my other brave jailers?” Ephitel cried, apparently hoping to stir more of them. “So much disturbance, and still they sleep, though I see no mark upon them. One might even think these others suffered the effects of druids.”

Ephitel’s lieutenant called out, “Sir!” from where he knelt beside one of the fallen men. “Even so. These are the druids’ poisoned darts.” He brandished one of the shiny projectiles Corin had seen before.

“Aha,” Ephitel said, “proof at last of their treachery.”

“No,” Corin cried, inventing wildly. “That’s my doing, too.”

“Impossible.”

“Not at all. I…the druids took me in. As you well know. And…while I was in their care, I stole these trinkets.”

“Is that so?” Ephitel asked, a strange, hungry look in his eyes. “You are quite the resourceful one. Yeoman Kellen! Tie him up.”

“Tie him, sir? There are chains in the carriage—”

“Chains he has already defeated once, you will find. As I said, he is a resourceful one. Tie him with an elven knot.” He turned aside for a moment, running his eyes over his other prisoners. “We should have a knot for Lord Avery, too. Chains will suffice for Lady Maurelle.”

“No!” Avery cried. “Let her go!”

Ephitel spurred his horse two quick steps closer to Avery, then answered the angry thief with an armor-plated kick to his unprotected stomach. Avery folded double, then collapsed in a whimpering pile. Ephitel spat down at him. “Watch your tongue when you speak to the lord protector.” He turned dispassionate eyes back to Kellen. “Well? Tie them!”

The soldier sprang into action. He uncoiled a cord from around his upper arm, something fine and gilded that Corin had taken for decorative braiding. But as Kellen unrolled the cord and drew out a measured length of it, Corin recognized the hair-fine thread. In his time it was an artifact, a relic of the ages when elves walked with men. But he was in those ages now, and Yeoman Kellen approached to bind his hands with a delicate thread that could have held an anchor through any gale. Now two loops went over each hand, and Kellen pulled the knot tight with a simple gesture, but Corin found no slack, no loose edges, no angle to escape the bindings.

“There’s a handy trick,” Corin said. “Why use manacles at all?”

Ephitel moved closer, eyes narrowed. “It is strange the things that you don’t know. And, then again, the ones you do.”

It took only a moment before Corin understood. The dwarven powder. Maurelle had told him Ephitel craved the stuff. Corin shook his head, “I am just a manling vagabond—”

“Rich in mystery and richer in defiance,” Ephitel said. “We have a place set aside for such as you.” He jerked his head toward the coach. “Take them to the palace dungeons. And you! Take thirty men and hunt down the traitor druids.”

Halfway to the carriage, Corin wrenched against his captors’ grip to shout back, “No! The druids had no part in this!”

“You are a wretched liar,” Ephitel answered. He told his lieutenant, “Go. Now.” Then he turned back to the jailers’ carriage as two of his soldiers forced Corin into its confines. “Two insignificant children from the House of Violets, and one mysterious manling from out of time,” Ephitel mused, almost to himself. “What can you have in common?”

Corin suppressed his angry response. He said, “Innocence?”

“Hardly.” The prince stepped back half a pace so Yeoman Kellen could heave the groaning Avery up into the cab with Corin and Maurelle. Ephitel considered them all for a moment, then nodded slowly. “This shall be interesting. I must speak with Oberon.”

“I would speak with him, too,” Corin said. “Shall we go together?”

Ephitel’s brows crashed together. “
You
shall go to the darkest prison I can find for you.”

“I demand an audience with the king.”

“It is not your right to demand such a thing.”

“Avery, then—”

“No. By its association with you, the House of Violets has lost such rights as well.” Ephitel grinned. “Oh, you may prove useful to me after all.”

“Gods’ blood!” Corin snapped. “What have they done against you?”

“Be careful of the threats you make,” Ephitel answered him. “Yeoman Kellen! Are the prisoners secure?”

“Yes, Lord Ephitel.”

“Very good. You will accompany them to the dungeons.”

“Yes, Lord Ephitel. And who will join me? The rest of my unit are still upon the road.”

“So they are,” Ephitel said. “I believe you will go alone.”

Kellen looked into the confines of the carriage, and a little shudder shook him. Corin understood. Once the carriage was in motion it would become an island, isolated, and on that island Yeoman Kellen would be much outnumbered by his charges. Even with their hands bound, they could do him no small damage. Jailers always preferred numbers until their prisoners were safely in cells. This was near enough a suicide order, or must have seemed so to the yeoman.

He swallowed hard. “Alone, sir?”

“You have your orders.”

For a moment he seemed prepared to argue. Then he meekly bowed his head and reached to retrieve the truncheon that had fallen from his grip. Ephitel urged his horse forward, and a steel-shod hoof slammed down on the haft of the hardened club, reducing it to splinters. Kellen barely kept his hand.

The yeoman leaped back, looking to his lord protector in shock. Ephitel nodded pointedly at the sword on Kellen’s belt. “A soldier of mine should not fear a little bloodshed.”

Kellen nodded, defeated, then turned and climbed into the carriage. A moment later the door slammed shut, and everyone within it could hear the locks on the outer doors slamming into place. Outside, Ephitel sniffed. “Ease your heart, Yeoman Kellen. I would not trust these prisoners to your charge for all the gold in Oberon’s coffers. There will be forty of your stalwart companions riding along outside.” Then he shouted a command and the carriage jerked into motion, dragging them all toward the palace dungeons.

Kellen answered for him. “He’s lashing out. His actions cost his house its standing, and he hates the lord protector for enforcing Oberon’s law.”

“A mere pretext,” Avery spat. “Ephitel despised my father long before I started making waves.”

Corin sighed. These were the politics he’d so hoped to avoid. But now he needed some cooperation between these two. He caught Avery’s eyes. “And why do you hate Kellen for Ephitel’s actions?”

“I hate all his little toadies,” Avery sneered.

“Yet he has never said a word,” Kellen answered. “Except he’s heard my name, and he thinks I am toothless.”

“I’ve heard your name, for it was you who clapped my father in his chains,” Avery said. “When your father had once been my family’s friend.”

Kellen bit his lip. That told Corin all he needed to know. The yeoman turned away. “I had my orders. I could not disobey.”

“And so I’ll say again, you are a coward.”

Corin rolled his eyes. “You are a bore.” He turned back to Kellen. “We have no quarrel with you, Yeoman. In fact, our enemy and yours might be the same.”

Kellen frowned. “Who do you mean?”

It was a gamble, but Corin was a gambler. He shrugged. “I mean your master, Lord Ephitel.”

Kellen shook his head. “He is not my master, merely my superior. I have no master but King Oberon.”

Corin hid his grin. He scooted to the edge of his seat. “Then even more you should consider us your friends. Our only goal is to protect the king. Lord Ephitel has made himself a threat.”

“These are courageous accusations,” Kellen said. “Ephitel is powerful, and he is trusted by the king.”

“Perhaps, but the lord protector keeps his secrets. Do you know that he is hoarding writs of provender?”

Kellen frowned. “Why would he do this?”

“To field an army. To defy the king. The druids have recognized the threat he poses, and now the lord protector turns his malevolence against them.”

“How does that concern you? You are not a druid.”

“They have asked me to carry a warning to your king.”

Kellen frowned. “You show great foolishness, sharing your intelligence with a soldier in the Royal Guard.”

“I count it little risk,” Corin said, “for you are loyal to the king, and Ephitel has shown how poorly he esteems you. We would show you more respect—”

Avery interrupted. “Speak for yourself, manling. Some of us know the Kellen name.”

Kellen’s eyes flashed fury.

Corin stopped himself from kicking Avery’s shin, but just barely. He kept his attention fixed on the yeoman. “If you but help us—”

“Help you?” Kellen demanded. “Assist the lord protector’s enemies? I would have to be a brave man indeed to take that risk. I prefer the company of honorable men.”

“There was no honor in your lord protector’s accusations. How can you serve such a man?”

“There are words,” Kellen said, “and then there are actions. I bear the mark of the respect you offered me.”

Corin shook his head, frantic. “We could not have known you were loyal, while you stood with Ephitel in opposition to our efforts for the king.”

Kellen raised his chin. “You argue well, but I have never known a criminal without a smooth tongue. You will have a chance to make your case, but it will not be here before me. Keep your silence.”

Avery sighed. “What else could we expect? I’d leave another mark upon him if I could.”

Corin turned to him. “It does not help our cause to gain this man’s enmity.”

“Trouble yourself not,” Avery said. “It would not help our cause to gain his favor, either. No, we will have to find our freedom by another means.”

Kellen shook his head. “You will be lucky to find freedom at all. No one leaves the lord protector’s dungeons.”

Corin tried to apologize, but Kellen silenced him with a firm shake of his head. “I will hear no more from either of you!”

Silence fell again, and Corin brooded. Avery had shown some talent. There was one small mercy. But his arrogance now made an enemy of a man who might otherwise have been a useful friend. An ally in the Guard would have served them well.

But Corin only sighed. Such was his fortune in this place. He’d found no more aid from friends than he’d received from his own crew within the cave. The druids had recruited him, then sent him off all on his own. True, they’d shown up for his jailbreak, but only…

No, he realized. They had not shown up for him. They could not have known what Corin planned. The riot had been a project of their own, with no other aim than to rescue Aemilia. When Corin appeared, they had let him break into the jailers’ carriage for them, then left him high and dry, at Ephitel’s mercy.