Rebel's Cage (Book 4) (52 page)

The fine hairs on the back of Godfrey’s neck rose all at once. He steadfastly kept his gaze on the man before him and didn’t look over his shoulder the way he wanted to. He was not sure if he really wanted an answer.

‘Sorry for what?’

*

‘Are you sure about this?’ Andrew whispered in the creaky darkness of the roof space he was huddled in. Of course, if he was huddled, Robert must be bent double, but the rebel held his finger to his lips and pointed downwards.

He’d always imagined the life of an outlaw to be rather pleasant, with no master but yourself, a degree of freedom he’d often envied and a certain measure of excitement bound up in unnamed and clandestine activities. The truth was so far removed as to be laughable.

Robert had hesitated at every turn, pausing long enough to Seek for danger, to listen, sniff the air, extending his Senses to ensure Andrew’s safety. Of course, he probably shouldn’t have insisted on coming along, but then again, Robert hadn’t put up
too many objections, so perhaps he’d done the right thing for a change.

Not that his legs agreed with him at the moment.

The dust in the air tickled his nose and he rubbed at it, holding his breath. For a second, the irritation went away, but then a huge sneeze came upon him suddenly and before he could stop it, a large gloved hand clapped over his face, stifling everything.

Andrew kept completely still, not daring to move a single muscle. When the hand finally dropped, he took a brief shallow breath, to find the sneeze had vanished before it could kill them and Robert was looking at him in query. Andrew took a deeper breath and then nodded, relaxing a little. Robert beckoned him to follow, then took off further into the shadows, squeezing between two stone walls before emerging into a more open area lit from a glow in the plaster floor below.

This roof space was almost oval-shaped. Huge oak beams stretched from one stone wall to the other, with more beams rising up to support the slate roof. Beneath him, curving downwards, were the plaster domed ceilings of some important church or hall. He took each step very carefully, walking only on narrow wooden workmen’s platforms positioned here and there in the roof space.

He’d had no idea that buildings were structured like this, on the inside, where nobody could see. He burned to ask Robert a hundred questions.

A wide hand-waving tore his gaze from the domes below and he hurried after Robert once more, treading softly. Robert took him to a wall on the far side of the roof, leading him between another gap in the wall where a horribly narrow staircase squeezed into the depth of the wall itself, so small Robert could only walk sideways. This ended before a midget door through which Robert had to crawl, and all silently. When Andrew finally joined him, breathing hard, he found they were no longer in the roof cavity, but a level lower, crouched on a hidden balcony or clerestory, obviously used by workmen doing maintenance on what looked to be a very grand building.

But where were they?

He wasn’t stupid enough to try looking over the balcony, but he didn’t need to; simply looking up at the domes now above him was more than enough. The stone walls, the ceiling, every surface he could see, was painted. A midnight blue background, incredible gold stars and highlight, brighter red and light blue, yellow and green, pictures he could hardly focus on this closely, the shapes odd and out of proportion – of course, these paintings had been designed to be seen from the ground below, not here, but even so, this place was extraordinary! How had he lived so many years at court and yet never known that Kenrick was … What? As evil as Nash? Was it possible he’d been that mistaken about his own cousin?

A voice nearby strangled his wonder with a close reminder of the danger they were in. Robert put a hand to his shoulder, squeezed to indicate that he stay where he was, then moved further along the balcony and rose up enough to look over.

Andrew concentrated on the words he could hear, piecing together what he could.

That voice … that was Osbert – by the gods, they were in the famed Guildehall!

Any other day, Andrew would have whistled in amazement.

‘… no, I can’t risk it,’ Osbert was saying. ‘If we need to make up an excuse to explain his absence, then we will, but I won’t do anything unless I have to. They know where to find him if something happens.’

‘Yes, my lord,’ another, younger voice replied, obedient, but not servile.

‘I want you to stay with him and if I give the order, you are to obey without question. Do you understand me, Lyle?’

‘Yes, my lord Proctor.’ There was a faint layer of regret in that voice, almost perfectly matching that in Osbert’s. Andrew couldn’t begin to guess what they were talking about, though it didn’t sound very promising.

‘Are you sure of your timing?’

‘Positive, my lord.’

‘And what about—’

‘I have questioned my men at length. There were two of them at the church, but more than that, they could not say.’

‘Very well. Go. Now.’

‘Good luck, my lord.’

There were footsteps then, quiet leather on worn stone, the clank of an ancient handle and the low creak of a heavy door opening and closing. Then silence. Of a kind.

Andrew listened as hard as he could, but it was almost impossible to hear anything over the pounding of his own heart and those noises he didn’t want to hear, like the bells of the Basilica so close by, calling for a service he could not track. He had no idea how late it was, or how dark it was outside. There was enough glow from lamps below to illuminate the incredible ceiling above, and that encompassed his entire world.

Moving slowly, he turned his head, his eyes opening wide as he watched Robert unfold himself from his crouch. He put one, then both legs over the balcony railing, turned on his stomach, then silently disappeared over the side.

*

Osbert waited. Without patience, without self-respect, without too much hope and with too much desperation. But some desperate and stubborn train of thought kept insisting that this would never really happen, he would never need to put aside all his own better judgement and place what little trust he had left in the hands of a man who, by his very nature,
couldn’t
be trusted.

Insane acts were often committed by those in perfect command of their faculties.

As the door closed behind Lyle, he closed his eyes and offered up more probably useless prayers, and willed yet more patience. If the man didn’t come tonight, then perhaps he would come tomorrow night. But too many more nights and Osbert would run out of time.

He waited in silence.

And in the silence he heard it, turned in time to see a figure in black land on the floor at the opposite end of the Hall. The man then straightened up – and something deep and mournful inside Osbert sighed in relief.

Robert hadn’t changed, hadn’t aged so much as a day. His hair was just as windblown, perhaps a little longer, but the face, the eyes which drifted over Osbert casually, then roamed the rest of the Hall, the mouth, set but not grim, the jaw, determined but not threatening – no, nothing had changed at all.

Except the circumstances. Last time, they’d been on opposite sides of badly drawn battle lines. Today they were … allies?

Robert moved forward, his pace relaxed, as though he were here to take in the sights and nothing more. ‘I can see why this place has such a reputation. The workmanship is exquisite.’

‘You’ve not seen it before? I’m surprised.’ The temptation to shift into casual conversation was enormous. An almost overwhelming curiosity blossomed in him then, a desire to know what this rebel was doing, what he was planning, and when,
when
it would happen.

And, by the gods, that it
would
happen!

‘I don’t know why you’re surprised – or have you forgotten how much Vaughn hated me?’ Robert half-smiled at him, as though it was of no concern. ‘And I’m not one for walking all over something held sacred by others.’

‘And yet you’re here now.’

Robert turned slightly, to look up at the ceiling again. ‘You changed your laws. I was … invited and you seemed ready to talk. Are you?’

‘Yes.’ His rebellious stomach twisted in anticipation, then settled. He’d had plenty of time to think this over; there would be no last-minute changing of his mind. ‘When Nash first joined the Guilde, I noticed his abilities and his obvious talent in certain areas where I needed such expertise. So I sponsored him, ensured certain opportunities were put his way and generally supported his rise through the ranks until his obvious close relationship with Selar overwhelmed any need he had of me.’

Osbert looked up to find Robert’s gaze on him, flat, steady and very, very interested.

‘Of course, I had no idea at the time just what he was – none
of us did. By the time I began to suspect, it was far too late for me to do anything about it – assuming I ever could. But what you need to know is …’ Osbert paused just long enough to swallow, ‘soon after his rise with Selar, Nash began to ask me about a supposed secret library he believed was housed somewhere here, within the Guildehall. I didn’t like the sound of his questions, so I put him off as long as I could. When I could avoid the issue no longer, I … drugged Vaughn one night and he told me about a secret room adjacent to his study where traditionally the books had been housed. But Vaughn, believing you and Nash to be working together, had the books moved, leaving the room empty.’

Robert had moved much closer now, but his silence was complete, the patience in his eyes unnerving. Osbert hurried on, ‘I dragged together some old tomes from our library, books nobody would miss, and set them alight, while Vaughn was still drugged. Then, at the first opportunity, I showed the room to Nash and convinced him that Vaughn had burned all the books he’d been looking for.’

‘And he believed you?’

Osbert twisted his hands together, his heart pounding, just wanting to get this awful tale over and done with, so the solution could be put into motion. ‘But almost a week ago, Nash came to me …’

‘What?’ For a moment, Osbert was trapped utterly within a sea-green gaze, snared like a rabbit and powerless to escape. The questions came softly, intense like burning coals. ‘He came to you? He’s back at court?’

‘Yes,’ Osbert whispered. ‘He’s back.’

*

A shiver ran over Robert, but he contained it. He couldn’t afford to scare Osbert now. ‘He’s back.’

‘I thought you knew.’

How could he have known?

But more importantly, had Andrew known and said nothing?

It hardly bore thinking about, but he would have to, later.

‘Go on.’

Osbert continued, his hands still twisting, his fear still sweating itself out on his forehead as though this was high summer rather than bitter spring, ‘Well, he’d heard some rumours about a prophecy—’

‘Prophecy?’ For the second time in as many minutes, Robert’s heart stopped. ‘What prophecy?’

Osbert flinched, like a deer startled in the hunt. He blinked twice, then continued stringing words together. ‘There have been rumours floating around the city, some mention of a dark presence, and one who has come to save us from him.’

Robert wanted to laugh; instead, he shoved that to one side as well, and gestured again for Osbert to continue. So far this visit was proving to be more than profitable.

And that boy would have some very tough questions to answer before he saw his mother again.

‘Nash insisted that such rumours could only be made by a man who had read the books I’d claimed were destroyed. He admitted what Vaughn had known, and I’d suspected – that those books contained information about sorcery. He then charged me with finding them and I know that if I don’t, he will tear this place apart until he has them.’

Robert’s gaze narrowed. ‘And you want me to find them?’

‘That’s right.’

‘How do you know I can?’

‘I don’t know that you can’t. I do know that Vaughn would have hidden them somewhere within the Guildehall, because to him there was nothing more sacred and more safe.’

‘So why did he move them from the secret room?’

‘The books had been there for centuries. He was never certain he was the only one who knew about it. By moving the books with his own hands, he could die with the secret.’

‘I assume Nash also looked for them?’

‘Yes, but I have no idea how. While Vaughn was alive, Nash was busy with Selar and did very little, and since then, he’s only been back at court a short time.’

Robert had to ask, for his own peace of mind, if nothing else. ‘How short?’

‘This last month.’

So. He’d been right not to trust the boy without question. Very well. At least he knew now where they stood.

‘What is Nash planning?’

‘How would I know? I told you, it’s been a long time since I had his confidence. He’d never tell me anything that important.’

‘But you’ve not heard rumours? Whispers? Anything that might warn me when he plans to move?’

‘Nothing.’

He turned back to Osbert and raised his hand to indicate the Hall. ‘So you want me to find these books, but you don’t know where they are?’

Osbert swallowed hard. ‘No, but when I had Vaughn drugged, he said that he’d hidden them, “where none shall seek and none shall find”.’

What was that?

Robert frowned, stepping closer to Osbert, unable to still the flutter of excitement which rippled through him. ‘Those were his exact words? “Where none shall seek and none shall find”?’

‘Yes. I’ve gone over them a thousand times since that night. I’m sure. Why? Do you know where …’

Robert was already moving, striding towards the door so fast, his thoughts almost had to hurry to catch up. Quickly he waved a warning over the door, so he’d know if anyone approached, then he placed his hand against the flat painted stone of the nearest wall.

Oh, this would be too much, wouldn’t it, if he could find the very books he’d been searching for for so long, here, in the Guildehall? After years of risking his and his men’s lives, to find them here, in the one place he’d not dared to try looking …

He closed his eyes, pulled in a breath and held it. As his fingers felt the surface of the painted wall, he let his Senses flow out from his fingertips, not at all sure what he was looking for.