Secrets at the Keep (Kingdom of Denall Book 2) (16 page)

“Omer summoned you, and asked that you were cleaned up.”

“How dare you!” she said, still glaring at him. “Who do you think you are?”

“My name is Bendar,” he replied, then he looked over his shoulder and leaned in closer to the bars, but still out of Pentra’s reach. This was the friend Kaz had talked about. “Omer wanted you whipped before you came into his presence, I suggested something different.” He turned around and picked up a package from a stool.

When he held it up, Pentra stepped back from the iron bars and cringed. “I’m not sure this is much better than torture, but I do thank you for your kindness,” she said, looking at the dress he held up in front of himself. A beating did sound more like Omer’s style, so she trusted that Bendar had probably suggested this.

Bendar held out his hand and he took one cautionary step closer to the cell. “I am an intellect,” he said as if it wasn’t obvious by the marks on his forehead, “I know you came here with the intent to kill your father, and I also know that you failed.” Pentra scowled at the reminder and wished he would get to the point. “If you want to get into his presence, you will need to clean up, and get dressed in this. If you decide instead to attack me and try to escape, you will be killed before you can even get outside this dungeon. I do not have a key to get out of here; it can only be opened from the outside. If I am injured, they will leave the door locked for a week and you along with everyone else down here will starve until you are too weak to move, or until you are dead.” Bendar walked up to the cell bars and handed the dress through the bars. He pulled a brush from his pocket and also gave it to her, then he turned around.

He stood within her reach, she could lunge forward and break his neck, but as he said, she would not get anywhere if she did. Instead she quickly changed into her dress and brushed her matted hair. It took several minutes to get the knots from her tangled mess of hair, but within a short time she was fairly presentable. She reached out and tapped Bendar on the shoulder. “What if I waited until we were outside the dungeon, then fought my way out of this place?”

Bendar slowly turned around and shook his head. She could not see any emotion in his eyes as he spoke. “Pentra, if you ever talk like that again, you will be back in here for a year. You might think that because you are getting out of the dungeon, you are free, but I assure you that this is not the case. You are just getting a more comfortable cell.”

Pentra watched Bendar for a sign of emotion in his voice or on his face, but found none there. He was simply delivering Omer’s message, and she knew it was a real threat. Omer only kept people around if he had a use for them, and he knew they were in his control. She wondered for a moment how much control Omer had over Bendar, but the emotionless way Bendar acted made it impossible to tell. When she nodded her understanding, Bendar escorted her out of her cell and up some stairs and out of the dungeon.

As she walked the halls of the keep she was flooded with memories of a time when she lived here, played in these halls, and also a time, after her mother died, when she felt alone and trapped before she finally escaped. She tried to keep her head held high as they walked. She couldn’t let her body language show the emotional burden she carried as she made her way through these familiar halls.

“Bendar!” An excited man called out as they made their way around a curved stone corridor.

Bendar held up his hand and tried to intercept the older man. “Maven, it is not the time.”

“It’s urgent!” he insisted, “The Hearing Stone is back!” Bendar reached out, trying to place a hand over Maven’s mouth as if to stop him from talking in front of Pentra, but Maven grabbed his arm and pushed it down. “I can hear it ringing in my ears. Just like on the day they gave me this second gift!” He pointed at his ear.

Pentra looked at the older man, it took a moment to place him, but she did remember seeing him infrequently when she grew up in the keep. He was an intellect who was kept in the lower levels of the main building. He rarely came up from his studies, and now he had some hearing marks.
What happened to him? Who was he talking about that gave him a second gift? Is that how Scar had two strong gifts? What other secrets were hidden deep within the walls of this keep?

Pentra tried to not react outwardly as she stood behind Bendar, but she intently listened as Maven continued. “Tell Lord Omer that I need to see the Hearing Stone. I want to see how it works; I want to see if it can help me know when The Changing is coming. I think it is the reason I can hear magical items, but I can’t be sure unless I can see it again.”

“Maven, please,” Bendar said insistently. “You need to go back to your office.”

“It’s coming, Bendar,” he said intently at first, then he shrank back and looked down at the ground. “At least I think it might be,” he paused, then looked at his hands. “Sometime,” he finished in a dejected tone. He then turned and left, closing a solid wood door behind him.

Bendar turned to Pentra, “Maven is not well; he is losing his mind, and often speaks incoherent nonsense.” Without any further explanation Bendar continued to lead Pentra through the keep. She looked at the closed door sadly as she passed. He hadn’t looked crazy to her when he first spoke, in fact he seemed very much in control of his thoughts and words. She knew that with the Hearing Stone she could hear magical items, although she didn’t fully understand how it worked. She also knew Bendar couldn’t deny that Maven had two gifts. She wasn’t sure what was happening here, or what role Bendar was playing in it, but for now it wasn’t her concern. All she wanted to do was to find a way to kill Omer and get out of here.

Bendar opened a door along the corridor. Pentra stopped waiting for an explanation. This wasn’t a place where she would meet her father. This was in the north building, just one level above the servants’ quarters. “This is your new home,” Bendar said, gesturing to the room.

“I thought I was meeting with Omer,” Pentra asked.

“Not yet,” Bendar confessed. “First you need to get fully cleaned up; you still smell like the dungeon, and we cannot have Omer’s daughter smelling like filth when she first returns to him, can we?”

“No, we couldn’t have that,” she said sarcastically. She wanted to make some kind of statement about how he always had a nice, clean appearance on the outside, but he was truly a filthy person, but she wasn’t quite sure how much of what she said would make its way from Bendar back to her father. Instead, she walked into the doorway leading to her new cell.

“I’ll be back in half an hour to escort you to see your father.” The door closed behind her. Pentra grabbed the handle, and found it was locked. She really was in a cell. There were two doors in the room, one leading to the hall, and the other to a changing and bathing room. There were no windows in this room, and the walls were bare of any decorations. The bed, while much nicer than the dungeon, was small and looked a little lumpy. The room also had a desk with paper and a quill.
I guess he’ll be wanting me to write something.

Shortly after she made a survey of the room, a knock came on the door followed by a whisper. “Pentra, is it really you?”

Pentra instantly recognized the voice. “Come in,” she whispered back. The door opened and a girl slightly younger than herself entered the room holding a key. “Brooklyn!” she said excitedly, running to embrace her childhood friend. In the past years since she had seen Brooklyn, the girl had grown into a young lady. Her long, golden hair was rolled up into a bun and her bright blue eyes sparkled as she beamed with a smile.

Brooklyn closed the door behind herself and spoke in a whisper. “There were rumors that you had returned,” she began. “We’ve been worried sick about you since you left. I’m so happy you’re alive.”

“You don’t know how good it is to see a friendly face,” Pentra said as she held her friend close. “How are things here?”

Her friend released her from the hug and pointed to the bathing room. “We can talk as you get cleaned up; we don’t have much time.”

She moved to the bathing room and found a large tub filled with water. The water was cold, but it felt heavenly when she was able to drop herself into the tub. As she soaked Brooklyn began talking. “Since you left, about a dozen of the staff have continued your work. We sneak food out to the vineyards, and hide it there for the slaves to find.”

“Thank you!” Pentra replied. Digger had mentioned that there was some food being given to them, and now she knew where it was coming from. “Who else is helping you?”

Brooklyn looked around the room suspiciously and spoke in a voice Pentra herself could almost not hear. “I can’t say,” she said. “You are being watched very closely; they want to keep their distance from you for a while.”

“I understand,” Pentra replied with a sad nod. “What happened in Hess when I made an attack on the keep?”

Brooklyn’s normally chipper smile turned quickly into a serious frown. “Omer sent out his men. They burned some of Hess, but it’s impossible to know for sure what’s left. All I know is that we’ve redoubled our efforts, and every day the food we bring out to the fields gets eaten.”

“Well that’s good,” Pentra said with a smile, “That means they are still alive, and there are enough of them to eat all the food you are bringing.” She was trying to focus on the positive, and she was very happy with what Brooklyn and the others were doing, but she wanted very much to know what had happened in the village.

“What about the dungeons? Have you heard anything about unusual prisoners being brought in? Maybe a father and a son from Hess?”

“No, I haven’t heard about any slaves being brought to the dungeon. Though there was a rumor of a madman claiming to have been with the King’s Guard being sent down there a little while back.”

If Omer is really keeping a member of the King’s Guard imprisoned, that might be enough to open an investigation. I’ll have to see whether I can find anything out about that.

“Time to get ready,” she announced. Brooklyn left the small changing room and Pentra came out when she was dried and dressed.

“You look beautiful as ever,” the younger girl said, looking at Pentra. She grabbed a brush and began brushing and braiding her dark hair.

“Thank you,” Pentra replied. “Unfortunately I’m getting dressed up to meet with my father.”

“That’s true,” she admitted with a slight chuckle, “but it’s better than being paraded in front of suitors. Do you remember Sir Kigak?”

Pentra laughed out loud, “How can I forget? That was a total disaster!”

Brooklyn’s face lit up with an infectious smile as she inspected Pentra’s braided hair. “It’s wonderful to have you back,” she said with another hug. “And don’t worry about the slaves. We’ll make sure they are fed through the winter, I promise.”

Tears came to Pentra’s eyes as she squeezed Brooklyn tight. “I couldn’t ask for a truer friend. Thank you!”

She shrugged as if it was nothing, “I’m just doing what’s right.” She smiled, then led Pentra to the door. “After you meet with your father, if you need anything from me, you know how to get me.” Pentra tapped her hand against the hard stone wall and smiled. They had a secret message they would sent to each other when they were small. As both Pentra and Brooklyn were powerful listeners, they would tap the wall six times, then they would give a time and location where they would meet using a code they had developed over years of growing up together in the keep.

Pentra nodded. “It might actually be even easier with me living so close to the servants’ quarters.”

After composing herself, Pentra straightened her back and nodded at her friend, “I think I’m ready to face my father.”

Brooklyn nodded, and softly added a word of caution, “Please try to control your temper.”

Bendar was waiting for her in the hall with a large visor, who stood with his arms folded across his chest, and had a throwing knife on his belt. “This is Trinac,” Bendar introduced. “He will be your companion during your stay here at the keep.” Pentra knew that “companion” meant something more like “babysitter” and “informant” for her father. The fact that Omer let him carry the throwing knife inside the keep also told her he was a trusted member of Omer’s inner circle and someone who would use that knife if she stepped out of line. “Let’s go,” Bendar said. He turned and began walking away. Pentra reached out and squeezed Brooklyn’s hand before she fell in line between Trinac and Bendar.

They made their way through the corridors that connected the various buildings of the keep to the upper levels of the main building where they finally came to Omer’s audience chamber. Bendar pushed open the door and they entered. Omer sat behind his desk with two large bodyguards on either side of him; two more stood by the door where she entered. Pentra also saw that in the corner next to the scribe there was another strongarm with a knife held to Dirt’s throat.

“Welcome home,” Omer said as he rose to his feet.

Pentra looked over to Dirt and did not take her eyes off him. The man stood with his shoulders slumped. His body was covered in bruises and the spark of hope she had seen so many times in his eyes was extinguished. “Let me explain how things will work while you are here,” Omer said as he walked over to stand next to Dirt. He balled up a fist and punched the man in the gut, causing him to double over in pain. “This man and his son will be the first ones killed should you step a toe out of line. Do you understand?”