Shadow's Son (2 page)

Caim grabbed the other arrows and fired in rapid succession. The first
caught a bodyguard through the left eye. The second penetrated the boss
of a soldier's shield and through the forearm holding it, but the duke remained unscathed.
Caim tossed the bow aside and raced down the
balcony.

Kit skipped along the railing beside him. "I told you the shot was off.
You have a contingency plan, right?"

He clenched his jaws tight together. The only thing worse than
making a grand mess of a job was doing it in front of Kit. Now he had to
get down and dirty. He reached behind his back and drew a pair of suete
knives. Eighteen inches of singled-edged steel gleamed in the torchlight.

A sentry appeared at the end of the catwalk.
Caim flowed past him,
close enough to smell the wine on the man's breath, and the sentry stumbled against the wall, his life spilling through his fingers from a bloody
gash across his throat.

On the floor below, the duke was ushered by his bodyguards through a
door at the back of the hall. Caim vaulted over the railing, jumping right
through Kit. For a moment as their bodies merged, he was covered from
head to foot by tingling goose bumps. A thrown spear flashed just inches in
front of his face as he landed on the central trestle. Flagons and dinnerware
went flying as he dashed down the polished length of the table.

"He's getting away." Kit floated above his head.

Caim bit back a rude response. "Then how about you go follow him?"

She sped off with a huff.

Caim kicked open the door. The duke would be heading to his quarters
on the top floor of the donjon where he could hole up until reinforcements
arrived. If that happened, Caim was well and truly fucked. But he had never
failed to complete an assignment before; he didn't plan to start now.

The corridor beyond was unlit. He started inside, but a nagging sense
of caution made him pause. That hesitation saved his life as a sword blade
swept through the empty space where his neck would have been. Caim
ducked and jabbed with both knives. His left-hand suete cut through a
colorful surcoat and got caught in links of mail underneath, but the righthand blade found a gap in the armor. A gurgle issued from the shadows
as the hidden guardsman slumped forward. Caim jerked his knives free
and swept down the hallway.

A single staircase led to the higher levels. The steps spiraled clockwise around a thick stone newel post.
Caim sprang up the stairs two at a
time. As he came around the first landing, the twang of a crossbow string reached his ear a split second before a quarrel zipped past.
Caim threw
himself against the wall. From somewhere above echoed the staccato clack
of a hand crank.

Caim pushed off from the wall and darted up the steps as fast as his
legs would propel him. If there was a second archer lying in wait for him,
he would be dead before he knew it. He rounded another turn. A lone
crossbowman stood on the landing above, furiously turning the iron crank
to reload his weapon. The soldier dropped the crossbow and grabbed for
his sword, but Caim cut him down before he freed the weapon.

Caim crept up the last flight of stairs to the keep's highest level. The
upper landing was empty. Candles dripping wax from brass sconces on the
wall illuminated a juncture of two hallways. He put his back to the cool
stone and peered around the corner into the corridor that led to the master
suite. So far, the duke had shown an exceptional affinity for sacrificing his
men to preserve his own hide. Two bodyguards were down. Two more to
go. Decent odds. Caim sidled down the hallway. The door to Reinard's
suite was reinforced with thick iron bands. It would be barred from the
inside. Nothing short of an axe would get through the door, but he had
another idea.

Caim was moving toward a shuttered window on the side of the
hallway when Kit's head and one shapely shoulder poked through the
door.

"You better hurry," she said. "He's packing up to run."

A cool breeze ruffled Calm's hood as he swung open the shutters. A
sixty-foot drop yawned on the other side.

"He doesn't have anywhere to go."

"Not quite. There's a hidden passage that leads outside the grounds."

"Damn it! Why didn't you mention that earlier?"

"How was I supposed to know it was there? It's pretty well hidden,
behind a wardrobe case."

Caim swung a leg over the sill. Time was running out. If the duke got
outside the compound, he would be near impossible to catch.

"Keep watch on that secret tunnel, Kit. Follow Reinard if he makes
it outside. I'll catch up."

"Will do."

She vanished back inside the chamber.
Caim leaned out the window. He still didn't know what had gone wrong in the great hall. The shot had
been set up perfectly. Nothing he could do about it now except to correct
his mistake and get out fast.

As he climbed out onto the sill, he spotted the outline of another
window on the same level thirty paces away. Pale light flickered from
within. Exit scenarios played through Calm's mind as he ran his fingers
over the outer wall. Once the job was finished, he could drop down to the
keep's courtyard to make his escape, or he could use the duke's secret
tunnel. Either plan held its own set of risks. He'd hoped to be gone by
now. Every passing minute reduced his chances for success.

The broad ashlar blocks of the keep's outer shell provided strong protection against siege weapons, but their wide seams made good purchase
for climbing. He found a crevice in the wall and grabbed hold without
stopping to consider the prudence of his actions. He hated rushing a job,
but he was running out of options at this point. He focused on his holds.

A prickling itched down his spine as he reached a point halfway
between the windows. He froze, clinging to the sheer stone face. Something drew his gaze toward the heavens. A thick blanket of clouds veiled
the night sky. The light of torches from the courtyard below flickered
upon the keep's crenellations. He saw nothing at first. Then, something
moved among the battlements. Caim held his breath as a silhouette
passed above him, a sinuous shape gliding through the dark. For one terrible moment he thought it had seen him, but then it was gone.

Caim waited several heartbeats before he dared to breathe again.
What was going on? He didn't have time to waste. Trying to put the
specter out of his mind, he lunged for his next hold.

Seconds later, he was at the window. The clear glass casement opened
with a slight rattle, but no one inside noticed. The window led into the
master bedchamber. Beyond it Caim could see entrances to other rooms
and the stout door leading to the hallway he had vacated minutes before.
Both bodyguards stood at the barred door, swords out, watching the
portal as if expecting Caim to burst through at any moment.

The duke hunched over a heavy trunk. "Ulfan, leave off that damned
door and help me!"

One of the bodyguards turned around as Caim crawled through the
window. He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but never got the chance. Caim hurled a knife with a whip of his hand. The bodyguard
jerked back, a runnel of blood streaming down his collar as he fell to his
knees with the suete's smooth handle protruding from his throat.

Reinard dropped a heavy sack that clinked as it hit the floor. "What-?"

Caim drew his other knife and crossed the room just as the second
bodyguard turned. As the man raised his sword arm to strike, Caim
lunged in close and drove his weapon full length into the joint under the
man's armpit. The bodyguard gasped and slid off the knife.

"Caim!" Kit shouted from behind him.

He turned, knees bent with his knife at the ready. From this vantage
he could see the wardrobe Kit had mentioned. It was pulled aside, and a
black tunnel mouth yawned in the wall beyond. A young man in the
duke's livery with fair hair and a short goatee emerged with a bared
arming sword in his hand. Caim pivoted out of the path of the falling
sword and thrust his knife into his opponent's side. The point struck a rib.
Caim twisted the blade and punched it through the connective tissue
between the bones.

The young man's last breath wheezed from the wound as he crumpled
to the floor.

The duke cringed beside a massive, four-post bed. "Please." His jowls
trembled as he held out his hands before him. An angry welt marred one
of his palms. "I'll give you anything you want."

"Yes."
Caim crossed the floor. "You will."

The duke died with considerably less effort than his bodyguards.
Caim left the body stretched out on the bed with a bloody hole carved
into the chest. He hadn't been able to take out Reinard in front of his
dinner guests. His clients would have to be satisfied with butchery. The
message was sent.

Caim retrieved his other knife and scanned the chamber. If he hurried
he could be over the walls and outside the keep before the duke's men
organized any meaningful pursuit. He didn't expect them to trail him for
long. With their liege dead, they would be more concerned with finding
and protecting Reinard's heir. By all accounts young Lord Robert was a
decent boy, a far cry from his monstrous father. The duchy would be a
better place.

Calm's gaze fell on the young man sprawled at the tunnel entrance. He had never set eyes on Lord Robert, but he had a reliable description.
Twenty-two years old, light brown hair with a wisp of a beard and blue
eyes. The youth on the floor matched the description too closely to be a
coincidence. Caim cursed under his breath. So much for leaving these
lands in the care of a kinder, more tolerant liege.

Kit walked through the door to the hallway. "You're going to get
some company very soon."

Caim considered the open window. "How many?"

"More than you can handle. Believe me."

"I do. What about outside?"

"All those pretty ladies and gentlemen have stirred up quite a commotion in the yard. Every exit is sealed and extra men have been put on
the walls. Search parties are scouring the grounds."

"And the tunnel?"

Kit gave him a sassy grin. "Lots of stairs and the rest of the duke's
bodyguards wait at the other end. They might not be happy to see you
come out before their boss."

Caim wiped his knives clean on Lord Robert's tabard. Nothing was
going his way tonight. He was going to have to use his last option. By the
amused expression on her face, Kit knew it, too. He hated admitting she
was right, but he'd probably hate dying even more.

He went around the room snuffing candles and lamp wicks to plunge
the chamber into darkness except for a single lantern resting beside the
tunnel mouth. He passed the Duke's traveling trunk and the sacks spilled
on the floor without a glance. Just one of those purses would set him up
for a year, but he was an assassin, not a thief.

Fists banged on the door.

"You'd better hurry," Kit said.

Caim tried to ignore her as he pressed his back against a wall in the
darkest part of the room. There amid the shadows, he closed his eyes and
shut out the outside world. He focused on the sliver of fear quivering at
the center of his core. Fear was the key. It was always there, hidden
beneath layers of denial and repression. Caim hated this. He had to tap
into that feeling, allow it to possess him. At first, he didn't think he
could. There were too many distractions. The pain was too far removed.
But then a memory seized hold of him. It was an old memory, full of pain.

Raging flames painted the night sky in hues of orange and gold, and threw
shadows across the yard of the villa where the tall bodies sprawled. There was
blood everywhere, pooled in the gravel, splattered across the face of the man kneeling
in the center of the yard, running down his chest in a great black river.

Father ...

Caim opened his eyes as the dark came alive.

It gathered around him like a cloak. By the time the guards battered
down the door, he was hidden within its inky folds. Just another shadow.
The soldiers flitted about like bees from a jostled hive. Some dashed into
the tunnel with lit firebrands. Others stood over the corpses of the duke
and his son. None of them detected the shade that glided out the door and
down the stairs.

Once outside, Caim scaled the keep's curtain wall and disappeared
into the countryside. Dappled moonlight splashed over him like a gossamer rainstorm. A quarter mile away from the stronghold, he released
the cloying darkness. He grabbed the trunk of a sapling to hold himself
upright as a wave of disorientation overloaded his senses. The darkness
swam before his eyes in a thousand shades of gray and black. Something
lurked in the distance, just beyond the limit of his vision. He didn't know
how he summoned the shadows. The power had resided within him for as
long as he could remember, lurking within him, threatening to erupt
whenever he was frightened or angry. He had learned to control those feelings over the years, but he never got used to it.

After a minute, the weakness passed and the normality of the night
returned, and Caim resumed his trek through the fog-strewn moor. Kit
danced ahead of him in the distance like a will-o'-the-wisp. The faint tune
of a tavern song reached his ears. Same old Kit. Nothing fazed her. Yet he
couldn't share in her frivolity. Not even the prospect of the sizable bounty
he would soon collect lifted his spirits. Apprehension welled up inside
him, rising up like the deep arm of the sea, dragging him into unknown
depths. His steps slowed in the fog.

Overhead, a lone star pierced the cloud cover. Like a man grasping a
lifeline, he stumbled toward it, following its shimmer through the gloom.

osephine rushed from the carriage and into the house faster than the
footman burdened with her purchases could follow. Her cheeks
stung from the brisk autumn chill.