Sorcerer of the North (28 page)

Will considered the problem. It made sense, he thought. There were often several ways to get into the dungeons in a castle. But a tower was a different matter altogether.

"Perhaps," said Malcolm, "you might be better to abandon your plan for the moment and hope that your friend hasn't been recognized?"

But Will was shaking his head before the healer had half finished the sentence.

"No. I've wasted enough time," he said firmly. "I'm getting her out. Tonight."

"How?" Malcolm persisted. "Be reasonable. You'd need a force of armed men to fight your way up the stairs to a tower like that."

"I wasn't planning on using the stairs," Will told him.

In the tower cell, Alyss was feeling decidedly uneasy. Once Buttle had recognized her, there had been little purpose in trying to continue the pretense that she was a dizzy-headed noblewoman on the way to her wedding.

But surprisingly, Keren had made no attempt to extract any further information from her. He had simply frowned, called his guards and had her escorted to this prison. Max, armed only with a belt dagger that was more decorative than functional, had been prepared to defend her, but she'd stopped him. She didn't want to be responsible for his death. He and the two maids were escorted to a locked storeroom. She had no doubt that her men-at-arms would join them before long.

It was Keren's apparent lack of action or interest that had her worried most of all. Obviously, he was the center of the strange happenings that had been going on at Castle Macindaw. To what purpose? she wondered. The most logical one was the intention that he had ascribed to Orman and Will—that he was planning to hand over the castle to Scotti invaders. After all, having usurped the rights of both Syron and Orman, he could hardly expect to gain King Duncan's endorsement as lord of Macindaw. His only alternative would be to look outside the kingdom for reward.

Whatever he had planned, he was obviously up to no good. It seemed strange that he hadn't tried to question her to find out what she and Will had been planning and how much they knew. Frankly, she would have expected to be questioned most rigorously, even tortured.

Instead, she had been placed in this tower room. And while not luxurious, it was relatively comfortable.

Except for the heat, she thought. The fire in the corner was blazing brightly and the room was hot and stuffy. Her mouth was dry—probably the effect of the adrenaline-charged situation where she had found herself confronting Buttle. She was desperately thirsty but there was nothing to drink in the room.

She turned, startled, as the single door opened to admit Keren.

He looked around, taking in the scant furnishings: a table, two chairs, and a wood-framed bed with a thin straw mattress and two threadbare blankets. A single oil lamp with a polished metal reflector provided light in the room. The window, barred with vertical iron stakes, could be covered by a heavy curtain if the wind became too strong. At the moment, there was no wind and the curtain was drawn back.

"Nice and comfy?" he said cheerfully. Alyss shrugged. "Things could be worse," she said, and he nodded heartily. "Oh, yes, indeed they could. And I think you should bear that in mind."

"I assume my people are safe?" she asked. Keren shrugged.

"They're all nice and comfortable, under lock and key. One of your men-at-arms tried to argue. He was slightly injured, but he'll recover."

"I hope you don't expect me to thank you for that," she said. Again, he shrugged as if it was of little interest to him. He dismissed the matter of her bodyguard and gestured toward the table and chairs.

"Let's sit down. I think it's time we had a little chat."

So it's starting, she thought, considering him warily. But there was no point in resisting and she moved to the table, pulled one of the chairs out and sat, straight backed.

"There's nothing to drink. It's very hot in here. I'd like some water," she said. She did it partly to take the momentum of the conversation away from him. And partly, she realized, because she was parched. Instantly, he became concerned for her welfare.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I had no intention of making you uncomfortable." A frown crossed his face and he moved to the door, opening it and calling roughly to one of the guards in the next room.

"You there! Why didn't you give the lady any water? Bring that jug you've got there! You can fetch another for yourself! And a glass ... a
clean
glass, you idiot!"

He shook his head in mild annoyance as the sentry shambled in, eyes down, with a carafe of water and a glass. He set it on the table and turned to go.

"Pour it for her, you oaf!" Keren's voice cracked at him, and he turned back.

"Sorry, Sir Keren," he mumbled, and he slopped the glass half full of water, spilling some as he did so. Before Keren could rebuke him further, he mopped the spill with his sleeve, then bowed clumsily as he backed away.

"There you are, my lady," he said.

Alyss sipped at the water. Then she realized how parched she was and drank most of the contents of the glass. Her training had taught her that, if you were a prisoner, it was always good technique to make your captors accede to a small demand. Something small at first, then, as they became used to granting requests, the demands could become bigger.

Keren dropped into the chair opposite her and lolled back, one leg crossed over the other. He grinned easily at her.

"Relax," he said. "I just wanted to ask you a few questions."

"It's not the questions that bother me," she said. "It's what will happen when you don't get any answers."

He frowned at her, actually looking a little hurt.

"You surely don't think I'd torture you?" he said. "I'm not a monster, you know. I am a knight, after all."

"You seem to have forgotten some of your duties as a knight," she countered. She yawned. The hot room seemed to be making her sleepy. She blinked several times as Keren continued.

"Well, perhaps it looks that way. But it's easy to take that point of view when you don't know the full picture. For years, I kept this castle strong and well defended. All I asked from Syron was a little consideration, a little gratitude for my efforts. But no. He channeled everything to his son. There was nothing for me. Not even a guarantee that I'd even be employed once Orman took over. I've spent the greater part of my adult life safeguarding the kingdom's border and I've received no more than a free lance's pay for it. I deserved better than that."

"Perhaps you did. But you had no right to look for your rewards from the Scotti," she ventured, waiting to see his reaction. It wasn't long in coming. He looked at her keenly.

"So you figured that out, did you? I wonder how much else you know?"

She smiled. "I'll bet you do," she told him.

He peered closely at her. "You must be feeling tired. It's been quite a day."

She nodded. She did feel tired, now that he mentioned it. She blinked her eyes and rolled her head from side to side to ease the tension in her shoulders.

"That's the way." Keren's voice was deep and soothing. Strangely, she thought, it seemed to be coming from a distance—not from just across the table. "Close your eyes if you want to," he continued. "We can always talk later if you're sleepy now. Are you sleepy now?"

Her eyelids were feeling heavy. They drooped shut. She flickered them open again but the effort was too great to sustain. Slowly, they slid down.

"Those eyelids look heavy," he said in that strange, calming voice. "Aren't you sleepy?"

"Sleepy ..." she mumbled in reply. In a distant part of her mind, she could feel a faint warning signal stirring. She shouldn't be this sleepy, she thought. But she pushed the thought aside because she was. Incredibly sleepy. Why? Why would she feel so tired all of a sudden?

Keren's voice continued. It was very soothing and it seemed to fill her world.

"Of course you're sleepy. You can sleep. Sleep is good. Your eyes are very tired ..."

And they were. Then, once again, that little sentient part of her mind was trying to say something. Something about the water she'd drunk. Had he put something in it? Some kind of sleeping potion? She'd been so clever, making him accede to her wishes. But maybe she'd outsmarted herself and the water ...

But who cared? She was sleepy and he was telling her she could sleep and his voice was so calm and trustworthy. The little warning signal in her brain flickered and died.

"I've brought you something. Something to help you sleep. Look at it."

She forced her heavy eyelids open and looked at what he was holding.

It was a strange blue gemstone, about the size of a quail egg, and he began to roll it back and forth in his hands. It was very beautiful, she thought, and she marveled at the way it seemed to draw her in so that she felt she could dive into the stone as if it were a deep pool of clear blue water. She leaned forward, looking more closely, smiling. It was a beautiful stone.

"Look into the blue," he said gently. "It's beautiful."

He was right, she thought. It was perfectly round and the blue seemed to grow deeper as you looked into it. She had the fascinating impression that, if she looked hard enough, she could see beneath the surface of the stone, and into the depths beneath.

"It's very beautiful, isn't it?" he said. His voice was quiet and relaxing and very soothing. "I often wonder how there can be so many layers in such a small object. Look at it as it turns ..."

He slowly rotated the stone and she saw that he was right. The blue seemed to drop away from the light, in ever deepening layers. It seemed impossible that they could all be in such a tiny gem. And so beautiful. So blue. She loved blue. She had never before realized that blue was her favorite color.

"You never told me your real name," he said gently.

"It's Alyss. Alyss Mainwaring." There seemed no harm in telling him that. After all, he knew Lady Gwendolyn was a false identity. Strange, she thought, how that little blue stone seemed to be growing bigger with every second.

"You don't really have a fiancé, do you?" he said, and she could hear the genuine amusement in his voice. She laughed in reply.

"No. I'm afraid not," she admitted. "I think I'm doomed to be an old maid." It was a shame that they were enemies, she thought. He was actually quite a nice person. She went to look up and tell him so.

"Keep looking at the blue." His voice was very gentle and she nodded agreement.

"Of course."

He was silent for a while, letting her study those shifting blue tones. It was very relaxing, she thought.

"What about your friend Will?" he asked softly. "No romance there?"

She smiled quietly at the question, didn't answer for a few seconds. "We've known each other forever," she said. "We were very close before he began his training."

"As a jongleur, you mean?" he said. She was on the brink of shaking her head when some instinct stopped her.

"Will's a..." she began, but the same instinct stopped her from saying any more. The warning light in her mind was back, flaring brightly now. She blinked, realizing that she had been on the point of saying
Will's a Ranger.
She lurched back in her chair, as if rearing back from the edge of a cliff. In a way, she was.

She tore her eyes from the blue stone on the table, amazed at how much effort it took to do so.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, horrified that she had been about to betray Will. She racked her brain now, trying to think what she had told him, how much she had revealed to him. Her name, she thought. But that didn't matter too much. So long as she hadn't told him Will was a ...

She stopped herself. Best not even to think of it, she thought. That damned blue stone obviously had some very strange properties. Keren was smiling at her. It was a surprisingly friendly smile, considering.

"You're a strong one," he told her admiringly. "Once a person gets in that deep, it's very unusual for them to come back. Well done."

"The water ... it was drugged, wasn't it?" she said. She knew now that it was no accident that the room had been so hot. The fire had been deliberately stoked. Keren had known she would want water. He smiled.

"Just a harmless drink to help you relax—so my little blue stone could do its work."

"What is that thing?" She pointed at the stone, loathing it. He picked it up from the table, tossed it in the air and caught it, then placed it back in his inner pocket.

"Oh, just a little bauble I amuse my friends with," he said, rising and turning toward the door. He paused with the door open, then his smile faded.

"We'll do this again," he said. "And the next time, it will go a lot quicker. It always does after you've given in once. After that, it gets easier and easier every time. I'll see you in an hour or so."

The door closed behind him. Alyss heard the key turn in the lock and she dropped her head onto her forearms on the table. She felt totally exhausted.

"This is as far as you come." Will said, dropping into a crouch and signaling for Xander and Malcolm to do likewise.

They had left the horses back behind a crest and now the dark bulk of Castle Macindaw loomed less than one hundred and fifty meters away.

"You'll get no argument from me," Xander said. He crouched beside Will, studying the castle and its tall central tower. "There. See the light at the top of the tower? I'll wager that's where your friend is. That's the tower cell and it's occupied. There was nobody in there this morning."

"The windows are barred, of course?" Malcom said and as Xander nodded in confirmation, he continued. "Have you thought how you'll deal with them?"

Will frowned. "I have a file," he said and Malcolm shook his bead, then passed across a small leather-bound flask.

"Too slow and too noisy. This will do a much better job."

Will studied the flask. "What's in it?" he asked.

"It's a very powerful acid. It will eat through the iron bars in a few minutes." He smiled as Will handled the flask gingerly. "There's a glass bottle inside, but it's padded with straw and protected by the leather covering. It's quite safe. Just be careful how you handle it."