The Arcanist (26 page)

Gwen was right. He could just make out the fires of the camp through the trees off to the side of the river. There was no one actually watching the sewer exit. And between the sound of the water flowing out of the sewers and into the river six feet below, and the noise the soldiers were making as they enjoyed their evening, they were unlikely to be heard. Which left only the light his fire would make as a tell-tale to alert them. But he could control that.

Satisfied that it was the best plan they had Edouard started work. Wrapping his hand around the nearest upright bar just below the waterline he sent his fire into the metal. There was light of course, but between the water and his hand most of it was being blocked and all he could see was a dull orange glow. He doubted the soldiers camped thirty or forty yards away behind a row of trees could see it. Even if they were looking. And the bars were very soft.

Unlike the stone, a few seconds work was all it took until the first cut was all the way through. Then he dropped his hand a little lower down the bar until it reached the join with the horizontal bar and a few seconds later he had a foot long piece of rusty iron in his hand. He held it up for the others to see before tossing it gently towards them so that they could throw it away further into the sewer.

While they did that he went to work on the next bar and soon another foot long piece of the grate was in his hands. And no one among the soldiers had noticed a thing. They were simply carrying on as they had been, talking, arguing, carousing a little and probably drinking heavily.

So it went on as bit by bit he disassembled the grate. It was actually too easy if anything, and the hardest part had nothing to do with either the soldiers or trying to keep hidden. It was simply the fact that the water was waist deep and in order to cut the bottom pieces of the grate free from where they rose out of the stone he had to lower his face into the foul water. He didn't like that. Not when he could smell what was in it.

Still, within an hour he guessed the entire grate below the water line was gone, leaving only smooth stone underneath. It was easily large enough for a man to duck under. But then of course came the difficult part. The question they had to ask themselves. Did they wait for the soldiers to go to sleep? Or did they go now while they were still making a noise?

Edouard didn't know. The others didn't know either. He could see them all staring at him and each other, trying to come up with an answer. But the question was abruptly taken out of their hands when Sir Reginald simply dived down into the foetid water, swam the ten feet to the edge and then went down the small fall. A few seconds later they all watched as his head bobbed up in the river beyond and he floated serenely away. He even waved to them as he did so.

After that there were no more questions. One by one the remaining twenty two of them did the same. It was easy. Shockingly so. A brief moment with your head under the foetid water, a small tumble and suddenly you were in deep water and floating for the surface. When he finally made the trip, after having waited until everyone else had gone, Edouard discovered that it was actually all over almost before he'd realised it had begun. After that it was just a matter of floating gently downstream. Best of all the water slowly became clearer the further away from the city walls he got.

It was a wonderful sight watching the city walls receding as he floated away. A sight that for the longest time he had wondered if he would ever get to see. He was sure the others knew the same thrill at seeing the walls grow smaller as they disappeared into the distance.

Ahead of him he could see more heads bobbing up and down in the river, and behind him he knew there were none. But there was a problem with Gwen's plan as he slowly discovered. Something they hadn't considered. The water in the sewers had been warm, probably heated by the sun before it had entered the underground water ways. But the water in the river wasn't nearly so warm. In fact it was unpleasantly cold, and he knew that was going to be a problem.

It was spring not summer, the nights were still cold and they were all completely soaked through. That was the sort of thing that could kill a man. Even one in the best of health. None of them though were in such good health. Weeks of no exercise, poor food if they got any at all, rat and insect bites, and for a few of them fevers from being whipped, had robbed them of much of their strength. Edouard knew that at some point they were going to have to get out of the river and dry off. He just didn't know where that should be. Should he shiver and bear it? Keep holding on for as long as he could to get as far away from the city as he could before crawling out? Or should he get out a little earlier so that he still had some strength left to dry himself off with before he started running?

In the end it was a balancing act. How cold could he get before he simply couldn't stand it anymore? How dangerous was it to crawl out and light a fire? He agonised over the decision as he floated on down the river, holding on for as long as he could.

Then finally providence smiled on him. The first he knew of it was when he saw other dark figures crawling out of the water ahead of him, and he knew they'd made their decision. Maybe it was time for him to make the same decision. If nothing else there was strength in numbers.

But as he floated closer he realised there was another reason to get out of the river just there. The same reason the others had got out. In the distance he could see the moonlight shining down on the high pitched long roof lines of a piggery. And everyone knew that piggeries were warm. It didn't take much more than that for him to make his decision, and when the river brought him close enough he waded out to join them. After that it was a quick but brutally cold march to the piggery, where they made themselves comfortable.

The first job of course was to get warm and dry, something Edouard could help with thanks to his magic, and he quickly had the stone floor beneath them heating through nicely. They couldn't have a fire indoors without a chimney or the smoke would fill their lungs but the floor was the next best thing. The pigs in their pens probably appreciated it too. It also let them dry out their clothes, as they rung the water out and then laid them on the hot stones.

Which left him with the decision of what to do next.

Edouard of course had a destination in mind. His home, though he knew he could only stay there for a matter of hours at most, and then on to Bitter Crest where he hoped his family would be. The others of course had their own destinations. But whatever they did, wherever they went he knew they all shared two things in common. First there was the wondrous fact that they were no longer in Simon's dungeon. But second they were all going to be hunted shortly.

The escape had ended and the chase was about to begin. It was time to run.

Chapter Twenty Four

It was early morning when Edouard finally made it back to his house, and he couldn't help but smile when the ancient fort came into view. It might be a squat and ugly holding on a hilltop but it was home to him, and a place he had missed more than he'd realised until just then. In fact for a while he'd worried that he might never see it again. But unfortunately even his home wasn't necessarily the refuge he had hoped it would be. Not when he saw that there were lights burning.

Someone was in his home.

“By the Seven!”

To finally make it all the way home and find the lights on in his old fort seemed unfair. Especially when it was still night, or very close to dawn, and his brother shouldn't even know that he'd escaped yet. He shouldn't have his troops ahead of him already.

But maybe he was lucky? Maybe it was his family. He could but hope. They were cold, tired and hungry. They had little more than the clothes on their backs and some stolen horses. And they needed to get into his home and grab all the food and clothing they could before heading off. That was why so many had come with him. Their own homes were in Theria, lost to the false king already.

“Your brother Marcus maybe?”

Edouard wanted to say yes but he couldn't. Janus was only guessing. It could be anyone. It could be Marcus. Or it could be Simon's soldiers already waiting for them. It could even be refugees from Theria spilling out across the realm, finding the empty fort and turning it into a home. And there was only one way to find out.

“I don't know. Wait here.”

Careful not to make a sound, Edouard dismounted, and left the reins with his companions before he walked quietly to the front gate which was wide open as usual, and the door beyond. On the way there he paid careful attention to the ground, looking for tracks. He might be no expert in such things but he thought that even he could tell if a patrol had arrived by the condition of the grass. The grass however, didn't look especially trampled or torn up. He could only hope that that meant what he thought it did.

And then too soon he was standing on the stoop of his front door.

“Praise be to the Seven.” He muttered the plea under his breath as he summoned up the courage he needed, before banging on the huge oak doors. After that it was just a matter of standing there, looking as much like a beggar as he could, which wasn't that hard, and thinking of a good excuse to use if the door should be opened by one of Simon's soldiers. Or maybe he should just burn him. But at least the others would be able to escape. Then he heard the groan of the bar being pushed aside, and had to hold himself from simply running away screaming.

“Yes?”

A woman stood there in the door way, silhouetted by the lamp light coming from within, and for a moment Edouard wondered if he'd gone mad. It had been a very long night after all. But he wasn't seeing things.

“My Lady?”

It wasn't the best thing he could have said. But then he realised as he kept staring at her, slowly making out more details, that she was dressed in a simple homespun dress. The sort of thing Tyrel's handmaidens wore. In fact it was the exact outfit they wore.

“You're a handmaiden?” Why was he even asking he wondered? As more and more light from behind bathed her, he could see everything for himself. “Why are you in my home?”

“Your home?” She studied him for a moment, studying the state of his clothes and the dirt caked all over him. “This is the home of Lord Edouard Severin of House Barris.”

“At your service.” Edouard even managed a small bow, actually not much more than a nod in truth. The skin on his back wouldn't let him bend, ever since his attempt at wound care. It had tightened into his own personal straight-jacket.

“But you're –.” Her voice trailed off as she started to think about what she was saying.

“We left. The accommodations weren't entirely to our liking.”

“Kyriel!”

The woman turned around to call to someone inside the house, and in a single word confirmed everything Edouard had suspected. Then she turned back to him suddenly realising the rest of what he'd said. “We?”

Edouard didn't bother answering her. He just waved to the others, certain they could see him as he stood in the lit doorway, and gestured for them to come and bring the horses with them. There was no point in standing there out in the open when the king's soldiers could come upon them at any moment. Especially when they were riding stolen horses. By the time he turned back Kyriel was standing beside her sister in the doorway, staring at him wide eyed.

“It's good to see you again my Lady.”

Even if she was in his own home for no reason that he could fathom. Surely the mammoths had been taken to their new home by now and the women should have returned to the temple? But he still managed another polite nod, before he turned back to see the rest of his fellow prisoners leading their horses across the dark road and then the grass of his front yard.

Soon they were all standing on the front stoop, a sorry collection of dirt and mud covered living statues, and he wondered if they should think about shutting the gate behind them. But that might also slow them down when they had to leave, and dawn was surely not far away. He wanted to be gone by the time the sun crested the hills. Not long after that he knew, their escape would be discovered if it hadn't already been, and the first of the soldiers would be sent after them. They would come to his home first. He was after all the king's brother, and the one who had stood up to him. He was the prize.

There wasn't much time.

“You'd better come in.” Her words caught him by surprise, and for a moment Edouard thought he'd misheard her. He was tired after all. But then it hit him. She was actually allowing him entrance into his own home! As if she could actually choose not to! He would have stood there in shock at the very idea had his companions not suddenly pushed their way past him seeking the warmth of the fire, forcing him to follow them.

At least he didn't thank her for the invitation. That would have been too much!