The Return of Nightfall (45 page)

Nightfall watched his idea fall neatly into place. The massive admiral surely felt safe enough with only the eleven elite guardsmen who would remain.

“Very well.” The admiral waved his hands for Volkmier to join the guard escort that led Nightfall and the captain from the court.

 

The familiar odors of Alyndar’s dungeon made Nightfall queasy. He breathed through his mouth, avoiding the overwhelming stench that seemed not to bother Volkmier at all. The commander brought them easily around the guards situated at various doors and openings, all of whom stepped aside diligently but continued to study the odd mixture of visitors long after they had passed. Nightfall tried to get close to Kelryn but found himself stymied by her persistent efforts to calm the obviously agitated captain.

Finally, Nightfall could stand it no longer. He hissed into the captain’s ear, “If you don’t let me near her, I’ll never get done.”

The captain whispered back, “I’m not making conversation with the commander of Alyndar’s prison guards.”

Nightfall did not have patience for more nonsense. “I need to talk to Kelryn. If you can’t think of a way to distract him, I’ll have to come up with one.”

Suddenly, Nightfall had the captain’s full attention. “Are you threatening me?”

He was, but Nightfall knew better than to say so. “Look, just talk to the prisoner as if you think he’s kin. If you ‘discover’ he’s not, just say you made a mistake.”

“Believe me, I know how to fudge things.”

“So do it, already. And get out of my way.” Nightfall softened the request, a hand straying to his battered cheek. “Please.”

“I’ll have my revenge for this,” the captain muttered as he stepped ahead to allow Nightfall access to Kelryn.

I know you will.
Nightfall measured his steps to the proper casualness, resisting the urge to rush to Kelryn’s side and seem inappropriately eager. It felt odd to care about someone besides himself. Love was dangerous; it had ensnared even him. And, eventually, he felt certain, it would kill him.

Volkmier paused to unlock a barred door spanning the craggy, damp corridor. Nightfall leaned toward Kelryn. “Marak,” he whispered.

Kelryn stiffened. She looked up at him. “Ex-excuse me?”

“Marak,” he dutifully repeated, though he knew she wanted more. The dimness of the torch-lit dungeon stole the green from her eyes. He took her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Need made him long to gather her into his arms, but he resisted. Too many lives lay at stake. He dared not put Volkmier in the position of knowing his real identity again, of discovering the captain’s. He had planned to tell Kelryn the truth, but the words stuck in his throat. She had seen through Sudian, and he had given himself up as the nameless chambermaid. But this was Balshaz, a long-standing persona with a life, a personality, a past. Every instinct screamed at him to protect the pock-faced merchant.

When no one moved, Volkmier pushed open the door with a squeal of hinges and gestured them through it. “Horrat’s right here.”

Nightfall glanced over to see the scrawny thief watching them from a cell down the line from the barred iron door that no longer blocked the corridor but now lay pressed against the uneven wall. The captain did not move.

Nightfall understood at once. The door Volkmier had opened served only as a second defense against a prisoner escape, but anyone who walked through it could become trapped behind a locked, barred door. He released Kelryn’s hand before speaking. “Commander, Zenia got locked in a wardrobe once, for hours, as a child. She has an intense fear of closed places.”

Volkmier glanced at the captain, who nodded.

“If we could leave this gate open while we’re here . . . ?”

Volkmier frowned, eyes narrowing. Clearly, he mentally examined every reason why someone might make such a request, including the possibility of setting up a specific or general jailbreak.

Kelryn stepped in to reassure the chief of the prison guards. “It’s all right, Volkmier. Balshaz is a friend of Alyndar.”

Volkmier’s quick blue eyes went to Kelryn, and he nodded. “Very well. If you please.” He indicated that entrance again, gaze finding each of them in turn.

Nightfall knew the
Seaworthy
’s captain would not set foot beyond the gate without more reassurance, so he went first, trying to look wholly unconcerned, with Kelryn at his side. The act proved more difficult than Nightfall expected. The presence of that lockable portal unnerved him enough to interfere with his concentration. The prison guard’s commander came next, reaching out a steadying hand to the captain, who looked positively ill.

Impatient beyond propriety, Kelryn seized Nightfall’s hand and dragged him a safe distance from the others’ conversation. “Tell me about Marak.”

“He’s . . . fine,” Nightfall said, wondering if she would see through this disguise. He had always worried that his eyes would give him away. He could change their shape, hold them differently, but he could do nothing about their color. They were blue, but not the nearly white sea-foam hue that made the captain’s so striking, nor the color of sunlit sky like Volkmier’s. His were murkier, nearly black, and became inscrutable in shadow. He had never met another person with eyes like his and had feared their uniqueness would one day prove his downfall.

Nightfall’s disguises drew attention from his eyes with protruding brows, a squint, or facial scars that attracted the gaze. Most people passed off his eyes as common, remembering only their darkness. On Nightfall, though, men called them demon’s eyes, as sinister as night and as depthless as hell. He recalled the nursery rhyme that had haunted children’s nightmares for ages, a warning to behave and not to wander the world at night: “Eyes darker than the midnight shade . . .” Kelryn loved those eyes, saw none of the terror attributed to him, and through them she had recognized him once before. He would not lie to her. “Kelryn, it’s me.”

“Marak?” She stared, trying to find some hint of the man she loved in this otherwise opaque disguise.As he expected, she went right for the eyes, but the shadows of the dungeon made her job nearly impossible.“Is it really . . . ?”

“It is,” Nightfall promised, glancing at the captain in front of Horrat’s cell. He did not know how much cooperation he would get and knew his time was severely limited. “Have you learned anything I can use?”

“You have a month.”

The words made no sense to Nightfall. “What?”

Kelryn took a few nervous steps, unwittingly displaying the perfect grace that always captivated him. He wanted to seize her in his arms and take her here, in full view of everyone, despite the gravity of the situation. “In a month, they will declare Edward officially dead. Then . . .” She swallowed hard.

“The wars begin?” Nightfall guessed.

Kelryn bobbed her head, disturbing the gentle feathers of her hair. She looked close to tears.

“Who . . .” He tried to think of the best way to phrase the question. “. . . wants the job?”

Kelryn pursed her lips before answering. “At least three of the High Council, I think. Word among the commoners is we’ll be ruled by Simont Basilaered, since he has the power of the army behind him. But some think the navy has just as much brawn, in addition to controlling the seas.” She gave him a pinched look of distress, either searching for his input or beseeching him to do something to offset the coming violence. “There’s also quite a bit of money exchanging hands. I’ve tried, really I have, but I just can’t follow it.”

Nightfall knew the guards, especially the commanders, had likely become highly popular for bribes. He glanced over at Volkmier and the captain. Both met his gaze, clearly finished with their business.
Damn!
Nightfall had so much more he wanted to know and more information he had to impart. He could scarcely believe he had come so far for so little. He had just assumed he would find a way to talk to Kelryn for a reasonable length of time.

The captain spoke first, in his lilting falsetto, warning Nightfall of their approach. “It’s not him, Balshaz. He’s not related at all.”

Nightfall continued the charade, “I’m sorry, Zenia. Very sorry. We always knew it was a possibility.”

Still playing his part, the captain huddled into Nightfall’s arms.

Kelryn’s face seemed to collapse into itself in clear chagrin.

Around the captain, Nightfall gave his fiancée a look of resigned forbearance. He put his arms around the false-woman as social necessity demanded, but he kept his hands free in a wide-fingered gesture intended to convey that he was not enjoying their embrace.

Volkmier glanced between the three of them, eyes narrowed in clear consideration. When he spoke, he did not use the booming tone of command that had heralded Nightfall’s previous captures. “If you women would excuse us, I’d like to speak with the merchant alone.”

Nightfall’s heart pounded. Though he had deliberately maneuvered the situation to have the commander of the prison guards present, he had not yet figured out the best way to use their relationship. Giving away his disguise to Kelryn had seemed necessary. Doing so to Volkmier meant killing off another persona, the only one that gave him access to nobler circles. Though the prison guard had freed him once, he might not do so again. At the moment, though, he found no way to refuse Volkmier’s request, even if he wished to do so.

The captain clearly felt otherwise. “Anything you can say to Balshaz, you can say to me as well. Right, honey bun?” He swung around to Nightfall’s side in a coquettish pirouette, taking his hand.

Kelryn’s jaw set.

Nightfall winced, his position tenuous. The captain could not allow him to speak in private with Volkmier, worried it might endanger himself and his crew. Under threat of treason, Volkmier did not dare to talk in front of witnesses. And, Nightfall also realized, he was close to losing his fiancée because of a man in a dress. He gritted his teeth. Though secrets had served him all his life, he currently faced a clash of them so spectacular they placed him in an unwinnable situation.

For a moment, the four stared at one another in a silence punctuated by the scrape of a chain, the rattle of a bar, the low moan of a prisoner.

Finally, Nightfall broke the hush. Though barely above a whisper, his voice seemed suddenly loud. “Of course I’ll speak with you in private, sir.” He gave Volkmier a slight but respectful bow. “If you would excuse Zenia and myself for a short time first.”

Volkmier made a throwaway gesture to indicate the two should find a comfortable place to talk.

Nightfall led the captain back out of the corridor-spanning gate and up against a craggy wall. He opened his mouth, but the captain spoke first.

“You’re not talking to a prison guard, especially that one, without me.”

Nightfall had no other choice that would not either leave Volkmier too vulnerable to talk or destroy his whole purpose for coming. “Look, there are problems here that make yours look trivial.”

The captain’s grip on Nightfall’s hand tightened painfully. “Trivial to you, maybe. But my life, and those of my crew, hold great significance to me.”

Nightfall jerked his hand free. “I’m not going to talk about you, or them, with Volkmier.” He kneaded his aching fingers with his other hand.

“You’re right, you’re not.” Clear threat entered the captain’s tone. “Because I’m going to stay by your side and make sure it doesn’t happen.”

Nightfall fairly pranced with frustration. As Nightfall, he would never have had to deal with such foolishness. The demon had cowed men more powerful, far more evil, than the pirate captain of the
Seaworthy
. He was tired of playing politics, driven to madness by the need to balance the needs and feelings of others. It was all he could do not to strip off his costume and the role of negotiator, slaughtering his way to Edward and never caring for the lives of those who dared to cross his path. “I’m not going to betray you. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

“No.”

“I need to talk to Volkmier for reasons I can’t share.”

“No!”

“My only other choice is to reveal you where you stand.”

The captain’s hands balled to massive fists, and he drew back.

Nightfall forestalled the attack. “Or you can just reveal yourself by pounding me into the next kingdom. That wouldn’t be ladylike.”

As if suddenly realizing the ramifications, the captain uncurled his fingers. “You bastard.”

“No,” Nightfall corrected, “an honest merchant trusted with a lot of secrets . . . and capable of keeping all of them.” He gave the captain an earnest look he hoped would underscore his point. “I will protect yours with all the caution I’m using for theirs.” He jabbed a thumb toward Kelryn and Volkmier. “But if you force me to compromise their caution, I’ll have to strip you of all your rights to yours as well.”

“What secrets could the commander of the prison guards have?”

Nightfall arched his brows. “To tell you that would be to reveal them.”

“And you?”

“I have mine, too.”

“And Kelryn?”

“The world is full of secrets.”

The captain fell silent. They had reached a clear stalemate. “I’m . . . not good at trusting others.”

Nightfall understood that sentiment all too well. “You can’t afford to be.” He paused. In the captain’s place, he would not allow the conference to happen either. He had placed the other man in an impossible position, one that seemed likely to end horribly. Stripped of all control and dignity, a man as accustomed to both as Captain Celdurant would never compromise. Nightfall knew of only one way to even the score; he had to give the captain a weapon as powerful as his own. “Captain, it’s time I told you. I know so much about . . .” He could not help dropping his voice still further, so the captain had to stand nearly on top of him to hear. “. . . Sudian because I am . . . Sudian.”