The Return of Nightfall (66 page)

Volkmier slumped to his haunches.

Nightfall finally reined in his own rage, lowering himself to Volkmier’s level. “Why did you confess?” he asked more calmly.

“Because it is the truth.”

“So?”

“And I was asked directly.”

Nightfall stared. “You’re not above deceit, Volkmier. You once sent all your men chasing me in the wrong direction when I needed to find Prince Edward.”

“Yes. Because I believed it in the best interests of Alyndar, her king, and her prince. And I was right.” Volkmier added smugly, “As usual.”

Nightfall emphasized each word. “Not . . . this . . . time.”

“I can’t subvert the law for my own gain.” Volkmier rose and turned away. “I can’t expect you to understand.”

It was intended as insult; and, yet, it was the truth. Nightfall did not understand, though he had a grim certainty that it had something to do with honor. “I understand you’re going to die.”

Volkmier said nothing.

“Unless you let me help you the same way you helped me.”

“You mean . . . prison break?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Nightfall rolled his eyes.
Nobles and their ridiculous rigidities.
“Why not?” He braced himself for some long-winded speech on ethics, full of references to simplistic ideals and unwritten rules of propriety.

Volkmier heaved a heavy sigh. “Because I’m not going to exchange my freedom for yours.”

Nightfall had already explored the same concern. “Actually, that’s handled, Volkmier. First, I’m not stupid enough to confess. Second, as you well know, I’m legally pardoned for anything I’ve done from the day I promised you I’d bring back Edward till the official ceremony in court tomorrow. You were a captain of guards and member of the Council when you made that pledge to me, and the entire kingdom is beholden to your vow.” He smiled wickedly, “I could murder every member of the High Council tonight, without a single consequence.”

“You couldn’t . . .”

“Oh, I could.”

“But . . . you wouldn’t,” Volkmier tried, swallowing around an obvious lump.

“Of course, I wouldn’t.”

“Not that they don’t deserve it.” Volkmier came back to the bars and again dropped into a crouch. “How did you know about the ceremony and the significance of my vow?”

Nightfall laughed. “Some members of the High Council told me.”

“After what they did to you, you believed them? Didn’t you worry they were setting you up to take another fall?”

Nightfall shivered; Volkmier did know him dangerously well. “And I confirmed it with the king, who has the book of law in his hands at this very moment, scouring it for some way to pardon you.”

“Ah.”

Nightfall held Volkmier’s pale stare. “Which he won’t find. Which is why I’m going to get you out.” He stood and began to examine the lock.

“No.” Volkmier sprang to his feet.

Nightfall threw up his hands. “What is it this time?”

The ex-captain put a hand over the lock, blocking Nightfall’s view. “I’ve served my post loyally for more than half my life. It’s all I know.”

“A man can change, Volkmier. Believe me, I know.”

Volkmier paced, head drooping, arms and shoulders sagging. “I can’t become a fugitive, Sudian. I can’t hide from those I’ve pledged to serve. I’d rather die with honor than live like a rat in shadows.”

That insult Nightfall got. “It’s not as bad as you think.”

“Sudian.” Volkmier began his walk back toward the bars. “I envy your ability to adapt and change at will, but I’m too old to learn it. I don’t want to learn it. I always knew I would die in the service of Alyndar, and nothing has happened to change my mind.”

“Not even an unwarranted death.”

“Not even.”

Frustration drove Nightfall to hurl himself against the bars until they shattered, then throttle some sense into the onetime chief of prison guards. “Nobles,” he muttered. “They’re all a bunch of inbred, silversucking, incomprehensible, brainless idiots.”

Volkmier moved closer. “What?”

“Never mind.” Nightfall shook his head. It seemed crazy to try to liberate a man who refused to be saved. “Khanwar did this, didn’t he?”

Volkmier sighed. “He may have steered the High Council to me, but I confessed.” He gave Nightfall another of those looks that foretold an explanation he might not understand. “Khanwar should never have sold information about our king and his activities. For that alone, he should be severely punished.”

Nightfall stared without blinking. So far, a three-year-old could comprehend the former captain’s words. “But . . . ?”

“I do believe that, to his own warped way of thinking, he thought he was acting in—”

“—Alyndar’s best interests?” Nightfall snorted. “I’m growing tired of that phrase. How could anyone believe that getting many of her best and most loyal guards slaughtered and our king sold to slavers could ever be in Alyndar’s best interests.”

Now it was Volkmier’s turn to stare. “Slavers?”

Nightfall refused to be sidetracked. “I’ll explain those details later.” He waved a hand for Volkmier to continue. “We were talking about Khanwar.”

With clear reluctance, Volkmier returned to the tale. The bold chief of prison guards was not used to being commanded. “Khanwar believed it would be a simple hostage-and-ransom situation. The Hartrinians would hold the king a bit, money would exchange hands, and we would get our king back: unharmed, wiser, perhaps a bit more worldly and understanding of our neighbor across the sea. In the meantime, it would separate you and Edward. If he could not get the High Council to remove you entirely, at least the king might have gained the experience and distance to see you the same way Khanwar does.”

“You mean as a danger to Alyndar.”

Volkmier shrugged. “That’s Khanwar’s opinion, not mine.”

Nightfall saw no reason to argue the point. He knew the highborn tended to dislike him, and their concern was not entirely inappropriate. He would see to it that Edward pronounced sentence on Khanwar for his treason. Nightfall doubted he could talk the king into an execution; but, at least, Khanwar would lose his position in the castle and whatever title he held. To the royal adviser, that might well prove a punishment worse than death. Not yet ready to discuss his own ordeal, Nightfall maneuvered the conversation to Volkmier’s. “So, how long have you been rotting down here?”

“Two days.”

Nightfall laughed. “Well, give it a week, at least, if you aren’t slated to die before then. You’ll change your song when—” The answer slammed Nightfall with the abrupt and brutal power of Jacquellette’s lightning. “Volkmier, stay here.”

Volkmier blinked, obviously believing Nightfall had finally slipped over the brink into madness. “Where would I go?”

“I’m getting you that pardon.”

 

By the time Nightfall had gathered his friends and raced to the Strategy Room, the members of the High Council were already milling on the landing outside the door. No one had tried to enter thanks to the last command given by the king; he had warned them not to disturb him. Nightfall waited with them for the last of those summoned to arrive.

Baron Elliat leaned against the rail, looking out over the stairs. General Simont Basilaered stood at crisp attention just outside the door, the massive admiral beside him. The two knights gave Nightfall looks more quizzical than hopeful. Even Kelryn and Celdurant had no idea why Nightfall had brought them there, though they stood patiently in silence, apparently trusting him.

At last, two prison guards arrived with Volkmier chained between them. The red-haired warrior kept his head high, though his cheeks flushed with shame. He gave Nightfall a look that said everything:
You’d best have reason for parading my humiliation.

Nightfall returned a smile. “Ready?”

Everyone nodded, some enthusiastically, others with clear misgivings.

Nightfall knocked on the door, then opened it a crack. Edward looked up from the book on the table. Around him, Nightfall could feel the men cringing, anticipating the king’s anger; but Edward did not yell. He seemed glad of the interruption. “Did you need me again, Sudian?”

“Yes.” Nightfall opened the door wider and ushered the others inside.

Only one man spoke as he entered. Sir Tenneth Kentaries whispered, “I’d give half my fortune to know what you’re thinking.”

“In a moment,” Nightfall replied, “you’ll know. And it won’t cost you anything.”

Nightfall waited until every man and Kelryn had taken seats around the Strategy Room table. Only the guards remained standing, on either side of Volkmier’s chair. “Sorry for disturbing your reading, Sire.”

Edward made a dismissive gesture.

“And for pulling the rest of you away from your duties.”

Everyone except Kelryn, Celdurant, and Volkmier mumbled something that rejected the notion Nightfall had inconvenienced them. Those three remained silent.

“Sire, would you do us the honor of rereading that point of law? The one granting the High Council right of sentencing.”

“Of course, Sudian.” Edward flipped toward the proper page, and Alber leaned in to help him. “Though you have it memorized.”

“Nevertheless, Sire, if you will indulge me.”

Finding the page, Edward placed his hands upon it. “In the event that the king is killed, missing, or incapacitated . . .” He paused, clearly seeking whatever loophole Nightfall might have found. “. . . leaving no blooded heir on the throne, the Council is granted overriding discretion in all matters of judgment provided . . .” More consideration, then a headshake. “. . . it has the full consent of the High Council and a majority vote of the Council in Full.”

Also trying to anticipate, Baron Elliat said, “We did get a majority vote, if that’s what you’re wondering. The double votes of the five High Council members count ten, but we only needed two more. The Council was nearly unanimous.” He glanced toward Volkmier apologetically. “The captain did confess.”

Nightfall refused to let speculation derail him. “Now, name the High Council for me, please.”

Nikolei Neerchus frowned. “You know that’s us.” He indicated the general, himself, the two knights, and the baron.

What a time to suddenly go casual.
Nightfall looked down his nose at the larger man. “I mean the definition by law, Lord Admiral.”

King Edward jumped in, speaking thoughtfully, still clearly trying to second-guess his minister. “It’s the three largest landholders, besides the king, of course. And the highest ranking officers of Alyndar’s army and navy.”

Nightfall delivered his coup de grâce. “And I would declare that the vote you took to convict the chief of prison guards did not result in full agreement of the High Council, thereby rendering it null and void.”

“On what grounds?” Simont asked, more hopeful than demanding.

“On the grounds . . .” Nightfall circled the table. “. . . that at the time of the decision . . .” He came to a rest behind Celdurant. “. . . Supreme Lord Admiral Celdurant was not present to cast a vote.”

“What!” Admiral Nikolei sprang to his feet, then turned his stricken expression to the king. “Is this true, Your Majesty?”

Edward laughed, too thrilled with the outcome to worry about Nikolei. “Lord Celdurant took his oath three days ago. In front of many witnesses.”

Nightfall finished, “And Captain Volkmier received his sentence only two days ago. Which means the High Council was missing a member . . .” He trailed off.

Tenneth finished in a wondering whisper, “Which means the vote was indeed null and void.”

Smiles ringed the table, on every face but those of Nikolei and the general, Simont.

King Edward looked at the prison guards and said simply, “Free him.”

The guards set to work immediately, quiet but unable to hide broad grins of excitement and relief.

The chains fell away from Volkmier, and his grin was the largest of all. He executed one of the most flourishing and exquisite bows Nightfall had ever seen, full of grace, dignity, and poise. “Your Majesty, if it pleases you, I’d like to return to my duties at once.”

Nightfall’s grin broadened. He knew those duties included detaining a real traitor to Alyndar.

Edward gave a formal nod. “I’d appreciate that, Captain Volkmier.”

Signaling his men to follow, Volkmier headed for the door, only to stop with his hand nearly on the latch. “Your Majesty? I would also request permission to embrace your chancellor.”

Nightfall froze.

“Your request is granted.”

Oh, great. Don’t even bother to ask me.
Before Nightfall could fully turn toward Volkmier, he found himself crushed into a hug worthy of a bear. Sucking air into his lungs became impossible, and he croaked out a breathless, “You’re welcome.”

Releasing him, Volkmier whispered. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Fine,” Nightfall responded as quietly. “At least it was until you crushed it.”

Still grinning, Volkmier and his soldiers took their leave.

The former lord admiral of Alyndar’s navy swallowed, surely wondering if he would ever get an answer to his question. Nightfall knew Edward would not leave him waiting long. He also knew the young king well enough to realize the admiral would keep a command position in the royal navy. Likely, he would get an interminable lecture about his behavior and find himself answering to Celdurant. Otherwise, Nightfall realized, little in Alyndar had changed.

King Edward raised his hands. “I’d like a word with my Supreme Lord Admiral and my Lord Admiral. The rest of you may go.”

Nightfall let all of the others file out first, leaving only those chosen, himself, and Kelryn. “Ned,” he cautioned, “we’d like to see you all before breakfast.”

King Edward smiled.

Nightfall took Kelryn’s hand and led her from the room, then closed the door behind them. Once on the landing, he spun her about, sending her short white locks into a radiant dance. She moved with all the grace he loved, her dancer’s body a treat for attention too long focused on evil and death. “I love you,” he said.