Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two (18 page)

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? No,
you’re going to the see the Watch Commander. He’s been interested
in speaking with you for some time.” He then nodded to one of the
guards at the rear who proceeded to strike Scar across the back of
the head with the flat of his blade.

When Scar’s vision cleared from the
blow, he again met Kip’s gaze. Kip now knew where they were being
taken.

The novice waited until the procession
had passed before heading with all speed back to where James and
the others waited.

“The Watch Commander, huh?” James was
not happy about this turn of events.

Kip nodded. “That’s what they
said.”

Jiron glanced to his friend. “That
means they’re at the City Jail, not the Keep.”

“Trying to avoid letting Black Hawk
and his men know what’s going on you think?”

“Sounds that way.”

James turned a careworn look upon the
young novice. “Was anyone hurt?”

Shaking his head, Kip replied, “I
don’t think so.”

“Good.” To Jiron he said, “I’m
surprised Tinok let them take him so easily.”

Jiron replied, “I’m not.” When James
cast him a questioning look, he added, “If he gets into it with the
guards here in Al-Ziron, he’ll never get the chance to kill more
soldiers of the Empire.” Feeling a tug on his sleeve, he looked
down into his daughter’s worried eyes.

“What are we to do,
Father?”

James glanced to Jiron. “Can’t use
magic. It would give me away to any mage in the area.”

“And neither of us can be
seen.”

The gates of the Keep loomed before
him. This late at night, there were but two guards on duty. Despite
the fact that the pair idled away the time in quiet conversation,
the chance of sneaking past was nil. One was of average height and
carried a pole-arm. The other was slightly taller and wore a sword
strapped around his ample girth.

Kip watched the pair from the shadowy
front of a weapon’s smith. The Dark Mage had instructed him to
approach the Keep, reveal that he was a novice of Morcyth on
business of the High Priest, and ask to be taken to
Ceadric.

Unsure exactly who this Ceadric might
be, Kip knew the others depended on him. But guards such as what
barred the Keep’s entrance had made his early years a misery. Fear,
not felt since coming to the temple, unexpectedly
resurfaced.

I can do this.

There was no one else. Squaring his
shoulders, the young novice strode from the shadows and marched
resolutely toward the Keep’s main gate. The two guards soon became
aware of his approach.

As he drew close, the taller guard
nudged the one with the pole-arm. “Look what’s coming to pay a call
on the Lord Black Hawk.”

“Maybe he thinks he’ll be taken on as
a Page,” quipped Pole-arm. Holding up his hand, he stepped forward
to bar Kip’s way. “Boy, just turn around. You got no business here
tonight.”

“I’m here with a message for Lord
Black Hawk.” Voice cracking, words uttered in a tremulous tone, his
fear was evident.

“A message you say?” Tall Guard
asked.

Kip nodded. “I am a Novice of Morcyth
and have come with word from the High Priest.”

Laughter split the night. Tall Guard
glanced to Pole-arm. “I ain’t heard that one before.”

Pole-arm nodded. “What about the girl
claiming to be his long-lost daughter?”

“Oh, aye!” he laughed. “Forgot about
that one.”

The guards’ merriment
unnerved Kip even more. This was not going well. What he really
wanted to do was slink away, but knew others counted on him.
Swallowing hard, he said, “I
am
of the temple, and I
do
have a message for Black
Hawk.”

Pole-arm’s humor died
quickly as his face turned serious. “That’s
Lord
Black Hawk to the likes of you,
boy.”

“May I be admitted to see Lord Black
Hawk?”

“It’s night, boy. Everyone’s asleep,”
stated Tall Guard.

“And besides,” added Pole-arm, “Lord
Black Hawk isn’t even in the Keep.”

Why should I ask for Lord
Black hawk if he isn’t in the Keep?

Jiron had explained that
if he went there looking for Ceadric, they’d turn him away for
sure. But if he asked for Black Hawk first, then dropped Ceadric’s
name, it might give the guards pause. Someone of Kip’s age, trying
to put one over on them, would be unlikely to do so.

I hope this
works.

“If Lord Black Hawk is not within, I
was told to deliver my message to Ceadric.”

The guards sobered. Pole-arm eyed him.
“Ceadric, you say?”

Kip nodded. “That is what I was told.”
He watched them exchange uncertain glances.

Maintain your composure.
Act like you belong there and they will let you through. Give them
any reason to doubt your story, and it’s over.

Jiron’s words gave him scant comfort
as he withered beneath their gaze.

“What is the message?”

Fear and anxiety melted
away at the question. They were going to take him seriously.
Just don’t blow it!

“I am not allowed to give it to anyone
but Lord Black Hawk, or his right-hand man, Ceadric.”

The guards eyed each other. “Get a
Page.”

Pole-arm nodded and ducked into the
Keep.

“This better not be some trick, boy,
or you’ll rot in the dungeon for sure.”

Kip shook his head and remained
silent. Jiron had advised him to say only what he must to get in
and not indulge in idle banter.

They had given him a description of
Ceadric; tall, a touch on the other side of middle age, and a
countenance hardened through numerous battles in service to Lord
Black Hawk.

Half a dozen people had
passed through the gate by the time Pole-arm returned, each giving
Kip a passing, inquisitive glance where he stood with back against
the wall near the guard. Behind Pole-arm walked a lad of thirteen
summers dressed in the accouterments of a page in service to Black
Hawk. Emblazoned upon the page’s tabard was an insignia that
brought pride to those of Madoc, and instilled fear in men of the
Empire:
A black bird of prey in flight
poised to strike, upon a red heraldic field. Behind the hawk were
two crossed swords
.

Coming to a stop, Pole-arm indicated
the boy. “Follow him and do not stray.”

The Page gave Kip a slight nod,
gestured for the novice to come along, then turned and headed back
into the Keep.

Kip hurried after and fell in step a
pace to the lad’s right. He took in the mammoth wall of the inner
courtyard and the men walking post along the ramparts. It looked
rather formidable.

“Been a Page long?”

The lad glanced to Kip, pursed his
lips slightly as if speaking to him was either against the rules,
or unwelcomed, then shook his head.

Another pair of guards stood watch at
the door leading into the main body of the Keep. They gave the Page
a nod that was returned in kind. Kip followed the lad through the
doors.

“So,” began Kip, “where is
Ceadric?”

“Ceadric is unavailable,” the Page
said.

“What? I thought I was to see
Ceadric.”

The Page shook his head. “Ceadric is
in a meeting and will be unavailable for many hours.”

“But what I have to tell him is
important.”

“I am sorry, truly. He left orders
that his, uh, meeting should only be interrupted due to the gravest
of emergencies.” The Page turned down a side hall.

Kip mulled over what he should do. The
Dark Mage had indicated time was quickly running out for their
friends. Dire things may be happening to them even now. Did they
even have an hour?

“
You are to see Captain
Yeurlin. He has the Night Watch. Captain Yeurlin has full authority
to accommodate whatever it is that his lordship, the High Priest,
may require.”

I doubt that…

Passing into a narrow stairwell, the
Page led him up to the next level. They emerged onto a hallway and
turned to the right. The Page indicated a door at the end. “The
Captain will meet you in there.”

Should he trust the Captain? Jiron had
said trust no one with his message but Lord Black Hawk and Ceadric.
If he passed through those doors and failed to deliver the message,
summary expulsion from the Keep would follow.

He had to do something, but
what? If he ran, the Page would sound the alarm. If he didn’t, he
would be removed from the Keep and his mission would fail.
Ceadric
had
to get
the message.

Morcyth, help
me!

The page continued leading him toward
the door.

A side door on their left opened and a
servant emerged carrying a tray of dishes that looked to contain
the remnants of someone’s dinner. Sitting slightly apart from the
others was a small ceramic bowl.

Time spent on the streets had honed
his adaptive abilities well. As the servant passed, he snagged the
bowl from off the tray. He waited until they were before the
Captain’s door, then struck the Page on the back of the head with
the bowl. So sturdy was the bowl’s construction that it hadn’t even
cracked.

As the Page crumbled, Kip caught the
lad and glanced back over his shoulder. The servant was nowhere to
be seen. He quickly dragged the Page back to a door some distance
removed from the Captain’s. After pressing his ear against the
wooden frame and hearing nothing, he opened the door.

A bed, nightstand, and the way several
of the chairs were covered in cloth indicated that this was a
little-used guest room of some sort. Once the unconscious body of
the Page had been dragged in, Kip closed the door and proceeded to
don the Page’s tabard and breeches. Once he was dressed in the
trappings of a Page in service to Black Hawk, Kip bound the lad’s
hands and legs with strips torn from one of the cloths draped
across the furniture. After a gag had been stuffed in the lad’s
mouth and secured with a small strip of cloth, Kip returned to the
door and cracked it open. Finding the hallway beyond deserted, he
prayed a quick prayer to Morcyth, then quietly slipped from the
room

Not long after leaving the room, Kip
encountered five men dressed as soldiers of Black Hawk. Keeping
head high, he walked past with purpose and they gave him little
more than a passing glance.

Attitude, young Kip. It’s
all in the attitude
.

Jiron had been so right. Act like you
belong and few would question your right to be there, especially if
you wore a Page’s tabard. Kip couldn’t help but grin. Now, to find
Ceadric before someone noticed that one of their Pages had gone
missing.

The Page had indicated Ceadric was in
a meeting. Kip hadn’t the slightest idea where that might be. The
Keep was rather large and to search it room by room would take far
too long. But how does one find out without arousing
suspicion?

Coming to another hallway, he paused
and glanced to the right, left, and ahead. They all looked alike.
He stood in a quandary for several seconds before voices coming
from the right prompted him to scurry across and continue down the
one he had been following.

Not far past the intersections of
passageways, Kip came to an open doorway; light and the aroma of
roasted meat came from within. It was a large room filled with many
tables. Some were occupied by groups consisting of both soldiers
and civilians enjoying their evening meal. He quickly continued
on.

Beyond the dining hall, he crossed
before another door, this time a voice hollered out, “Oh,
boy!”

Discovered!

His tongue went dry from sudden fear.
Turning toward the voice, he saw a man in a stained
apron.

“Are you on business of the
Keep?”

Unsure how to reply, Kip kept quiet
and merely nodded.

The cook grimaced. “Damn! I need to
get this tray to the Kirken Ambassador.” The tray in question lay
upon a small table and was laden with meat, bread and a bottle of
wine, enough to feed three men. “All my lads are off on other
errands at the moment.” Shaking his head, he mumbled something
about nobles and how they wanted everything right away.

The cook cast Kip a calculating look.
“It seems the last batch of sweet rolls was a little large.”
Cocking an eyebrow, he said, “May have to just…throw these extras
away.”

His eyes moved from Kip and settled
onto a plate whereupon laid three of the most mouthwatering sweet
rolls the young novice had ever seen. The glaze practically
shimmered in the light.

Kip knew a bribe when he saw one.
Aside from the fact that taking the tray to wherever the Kirken
Ambassador happened to be would provide him an excuse to roam the
halls, he was hungry.