Master and Fool (74 page)

"It's all
right, Jack," came Nabber's breathless voice from behind. "It should
be the steps leading up to the dungeons."

Jack brought his
lantern forward. It was impossible to see anything below the surface. He moved
his foot upward, grazing the stone with his toes until he found a ledge. Nabber
was right, it was a step. A step tall enough for giants. Jack hauled his tired
body up through the water, swinging around after each step to lend a hand to
Nabber.

"We're here
now," said Nabber, as Jack dragged him up the last step. "We're in
the palace."

As soon as Nabber
said those words, Jack realized that he hadn't done nearly enough to prepare
himself. One night was nothing. Somewhere above him lay Baralis and Kylock, and
somehow, tonight, he was supposed to destroy them. The full enormity of the
task hit him like a dead weight. He felt like he'd been punched in the stomach.
How could he possibly get to Kylock? And once there, how could he destroy him? He
didn't know the answers. All he knew was that he had to try.

Melli had pulled
the curtains back and opened the shutters. The window was, she judged, large
enough for her to squeeze through. It was high, though, and she dragged the
chest across the room to give herself something to stand on. The splint was
back against the broken bone, and as she worked the chest from its position
against the back wall, her left arm trailed at her side. Sweat poured down her
forehead, dripping off the end of her nose and soaking the neckline of her
dress.

The chest was made
of oak a wrist thick, and it was large enough to store a sheep. It took Melli
many minutes and many rests to position it below the window.

Sleet drifted down
through the open shutters, landing on Melli's face as she pulled herself up.
The stones forming the wall had been smoothed only to man height, and the
masonry around the window was coarse and unfinished. Melli made a grab for the
stone frame, and she felt a quick burn on her wrist as her skin brushed against
the rough surface. "Damn," she hissed. It was too dark to tell if
there was blood.

Melli had taught
herself to ignore pains a lot more serious than a scraped wrist, and she didn't
miss a beat. Standing on her tiptoes, she leant out of the window and looked
down to the world below. The cold air made Melli's eyes sting, and she could
see nothing at first but a black pit. Then, as she blinked away the tears, she
began to pick out a few details: light escaping from shutters, stretches of
white snow nestling between eaves, the wet sheen of the courtyard below. Melli
leant out a fraction farther so she could see what lay directly beneath the
window. It was a dead drop: no ledges, no broken levels, no low roofs.

A dull wave of
disappointment washed over her. She was very high up, higher than she had
thought, and there was no possible way to escape. She could jump, of course,
but even now, with Baralis' fatal promises still ringing in her ears, suicide
was not an option. Maybor's daughter had more courage than that.

She had hoped for
a little luck, though-just a smidgen of her father's famous luck. It wasn't to
be. Melli took one final look at the drop and then stepped down from the chest.
Maybe it was a good thing; if her father was still alive, freezing up on a
mountain, then he needed to keep all the luck for himself. She couldn't
begrudge him that.

Melli didn't
bother hauling the chest back to its usual place. That sort of thing didn't
matter anymore. Tomorrow Kylock would come for her and nothing would ever
matter again.

The darkness
underneath the palace was alive with noises. Water dripped, rats scuttled, wood
creaked, and drafts whistled around corners and along the walls. With the lamps
out it was impossible to see anything except the occasional glint of wetness
and the whites of each others' eyes.

Tune was difficult
to judge and distance impossible. All Jack knew was that he was soaking wet and
chilled to the bone. His heart was racing fast despite the fact that he had
stopped running what seemed like a very long time ago, and his stomach had
contracted into a tight ball.

"Mind the
wood brace straight ahead," hissed Nabber. He was leading now, and Jack
could only wonder how he managed to find his way in the dark. After they'd all
dodged around the wood brace and taken a few steps up out of kneedeep water,
Nabber called a halt. "Not much further now," he said. "Once we
go through the passage to the left, we'll be in the part of the cellar they use
for storing foodstuffs and the like. There's not much chance of anyone being
around at this time o' night, but you can never tell."

"Hervo, ready
with your bow," said Crayne. "First sign of light and we move against
the walls."

"How do we
get to the nobles' quarters from here?" Tawl asked, his voice low and
urgent.

"I'm going to
show you," replied Nabber.

"No. You go
no further than here. I want you back waiting for Andris. "

"But--"

"No buts,
Nabber. Not this time. And when you've brought Andris this far, you turn back
again and get the hell out of here. I expect to find you waiting for me at the
hideout when I return. Is that clear?"

A small
disgruntled noise emanated from the dark shadow that was Nabber.

"Now give me
the directions."

A long pause followed
and then Nabber reluctantly reeled off the directions. Jack didn't bother to
listen to them: he was too keyed up to remember anything. All he could think
about was Kylock. He could feel him now-he was sure of it. Kylock's presence
pulled at his blood, forcing it to the surface in a hot, dizzying blush. His
heart told him that Baralis didn't matter: his blood ran only for Kylock. Jack
didn't even notice when Nabber stopped speaking. A hand on his arm made him
jump.

"Jack? Are
you all right?" It was Tawl. "Come on, we've got to get going."

"Nabber-"

"Bye, Jack.
Good luck and all that. See you back at the hideout." Nabber's voice faded
into the distance.

Jack wanted to say
something-to thank him, to warn him to be careful-but his mind couldn't find
the words. "Weapons out now, everyone," said Crayne as soon as Nabber
was out of hearing range. "Hervo, you come forward and lead. Jack, fall in
line right behind him."

Jack slid his
sword from its sheath. He was grateful that Hervo was leading the way; he didn't
want the others knowing he hadn't listened to a word Nabber said.

A dim glint of
light shone down the passage, brightening the farther they went. Gradually a
world began to emerge from the darkness: stone barreled ceilings, storage
barrels stacked high, elaborately carved doorways leading back into darkness,
and stairs leading up to the light.

A soft noise
sounded to the left. A shadow that had been static started to move across the
wall. Hervo brought arrow to bow and shot into the dark comer. A startled
intake of breath was followed by a dull thud. Hervo already had a second arrow
nocked. He aimed but didn't shoot.

Tawl sprang ahead,
sword out before him. After a moment his voice came from the shadows.
"He's dead. Looks like a servant."

Crayne glanced at
Hervo. "It must be two hours past midnight now."

Hervo nodded.
"If he was a servant, then he must have been a crooked one. No decent
man's up at this hour."

"Jack, come
and give me a hand with the body," called Tawl.

Jack's eyes were
finally growing accustomed to the dim light. He found Tawl in the corner
crouching down next to a man with an arrow in his gut. Together they dragged
the body behind a row of beer barrels. A line of blood dripped down the man's
britches and onto the floor, but there was nothing they could do about that.

As they shifted
the barrels to better conceal the body, Jack felt Tawl's hand brush against his
cheek. "I thought so," he whispered. "You're burning up. What's
the matter?"

Jack shook his
head. How could he tell Tawl that Kylock's presence was sucking his blood to
the surface? "It's all right, I'm not sick," he said. "Just on
edge."

Tawl grabbed his
shoulders and studied his face for a minute. Finally he said, "Be
careful."

"You two,
hurry up," hissed Crayne. Jack was grateful for the distraction: Tawl
looked worried, and that made him worried, too.

It took them a
while to find the concealed door leading up into the palace's secret
passageways. It was at the back of a shadowed recess and looked more like a
wood panel than a door. The entrance was extremely narrow--not more than the
length of a man's forearm-and Jack had to turn side-on to squeeze through. Once
inside, the passage grew only slightly wider. Crayne passed along a lit
lantern. In the confined space, the oil smoke was noxious and Jack had to hold
the lamp out at arm's length to stop himself from coughing.

"These
passages were built to be undetectable from outside," said Crayne,
glancing around. "They're so narrow that anyone looking would just think
they're a thick wall, nothing more." He waited until Tawl had closed the
door behind him. "Right. Let's get a move on."

Jack saw a rat
scuttle across his path. The shock nearly made him drop the lantern.

"Easy,
lad," said Crayne.

Jack shunted along
the wall, taking turns when Crayne indicated. His fingertips trailed over soft
mosses, cobwebs, and cold trickles of water. The air in the passage was thin
and it had to be taken in quick breaths to satisfy the lungs. They came upon a
flight of steep steps and Jack's heart thumped hard as he took them. As always
these days, the rhythm was straight from Larn. What had started two months ago
as something frightening now became a comfort to him. It was almost as if it
were beating to keep him safe.

"Sharp right
at the top," warned Crayne. Somewhere along the line, the leader of the
party had figured out that Jack didn't know the way.

Jack took the
right, then flew up another flight of stairs that ended in a wooden panel. A
gentle press on the panel sent it swinging forward. A heavy brocade curtain
flapped against Jack's face. On the other side of the panel was a thin brick
facing that had been cut to mimic the exact lines of the wall. Pushing through
the curtain, Jack came face-to-face with a guard. Not pausing to think, he
swung the oil lamp straight for the man's eyes. The man brought up his hands to
stop himself from being burnt, and Jack sent a clean slice to his gut.
Wrenching his sword free of the guard's stomach, Jack stepped to the side as
the man fell forward. Blood pumped from the gash.

Crayne pushed past
Jack, swinging around to take in both sides of the corridor. "Guards
always come in pairs," he said. "Hervo, cover us while we put the
body in the passage."

Jack bent down and
wiped his blade against the guard's shoulder. As he stood up to make way for
Tawl, he felt a quick thrill of dizziness pass over his body: Kylock was very
close now.

Tawl and Crayne
hauled the guard into the passage while Hervo checked the corridor ahead. No
second guard appeared Jack caught a tense glance passing between Hervo and
Crayne.

As soon as the
body was out of sight, they headed eastward down the corridor. On the long
stretches, Hervo would take the lead--his bow could bring a man down at any
distance--but as soon as they neared a turning, Hervo dropped back and Tawl and
Crayne came forward. An armed man waiting around a corner could cut down a
marksman in an instant.

Along the way they
killed two more guards and one doddering nobleman in his nightshirt. Hervo
took
the guards with his bow, and Crayne used metal
wire to
silence then
kill the old man, who had surprised everyone by emerging into the corridor just
behind Tawl. They were in the heart of the nobles' quarters now, and Jack could
feel the blood swelling across his cheeks. They passed one corridor that was
well-lit with torches and well-insulated with carpets, and Jack knew, he just
knew,
that down there lay Kylock's chambers. His blood expanded like mercury in a
glass, making his head feel ready to burst.

Later, he told
himself, later. Melli had to come first. Finally they reached the point where
Nabber's instructions ran out. A stone gallery led to the left of them,
curtained stairs straight ahead, and to the right ran an unlit passage.
Everyone was tense; the slightest noise brought up blades and the merest
flicker of a shadow nocked Hervo's bow. Tawl made a brief sally into all three
areas. No one said a word while he was gone. Back-to-back they formed a
triangle and waited for him to return. Seconds took on the feel of minutes, and
minutes themselves became hours.

"I think it's
up here," hissed Tawl, emerging from behind the curtain. "The
masonry's less ornate, and the color of the stone flags changes at the base of
the first step-it looks like the stairs were built later."

Crayne nodded.
"Then there's a good chance it leads to the annex." He swung around
to face Jack. "You go with Tawl. Hervo and I will stay here and keep the
retreat clear."

Jack hadn't
expected this. He thought they'd all go up together.

His surprise must
have shown on his face, for Crayne quickly added, "Look, if there's
anything up there you can't handle, just shout out and I'll be up those stairs
before you know it."

Jack took a quick
breath before he said, "It wasn't me I was thinking about."

Crayne gave him a
sharp look. "It goes the other way, too, Jack. I'm counting on you and
Tawl to get back here as quickly as possible." His voice was level, but as
he spoke his gaze scanned all four passages. "Besides, someone's got to
stay here to keep an eye out for Andris. Otherwise there'd be no way of telling
which way we'd gone."

Tawl came to stand
by Jack's side. He looked first at Crayne and then Hervo, clasping each man's
hand in turn. "Keep yourselves safe. We'll be back as soon as we
can."