Rise Of Empire (26 page)

The moist, steamy smell of the boiling cabbage and wood smoke filled the bakery. The candles Arista lit flickered with the opening of the door. Arbor was stirring the pot while Arista set the table. Both looked up, startled.

“Hadrian hasn’t shown?”

“No,” Arista replied.

“We need to get going,” Royce told her.

“Now? But what about Hadrian?”

“He’ll have to catch up. Get your things.”

Arista hesitated only a moment and then crossed to the flour storage to gather her bags.

“Can’t you even stay for dinner?” Arbor asked. “It’s almost ready.”

“We need to get moving. We have a—” Royce stopped as he heard the noisy approach of a horse and cart being driven fast down the road. It stopped just out front, so close they could hear the driver pull the hand brake. Dunstan came through the door a moment later.

“Hadrian’s been arrested!” he announced hurriedly, and then he pointed at Royce and Arista. “The steward ordered your arrests as well.”

“Their arrests?” Arbor said, shocked. “But why?”

“The bailiff was wrong. It looks like Luret has more influence than he thought,” Royce muttered. “Let’s get the horses.”

“His Lordship’s soldiers were just behind me as I started down the hill. They will be here in minutes,” Dunstan said.

“My horse is down by the river,” Etcher said. “It can carry two.”

Royce was thinking quickly, calculating risks and outcomes. “You take her to the rendezvous on your horse, then,” he told Etcher. “I’ll see what I can do to help Hadrian. With
any luck, we’ll catch up to you. If we don’t, it shouldn’t matter.” He looked at Arista. “From what I’ve heard of your
contact,
he will see to your safety even if he ultimately declines your offer.”

“Don’t worry about me.” The princess rushed toward the door with her bags. “I’ll be fine. Just make sure that Hadrian is okay.”

Taking a bag and the princess’s hand, Etcher pulled her out into the night and dodged into the shadows of the buildings.

Royce followed them out, caught hold of the eaves, and climbed up on the Bakers’ shake roof, where he crouched in the shadow of the chimney, listening. He watched about half a dozen men with torches moving fast down the main street from the direction of the manor. They stopped first at the livery, then went to the Bakers’.

“Where are the strangers that rode in with the old blacksmith’s son?” a loud voice he had not heard before demanded.

“They left hours ago,” Dunstan replied.

Royce heard a grunt and a crash, followed by a scream from Arbor and the sound of furniture falling over.

“Their horses are still in the livery. We saw you race from the manor to warn them! Now where are they?”

“Leave him alone!” Arbor shouted. “They ran out when they heard you coming. We don’t know where. They didn’t tell us anything.”

“If you’re lying, you’ll be arrested for treason and hanged, do you understand?”

There was a brief silence.

“Fan out in pairs. You two cover the bridge. You and you search the fields, and you two start going door-to-door. Until further notice, all citizens of Hintindar are to remain in their homes. Arrest anyone outside. Now move!”

The men, marked conveniently by their flaming torches,
scattered out of the bakery in all directions, leaving Royce to watch them scurrying about. He glanced across the dark fields. Etcher would have no trouble avoiding the foot search. Once they reached his horse, they would be gone. Arista was safely on her way, his job done. All he had to worry about now was Hadrian.

The manor house’s jail was less a dungeon and more an old well. Forced to descend by a rope, Hadrian was left trapped at the bottom. He waited in silence, looking up at the stars. The rising moon cast a shaft of pale light that descended the wall, marking the slow passage of the night.

Cold spring water seeped in through the walls, leaving them damp and creating a shallow pool at the base. With his feet tiring, Hadrian eventually sat in the cold puddle. Jagged rocks hidden under the water added to his misery. In time, he was forced to stand again to fight the cold.

The moonlight was more than halfway down the wall when Hadrian heard voices and movement from above. Dark silhouettes appeared and the iron grate scraped as it slid clear. A rope lowered and Hadrian thought they had reconsidered. He stood up to take hold of it, but stopped when he saw another figure coming down.

“In ya go,” someone at the top ordered, and laughed, his voice echoing. “We keep all our rats down there!”

The figure was nimble and descended quickly.

“Royce?” Hadrian asked. “They—they
captured you?”

The rope was pulled up and the grate slid back in place.

“More or less,” he replied, glancing around. “Not much on accommodations, are they?”

“I can’t believe they caught you.”

“It wasn’t as easy as you’d think. They aren’t very bright.” Royce reached out and let his fingers run over the glistening walls. “Was this just a well that went dry?”

“Hintindar doesn’t have much need for a big prison.” Hadrian shook his head. “So you
let
them capture you?”

“Ingenious, don’t you think?”

“Oh, brilliant.”

“I figured it was the easiest way to find you.” Royce shuffled his feet in the water, grimacing. “So what’s your excuse? Did they come for you with an army of twenty heavily armored men?”

“They caught me sleeping.”

Royce shot him a skeptical look.

“Let’s just say I was put in a position where I’d have to kill people and I chose not to. This is my home, remember. I don’t want to be known as a killer here.”

“So it
is
good I didn’t slit throats. I’m smarter than I thought.”

“Oh yes, I can see the genius in your plan.” Hadrian looked up. “How do you suggest we get out now?”

“Eventually, Luret will haul us out and hand us over to a press-gang, just as he threatened. We’ll serve in the imperial army for a few days, learn what we can, and then slip away. We can report what we discover to Alric for an added bonus.”

“What about Arista?”

“She’s safely on her way to the rendezvous with Gaunt. Etcher arrived just before dark and I sent her with him. She’ll likely stay with Gaunt, sending dispatches back to Melengar via messengers until Alric’s forces join with the Nationalists.”

“And if Gaunt turns her down?”

“It’s in Gaunt’s best interest to see to her safety. It’s not like he’s going to turn her over to the empire. She’ll probably end up returning to Melengar by sea. Actually, it’s better we aren’t
with her. If Merrick
is
out there, I’m sure he’ll be more interested in me than her. So that job is complete.”

“I guess there is that to be thankful for, at least.”

Royce chuckled.

“What?”

“I’m just thinking about Merrick. He’ll have no idea where I am now. My disappearance will drive him crazy.”

Hadrian sat down.

“Isn’t that water cold?” Royce asked, watching him and making an unpleasant face.

He nodded. “And the bottom has sharp rocks coated in a disgusting slime.”

Royce looked up at the opening once more, then gritted his teeth and slowly eased himself down across from Hadrian. “Oh yeah, real comfortable.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the breeze flutter across the grating. It made a humming noise when it blew just right. Occasionally, a droplet of water would drip into the pool with a surprisingly loud
plop!
magnified by the chamber.

“You realize that with this job over, I’m officially retired.”

“I assumed as much.” Royce fished beneath him, withdrew a rock, and tossed it aside.

“I was thinking of returning here. Maybe Grimbald could use a hand, or Armigil. She’s getting older now and probably would welcome a partner. Those barrels can be heavy and brewing beer has its perks.”

Moonlight revealed Royce’s face. He looked tense.

“I know you’re not happy with this, but I really need a change. I’m not saying I’ll stay here. I probably won’t, but it’s a start. I consider it practice for a peaceful life.”

“And that’s what you want, a peaceful life? No more dreams of glory?”

“That’s all they were, Royce, just dreams. It’s time I faced that and got on with my life.”

Royce sighed. “I’ve something to tell you. I should have told you a long time ago, but … I guess I was afraid you’d do something foolish.” He paused. “No, that’s not true either. It’s just taken me a while to see that you have the right to know.”

“Know what?”

Royce looked around him. “I never thought I’d be telling you in a place like this, but I must admit it could be a benefit that they took your weapons.” He pulled out Danbury’s letter.

“How do you have that?” Hadrian asked.

“From Arista.”

“Why didn’t they take it when they grabbed you?”

“Are you kidding? I practically had to remind them to take my dagger. They don’t seem too accustomed to thieves, much less ones that turn themselves in.” Royce handed the note to Hadrian. “What did you think of when you read this?”

“That my father died filled with pain and regret. He believed the words of a selfish fifteen-year-old that he was a coward and wasted his life. It’s bad enough I left him, but I had to paint that stain on him before leaving.”

“Hadrian, I don’t think this letter had anything to do with your leaving. I think it’s due to your heritage. I think your father was trying to tell you something about your past.”

“How would you know? You never met my father. You’re not making any sense.”

Royce sighed. “Last year in Avempartha, Esrahaddon was using a spell to find the heir.”

“I remember. You told me that before.”

“But I didn’t tell you everything. The spell didn’t find the heir exactly, but rather magical amulets worn by him and his guardian. Esrahaddon made the necklaces so he could locate the wearers and prevent other wizards from finding them. As
I told you, I didn’t recognize the face of the heir. He was some guy with blond hair and blue eyes I’d never seen before.”

“And this is important why?”

“I didn’t know, at least not for certain, not really. I always thought Esra was using us. That’s mainly why I never told you. I wanted to be sure it was true, and that’s why I asked you to come and why I led us here.”

Royce paused a moment, then asked, “Where did you get that necklace, the amulet you wear under your shirt?”

“I told you, my father …” Hadrian paused, staring at Royce, his hand unconsciously rising to his neck to feel the necklace.

“I didn’t recognize the heir … but I did recognize the guardian. Your father had a secret, Hadrian—a
big
secret.”

Hadrian continued to stare at Royce. His mind flashed back to his youth, to his gray-haired father, spending day after day toiling humbly on the anvil and forge, making harrows and plowshares. He recalled Danbury growling at him to clean the shop.

“No,” Hadrian said. “My father was a blacksmith.”

“How many blacksmiths teach their sons ancient Teshlor combat skills, most of which have been lost for centuries? Where did you get that big spadone sword you’ve carried on your back since I first met you? Was that your father’s too?”

Hadrian slowly nodded and felt a chill raise the hairs on his arms. He had never told Royce about that. He had never told anyone. He had taken the sword the night he had left. He had needed his own blade. Da often had several weapons in his shop, but taking them would have cost his father money. Instead, he had taken the only weapon he felt his father would not miss. Da had kept the spadone hidden in a small compartment under the shop’s fifth floorboard. Danbury had taken it out only once, a long time ago, when Hadrian’s mother had
still been alive. At the time, Hadrian was very young, and now the memory was hard to recall. His mother was asleep and Hadrian should have been as well, but something had woken him. Crawling out of bed, he had found his father in the shop. Da had been drinking Armigil’s ale and was sitting on the floor in the glow of the forge. In his hands, he cradled the huge two-handed sword, talking to it as if it were a person. He was crying. In fifteen years of living with the man, Hadrian had seen him cry only that one time.