The Orphan King (19 page)

T
homas woke with the sour taste of heavy sleep in his mouth. He rolled into a sitting position and wiped straw from his face.
How is a person to mark the passage of time in this dark hole?
he muttered in his mind.
No bells to mark the church offices; no sun to mark dawn or nightfall
.

In the unending flickering of torches, Thomas could see that Waleran lay huddled motionless on one side of the cell; William snored gently in his corner.

The knight is tired too
, Thomas observed.

Because he knew the boredom that stretched ahead, Thomas concentrated on a routine to delay his restlessness. He plucked from his mind the first of many well-worn questions, determined to gnaw it yet again, like an animal searching for the tiniest shred of undiscovered meat.

It demanded patience to turn first one question, then another, over and over in his mind, to approach it from every angle, to fit different facts into place. In four days of captivity, Thomas had concluded nothing new from all his questions and thoughts. However, all he had was time, and the questions, like him, would not leave the cell.

Who is this knight?
Thomas asked himself.
A man of honor, he fulfilled his pledge by entering the castle walls of Magnus. He has become a friend, yet he speaks nothing of his past, nothing of his own quest
.

Regardless of his past, he, like any knight, no doubt could easily defeat a dozen unarmed and untrained peasants. But William no longer had a sword or chain mail, for he had been searched before being thrown into the dungeon, with loud, angry questions about how the objects had come into his possession, questions William answered by saying he’d stolen them.

Thomas, in his well-rehearsed routine, moved to the next question. What would happen to Tiny John and Isabelle?

Tiny John, no doubt, could well find a way to survive. But was Isabelle withstanding the terrors of being alone and friendless in Magnus? Thomas let worry fill his hunger-pinched stomach. And guilt, remembering how she’d protested the journey to Magnus and how she’d predicted the worst would happen. What work would she find to sustain her? What stranger might treat her with kindness? Or—Thomas dreaded the thought—would she simply flee Magnus and disappear from his life forever?

Thomas smiled at his own foolishness. Logic told him that—barring a miracle—he and the knight would never leave this cell for anything but death by hanging. Worrying about a future with a girl should not even be a concern.

Thomas moved to his next question.

He closed his eyes and pictured himself in the panicked darkness in front of the scaffold less than a week earlier. Again and again, Thomas replayed those few minutes of terror beneath a blackened sky. The old man had known it was Thomas beneath those robes. The old man had known how Thomas had given the illusions of power. And the old man had known of his desire to win Magnus.

How had that mysterious old man known so much? Who was the
old man? And what had Sarah meant about the Immortals? Would he find out here in Magnus?

And then there was the question of escape. Thomas’s power came from prepared potions and other trickery he could manage as if it were magic. He had none now, for he’d carefully hidden everything in his sacks outside Magnus before entering. And William had no weapons.

It appeared the two of them were helpless, but surely he could think of some kind of solution, couldn’t he? Thomas attacked that problem with such intensity that William had to clap his hands to get his attention.

“Thomas, you scowl as if we have lost all hope.”

Thomas blinked himself free from his trance and answered the knight’s easy smile. “Never!” Although it felt like a hollow promise.

William yawned. “My mouth is as vile as goat’s dung. Even the water from this roof will be better.”

The knight moved beneath one of the eternal drips and opened his mouth wide. After several patient minutes of collecting water, he rinsed and spit into a far corner of the cell.

Waleran unfolded from his motionless huddle and grumbled, “Must you be so noisy? My friends will never venture forth.”

William merely yawned again and said, “Precisely.”

Before Waleran could retort, the door rattled.

“A visitor,” droned the jailer.

“Impossible,” Waleran said. “Not once in ten years has a visitor been permitted to—”

The door lurched open, and the jailer’s hand appeared briefly as he pushed a stumbling figure inside. Thomas tried not to stare. Caked and dirty bandages still suggested mutilated horror. A downcast head and dropped shoulders still projected fear.

Katherine. In one hand, she held a candle on a holder, the flame barely casting any light in the dimness of the cell. In her other hand, she gripped the handle of a basket.

“Who is this wretched creature?” Waleran demanded.

Thomas spun, shoved his palm into Waleran’s chest and drove him backward into the filth.

“Another word and you shall pay—,” Thomas began in a low, tight voice.

William stepped between them. “Thomas …”

Thomas sucked air between gritted teeth to calm himself as Waleran scrabbled backward into his corner.

“Please do not hurt him,” Katherine said clearly. “To be called ‘wretched creature’ is an insult only if I choose to believe it.”

Thomas turned to her. She had set down her basket and candle holder and stood waiting, hands behind her back. She was only slightly shorter than he. Her voice, still muffled by the swathed bandages, had a low sweetness.

“I beg your pardon,” Thomas said. It pained him to look at her. Not because she was a freak, but because he remembered his own pain and loneliness. It tore at his heart to imagine how much worse she felt her private agony.

“How is it you are allowed to visit?” William asked.

Katherine’s head dipped in shyness. “Every day since your capture, I have brought hot meals to the captain of the guards. I have washed his laundry, cleaned his rooms.”

“Bribery!” William laughed. “But why?”

Katherine knelt and set the basket on the floor. “Because of the candle shop. Not once has a person defended me as you both did,” she answered. “Prisoners here do not fare well. I wished to comfort you.”

Still kneeling, she pulled away the cloth that covered the basket. The light of the candle showed bread. Apples. Chicken. Cheese.

“These luxuries are more than you can afford,” Thomas protested.

“Please,” she said, setting the candle holder beside the basket. “Rarely am I treated with kindness. And rarely am I able to return a kindness. This is what I want to do.”

“Thank you,” Thomas said. Refusing would rob her of dignity.

“I have little time,” Katherine said. “If it pleases you, Thomas, I wish to speak privately.”

The jail cell was so small that to accomplish it, she backed up to the cell door, and Thomas had to step within inches of her and whisper lightly enough to keep the sound from going more than a few feet.

“You know my name,” Thomas said.

“Your friend Tiny John told me.”

“Tiny John! He is well?”

“As long as he continues to avoid the soldiers.” He had to strain to hear the softness of her voice. “Many of the shopkeepers take delight in helping that rascal. They like to see the soldiers made fools of.”

Thomas pictured Tiny John darting from hiding spot to hiding spot, never losing his grin. “And the girl?”

Katherine drew a quick breath and turned her head away as she spoke. “The girl truly is beautiful. And you are very handsome. I understand your concern.”

Thomas silently cursed himself. Here she stood, knowing her hideous face prevented her from competing for more affection. And while she waited, with the only gifts she could afford, the passing stranger betrayed such obvious concern for another with beauty she would never have.
Thoughtless cruelty of the worst type
.

Katherine faced him squarely again, but her voice trembled as she whispered. “She has disappeared. But if you ask, I shall inquire for you and search until she is found.”

“No. Please do not look for her.” He blocked thoughts of Isabelle and measured his words carefully. “We might ask instead that you honor us with another visit.”

The squaring of her shoulders told him he had answered correctly.

Besides, he consoled himself, even if Katherine found Isabelle, what good would it accomplish?

The jailer rapped on the door. “Be quick about leaving.”

“Tomorrow,” Katherine whispered, taking his hands, “we shall talk of escape.”

“Escape?” he whispered.

She pressed a piece of paper into his palm. He closed his fingers on it.

“Step backward,” she said.

Puzzled, he obeyed. His heel hit the basket. As he glanced down, he noticed that she nudged the candle with her foot. It toppled into the straw on the floor, and flames immediately leapt upward.

Waleran shouted warning. The knight jumped to his feet.

Katherine kicked at the straw and the flames spread.

As Waleran darted forward to stomp out the flames, she took advantage of the distraction and pressed herself against Thomas, pulling a short sword from beneath her dirty shawl.

In a flash, he understood and slipped it beneath his own shirt. He stomped the remaining flames out alongside Waleran and the knight.

“You stupid, stupid girl!” Waleran shouted, whirling toward Katherine. “That could have been the death of us.”

“Treat her with respect!” Thomas stepped between them, and the man retreated.

Thomas turned to say good-bye to Katherine, but she had already backed away to the cell door, and the guard was roughly pulling her outside, cursing her for the smoky accident.

Later, when Waleran was on his side and sleeping with his face to the far wall, Thomas opened the slip of paper that Katherine had given him.

He thought it was strange that she assumed he could read. Equally strange that she could read. And even more strange, the contents of the note.

You will find paper and quill hidden beneath the food to allow us to plan escape. Be cautious of what you say in front of the other prisoner. I learned from the guards he was brought into this prison only hours before you arrived
.

H
ours later, Thomas stared at the ceiling of the dungeon cell, deep in thought. He’d been given a weapon. But how could it help?

Part of his mind idly noted each new drop of falling water.
Water
. Thomas swallowed and licked dry lips.
Water
. He remembered how each morning the sour taste of sleep seemed so peculiar.
Water
. A new realization startled him.

He ran idea after idea through his mind. Then, much later, he spoke.

“Escape!” he whispered hoarsely. “I know how we can escape!”

On his back, eyes closed, William muttered, “Let me sleep. It’s the only escape I have.”

“Escape!” Thomas said again.

Waleran stirred from his patient perch near the hole where rats fled. “What’s that you say?”

Thomas grinned at Waleran in response, then stepped across the dungeon cell and shook the knight. “Escape!” He looked over to Waleran. “Yes! I said
escape
! I think I have an idea.”

“Lad, you’ve become delusional,” William said. “Tell me how you got there. I’d like to join you.”

“Not a delusion.” Thomas grinned at Waleran, then at the knight. “I have decided many things. One is this.” He paused and took a deep
breath. “William, I need you to trust me completely. I need that trust to ensure our escape plans will not fail.”

William nodded.

“Katherine will return. She made that promise. I will give her a message with instructions for John to retrieve the gold and give her enough to bribe the captain of the guards to leave the door unlocked.” Thomas paused. “We will need on that day the excellence of a knight who can fight as no other.”

William warned Thomas with a glance. “Where do we find such a knight?”

“Trust me.” Thomas added urgency to his voice. “Pledge your fighting skills on my behalf and you will be rewarded with the gold I have already earned.”

“You have me thoroughly puzzled, Thomas,” William said, giving a warning glance to indicate Thomas should shut his mouth in front of Waleran. “I have no skills to demonstrate. The sword and chain mail I stole from a knight.”

Thomas ignored the warning in William’s voice. “Come, come.” He laughed. “Such modesty.” He grinned again at Waleran. “He
is
a knight.”

Waleran’s jaw dropped. So did William’s. Each, Thomas had no doubt, for a different reason.

“Yes. A knight!” Thomas said. “Something no other person in Magnus knows. And his fighting skills will lead us to safety.” He gestured impatiently at William. “Please. Impress us with your swordplay.”

“You are a fool,” William growled. He lurched to his feet and wiped sleep from his eyes. “There is no sword in this prison cell.” He yawned and shook himself awake, much as a dog shakes water.

“No?” Thomas pulled the short sword Katherine had given him from his shirt and handed it to William.