Theft Of Swords: The Riyria Revelations (11 page)

“Hand me the twine,” Hadrian barked to Royce, who was watching the wrestling match with quiet amusement. Royce casually tossed him a small coil, and when Hadrian at last had the prince secured, he sat back down to rest.

“See,” Royce said, “
that’s
more like fishing; only fish don’t kick, of course.”

“Okay, so it was a bad idea.” Hadrian rubbed his side where the prince had hit him.

“By brutalizing me, the two of you have sentenced yourselves to death! You know that, don’t you?”

“That’s a bit redundant, don’t you think, Your Majesty?”
Royce inquired. “Seeing as how you already sentenced us to death once today.”

The prince rolled onto his side, tilting his head back, squinted against the brilliant sunlight.

“You!” he shouted, amazed. “But how did you—Arista!” His eyes narrowed in anger. “Not jealous, is she! My dear sister is behind all this! She hired you to kill my father, and now she plans to eliminate me so she can rule!”

“The king was
her
father as well. Besides, if we wanted to kill you, don’t you think you’d already be dead?” Royce asked. “Why would we go to all the trouble of hauling you down this river? We could have slit your throat, weighed you down with rocks, and dumped you hours ago. I might add that such a fate would still be considerably better than what you had planned for us.”

The prince considered this for a moment. “So it’s ransom, then. Do you intend to sell me to the highest bidder? Did she promise you a profit from my sale? You’re both fools if you believe that. Arista will never allow it. She’ll see me dead. She has to in order to secure her seat on the throne. You won’t get a copper!”

“Listen, you little royal pain in the ass, we didn’t kill your father. In fact, for what it’s worth, I thought old Amrath was a fair king, as far as they go. We also aren’t ransoming or selling you.”

“Well, you certainly aren’t trussing me up like a pig to get in my good graces. Now exactly what
are
you doing with me?” The prince struggled against his bonds but eventually settled down.

“If you really want to know, we are trying to save your life. As strange as that may seem,” Hadrian said.

“You’re what?” Alric asked, stunned.

“Your sister seems to think someone residing in the
castle—the same lot that killed your father—is plotting to kill everyone in the royal family. Because you would be the next likely target, she freed us to smuggle you out for your own safety.”

Alric pulled his legs up under him and worked his way to a sitting position with his back resting up against the pile of white-and-red striped buoys. He stared at the two of them for a moment. “If Arista didn’t hire you to kill my father, then exactly what were you doing in the castle tonight?”

Hadrian provided a quick summary of his meeting with DeWitt, to which the prince listened without interruption.

“And then Arista came to you in the dungeon with this story, asking you to abduct me to keep me safe?”

“Trust me,” Hadrian said. “If there was another way to get out of there, we would have left you.”

“So you actually believe her? You’re dumber than I thought,” Alric said, shaking his head. “Don’t you see what she’s doing? She’s out to have the kingdom for herself.”

“If that were so, why would she have us kidnap you?” Royce asked. “Why not just have you killed like your father?”

Alric thought a moment, his eyes drifting to the floor of the boat, and then he nodded. “She most likely tried.” He looked back at them. “I wasn’t in my room last night. I slipped out for a rendezvous and fell asleep until I heard the noise. It’s very likely an assassin was sent for me but I wasn’t there. After that, I had a guard with me at all times until Arista convinced me I had to come alone to the kitchen. I should have known she was betraying me.”

He swung his bound legs into the mound of nets. “I just never thought she could be so cold as to kill our father, but that’s how she is, you see. She’s extremely clever. She told you this story about a traitor, and it was believable because it was
true. She only lied about not knowing who it was. Once her assassin missed me, she used you. It was more likely that you’d agree to a kidnapping rather than murder, so she set you up.”

Royce did not answer but glanced at Hadrian.

“There was this boat,” the prince went on, looking around him, “perfect for your needs waiting at the river’s edge.”

Alric dipped his head at the tarp next to him. “How nice to have a boat with a cover like this to hide me under. With a nice boat, and a river, you wouldn’t be tempted to stray off the water. You can’t go upstream from the city. The headwaters are too rough. You have to go toward the sea. She knows exactly where we are, and where we’ll be. Did she say where to take me? Is it somewhere down this river?”

“Lake Windermere.”

“Ah, the Winds Abbey? It’s not far from Roe, and this river travels toward it. How convenient! Of course, we’ll never make it,” the prince told them. “She’ll have killers waiting along the bank. They will murder us. She’ll say you two killed me, just as you killed my father. And, of course, her guards killed you when you tried to flee. She’ll have a wonderful burial for me and my father. The next day she will call Bishop Saldur to perform her coronation.”

Royce and Hadrian sat in silence.

“Do you need more proof?” the prince went on. “You say this fellow that hired you was called DeWitt? You said he was from Calis? Arista returned from a visit there only two months ago. Perhaps she made some new friends. Perhaps she promised them land in Melengar in return for help with a troublesome father and brother who stood between her and the crown.”

“We need to get off this river,” Royce told Hadrian.

“You think he’s right?” Hadrian asked.

“Doesn’t matter at this point. Even if he’s wrong, the owner
of this boat will report it stolen. When news leaks out that the prince is missing, they will connect the two.”

Hadrian stood up and looked downstream. “If I were them, I would send a group of riders down the riverbank in case we stopped and another set of riders running fast down the Westfield road to catch us at Wicend Ford. It would only take them three or four hours.”

“Which means they could already be there,” Royce concluded.

“We need to get off this river,” Hadrian said.

The boat came into view of Wicend Ford, a flat, rocky area where the river widened abruptly and became shallow enough to cross. Farmer Wicend had built a small stock shelter of split rails close to the water, allowing his animals to graze and drink unattended; it was a pretty spot. Thick hedges of heldaberry bushes lined the bank, and a handful of yellowing willows bent so low toward the river that their branches touched the water and created ripples and whimsical whirlpools along the surface.

The moment the boat entered the shallows, hidden archers launched a rain of arrows from the bank. One struck the gunwale with a thud. A second and third found their target in the royal falcon insignia emblazoned on the back of the prince’s robe. The figure in the robe fell from view into the bottom of the boat. More arrows found their marks in the chest of the tillerman, who dropped into the water, and the pole man, who merely slumped to one side.

From behind the screen of bushes and willows, six men emerged, dressed in browns, dirty greens, and autumn golds. They entered the river, waded out, and caught the still drifting boat.

“It’s official, we’re dead,” Royce declared comically. “Interestingly enough, the first arrows hit Alric.”

The three of them were lying concealed in the tall field grass atop the eastern hill overlooking the river upstream of the ford. Less than a hundred yards to their right lay the Westfield road. From there, the road ran along the riverbank all the way to Roe, where the river joined the sea.

“Now do you believe me?” the prince asked.

“It only proves that someone is indeed trying to kill you and that they are not us. They’re not soldiers either, or at least they aren’t in uniform, so they could be anyone,” Royce told them.

“How can he see so much—the arrows, their clothing? I can only see movement and color from this distance,” Alric said.

Hadrian shrugged.

The prince was now dressed in the clothes of the steward’s son: a loose-fitting gray tunic, worn and faded wool knee-length britches, brown stockings, and a tattered, stained wool cloak, which was too long. He wore on his feet a pair of shoes that were little more than soft leather bags tied at his ankles. Although the prince was no longer bound, Hadrian kept hold of a rope tethered around his waist. Hadrian also carried the prince’s sword for him.

“They’re moving in on the boat,” Royce announced.

All Hadrian could really see were shadowy movements under the trees until one of the men stepped out into the sunlight to grab the bow of the boat.

“It won’t be long before they discover they’ve only killed three bushels of thickets wrapped in old clothes,” Hadrian told Royce. “So I’d be quick.”

Royce nodded and promptly trotted down the slope.

“What’s he doing?” Alric asked in shock. “He’ll get himself killed and us as well!”

“That’s one opinion,” Hadrian said. “Just sit tight.”

Royce slipped into the shade of the trees, and Hadrian immediately lost sight of him. “Where’d he go?” the prince asked with a puzzled look on his face.

Once more Hadrian shrugged.

Below them, the men converged on the boat, and Hadrian heard a distant shout. He could not make out the words, but he saw someone holding up the Alric-bush complete with arrows. Two of the men remained with the boat while the others waded toward the bank. Just then, Hadrian caught sight of movement in the trees, a train of tethered horses trotting up the slope toward him and Alric. From the bank came shouts of alarm and cursing as the distant figures struggled to race across the field and up the hill.

When the horses drew nearer, Hadrian spotted Royce crouched down, hanging between the two foremost animals. He caught two of the horses, pulled the bridle off one, and quickly tied a lead line to the other horse’s halter. He ordered Alric to mount. Angry shouts erupted as the archers spotted them. Two or three stopped to fit arrows but their uphill shots fell short. Before they could close the distance, the three mounted and galloped toward the road.

Royce led them a mile northwest to where the Westfield and Stonemill roads intersected. Here Hadrian, and by default Alric, rode west. Royce, leading the train of captured horses, stayed behind to cloud their tracks and then rode north. An hour later he caught up with them with only the horse he rode. They turned off the road into an open field and headed away from the river but still moved generally westward.

The horses had built up a solid sweat and were puffing for air. When the men reached the hedgerow lands, they
slowed their pace. Eventually they reached the thickets, and there they stopped and dismounted. Alric found a spot clear of thornbushes and sat down, fussing with his tunic, which did not hang on him quite right. Royce and Hadrian took the opportunity to search the animals. There were no markings, symbols, parchments, or emblems of any kind to identify the attackers. Moreover, except for a spare crossbow and a handful of bolts left on Hadrian’s mount, they wore only saddles.

“You’d think they would have some bread at least. Who travels without water?” Hadrian complained.

“They clearly didn’t expect to be out long.”

“Why do you still have me tethered?” the prince asked, irritated. “This is extremely humiliating.”

“I don’t want you getting lost,” Hadrian replied with a grin.

“There’s no reason to drag me around any further. I accept that you did not kill my father. My cunning sister merely fooled you. It’s quite understandable. She’s very intelligent. She even fooled me. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to return to my castle so I can deal with her before she consolidates her power and has the whole army turned out to hunt me down. As for you two, you can go wherever Maribor dictates. I really don’t care.”

“But your sister said—” Hadrian began.

“My sister just tried to have us all killed back there, or weren’t you paying attention?”

“We have no proof it was her. If we let you return to Essendon, and she is right, you’ll be walking to your death.”

“And what proof do we have it wasn’t her? Do you still intend to escort me to wherever she told you to take me? Don’t you think she’ll have another trap waiting? I see my death far more probable on the road there than on any other road. Look, this is my life; I think it’s fair for me to decide. Besides,
what do you care if I live or die? I was about to have you two tortured to death. Remember?”