Knoxx now knew himself to be in serious trouble. He was cursing his brother Devlin for getting him into this, as well as himself for underestimating those two men adorned in War Birth medallions, as he leapt down the corridor, away from where he’d been eavesdropping on the conversation going on inside Oliveah Oslund’s rooms.
He’d moved just in time. Taleb pulled open the door and began striding away down the corridor, on his way to speak to Lord Ean. Knoxx already knew what the result of that conversation was going to be—Lord Ean’s profuse denials that he’d ever housed or even heard of a man named Elvin Vikdal.
Elvin Vikdal. Devlin Alvik. Oh, how his brother loved his anagrams. Still, it was incredibly unlikely any here would ever uncover Devlin’s true identity—so long as they stayed clear of Aralexia. Incidentally, the city of the upcoming King’s Challenge, and where Oliveah was meaning to be in only a couple of weeks’ time. So long as he survived the mess he was now in, Knoxx knew he would have to find a way to warn his brother.
But that could wait, since it was presently his own skin under dire threat.
Now, as he’d been carefully shadowing Nathon for the past hour or so, he knew everything that had—correctly—been deduced about him, namely that he was in fact a mage gifted with the power of invisibility. He remained astounded at Nathon’s cleverness for figuring this out.
Nathon and Taleb’s further discussion regarding how they aimed to catch him had not been pleasant to listen to. Knoxx realized they assumed he was there for some shady purpose, perhaps even murder, and so they planned to hunt him down and deal with him accordingly. This was something Knoxx knew he would not survive. He also now had no means of escape, for there were a mass of guards camped directly before the gates. Knoxx figured he could likely blast through them with a spell, but this would drain the remainder of his strength, leaving him visible, exhausted, and completely vulnerable to any who took up the pursuit. He doubted he’d last minutes.
It was actually his exhaustion that had foiled him. Typically he could easily adopt a fluid and stealthy way of moving, always necessary when thieving or invisible, but his fatigue had begun to make him clumsy. He knew many had heard his footsteps, the sound of creaking doors he opened and closed, and even his occasional weary stumble. It had amused him to be presumed a ghost, but being careless enough to let Oliveah run into him that morning seemed to have been the key to his undoing. They knew he was a true, living person now.
And one armed with a dagger. This was a most unfortunate circumstance, for Knoxx had only taken the blade to dig out a splinter he’d gotten wedged into his thumb the day before. The flesh had by now turned red and puffy, and he’d simply been looking for a way to exorcise the wound. His intentions had been wildly misperceived however, and now Nathon and Taleb seemed to think he was planning an act of violence.
All things considered, Knoxx knew he really only had one chance of escaping this vineyard alive, and it was a slim chance at best. It also involved doing something he really did not wish to do, but, he was desperate, and figured having to swallow his pride was a small price to pay in exchange for his life.
Taking great pains to be silent, he started for the north tower. It was there, in the eyrie, that he’d actually slept his first night in the vineyard, thinking it a perfect spot since the tower stairs were so numerous he would hear anyone long before they reached him. He’d managed through that first night without incident, but arriving at his nest upon the second, he’d found a young girl already bunked down with the birds. Evidently, this discovery had caused him to curse, and the girl had heard him. Another foul-up of his own doing, although his fatigue, at that point, had begun to present a serious concern—very much as it was now.
Knoxx entered the tower, closed the heavy stone door behind him, and reappeared. He stood there for a moment, at the bottom of the stairs, just breathing deeply as his body adjusted from the sudden lack of strain. Then he ascended, still mindful to move as soundlessly as possible; with the castle now empty of all life but for the sequestered Oslunds, he knew full well that any sound, no matter how faint, would only draw the attention of the two men now intent upon seeing him dead. Oh, how he had underestimated those War Birth medallions.
He reached the summit of the stairs and moved on into the eyrie. There were currently fourteen crows present. The standard was fifteen, but he already knew that one was away, delivering a message about ghosts to some lord in Tyrell.
The remaining birds each represented one of Dhanen’Mar’s home cities. Within each of these cities rested a receiving area, typically a barn or tower, which all carrier-crows were trained to home in on. Once arrived, those who worked in these buildings would then remove the message, note who it was addressed to, and deliver it for a fee. By and large, it proved a fairly reliable system, so long as either the sender or receiver covered the requisite cost.
Knoxx turned away from the birds and stepped over to the large wooden chest running along the eyrie’s far wall. Quickly locating ink, quill, and parchment, he bent to scrawl his note, while being mindful to keep an ear tuned to the stairwell below.
Once finished, he quickly read over his words, evidencing a rather significant wince as he did so. He’d relayed his exact location, the fact that he was hiding out under the cover of invisibility while being hunted by two born to War, and then finished with a desperate plea for rescue.
He was completely unsure of how Flynn was going to react to this. On the one hand, the Thieves commander held to a strict code of loyalty, known to go to great lengths to aid any Thieves in need of help. But on the other, Knoxx had revealed nothing of his intentions to come here to the Oslund vineyard, a rather serious slight as far as his commander would be concerned.
He gave himself fifty-fifty odds on whether Flynn would make an appearance, or leave him here to die; odds he would have no choice but to accept, as he had no other options.
He rolled his message, forming a tiny scroll, and then added, “FLYNN FAJEN – URGENT” along its side before moving back to the crows.
All fourteen birds had a number painted onto their backs. Opening the cage, and hoping the animals weren’t about to kick up a ruckus at his invasion, he reached for the one displaying the number nine. Ninth-day was ruled by Thieves, so this was the crow trained to fly to Corbit’s Canyon.
To Knoxx’s relief, the birds remained calm and quiet, and he withdrew the nine-bird without incident. He affixed his message quickly, and then sent it off, only hoping no one on the grounds below would take note of its flight.
Corbit’s Canyon lay approximately four days ride from Tyrell. Knoxx therefore calculated the crow would in all likelihood reach it in only a matter of hours. The message would then be brought to Flynn immediately, given its outer markings indicating urgency as well as the very fact of who Flynn was. Could a pegasus fly as fast as a crow?
Knoxx wasn’t sure, but he quickly came to the conclusion that even if Flynn did take pity and come for him, this appearance would not occur until very near to morning. Glancing up, he determined it was now almost Fourteenth-hour, with dusk just beginning to brush over the lands with its radiant colors. He now had to find a way to keep himself alive for the next six or seven hours.
Unless, of course, Flynn never came.
Deciding not to distract himself with such negative thinking, he began trying to discern his wisest—as well as safest—course of action. It did not take him long to realize that his best move would be to simply stay where he was. Not only would he hear any approaching footsteps, giving him time to don his state of invisibility, but he would also have an excellent view of the skies, allowing him to keep a hopeful eye out for Flynn.
He had been very clear in his note that any attempts to gain entrance to the vineyard in the normal fashion, no matter how smooth the words, would be denied. He therefore knew Flynn’s only option would be to descend upon his pegasus, Caelis. Knoxx briefly pondered the irony of this, at how, back upon the Tulan
ranch, he’d instructed his commander to steer clear of the one thing that might now prove his salvation.
But the oddities of that particular week in Tyrell were plentiful, and only becoming more and more evident as the days went on. He had learned much here on the Oslund lands, and if he should live past this night, he would have a lot to think on.
He still had absolutely no idea what his brother’s interest in Taleb Okin and Nathon Wythe was. But he did, by this time, have a fairly good knowledge of them both, a wealth of details to pass along to Devlin once they came together in Aralexia.
Knoxx paused at this, his eyes sliding thoughtfully back to the crows before him. His gaze narrowed in upon the bird with the number “one” painted on it, the bird trained to fly to the home city of Justice, and he wondered if he dared it. What if he were to die here, and all his knowledge with him? At least by getting a report to Devlin, his death wouldn’t completely be in vain.
But remembering his brother’s cautions stopped him, as did the reminder of how precarious a balance Devlin walked within the royal city. It was more than possible any messages sent to him were intercepted and read—and while Knoxx didn’t understand the truth of this matter he’d come to investigate, he knew enough to suspect that sending any information he’d learned these past two days could very well see Devlin killed.
He decided not to risk it.
But he was going to be loaded with questions, not to mention a few strongly phrased statements, when and if he next stood in his brother’s presence. If he was going to risk his life, he damn sure wanted to know for what reason he was doing it, no matter how dangerous this secret. He’d also, by this time, grown incredibly curious about the whole affair.
His body weary, he slid his back down the wall of the eyrie, stretching his legs out before him over the cool stone floor. He longed to lie down and sleep, but knew he couldn’t dare, not with Nathon and Taleb roaming all about the castle. He would stay awake, and he would keep his ears alert, all the while hoping neither would see any reason to enter into the tower. Knoxx laid his head back against the wall tiredly and fixed his gaze on the sky.
He came back to himself with a start, quickly realizing he must have fallen into a doze. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus his sluggish vision, and then listened intently.
Silence.
He exhaled heavily with relief, all the while berating himself for his recklessness. Glancing up to the moons, he was then further alarmed to see nearly three hours had gone by. Three hours he had been sitting here, completely visible to the eye and vulnerable to attack. Inexcusable.
Although, he now had three less hours to await Flynn, and was possibly three hours nearer to seeing his escape from this cursed vineyard. But he also had no idea where Taleb and Nathon had now gotten to—were they still lurking about in the castle, or out upon the grounds, searching for him? He had no way of knowing, and wasn’t about to leave the tower to find out, still confident that this proved the safest haven for him.
He got to his feet, still feeling sluggish but significantly less weary than he had before his impromptu nap, and began a slow pace about the eyrie. It was now full dark, and he felt no fear at moving out onto the lookout platform, leaning against the waist-high wall and gazing down over the property.
All appeared still below. Lights appeared at the gates, where the guards would be camped out and defending against his escape, and the barns behind the castle were well-lit by numerous lanterns. He presumed the Oslunds remained secured within the castle, with Nathon and Taleb most likely checking in with them every so often. All of this only reaffirmed to him the wisdom of staying precisely where he was.
He was still pacing about, from the eyrie to the lookout and back, more than an hour later. It was his hope Flynn would now be astride that magnificent beast of his, winging his way east with all due haste to rescue one of his most successful and proficient thieves from certain slaughter, although it was becoming more and more difficult for him to ignore the voice in his mind that was cautioning him to start planning for the possibility of Flynn not appearing.
If this turned out to be the case, Knoxx would have no choice but to attempt getting through the gates. Although, if he could refrain from reverting to invisibility for the remainder of the night, he might just have enough power to pull it off. He decided he would give Flynn until dawn, and then proceed with this plan if his commander had not yet shown.
Knoxx was now feeling pretty good regarding his chances for survival, and his steps grew more and more anxious as he continued to pace about. He just wanted to be away from this vineyard.
It was not quite Fourth-hour, still more than an hour before dawn, when his ears suddenly alerted him to a faint disturbance. His body froze, and he cocked his head silently in the direction of the door. Yes, there it was—the sound of footsteps, faint but growing clearer. Someone was climbing the tower steps.
Knoxx instantly faded into invisibility and moved back against the eyrie wall, his nerves jangling. He continued to listen as the footsteps grew louder, now intermingled with the sound of low voices. He held little doubt as to who now approached, and silently he moved his hand to reposition his dagger for easy access. The last thing he wanted to see here was bloodshed—particularly his own—but if it came down to him needing to stab one of them to escape, he was prepared to do it. He would not shoulder any guilt over it, either—that weight would be Devlin’s to bear, for instigating this whole mess.
The heavy stone door swung open and Taleb appeared in its opening. His clothing, for some reason, appeared to be sprinkled with a fine white powder. Knoxx frowned in confusion before turning his attention onto Nathon, coming just behind Taleb and carrying a large burlap sack.
And just what are the two of you up to? Knoxx thought, staring at them with narrowed eyes while being mindful to keep his breathing silent.
He knew a moment later.
The sack contained what looked to be flour, and Nathon was now beginning to pour a thin layer of it all over the floor, starting at the far wall.
Knoxx continued to watch him with rapidly growing alarm.
“Once we’re finished up here,” Nathon was saying as he poured, “we’ll have only the tower steps and the foyer entrance to cover.”
Taleb was nodding. “We’ll be able to identify our own prints, so we’ll know if he’s anywhere in the castle and tries to move.”
You devious bastards! Knoxx thought almost incoherently as he continued to stare at Nathon, who was growing ever closer to where he stood.
“Or if he’s out upon the grounds and tries to enter,” Nathon added, “this should deter him effectively.”
It certainly would have—if he was out upon the grounds, a place he was now very much wishing he was.
“Once we can rule out one place or the other,” Nathon went on, “we’ll know where to start concentrating our efforts.”
Knoxx was now inching his way down the wall, attempting to put as much distance as possible between himself and the white powder growing ever closer to his feet. He knew his movements were futile—within a matter of minutes, every inch of the ground would be covered, revealing exactly where he stood—but even still he could not help himself, edging out onto the lookout while his mind raced frantically for a solution that would see him from this tower alive.
There was absolutely nowhere for him to go. It was possible he could push past the two and make it to the door before they saw his footsteps in the flour and stabbed him, but the odds of him making this run successfully were not good. Of course, just staying still and waiting for them to find him wasn’t any better an option, and a jump from the tower would almost assuredly gain him two broken legs, along with a broken neck to match.
“Quiet,” Taleb suddenly said, holding up a hand. “Did you hear something?”
Knoxx held his breath, looking frantically all about him for an option—any option—to present itself. Then he saw it.
 
; “No,” Nathon replied, carefully setting the bag of flour down onto the floor. “What did you hear?”
“I don’t know, maybe nothing. Just be still a moment.”
Knoxx was suddenly torn between holding perfectly still, and making a break for what he saw as his only chance to remain undiscovered. With his heart pounding almost deafeningly in his ears, he made a few quick and silent steps backward, stopping when he felt the low wall encircling the lookout hit his back.
Nathon and Taleb continued to hold still, listening intently. Knoxx sent a quick, silent prayer to both his Patrons, Eris and Katrien, and then turned, putting his hands to the ledge and hoisting himself onto it.
The fall to the ground below looked even higher than he remembered, but the wall ledge was fairly thick and, so long as he didn’t continue to look down, he felt he should have no trouble keeping his balance. Ever so carefully, he turned so he was looking back into the lookout and eyrie, feeling relief shudder through him at noting it didn’t appear as though Nathon or Taleb had taken any notice of his movement. Fully upright, he stood, watching the two men intently.
Finally Taleb shrugged. “Must have been the wind. You know how it can be up here.”
“Perhaps,” Nathon agreed, taking up his bag of flour from the floor. He resumed pouring, now moving out onto the overlook in small, measured steps so that he failed to miss even an inch of the ground.
Knoxx was trying not to even breathe, a rather difficult task as his heart continued to pound almost painfully against his chest. Nathon was now almost directly before him. It was his hope he could keep to this position long enough for them to finish and become satisfied that their prey was not here in the tower. He could then decide on his next move once he actually had some time to think. These two were really beginning to annoy him.
“I’m glad you were able to convince Lord Ean not to call in the Legion,” Taleb was now saying, lounging back against the wall casually and looking to Nathon.
Nathon nodded. “I didn’t think we required their interference.” He paused to pour more flour. “Or their mercy,” he then added in low tone.
Knoxx, even over the anxiety that nearly had his knees knocking together in fear, felt a sudden and deep-seated prickle of unease as he took in their exchange. It was their tone, he deduced quickly. Somehow, they knew he was here.
But they gave him no time to think on this, much less react to it.
Knoxx was barely registering the fact that Nathon was suddenly drawing his sword before its point was sinking into him.
Chapter 20