Chapter 21|The Order
Shanis clenched her chattering teeth and struggled to stay awake. Beside her, Khalyndryn slept fitfully, mumbling and groaning. The group had agreed that someone needed to keep watch, so she and Hierm had stayed awake. They didn’t know what they could do without weapons, but, as Larris had pointed out, it was better than doing nothing. A shiver passed through her. This dress did nothing to keep the cold out. At the sound of her teeth chattering, Hierm reached through the bars and vigorously rubbed her shoulders, then her back.
“Shall I go lower?” he teased as his fingers reached the base of her spine.
“Rub Allyn’s behind,” she whispered, turning and playfully smacking at his hands.
“I thought that was your job,” he said, a frown souring his face.
“What are you talking about?” Shanis stepped back, hoping that the darkness would conceal her discomfort.
“Just kidding,” he said, but the playful lilt was now absent from his voice.
Shanis was content not to carry the discussion any further. Hierm had seemed increasingly distant since they met up with Allyn and Larris. It had not occurred to her that he might be jealous. Besides, there was nothing to be jealous of. Allyn was always flirting with Khalyndryn.
“If only your father could see us now,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
Hierm smiled and shook his head. “Likely he wouldn’t be too surprised. It would break my mother’s heart, though.”
“She would not be the least bit surprised to find me here, though,” she whispered. She noted that Hierm did not disagree. She thought about the life that he had left behind, and a wave of remorse swept through her. “I’m sorry about all of this, Hierm.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“This all happened because of me.” The longer they had sat in this cold, dark place, the greater her guilt had grown. “It’s my fault.”
“It’s Borram’s fault. He is the one who tried to hurt you and Khalyndryn,” Hierm whispered, gripping the cold bars that separated their cells, and staring at her intently.
“I should have been the kind of person they wanted me to be,” she said. “I should have given up the sword and found a husband.”
“That isn’t who you are.” Hierm reached between the bars and took her hand. His presence was as comforting now as it had always been.
“But if I had never entered that tournament…”
“That’s enough,” Hierm interrupted. “I still would have entered that tournament. I still would have lost to Karst, and Khalyndryn still would have followed me. The difference is, you would have been out in the crowd watching, probably with Oskar. And then, none of us could have gotten there in time to stop it.”
Hierm was right, of course. If she had not fought in the tournament, she would have watched with Oskar. She would have gotten to Khalyndryn along with the two boys, too late to help. Her rage would have gotten the better of her, and she likely would have killed Borram, or at least tried to. The four of them still would have fled, with Khalyndryn even worse for the wear. Perhaps it was fated. There was something else bothering her, though. An irrational thought that she needed to share with someone.
“Do you think everything is as it seems?” she asked. “Is it all for real?”
Hierm gripped the bars that divided their cells and gave them a tug. “Feels real to me.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Shanis groaned. She should have discussed this with Oskar. Hierm was not slow, by any stretch, but he did not look beneath the surface of things the way Oskar did. “Do you think something is going on between Larris and Orbrad? Some hidden communication?” She lowered her voice so as not to awaken the others. “When they talk to each other, it seems so insincere, so…false.”
“Isn’t that the way they all talk to each other?” her friend asked.
“It’s more than that.” She pounded her fist into her palm. “Think about it, though. Nothing has been as it seems. We lied to Larris and Allyn when we met them, and they lied to us. Larris is hiding from his family. Orbrad is pretending that he’s some powerful king, when he barely controls his capitol city. He tells us we’re his guests, then locks us down here.”
“What is the point of all this?”
“I am just saying that if nothing else has been as it seems, why should this situation be any different?”
“Perhaps you should talk to Oskar about this,” Hierm said. “But it seems to me that we should be concerning ourselves with what we know for certain. We need to get out of this dungeon. Worrying about anything else is a waste of time. Have you thought about that?”
Shanis nodded. The group had quickly given up on the possibilities of picking a lock or finding a hidden passage under a loose stone. Since then, she had managed to come up with only one plan. Looking around, she reassured herself that Moggs remained in his small room near the dungeon door, most likely asleep.
“Moggs is planning to, you know, have his way with Khalyndryn and me. Dressed like this, he won’t consider me dangerous. If I can disable him, perhaps I can get us out of here.”
“If no one else is in the dungeon. If he has his key ring with him,” Hierm counted the ifs on his fingers, “if you can take care of him, that only gets us as far as the door. What about the guards on the other side?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
Before Hierm could reply, a loud knock sounded at the dungeon door. Shanis and her friend drew deeper into the shadows as around them, their companions were stirring. The knock came again, not loud, but insistent. Angry muttering came from Moggs’ room, and after a few moments the fat jailer appeared, tugging on his clothing.
“I be coming.” He slid open the peephole and peered through. “Wha’ you be wantin’?”
“King’s business,” said an oddly familiar voice.
Moggs stared for a moment longer, then, as if satisfied with what he saw, closed the peephole and unlocked the door. The door flew open, sending him stumbling backward. A guard burst in. Without a word, he delivered a vicious punch to Moggs’ throat, followed by a solid kick to the side of the knee. Despite her surprise, Shanis noted that she, too, had planned to go for the knees. As Moggs fell to the floor, the guard doubled his fists, and struck the warden a crippling blow to the base of the skull. He quickly relieved the unconscious man of his keys, and hurried to their cells.
“Martrin,” Shanis whispered in amazement as the soldier drew close enough for his features to become visible in the gloom. The captain nodded, and after a few failed attempts, located the proper keys and opened their doors in quick succession. Placing a finger to his lips, he tilted his head toward the dungeon door.
As they passed Moggs’ supine form, Allyn paused to kick the man hard in the face. Shanis was surprised at this show of cruelty from the normally placid young woodsman. The guards were slumped on either side of the hall outside the dungeon door. Two empty wine cups lay on the ground nearby. Though the men were obviously unconscious, Shanis tiptoed around them, watching her steps carefully. When they came to the end of the entryway, they turned the corner to find Bertram, the king’s steward, waiting for them.
“Your belongings,” he said, and gestured grandly to a half-dozen bags lying on the floor behind him. Take one and follow me.”
With a squeal of delight, Khalyndryn ran forward and squeezed his neck in a tight hug.
“Thank you Master Bertram,” she said softly.
The man seemed taken aback by her display of affection. He put his arms around her and gave her a tentative pat on the back.
“You are quite welcome,” he said. “Of course, Captain Martrin helped a bit, as well.”
Larris stepped forward and opened his mouth to speak to the two men, but the soldier cut him off.
“There is no time for thanks,” Martrin said. “Everyone grab your bag and move.”
Shanis took a perverse pleasure in the look on Larris’ face as he was brought up sh
ort by a commoner. She hastily found her belongings, and buckled her sword on over the ridiculous dress. Its weight upon her hip was reassuring. She squeezed the grip, finding a comfort in its solid feel.
Bertram led the way through the dank passages. After only a few turns, Shanis was thoroughly confused.
“This isn’t the way we came down,” she observed.
Bertram looked over his shoulder, looking mildly offended.
“Please,” he said, “I am hardly so foolish as to try and take you back through the palace.”
Shanis felt embarrassed at having spoke up.
“Besides, I have a greater sense of style than that,” the steward continued.
“Might I remind you,” Martrin called from the back of the group in a soft voice, “that we are trying to sneak out of the palace. Perhaps a bit of quiet is in order.”
“Not that anyone will hear us down here,” Bertram sighed, “but you are correct.”
The passage made a sharp bend to the right. There, Bertram halted, raising his hand for the others to stop as well. He stepped to the wall and placed his hands across the ancient stone. Shanis thought that the man’s long, dainty fingers, the nails so clean and neatly-trimmed, stood out in odd contrast to the moldy rocks of the wall. Bertram moved his hands round and round, seeming to gently caress the ancient stone.
“Aha,” he said, stepping back. He turned to the group. “You, the large boy,” he said to Oskar, “push right here.”
Oskar moved to the man’s side, and placed both palms where Bertram indicated, against a large stone that was set in the wall at chest level. Shanis didn’t see anything that would make this rock stand out among the others, but she assumed the steward knew what he was doing.
Oskar bent his knees, and braced himself. He glanced at Bertram, who nodded and waved his hand at him, a careless gesture as if he were ordering a servant. Oskar gave a great heave, and tumbled forward, falling to the ground in a heap as a section of the wall swung back as if on oiled hinges.
“That was unnecessary,” Martrin said to Bertram.
“Couldn’t help myself,” the older man replied. “No hard feelings?” he asked, looking down at Oskar.
The red-faced boy shook his head and held his hand out for Bertram to help him up. When the steward grasped his hand, Oskar heaved, pulling the man down on top of him. Everyone laughed at the sight of the prim, proper man lying atop the big country boy.
“My goodness,” Bertram said, with an amused lilt in his voice. “Had I but known, I would have led you to my chambers instead.”
Oskar shoved the man off of him and lurched to his feet. The boy was red-faced, and sputtering incomprehensibly. He backed away from the older man, brushing at the front of his tunic as if to wipe away all memory of the embarrassing situation.
Bertram climbed to his feet, his expression impassive.
“Shall we?” he said, and led the way down the passage that the door had revealed.
The tunnel went on for some distance. It gradually sloped upward. As they moved forward, the air became less damp. The passageway came to an end at a blank wall. Handholds were hewn into the rock, vanishing into the darkness above.
“My work here is done,” Bertram said, bowing ostentatiously. Everyone, including Oskar, thanked him profusely. He merely nodded in response, then turned toward Martrin, suddenly appearing very stiff and formal. Hands in front of his chest, he cupped his right fist in his left hand, and bowed to Martrin. The Captain repeated the gesture, and Bertram swept wraithlike down the hallway in the direction from which they had come.
Martrin pushed his way past Shanis and the others, stopping at the wall. He turned and passed the torch he had been carrying to Larris.
“Wait here until I call,” he said. He turned, reached up, and grasped two of the handholds that were carved into the wall just above head level. He hooked the toe of his right boot into another depression, and began to climb.
Shanis watched him scale the wall until the darkness hid him from sight. No one spoke as they waited in the semi-darkness of the underground tunnel, their necks craned as their eyes fought to penetrate the darkness above. Finally, they heard what sounded like two sharp knocks on a wooden surface. After a moment, the knocks were answered by two muffled thumps. Another single, sharp rap, and then a faint sliver of light appeared high above them as a trapdoor was drawn open.
“You may come up, now,” Martrin said quietly. Torchlight blossomed in the trapdoor, casting a faint glow on the walls above them. “Hurry.”
Larris motioned for Khalyndryn to lead the way, with Shanis following behind. Khalyndryn gave her pack over to Oskar, and grasped the handholds with shaking hands.
“You can do it,” Oskar urged the girl.
Grimacing, Khalyndryn began to climb. She made her way up painstakingly, taking her time with each hand hold and toehold. Shanis unbuckled her sword, slung it over her shoulder, and fastened it. She took to the wall a few paces behind Khalyndryn. As they made their way up, she continued to encourage the girl. She hoped her voice did not betray the impatience that she felt. About halfway up, Khalyndryn halted.
“What if I fall?” the blonde girl whimpered. She started to turn her head back toward Shanis.
“Don’t look down,” Shanis snapped. “Keep your eyes on Captain Martrin.”
Khalyndryn nodded, and continued her slow ascent. She finally reached the top of the wall, where Martrin and another man hauled her up through the trapdoor and into the darkness beyond. Shanis had almost reached the top when she heard a voice behind her.
“I can see up your dress,” Hierm said.
Shanis raised a foot to kick at him, then thought the better of it. She looked down at him, and saw his eyes wide with surprise.
“I wouldn’t really kick you, you mule,” she said crossly. “I’d fall too.”
“I know your temper,” he said. She wished she could disagree with him.
Behind her friend, Shanis could make out the forms of Oskar and Allyn climbing up the wall. Oskar was breathing hard, but bearing up well under the combined weight of his own bundle and that of Khalyndryn. Behind him, Allyn wore a bored expression. Far below them, Larris stood, holding a torch. Suddenly, the flames of the torch took on a frightening clarity. The floor appeared to rush up to meet her, then fall away until Larris seemed a distant speck.
Shanis jerked her head around. She should have taken her own advice, and not looked back. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
“Are you alright?” Allyn called.
Shanis cursed softly to herself. Allyn was the last person in front of whom she wanted to make a fool of herself.
“I’m fine,” she answered as nonchalantly as she could, and scaled the remainder of the wall as quickly as she dared. She refused Martrin’s offered hand, instead pulling herself up and out of the opening in the ceiling.
She rolled away from the hole, and came up on the balls of her feet. A familiar aroma teased her olfactory senses. She looked down to see straw covering the floor. They were in a stable. The trapdoor was located in the center of an oversized stall. Nearby, Hierm was changing out of his palace finery and into his own clothes.
“Where’s Khalyndryn?” she asked. Hierm tilted his head toward the adjacent stall. Shanis could see the top of Khalyndryn’s blonde head just above the wall.
“Don’t look!” Khalyndryn called through the wooden barrier.
“Mind the noise, girl,” Martrin whispered harshly. He turned to Shanis. “Get changed. You’ll also find a dark green, hooded cloak among your belongings. Put it on over your clothes.”
Shanis turned to face Hierm, who had finished dressing and was donning his cloak.
“Screen me,” she said. She moved to the end of the stall, positioned herself so that Hierm blocked the others’ view of her, and began to undress.
“You’re changing right here?” Hierm asked, his voice strained.
“Nobody’s looking,” she said. The tr
uth was, she was still feeling embarrassed by her dizzy spell. On some level, she felt that if she acted as though she weren’t bothered by changing clothes in front of the men, they wouldn’t view her as a weak female, as they did Khalyndryn. Also, she couldn’t wait another moment to get out of the ridiculous dress. Tugging on her own clothes, she was surprised to find that Bertram had seen to it that they were washed and mended. It was a relief to be back in her comfortable attire. Men’s clothes or not, they were unquestionably better suited for hiking and riding than skirts would have been. She tugged the dark green cloak that had been provided for her, and found that the thick wool provided a welcome protection from the nighttime chill that she had been too nervous to notice before.
Soon, they had all changed and stood in the middle of the stable waiting for Khalyndryn. Hierm rapped on the door of the stall into which the girl had gone to change.
“I’m not coming out,” the girl said. She sounded close to tears. Hierm peered over the side, and turned back quickly, a broad grin on his face.
“Miss Serrill,” Larris said in a firm voice, moving up to stand alongside Hierm, “you are endangering the lives of everyone in this party. You will come out at once.”
There was a moment of quiet, then a shuffling sound. Khalyndryn opened the stable door and stepped out, her blushing face shining red in the dim torchlight. Shanis gasped.
Khalyndryn was garbed in a fashion almost identical to Shanis. Her brown tunic and olive hose were obviously tailor-made to fit her. She held the dark green cloak in front of her face, and refused to speak.
“I suggested to Bertram that he have some clothing made for you,” Martrin said. “Those skirts you were wearing would not have served you well in your travels. Now, put on your cloak. It is past time we should be leaving.”
He led the way to the stable door. The man whom Shanis had seen through the trapdoor, one of Martrin’s soldiers, kept watch in the doorway. The soldier nodded to Martrin, who led the group out into the darkened city streets.
“Where are we?” Larris asked, careful to keep his voice quiet.
“With all due respect, Highness,” Martrin said, “the less I tell you, the better.”
“The better for whom?” Larris asked.
“The order to which I belong is assisting you because of the nature of your quest,” Martin replied, “but our first loyalty is to our country.” He stressed the word ‘country’.
Shanis assumed that he meant country as opposed to king. She could not blame him for not supporting the duplicitous Orbrad.
The moon bathed the sleeping city in faint, silver light. There were no signs of life in this quarter of Karkwall. The streets were deserted, and not a light shone in any of the houses they passed. None the less, Martrin stayed out of the center of the road, keeping instead to the shadows and dark places.
Shanis looked around. Martrin had brought them out well beyond the castle keep. Its dark bulk rose up in the distance behind them, inky black in the faint moonlight. They turned a corner, and Shanis saw that they were not far from the city’s outer wall.
They moved quietly, even Oskar managed to move carefully, making little sound in the stillness. From time to time she heard the approach of riders, most likely city guard on patrol. They ducked into shadowy recessed doorways whenever someone passed nearby.
They arrived at the back door of a large inn. Martrin knocked twice. The soft raps sounded like thunderclaps in the quiet night. The knock was returned by someone on the inside, but they did not go in. Instead, Martrin led them to the cellar door, which he opened hastily, and clambered inside. As his head sunk from view, he motioned for them to follow. They followed, one by one, with Hierm in the lead and Allyn bringing up the rear.
The cellar walls were lined with sacks of carrots and potatoes, along with shelves laden with bottles of wine and other provisions. Martrin stepped up to a narrow shelf, grasped it firmly, and gave it a tug. The shelf swung freely toward him, exposing another passage. Shanis shook her head. If she needed any proof that her way of viewing the world had changed, she need only point to the fact that she was already considering hidden doors and secret passageways commonplace.
The short tunnel led to a set of stone-lined steps that wound up into the darkness. Martrin pulled a torch from a bracket on the wall and led the way upward. Was a torch always kept burning in this tunnel, Shanis wondered, as she climbed the steps, or had someone provided it for them?
The stairway opened into a long, wide hallway. Shanis could not see the end of the hall in either direction. It vanished in the blend of torchlight and shadow. Martrin turned a sharp left and led them at a quick pace down the hall. They passed an occasional stairwell, but nothing else as they hurried along.
“We’re inside the city wall, aren’t we?” Oskar whispered.
“Yes,” Martrin said. “We are on the highest level. It is all right to talk, by the way. Sound does not easily penetrate these walls, and the soldiers on duty in this particular area are, shall we say, sympathetic?”
“Are they part of your order?” Shanis asked.
Martrin seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded.
“Why is this order of yours interested in helping us?” She wondered if she might be pushing the man too far, but after what she’d just been through, she really didn’t care.
“There is a prophecy known to the tribes of Lothan that states that the bearer of the Silver Serpent will reunite the clans.”
Larris began to protest, but Martrin raised his hand.
“Please, your Highness, you would dishonor the service that I’ve rendered you were you to deny what it is that you seek.”
Larris closed his mouth, to Shanis’ amusement. What a rare treat it was to see a royal brought up short.
“Orbrad did not merely wish to halt your search,” Martrin continued. “He wanted your information. He would have tortured you until he extracted every last bit of knowledge pertaining to the Serpent.”
“Why doesn’t he search for it himself?” Shanis asked.
“Oh, he has been searching ever since he claimed the throne. Rather, trying to search. Those he sends keep vanishing without a trace. Also, you will be pleased to know that it appears your belongings had not yet been searched when Bertram recovered them. Orbrad is arrogant. Likely, he believed that he could inspect them at his leisure once he had you locked up.”
“All of my papers were still there,” said Oskar.
“As were mine,” added Larris, “save what we left in the library.”
Martrin looked back, eyes narrowed. “Was there anything of importance?”
“Nothing we can’t live without,” Larris said. “A rough map, a few notations. Without the key information that we are missing, the map is useless.”
“Unless Orbrad already has that particular bit of information,” Oskar said.
Shanis pondered the thought in silence. The hush that had fallen over the group indicated that the others were likely doing the same. What if they reached their destination only to find that Orbrad had gotten there first?
“Bertram has assured me that Orbrad knows very little beyond common myths and prophecies. He has no solid clues, and he is too distrustful of others to work together on the search.”
“What is going to happen when Orbrad finds out that his pigeons have flown the coop?” Larris asked.
“He will rant and rave, as always. Your assessment of him yesterday was correct, Highness. He is more than a bit paranoid. He won’t know who is responsible. Bertram and I are above suspicion, and we are very discreet.” The corners of Martrin’s mouth turned up in a wry smile. “The sleeping draught Bertram put in the guard’s wine should wear off by morning. Moggs was so drunk that he’ll likely believe that it was one of them who attacked him. I’m certain he didn’t have time to recognize me. It should be quite a scene in the castle.”
“Is Bertram one of your order?” Khalyndryn asked.
“Bertram is friendly
to our order, but his reasons for helping us are more personal. His tastes in companionship are, shall we say, unconventional. He and Orbrad’s nephew were quite close.” He drew out the last two words for emphasis.
It took Shanis a moment to realize what he was talking about. She felt herself blushing furiously. The very idea!
“So what happened?” Khalyndryn asked, apparently not yet understanding what Martrin was telling them.
“Orbrad found out, and flew into a rage,” Martrin said. “He caught them together, and defenestrated the boy.”
“That is horrible!” Khalyndryn exclaimed. “I thought they only did that to bulls.”
Larris and Allyn chuckled, and Oskar cleared his throat. Shanis remained quiet, as she had no more of an idea what the word meant than did her companion.
“Defenestrate means to throw someone out of a high window,” Oskar said.
“You’re lying!” Khalyndryn said, thrusting out her lower lip. “I don’t know why you are always trying to make me feel so foolish. I do not appreciate it.”
“I’m afraid he is telling the truth, my lady,” Martrin said, suppressing a grin.
“Well, that is just beastly,” Khalyndryn huffed. She settled into a quiet contemplation of what she had just been told. A few moments later, her alarmed squeak told Shanis that the girl had finally gotten the entire picture.
“So he helped us as a way of getting revenge against Orbrad?” Shanis asked. She did not blame him. From what little she had seen, Orbrad was a terrible man.
“That is part of it,” Martrin agreed. “Also, he fancies your friend there.” The soldier turned and nodded at Hierm, who looked back at him quizzically for a moment, then gasped and missed a step, nearly tumbling to the floor. The others kindly kept their laughter in check.
Martrin led them down a flight of stairs, down a narrow hallway that ended at a small, solid door.
“This is the outer wall,” he said softly. “There should be only friendly eyes to see us, but we must move quickly none the less. Your escort is waiting for you, along with your horses.” Not waiting for a reply, he turned and rapped twice on the door. When the knock was returned, he unbarred the door, and swung it open.
A soldier stood outside, apparently keeping watch. “All is clear, sir,” he whispered, giving the fist-over-heart salute that Shanis had seen the previous day. Martrin returned the salute, and led them out into the darkness.
The wide swath of land cleared for defense made Shanis feel positively naked as they hurried toward a distant wooded area. She shifted the bundle on her shoulder to cover as much of her back as possible, certain that at any moment, arrows would come whistling down upon them.
It seemed an eternity, but the cleared ground finally ended, and she spotted a cluster of shadows waiting among the sparse trees and shrubs. As they drew closer, the shadows formed into the shapes of several mounted men, and several riderless horses. The riders fanned out and led them through the trees, which grew thicker the farther they rode.
When they were all safely inside the protective arms of the forest, they came to a halt. Martrin turned and addressed them.
“This is where I leave you. I cannot be away too long, or I risk rousing suspicion. Know that I wish you much luck.” As they all thanked him, a large man on a heavy warhorse rode up alongside them.
“So these be the ones I’m a taking?” he growled. His voice was strangely familiar, and Shanis had the feeling she had met him before.
“Yes,” Martrin said to the man. He turned back to Shanis and her companions. “I assume you all remember Horgris?”