The Shadow Roads

Nineteen

Carl helped Jamm into the boat, lowering him onto the sternthwart. The thief lost his balance and his boots thudded heavily on thefloorboards.

“Shh,” one of the boatmen cautioned.

It was dark, the smallest sliver of a waning moon sailingamong an archipelago of cloud. The two boatmen were nervous, fidgeting,constantly searching the darkness with their eyes. The man-almost a boy-who hadbrought them there, Carl on foot and Jamm on a pony, whispered good luck, andset off, wanting to get as far from the fugitives as he could.

“Climb in now, your grace,” one of the watermen said.

Carl took his place in the bow, and the two strangers,little more than shadows in the darkness, slid the boat down the mud bank andinto the River Wynnd. They both clambered nimbly aboard, and the boat bobbed onthe river, finding its equilibrium. Carl did not much like boats. They alwaysseemed tippy and unstable to him, the surface upon which they rode moving andtreacherous.

“Don’t be worried, your grace,” the nearest waterman said.He must have sensed Carl’s anxiety. “My brother and I have spent our lives onthe water,” the man whispered. “You’ll not get a toe wet on this little voyage.”

And with that the two men shipped their oars and dug theblades into the dark river.

They pushed off toward midstream, the low, treed banksragged shadows in the distance. Over them the stars and shred of moon glitteredin a great arc. The men rowed silently, having silenced their oars with rags.Only the dipping of the blades could be heard, the drops of water dripping asthe oar was lifted clear of the surface.

Carl looked over at the western shore. A fire burned there-Renneguards, perhaps. They would watch the river by night in case the Prince ofInnes tried to cross the river in force. Carl wondered what had happened tohis father. He should never have stayed. Carl knew in his heart that it was amistake, but his father would not be talked out of it. Stubbornness was afamily trait.

Even though the current would be less near the bank, the watermenwere afraid to stay close lest they be discovered by Renne patrols watching theIsle’s shore. Jamm was all but invisible in the stern, likely curled up in aball, still not well after his ordeal. If not for the four days spent in thehouse of the healer, Carl was sure he would have died. But they had moved himtoo soon. Jamm was no longer recovering. Oh, he wasn’t getting worse, butneither was he getting well. This could not go on. Carl had to get the littleman somewhere where he could rest.

“I judge we’ve come far enough,” the waterman said to hisbrother, and they began turning in toward the eastern shore.

Carl did not like what he was about to do. He slipped hisdagger from its sheath and leaning forward encircled the forward rower’s headwith one arm, putting the edge of his dagger against the soft part of his neck.

“Row to the western shore, now,” he said evenly and clearly,“or I’ll cut your brother’s throat.”

“What …?” the other waterman swore, turning in his seat.

“He has a knife to my throat, Brother …” Carl’s captivebreathed. “Please do as he says.”

The oarsman turned them in a circle and sent them toward thewest.

“So, how is it you’re a traitor, Lord Carl, when the Duke ofVast has ordered his men to kill you on sight?”

“It is a long, complicated story, my friend,” Carl said. “Ifyou knew what scum Innes and Menwyn Wills, were you wouldn’t be so keen tosupport their war. Row on and make no noise. I don’t want to do harm to yourbrother.”

“But there is one other question I have for you,” the manasked softly. “Can ye swim?”

And with that the two brothers threw themselves to one side.The boat rolled, slewed, and suddenly went over, throwing them all into theriver. Without thinking, Carl had let his man go, not wanting to cut the man’sthroat, despite all his threats.

“Jamm!” he called, as he surfaced.

“There he is, Brother,” the older of the waterman said. “Sinkhim.”

“He might have his dagger, yet,” the other answered. “Slideme an oar.”

Carl went under, surfacing on the boat’s other side. “Jamm,”he whispered again, but there was no answer.

He took hold of the submerged gunwale, the slick planks ofthe boat glistening dully in the faint light.

“Where’s he gone?” one of the watermen asked.

“Under, I’d guess. Thought he probably couldn’t swim. He wastoo nervous when he climbed aboard.”

Carl felt a little turbulence near his leg. He recoiled, butthen reached under the boat. Someone was under there, clinging to a thwart.Carl ducked under and came up in utter darkness, but there was air to breathe.

“Jamm?” he whispered so softly he barely heard it himself.

“Here,” came the equally soft reply.

“Hold your breath,” Carl said, “we have to go under.”

In the darkness he found his guide clinging to the thwart, breathingtoo quickly. He waited until he heard a quick gasp, then took the little mandown. They surfaced a few feet away, and Carl swept an arm under Jamm’s andacross his chest. Something hard knocked against his shoulder, andTam realizedhe had an oar. With some difficulty, for he was working one-handed, he slid theoar under Jamm’s other arm. It was not much, but it would provide somebuoyancy.

Slowly Carl took them toward the western shore. They heardthe soft whispers of the watermen for a while, heard them struggling to righttheir craft and bail the water out.

“Will we make it?” Jamm whispered.

“Yes. Trust me. Kick your feet a little if you can-up anddown. That’s it. Lie back. I will keep your head above water.”

Toren Renne was a contradiction to the eye, Carl thought,for he was both grim and fair. His youthful good looks, upright posture, andwheat-colored hair were at odds with the hard set of his mouth, the suspicionin his clear blue eyes.

“But he is a thief. Why would I take his word over the wordof the Duke of Vast, our ally for all of my life?” Toren watched Carl closely,weighing his response.

“Because Jamm is telling the truth, and Vast is lying. I cantell you no more than that.”

“But Vast came to our aid on the Isle of Battle when heclearly could have thrown in his lot with the Prince of Innes. It seems astrange thing for a man to do if he was secretly allied with Innes.”

“It does, though I meant to do the same-fight against theRenne so that the Prince would think me loyal, and I could still spy for you.As your cousin Kel will tell you, I saved his life at great risk to my own.That is what brought me here. Someone saw me save Kel and reported it to thePrince. The rest I have told you.”

Toren looked over at his mother, Lady Beatrice. Carl couldnot help but hope this noblewoman would intervene on his behalf.

Lady Beatrice favored her son with a tight, sad smile, a dipof her graying curls.

The room was summer-warm, afternoon, a small breeze rustlingthe curtains and pressing against the cut flowers in a vase on a low table. Twoguards stood behind Carl, ready to restrain him if necessary, but his handsand feet were not bound, which he took to be a good sign. Bits of black debriskept tinkling in the fire grate and, from up the chimney, men could be heardworking.

“I have nothing to gain in coming to you,” Carl said. “IfVast caught me, as you say he claimed, with stolen letters, I would certainlyhave returned to the Prince of Innes. But I will assure you, it is death for meto cross the river. The Prince will see me dead the moment I’m found. And ifnot for a stroke of luck, Vast would have finished me on the Isle.”

“There is a truth I can verify,” Toren said. “Kel reportsthat Vast’s men were told to kill you on sight, which I take as being somewhatstrange. Anyone would want to question a spy if given the chance.”

“Whatever you decide for me, Lord Toren, beware of Vast. Heis in league with the Prince of Innes. There is no doubt of it.”

“Yes, but the Prince of Innes is no longer alive, so I don’tknow what that will do to Vast’s alleged alliance.”

“The Prince is dead?”

Toren nodded, his curls bobbing. “Assassinated by one of hisown guards, it is said.”

“Hafydd!” Carl pronounced.

“That hated name,” Lady Beatrice said, making small fists onthe arm of her chair. “Why do you blame him?”

Carl felt his shoulders shrug. “It can be no other.”

“It is not much of a reason you offer, but nonetheless, Iagree.” Toren shifted in his chair. His gaze seemed to focus high on the oppositewall, and his face was troubled and unhappy. “We will have to consider thismatter carefully. Until then I’m sorry, but we will have to confine you to acell.”

Carl bowed his head. “I can survive a cell, but Jamm needs ahealer. He almost died on the Isle. I fear a damp cell would bring back hisfever and coughing.”

“We will look out for your friend,” Lady Beatrice said.

Toren nodded to the guards, and they led him out.

“I don’t know what we should do with him, Mother. He accusesone of our oldest, most loyal allies of treachery, yet it was Vast who came toour aid on the Isle of Battle. There is only really one thing that gives me anydoubts. Vast ordered Lord Carl killed on sight. Strange.”

“Vast is a passionate man.”

“Yes, but he is not foolish. Certainly he would have wantedto question Lord Carl.”

“I am more influenced by the utter lack of guile in LordCarl. Everything he said had the ring of truth.” Lady Beatrice sat back in herchair and closed her eyes a moment.

Toren felt his heart go out to her. Her life was so difficult.

“Yes, but that would mean that Vast is our enemy. Vast …”