The Shadow Roads

Twenty-three

Samul woke to a jangle of keys and the ancient lock of hiscell turning. The door creaked open on rusty hinges, and a lantern swung intoview, its smoke-stained glass emitting only the vaguest light. He proppedhimself up on one elbow, shading his eyes against the glare.

“Light a candle,” a guard said. A servant hustled in and seta tray on the small desk to take up one of the candles sitting there. He litthis from the lantern and put it back on the desk, where it flickered fitfully.A second servant laid a suit of clothes over the back of his chair. Somewherehigh up above, the castle bells tolled-four in the morning.

“What is this?” Samul asked groggily.

“It is your last meal,” the guard said. “Eat up and dress.You have an appointment with the executioner at five.”

The servants turned and bustled out, the guard behind them.

Samul bolted out of bed.

“But I’ve been told nothing of this!” he shouted.

The door thumped into place, and he heard the keys jangleagain. “I know nothing of that, your grace,” the man mumbled.

“Call Lord Dease!” Samul shouted through the barred window. “Imust speak with Dease!”

The guard withdrew the keys from the lock. Samul couldhardly make out the man’s face in the poor light.

“Lord Dease has gone off with Lord Toren. No one knows whenthey’ll return. I can take him no message.” The guard lumbered off down thepassageway, the dim light of his lantern disappearing into the dark tunnel.

They came to fetch him before the bell tolled five. Samul wonderedif this was a nightmare, for nothing felt real. Every little sound washeightened, the stones in the walls all seemed to stand out in the dim light.Two others were taken from their cells then; a noblemen and a small,dark-haired man.

“Lord Samul, I expect …?” the nobleman said.

“Lord Carl-I see your face at last.”

The two bowed to each other. Samul saw that the little manwas trembling, near to collapse. Lord Carl put a hand on his shoulder.

“So this is what I’ve brought you to. I can’t tell you howmuch I regret it, Jamm.”

“It would have come to this eventually,” the little mansaid, trying to steady his voice. “At least I go in good company.” He tried tosmile but failed.

It was a silent procession-at least there was no speech.Every footfall seemed like the note of a dirge to Samul. Even the pendulouscreak of the lantern swinging on its handle was as clear as a lark’s song inthe early morning.

The company made their way in near darkness up a narrowstair. At the top a small company of guards waited. Without pause they went on,marching in step down the corridor.

Samul thought the Renne blue of the guards’ surcoats was themost beautiful color he had ever laid eyes on. As beautiful as the sky on asummer’s day. A dim gray light illuminated the high windows.

“Will we be executed before the sun rises?” he asked theguard. He had not seen the sun in days, and suddenly it was important to see itonce more.

“I don’t know, sir,” the guard answered softly, no doubtbreaking his orders not to speak with the condemned.

Samul made every effort to bear up, not wanting anyone tosay he faltered at the end. He had made his decisions and now must accept theconsequences, but at the same time a small voice within him cried, Thesecannot be my last minutes! I’m not ready to make an end of it yet. I’mnot ready!

Doors opened into a small courtyard. Samul knew the place: “thebone yard” it was called. It was a cheerless square of gray paving stones andempty-eyed walls, for only a few windows stared down into the place. No onewanted a room with such an outlook. No garden softened the harsh rectangle, notree offered shade, or climbing vine broke the blankness of the stone.

The little company turned and passed through the doors. Carl’scompanion sobbed once but then took hold of himself and bore up. Samul lookedover at the young nobleman. His back was straight, and his hands were steady.There was a pale sheen of sweat upon his brow, and his eyes were wide, like aman surprised, but otherwise he carried himself with admirable dignity. Samulonly hoped that his own appearance did not suffer by comparison.

A scaffolding, hung with black cloths, stood at one end ofthe courtyard, and below the cloths, three baskets waited side by side. Samul’snerve almost failed then, but he tore his eyes away and walked on, his feethardly seeming to hit the ground. Each step seemed to happen slowly, the heelof his boot striking, the ball of the foot touching sometime later.

Fondor waited at the bottom of the steps, his face grim andfilled with sadness. Samul remembered that Fondor had been his protector whenhe was a small boy, shielding him from the bullies among his larger cousins.

The company stopped at the foot of the wooden steps. Fondordrew a ragged breath. “Have you anything to say, Cousin?” he asked.

Samul leaned near to the larger man, so that he mightwhisper close to his ear. “It was Dease who was to have murdered Toren,” hesaid, “but he would not shoot, for he knew it to be Arden. Beld knocked himdown and took the shot himself, believing it was Toren.” He stepped back andgained some small satisfaction from the shock on Fondor’s face. “Thank Deasefor all the concern he’s shown me.”

Samul turned away and mounted the stairs, Carl and his guideclose behind.

It was dark within the black hangings, but in the dim lightSamul could make out the executioner in his black hood, axe in hand. Moreguards hovered over three wretched-looking men who stood with their handsbound, one rocking quickly from foot to foot, so frightened he could barelystand.

They will execute common criminals on the same scaffold!Samul thought indignantly. It was an intentional insult, he realized. A finalmessage from Toren, who had certainly ordered it.

High up in a narrow window stood the messenger from the Dukeof Vast. He had been brought here that morning, having arrived soon after hislord had heard that Carl A’denne had made his way across the river to CastleRenne. The aging Renne counselor who stood beside him cleared his throat.

“You will take Lady Beatrice’s thanks to the Duke. Thisyoung traitor might have done much harm if the Duke had not found him out.”

The messenger nodded. “The Duke will be much gratified.”

“There is also a small gift-a token of Lady Beatrice’s affection.”

The messenger performed a small bow.

A dull thud was heard through the dirty glass, and a headtoppled into a basket. Another dull report with the same result, then a third.

“That is the end of A’denne, his young guide, and also LordSamul Renne. What a time of treachery we live in,” the old counselor added.

“So it is, but you have paid these traitors back in full.” Themessenger hesitated, glanced once more through the smudged pane, then turnedaway.

The two men proceeded down the hall thinking about breakfast.

Samul’s gaze turned toward the three blocks set out at theedge of the scaffold. His eyes closed involuntarily, and he turned his face uptoward the sky. Opening his eyes, he saw only the featureless gray of the earlymorning. No hint of blue.

“Lord Samul …” a guard said, “this way.”

A hand touched his shoulder, and Samul tore his gaze awayfrom the sky. The guard gestured toward a stair that led back into the castle.

“What?” Samul said stupidly.

“This way, sir.” The guard took his arm gently and led himdown the stairs.

Samul glanced back once to see the first criminal ledforward to kneel before the block, then he was inside.

Fondor waited there in flickering lamplight. Behind him cameCarl A’denne and the little thief who served him. They were hustled past anddown the passageway.

“Wh-what goes on?” Samul stammered.

Fondor leaned close to him and spoke in a harsh whisper. “SamulRenne is dead. You will cease to use that name, and you will never-never-returnto Renne lands. I have a task for you, Cousin, and if you will perform it,Toren will not feel he let you go in vain.”

“Whatever it is,” Samul said, “I will do it.” His kneesbuckled then, and he would have fallen had not Fondor reached out and kept himon his feet.

Carl A’denne could not quite catch his breath. He and Jammwere hustled into a small dim room, and the door slammed behind them. A singlewindow, barred, was set high into a wall.

Jamm began to sob, shoulders shaking almost silently. “Whattrick is this they play?” the little man lamented.

“I know not,” Carl answered, gazing around-a tallyman’sroom, with tables and ledgers. The sound of the executioner’s axe came dullythrough the door. Jamm collapsed against a wall.

A moment later the door opened, and Fondor Renne stepped in,his manner grim and determined.

“What game is this?” Carl demanded angrily.

“Vast will think you dead,” Fondor said. “One of his minionshad a poor view of your execution from a high window. Though the head that fellinto the basket was not so fair, it would pass as yours in such poor light.”Fondor leaned back against a table and crossed his arms. “I’m sorry not to havewarned you, but there are spies within Castle Renne and you had to look likemen going to your deaths. Anything less would have been remarked upon.”

Carl leaned back against the wall, bracing his hands on hisknees.

“Take a moment to compose yourself,” Fondor said kindly. “Itwas a cruel trick, but you are alive this day, and the Renne have no thoughtsto end your lives.”

Carl forced himself to breathe. Another dull “thwack” washeard-the third, he realized.

“Who were those men?” Carl said weakly.

“Criminals who had been sentenced to die. Don’t concernyourself-the Renne are not so cruel as to have taken innocent lives to preserveyours.”

“But what now?” Jamm asked.

“Under the circumstances I will excuse you for notaddressing me properly,” Fondor said. He rocked back against the table, whichcreaked from his weight. “My family have a proposition for you. The Isle ofBattle is ours still because of your warning, Lord Carl, but that is not enoughto earn the reward you asked.” Fondor put a hand to his chin and seemed toconsider his next words. “The world has changed since we made our bargain. ThePrince of Innes was assassinated and his son, Prince Michael, has become ourally. When we made our bargain with your family, Lord Carl, the Prince of Inneswas our enemy, and we gladly agreed to cede you half his estates. But now …now his son is our ally and his estates have all been taken. What are we to do?”He raised a bushy eyebrow. “And I there is more. Even with the elementof surprise on our side and Hafydd off somewhere, our armies are no match forthe armies of Innes and Menwyn Wills. We won on the Isle of Battle because theywere not expecting us to land in force, but they won’t allow themselves to behumiliated again. They will attack in greater numbers in a place where we willnot have a canal to protect us.” He gazed at Lord Carl a moment, his face linedand serious. “We are desperate. That is the truth.”

He glanced at Jamm and offered him a small smile of encouragement.

“Here is our proposition,” Fondor went on. “Prince Michaelhas nothing, as he well knows. Even the information he has offered is of smallvalue. Without Renne support he has no hope of recovering his estates. So wehave made a bargain with him. If he will travel east of the river and makecontact with men he believes will be sympathetic to his claims-officers whoserved his father, and other allies-and if he can bring these men over to ourcause, then we will support his claims after the war.” Fondor took a longbreath. “But if you will aid him-if you will be his guides and his guards, LordCarl, you will receive from Prince Michael estates enough so that yours willequal his.”

“He will never keep such a promise.”

“Oh, I believe he will, and I think you will believe himyourself once you’ve spoken.” Fondor opened the door and motioned to someoneoutside. A young man dressed like a poor traveler came in. Carl had met PrinceMichael before, but this young man, though certainly the prince, appearedolder, less full of himself. He was certainly not smirking, as Carl rememberedhim.

“Prince Michael,” Carl said, and bowed badly, still shaken.

The Prince bowed in return. “Lord Fondor has told you of ourbargain?”

Carl nodded.

“What estates my family had are now in the hands of Hafyddor Menwyn Wills. Hafydd is gone off somewhere, we’re told. Anything might happenwith my father dead. There might be fighting between his allies, ambitious generalswho see a chance to take some lands of their own. If the two of us can preservemy estates, then I will gladly give lands to you so that our holdings will beequal. Better half of something than all of nothing, I say. But even moreimportantly, if some of my father’s allies can be persuaded to fight againstHafydd, then we might have a chance of defeating the sorcerer.” Prince Michaellooked at Carl closely, and Carl thought he saw some sympathy there. “There aregreater forces at work and larger things at stake, Lord Carl, than the estatesof the House of Innes-or A’denne, for that matter.”

“There is not much time,” Fondor said. “We must get you outof the castle before it grows light. Yea or nay, Lord Carl. Lady Beatricewould have your answer.”

“What will we offer Jamm, for to be honest I would neverhave managed my escape without him. If he will not guide us, we will almostcertainly fail.” Carl turned to the little thief. “Or would you even take therisk of crossing the river again?”

“What is it you want, Jamm?” Prince Michael asked.

The little man did not answer right away, but cast his gazearound the room like a man looking for a way out.

“I know nothing but the roads,” the little thief said,thinking. “Drays. Drays and teams to pull them. There is always much to bemoved from the river inland and never the wagons to do it.” He nodded. “A dozenlarge drays, new built, and teams of my own choosing.”

“If we succeed, they will be yours,” Prince Michael said.

Carl looked at Fondor and nodded.

“Horses are waiting,” the Renne lord said, and waved themout.

Carl still felt as though he were not quite on the ground,and more than once preserved his balance with a hand against the wall. Henoticed that Jamm did the same.

He lost his way in the dim corridors and later could nottell you how far he’d walked or how long it had taken, but they arrived at thestables, where saddled horses were waiting. Samul Renne was there as well,looking like a man who’d just been told his home and family had burned. Henodded to Carl but did not seem capable of speech at that moment.

Fondor gave them clothes to change into, and when they weredone they looked like highwaymen.

“Here is the fourth member of your company,” Fondor said,nodding to Samul. “Three of you are believed dead, so no one will be lookingfor you, but if you’re caught, better to fight to the death, for if MenwynWills learns you are alive, he will know that we believed you, Lord Carl, andnot Vast.”

In a moment they were led out a gate and were riding intothe now-graying morning. Overhead the sky began to change to blue, and twiceCarl noticed Samul Renne turn his gaze up, his eyes glistening.

“Do you think he told the truth?” Lady Beatrice noticedherself in a mirror, every wrinkle around her eyes standing out in high relief.She tried to smooth away the pain, but with only partial success.

“It is difficult to say; certainly Dease was there, and whenone looks back one wonders why.”

Lady Beatrice could see that Fondor was as troubled as she. “Perhapshe had tried to force Dease into helping him escape and when Dease wouldn’t…”

Fondor shrugged. “It would not really be like him. Samul wasnever known to be vindictive.”

Lady Beatrice nodded. The alternative, however, was harderto accept: that Dease had conspired to murder Toren, was to be the murderer, infact. And where was Dease now but off with Toren somewhere? The thought chilledher.

“Is Toren in danger?” she asked numbly.

Fondor shook his head. “I don’t think so. They were tomurder him because he was trying to make peace with the Wills. Toren is at warwith the Wills, now. Unlike Beldor, Dease was not acting out of malice, I don’tthink. But where have they gone, Dease and Toren?”

Lady Beatrice handed him a hastily scrawled note.

“It doesn’t say much. What does this mean,’… there aremore important battles to be fought.’?”

Lady Beatrice shook her head. “Sorcerers,” she said, hervoice harsh, “All this talk of things from the past, servants of Death.” Shelooked at Fondor helplessly, and shrugged.

“I hope he knows what he’s doing.”

“And I for one would feel better if Dease were not with him.Dease...,” she said sadly. Lady Beatrice touched fingers to her brow. “Iwould have said that Dease loved Toren. They were always very close. But theywere rivals for a certain lady’s affections, though Toren might not have knownit …”

This silenced Fondor for a long moment, a crease appearingin the center of his heavy brow. “I had not thought of that.” His scowldarkened. “Let us pray that Dease was not so inspired. Toren would never for amoment suspect it, for he is as innocent of this rivalry as a baby of hisbrother’s.”