Throne of Llewyllan (Book 2) Page 9

  Sir Reginald put his glass back down. “You can count on me, my lord.”

  One side of Bathsby’s face curled up. “Yes,” he said slowly, “I’m sure I can. Until later, my good Sir Reginald.”

  He flipped back his cape, walking back into the storm of conversation around the edge of the ballroom.

  After a moment, Sir Reginald followed him.

  Kara sank back into the bushes, stunned. All thoughts of killing Sir Reginald had momentarily vanished from her mind.

  Something big was happening tonight.

  And right now, she was the only one who knew about it.

  Chapter 7

  “Well,” said Maklavir with a pleased grin, “all in all I’d say it’s been a pleasant couple of days.”

  Kendril glanced back at the ballroom as the guests began to gradually disperse out the doors into the hallway. Coaches were arriving outside, pulling up and taking their occupants away into the night.

  “Yes,” he said absentmindedly, “very pleasant.”

  Joseph walked up. He glanced back at the orchestra, which had just finished the last piece for the evening and was busy packing up. “So,” he said with as he looked over at Kendril, “I just saw Serentha head upstairs. Looks like things are wrapping up here.”

  The Ghostwalker grunted, but said nothing. His eyes watched the crowd filtering out to the main hall.

  Maklavir cleared his throat. “That reminds me. I noticed you dancing with the princess earlier, Kendril. I must say you made a handsome couple.”

  Kendril shot the diplomat a nasty glare.

  “So where’s your date, Maklavir?” asked Joseph as he surveyed the ballroom. “I never got the chance to meet her.”

  Maklavir stretched his arms. “Unfortunately Palora had to accompany the princess upstairs for the time being. Though,” he added with a knowing wink, “I am hoping to see her again later.”

  “That’s delightful, Maklavir,” said Kendril sardonically. “Excuse me a moment.” He walked quickly away, grabbing a servant who was cleaning the tables and asking him something in a low tone.

  A few seconds later Kendril came back over with a troubled look on his face.

  “Well, this party looks about over,” said Maklavir casually. “Anyone up for a hand of cards in the billiards room?”

  “You two go on,” said Kendril with a brooding glance towards the ballroom doors. “I have a couple things to attend to.”

  Joseph gestured his head toward the servant Kendril had been talking to. “What did you ask him?”

  “Just needed to find a room,” said Kendril brusquely. He brushed past Maklavir and Joseph and headed for the door to the main hall. “I’ll see you both tomorrow. Keep your eyes and ears open.”

  Maklavir groaned. “Not more conspiracy theories?”

  The Ghostwalker ignored the comment. He pulled his hood up over his head. “Just be on your guard,” he said. “Oh, and you owe me five coppers, Joseph.” He turned towards the ballroom doors.

  Maklavir gave Joseph a confused look. “Five coppers?”

  The scout sighed. “Palora’s one of Serentha’s handmaidens, right?”

  The finely-dressed man gave a cautious nod. “Yes--”

  Joseph chuckled. “Five coppers, then.”

  The ballroom was almost empty. The last lights were all being extinguished and the servants were clearing the tables.

  “So how about that hand of cards?” asked Maklavir.

  Joseph pondered for a moment. “Sure, why not? The night’s still young.”

  They left the ballroom and headed down the main corridor. The front doors to the palace were open, letting in the cool night breeze. White uniformed guards stood at the bottom of the steps leading toward the second floor. Most of the aristocrats were gone, the last coaches clattering off towards the front gate.

  Maklavir opened up one of the doors leading to a side hallway. “The billiards room is down here,” he said. “To the right, if I remember correctly.”

  Joseph smiled as they stepped into the dimly lit hallway. “You seem to have found that in a hurry.”

  The diplomat grinned in response. “I was having a friendly game there this morning with—”

  A shadow flitted across the hall.

  Joseph’s hand moved instantly toward the hilt of his rapier.

  In the flash of an eye a cloaked figure was behind him, holding a knife blade to his throat.

  Joseph slowly moved his hand away from his sword. “What do you want?” he asked in a calm voice.

  The knife vanished from his throat, and the cloaked figure stepped back.

  Joseph turned and reached for his sword again, but froze mid-way. His mouth fell open. “Kara?” he stammered. “How--?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” the red-haired thief said quickly. She glanced over at Maklavir. “Right now you have to listen to me. You’re both in terrible, terrible danger.”

  The hallway was dark.

  Kendril moved carefully across the wooden floor. His eyes darted back and forth under his hood. He drifted to a stop by the last door on the left, and his black cloak blended into the shadows around him.

  One of his gloved hands came up and rapped carefully on the door. He paused for a moment, listening carefully.

  There was no response.

  He looked up and down the hallway, pulled out one of his pistols, and kicked the door in.

  The gun was already at the ready as the door smashed against the wall, hanging loose on its hinges. A fire burned away in a hearth to the right, providing the only light in the room. A bird of some kind squawked frantically from a cage in the corner. Nothing else moved.

  Moving quickly, Kendril slid inside, his pistol still held at the ready.

  The doors leading out to the veranda were open, letting in the cold night air. The white curtains on each side wafted eerily in the breeze. Outside he could just see the corner of the pond, and the long stretch of the castle wall.

  The bird continued to crow in alarm. Kendril kicked aside some debris lying in the middle of the floor. Feathers, bones, and a couple of candles by the look of it.

  He scowled, then moved over towards the bookcase set against one wall. Still holding the pistol in one hand, he removed a book from the shelf, flipped through it, replaced it, then pulled out another one.

  Kendril had barely opened it when his face turned cold. He quickly averted his eyes from the twisted symbols inscribed on the pages and slapped the book shut. He moved swiftly across the room, and tossed the volume into the fireplace.

  The pages crinkled and twisted into blackness as the flames devoured them. From the corner the raven flapped its wings madly, beating the bars of its cage.

  Kendril turned and noticed a scrap of paper lying on the small table by the cage. He reached down a gloved hand, picking up the note.

  At first he thought the writing was in some kind of a red ink, until he realized that it was in fact blood. The script was crude, and the letters hastily made. But that wasn’t what riveted his attention.

  It was the words themselves. There, in the bold strokes of an untrained hand, were four words:

  The trap is set.

  “You can’t be serious.” Maklavir turned towards the billiards table. His purple cape billowed behind him. “It’s madness.”

  Kara leaned against the wall of the room. “I’m telling the truth. They were as close as you are to me now, and I could hear everything. They’re planning something, something that’s going to happen tonight.”

  Maklavir reached the closed door of the billiards room. He turned around in agitation. “The army is going to overthrow the king?”

  Kara sat down on a chair by the sole candle in the room. “I’m only telling you what I heard.” She looked up at both men. “We need to get out of here.”

  Maklavir sniffed. “And take you with us, I suppose? A nice means of escape for you, that.”

  Her face reddened. “I didn’t have to come back,” she protested
. “I almost didn’t. I don’t need either of you to get out of Balneth.”

  “Then why did you come back?” asked Joseph softly.

  “To warn you,” Kara shot back, “but I guess I was just wasting my time.” She got to her feet, and headed towards the door. “I’m leaving. You two are on your own.”

  Joseph held out a hand. “Wait, Kara. Don’t go. I believe you.”

  The thief stopped, and turned uncertainly.

  Maklavir stepped towards the billiards table and gave one of the balls a flick with his hand. “Well, this is a fine kettle of fish we’re in.” He glanced over skeptically at Kara. “What you’re describing is just incredible. It defies comprehension.”

  The scout nodded. “Yes.” He pushed away from the table. “All the more reason why we need to move quickly.”

  Serentha lurched up in bed at the first cry of the guard outside her bedroom door. She threw off her silken sheets, and planted her feet on the cold wooden floor.

  There was a thudding noise outside, and then another hideous shout.

  Serentha hurried across the bedroom, pulling her nightgown around her as she went. From the hall she heard the low thud of her father’s bedroom doors as they opened.

  Her hand reached for the handle of her own bedroom door.

  Two thunderous blasts echoed out in the hall. Serentha had heard them too many times before not to know instantly what they were.

  Pistol shots.

  Serentha flung open the door to her room.

  Before her the wide hall of the palace’s third floor was a scene of disaster.

  One Royal Guard lay dead a few yards away, a small crossbow dart in his throat.

  A second was struggling to stand, blood staining his trousers from a jagged wound. He saw Serentha looking out the door, and waved her back.

  “Your Highness!” he shouted, his face red with pain, “shut the door!”

  She didn’t move, mesmerized by what she saw.

  A figure in a hooded black cloak turned away from her father’s bedroom doors, holding a smoking pistol in each hand. He tossed down the pistols, then raced for the stairs.

  “Kendril!” Serentha cried. She stepped out into the wide hall.

  The figure turned for a brief moment, his face shrouded in shadow. Then he was at the stairs, taking them three at a time as he disappeared from view.

  Already the pistol shots had woken most of the palace. Shouts echoed out from downstairs.

  The wounded guard tried to chase after the fleeing Ghostwalker, but his knee gave way and he collapsed again.

  Serentha turned and ran for her father’s bedroom. Her mind was filled with a sudden dread, and as she reached the heavy wooden doors she grabbed on to them for support.

  Her father lay dead in his bed, blood spreading across his silken sheets.

  Joseph jerked his head up. One hand instinctively reached for his rapier.

  Maklavir jumped out of the chair he had been sitting in. “That sounded like—”

  “Gunshots,” the scout finished.

  Kara moved towards the door. “We can’t wait any longer,” she pleaded. “We have to go right now. Please.”

  Joseph drew his sword. “Serentha might be in danger. I can’t abandon her now.”

  Maklavir reached awkwardly for his sword. “And neither can I.”

  “Don’t either of you get it?” said Kara in frustration. Her hand was already on the door. “If we stay here, we’ll be killed. We have to go.”

  The diplomat fingered his sword hesitantly. “If this is some kind of coup, Joseph, then there may not be much we can do. Kara might be right.”

  The grizzled scout thought for a moment, glowering. “All right,” he said at last. “Let’s get out of here if we still can. Maklavir, you and Kara get the animals. I’ll meet you at the gate.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Kara. Her dagger was in her hand once again.

  Joseph stepped to the door, his face set with a sudden resolve. “I’m going to find Kendril and Serentha. We’re not going to leave without them unless we have no other choice.”

  Shouting voices echoed down the corridor outside. There was the stamping of running feet.

  “Go now,” Joseph urged. “Hurry!”

  Maklavir dashed out into the corridor.

  Kara hesitated for a brief instant and looked back at Joseph. Their eyes locked together for the space of a heartbeat.

  Then, before either could say anything, Kara turned and ran off after Maklavir.

  Joseph followed her, but turned the opposite direction in the hallway.

  He threw open the door at the end of the corridor, and piled out into the main hallway just in time to see three Royal Guardsmen scramble up the stairs.

  He looked around uncertainly, but there was no sign of anyone else. He moved to the door of the ballroom, kicked it open and looked quickly inside. It was empty. Readjusting his grip on the rapier, he turned, and raced for the stairs.

  Whatever was happening seemed to be going on up there.

  Maklavir and Kara sprinted through the garden by the palace, leaping over flowers and around low hedges. Behind them the palace was coming to life and angry shouts were already echoing across the castle courtyard. They reached the north wall, and ran along its length towards the west.

  “The stable is up ahead,” Maklavir shouted back to Kara as they dodged around a large supply cart. “The animals are there.” He pointed ahead with his sword to a squat wooden building nestled against northwestern corner of the wall.

  Kara nodded, out of breath from the run. Her mind kept flitting back to Joseph. She tried to stay focused. She couldn’t worry about him right now.

  Right now, she had to worry about herself.

  The figure moved quickly down the hall, and flipped off the long black cloak that covered its form. It turned quickly into a room just as several guards ran by down a cross hall.

  With a low laugh, Bronwyn tossed the black cloak into the fire. She undid the clasp in her hair and shook it loose.

  The raven in the corner croaked madly as the flames slowly consumed the dark fabric of the cloak. Bronwyn sat down on the bed. She ran her fingers through her hair and smiled.

  A sudden mechanical click from behind her caused her to freeze. She rose slowly to her feet, then turned around with a wry smile.

  “Why Kendril,” she purred, “I was beginning to think we would never be alone in my bedchambers.”

  The Ghostwalker stepped forward, his pistol held level with her face. “I believe witchcraft is punishable by death in Llewyllan,” he said without a hint of emotion.

  Bronwyn brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. “Witchcraft? My, my, Kendril, you really are clever. I thought as much when I first laid eyes on you.” She glided over to the bedpost and wrapped her hands around it. Her golden eyes shone mischievously. “What was your first clue?”

  Kendril crossed towards the center of the room. “That amulet of yours. What kind of foul spell were you trying to cast on me last night, anyway?”

  Bronwyn gave an innocent shrug. “There are so many, I get confused.” She slunk forward, and stroked the barrel of the pistol with her finger. “You aren’t going to shoot me, are you?”

  There were heavy footfalls out in the corridor.

  Kendril glanced towards the door. “It sounds like there’s all ready been enough shooting tonight. I assume you had something to do with that?”

  Bronwyn laughed merrily. “Handsome and intelligent! More than any girl could hope for in a man.”

  Kendril’s face twisted into a snarl. “Enough with your games. What’s going on here?”

  She gave a mock look of surprise. “Why, you are, Kendril. Don’t you know?” She took a step back.

  “You just killed the King of Llewyllan.”

  Lord Bathsby glanced down at the body of the dead guard, his face twisting with anger. He looked up at the wounded man who was already being treated by several of his fellow Royal Guard
s.

  “What happened?” Bathsby snarled.

  The guard flinched as a bandage was tied around his knee. “It was the Ghostwalker, sir. We couldn’t stop him. He—” his voice broke off in a gargle of pain.

  “Sergeant!” Bathsby roared. He spun away from the wounded guard. “Search this palace top to bottom. Bring me the Ghostwalker and his friends, now!”

  The man saluted sharply. “Yes, sir!”

  Several more Royal Guards arrived at the top of the stairs, their weapons out and ready.

  From the King’s bedroom Serentha staggered out. Her face was covered with tears.

  Bathsby gave a quick bow. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness. It was the Ghostwalker. My men will find him.”

  Serentha shook her head, her mind still numb from the shock of what had happened. “It—can’t be. Kendril wouldn’t…” she turned back towards her father’s bedroom. Her legs suddenly turned weak. “He—”

  Bathsby caught her just as she started to collapse.

  Serentha’s handmaidens ran over to her side, their faces filled with concern.

  Bathsby looked up at two nearby Guards. “She’s in shock,” he said briskly. “Put her in her room, and don’t let anyone in or out. Do you understand me?”

  They both saluted in unison.

  Bathsby released the disoriented Serentha into the care of her handmaidens. He turned to the Sergeant again, and drew his own sword.

  “Find that Ghostwalker,” he hissed.

  The stable was dark. Maklavir cursed as he banged his shin against a feeding trough.

  “Some light would be useful,” he seethed.

  Kara looked at the crack of the door. “There are guards everywhere,” she said. They’re all heading towards the palace.”

  “Where we should be as well,” grumbled Maklavir. He limped to one of the stalls, and patted Veritas on the horse’s muzzle. “We don’t even know what’s going on for sure back there. It’s probably nothing at all.”