Part 39 (1/2)
”I will.” Magnus spoke up from where he still sat on the far side of the room. ”We can use the stones from the cave-in.”
Without a word, Hadrian got up and lifted Thranic's body, which folded in the middle like a thick blanket. His arms splayed out to either side, white and limp. Arista watched as he left a trail of dark droplets on the dusty stone. She looked back at the s.p.a.ce behind, at the clutter in the corner where Thranic had lain. Pots, cups, torn cloth, soiled blankets, trash-it reminded her of a mouse's den. How long was he here? How long did he lie in this room alone waiting to die? How long will we?
Arista stood up and, turning away from the trash and the puddle of blood, moved to the sealed door. She touched the stone and the metal rods that held it closed. The door was cold. She pressed her palms flat against the surface and laid her head close. She heard nothing. She reminded herself that it was not a living creature and did not grow restless. She could feel it, a power radiating, pus.h.i.+ng against her like the opposite pole of a magnet. Her encounter with the oberdaza made her sensitive to magic. The new smell that had confused her before the palace was no longer a mystery. Beyond the door lay magic, but not the vague, s.h.i.+fting sort that defined the oberdaza. The Ghazel witch doctors appeared in her mind as shadows that darted and whirled, pulsating irregularly, but this... this was greater. The power on the other side was clear, intense, and amazing. In it, she could detect elements of the weave. She could see it with her feelings, for there was more than magic that formed the pattern. An underlying sadness dominated and endowed the spell with incredible strength. An incomprehensible grief and the strength of self-sacrifice were bound together by a single strand of hope. It frightened her, yet at the same time, she found it beautiful.
Outside in the hallway, she could hear the clack of stones being stacked. Hadrian returned, wiping his hands against his clothes as if trying to wipe off a disease. He sat beside Royce in the shadows, away from the others.
She crossed the room, knelt down before them, and sat on her legs with the robe pooling out around her.
”Any ideas?” she asked, nodding toward the sealed door.
Royce and Hadrian exchanged glances.
”A few,” Royce said.
”I knew I could count on you.” She brightened. ”You've always been there for us, Alric's miracle workers.”
Hadrian grimaced. ”Don't get your hopes up.”
”You stole the treasure from the Crown Tower and put it back the next night. You broke into Avempartha, Gutaria Prison, and Drumindor-twice. How much harder can this be?”
”You only know about the successes,” Royce said.
”There've been failures?”
They looked at each other and smiled painfully. Then they both nodded.
”But you're still alive. I should have thought a failure-”
”Not all failures end in death. Take our mission to steal DeWitt's sword from Essendon Castle. You can hardly call that a success.”
”But there was no sword. It was a trap. And in the end it all worked out. I hardly call that a failure.”
”Alburn was,” Royce said, and Hadrian nodded dramatically.
”Alburn?”
”We spent more than a year in King Armand's dungeon,” Hadrian told her. ”What was that, about six years ago? Seven? Right after that bad winter. You might remember it, real cold spell. The Galewyr froze for the first time in memory.”
”I remember that. My father wanted to hold a big party for my twentieth birthday, only no one could come.”
”We stayed the whole season in Medford,” Royce said. ”Safe and comfortable-it was nice, actually, but we got soft and out of practice. We were just plain sloppy.”
”We'd still be in that dungeon right now if it wasn't for Leo and Genny,” Hadrian said.
”Leo and Genny?” Arista asked. ”Not the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Roch.e.l.le?”
”Yep.”
”They're friends of yours?”
”They are now,” Royce said.
”We got the job through Albert, who took the a.s.signment from another middleman. A typical double-blind operation, where we don't know the client and they don't know us. Turns out it was the duke and d.u.c.h.ess. Albert broke the rules in telling them who we were and they convinced Armand to let us out. I'm still not certain how.”
”They were scared we'd talk,” Royce added.
Hadrian scowled at him, then rolled his eyes. ”About what? We didn't know who hired us at the time.”
Royce shrugged and Hadrian looked back at Arista.
”Anyway, we were just lucky Armand never bothered to execute us. But yeah, we don't always win. Even that Crown Tower job was a disaster.”
”You were an idiot for coming back,” Royce told him.
”What happened?” Arista asked.
”Two of the Patriarch's personal guards caught Royce when we were putting the treasure back.”
”Like the two at the meeting?”
”Exactly-maybe the same two.”
”He could have gotten away,” Royce explained. ”He had a clear exit, but instead the idiot came back for me. It was the first time I'd ever seen him fight, and I have to say it was impressive-and the two guards were good.”
”Very good,” Hadrian added gravely. ”They nearly killed us. Royce had been beaten pretty badly and took a blade to the shoulder, while I was stabbed in the thigh and cut across the chest-still have the scar.”
”Really?” Arista asked, astounded. She could not imagine anyone getting the better of Hadrian in a fight.
”We just barely got away, but by that time the alarm was up. We managed to hide in a tinker's cart heading south. The whole countryside was looking for us and we were bleeding badly. We ended up in Medford. Neither of us had been there before.
”It was the middle of the night in this pouring rain when we crawled out, nearly dead. We just staggered down the street into the Lower Quarter looking for help-a place to hide. News. .h.i.t the city about the Crown Tower thieves and soldiers found the cart. They knew we were there. Your father turned out the city guard to search for us. We didn't know anyone. Soldiers were everywhere. We were so desperate that we banged on doors at random, hoping someone would let us in-that was the night we met Gwen DeLancy.”
”I still can't understand why you came back,” Royce said. ”We weren't even friends. We were practically enemies. You knew I hated you.”
”Same reason why I took the DeWitt job,” Hadrian replied. ”Same reason I went looking for Gaunt.” He looked across the room at Degan and shook his head. ”I've always had that dream of doing what's right, of saving the kingdom, winning the girl, and being the hero of the realm. Then I'd ride back home to Hintindar, where my father would be proud of me and Lord Baldwin would ask me to dine with him at his table, but...”
”But what?” Arista asked.
”It's just a boy's dream,” he said sadly. ”I became a champion in Calis. I fought in arenas where hundreds of people would come to cheer me. They chanted my name-or at least the one they gave me-but I never felt like a hero. I felt dirty, evil. I guess since then I just wanted to wipe that blood off me, clean myself of the dirt, and I was tired of running. That's what it came down to that day in the tower. I ran from my father, from Avryn, even from Calis. I was tired of running-I still am.”
They sat in silence for a minute; then Arista asked, ”So what is the plan?”
”We send Gaunt in,” Royce replied.
”What?” She looked over at Degan, who was lying down on his blankets, curled up in a ball.
”You yourself said that he needed to be here, but why?” Hadrian asked. ”He's been nothing but a pain. Everyone on this trip has had a purpose except him. You said he was absolutely necessary to the success of this mission. Why?”
”Because he's the heir.”