Part 18 (2/2)

The music swirled in the courtyard. People were still dancing and clapping their hands.

Mierre and Kaltienne waited a short distance from the tower door, like two cats crouched at a mouse'slair. Kaltienne saw him first and dug his elbow into Mierre's ribs. ”There he is!”

They came at a run, and Dain darted off in the opposite direction. Hurrying past a parked cart resting on its traces, he ducked through the first door he came to, fortunately unlocked, but instead of entering the Hall as he expected, he found himself inside a small walled garden. Badly neglected, it was in serious need of tending. Many of the plants had begun to yellow from nightly frosts. Others, overgrown and sprawled across the paths, needed cutting back. Walkways atangle with weeds led to a central axis where a silent fountain stood encircled by a bench of moss-covered stone. Birds rustled and stirred within the branches of a gnarled old fruit tree in the corner. Flowers with dead blooms rattled in the chilly breeze.

On the opposite side of the gate ran a loggia littered with dead leaves. Dain trotted along this, ducking into the shadows at one end just as the boys opened the gate and peered into the garden.

”Halt!” Mierre said in alarm, thrusting his muscular arm across the opening. ”We cannot go in there.”

Kaltienne pushed at his arm, without budging it. ”But I saw him enter.”

”Doesn't matter. We're forbidden to go into the lady's garden.” What lady? Dain wondered, pressing himself deeper into the shadows. He hardly dared breathe.

”He's in there,” Kaltienne said with frustration. He tried to duck beneath Mierre's arm, but the larger boy shoved him back.

Kaltienne's mouth fell open. ”Have you gone mad? You know what his highness threatened if we failed.”

”We've got him,” Mierre said firmly. ”But we don't go in. Not us. The prince can, if he's brave enough.”

”But-”

”I've heard the servants and knights talk about this garden. No one is allowed in here. No one. The chevard's son died here. Mayhap his ghost walks these paths.”

Dain, peering cautiously around the edge of the wall, saw Kaltienne turn pale and swallow.

”Ghosts, you think?”

”I know not. But I know the chevard's wrath. If he lives I want none of his temper turned against me.

You've had one of Sir Roye's floggings. Do you want another?”

”Nay,” Kaltienne said with feeling.

”Nor I. If the eld is hiding in here, he can't get out. We'll block this gate and tell his highness-”

”Quick!” Kaltienne said, clutching Mierre's arm. ”Someone's coming. If it's Sir Roye, we're-” Mierre shut the gate, and Dain heard the sound of something being dragged across it.

Soon thereafter came Sir Roye's gruff voice. ”You boys! What are you doing there!”

”Nothing, Sir Roye.” Kaltienne's voice sounded innocent.

”You can't go in that garden. Get away from there.” ”We meant no harm,” Mierre said. ”We were just exploring-” ”Did you see that d.a.m.ned eld come this way?' ”No, Sir Roye,” Kaltienne lied without hesitation.

Dain frowned at such smooth duplicity. It was the experienced liars who never hesitated.

”Morde a day, that fool physician had him and let him go,” Sir Roye grumbled. ”Did you really see the eld, Sir Roye?” Mierre asked innocently. ”I heard the knights want to keep him chained in the guardhouse.” Sir Roye growled something Dain could not distinguish. ”Get out of here, both of you.

You're sure you saw no sign of him?”

”Not a hair of his head,” Mierre answered. ”But we'll gladly join the hunt.” ”Then go along and tell Sir Bosquecel he got away. I'm searching Sulein's tower again in case he doubled back.”

Their voices faded away.

Fearing trickery, or the return of Sir Roye, Dain let out his breath with a sense of wary relief. He waited until the shadows grew long and cold within the little garden. The music faded in the distance, and with it the sounds of revelry. Only then, s.h.i.+vering, did Dain venture forth into the open. He hurried across the garden and pushed on the gate, but it did not budge. The boys had secured it well, no doubt pulling the cart across it.

Muttering to himself, Dain wondered how long it would be before the prince came to get him. The idea of being Gavril's prey both frightened and infuriated him. Now that he had time to think, Dain realized it might have been better if he'd stayed in Sir Roye's clutches. He'd probably have been beaten and flung out of the hold on his ear, but at least he'd have been safely away from this place. Instead, he'd let the sorcerel panic him and scatter his wits. He'd been so desperate to get away, he'd acted without thinking.

Now he was boxed in here, desperate with thirst and cold and hungrier than ever. He prowled about for some time, hugging himself against the frost-nipped air.

There were doors at either end of the loggia, but both were securely locked. Cobwebs were spun over one, showing him it had not been opened in years. The other's lock was rusted and leaves had drifted up against its base. He could find no other exit.

The fountain had apparently been dry for years-not even a drop of rainwater did it hold to quench his thirst. He searched in the gathering darkness beneath the fruit tree, but found only pits lying on the ground, the fruit long since decayed.

For whatever reason, Prince Gavril did not hasten here to claim his prey. Perhaps he was waiting until the dead of night. Perhaps he, too, feared the ghosts that walked here and was waiting until dawn.

Perhaps the prince was playing with him, hoping to make him afraid. Dain kicked the ground and wished the demons from the second world's perdition would come forth and strike the prince for his cruelty.

In time, frustrated and miserable, Dain retreated to the dubious shelter of the loggia and watched the windows high above one side of the garden. No lights came on, ever, and he realized that this wing of the hold must be as deserted as the garden itself.

Moonlight rose eventually, s.h.i.+ning on the pathways and illuminating the silent fountain. Dain huddled on the cold flagstones of the loggia, too cold to sleep, and watched for ghosts to appear. But none walked here through the long, wretched night. He stared across the garden, studying the tracery of the tree branches beneath the windows, and realized that his only hope was to climb up and try to break through one of the shutters. He wasn't sure the branches would support his weight that high, but it was the only thing left to try, short of waiting here until he was dragged out by his tormentors.

Blowing on his cold hands and flexing them to ease their stiffness, Dain gathered his courage and determination, and began to climb.

In the night, the sound of the gate creaking open awakened Dain. Jerking upright, he scrunched himself deeper into the shadows beneath the fruit tree. The movement sent a stab of pain through his shoulder, which had stiffened since he fell out of the tree on it. Grimacing, he held back a whimper and concentrated on staying still.

The gate creaked again, and he heard the soft but unmistakable sound of wood sc.r.a.ping over flagstones.

They were coming for him at last.

Dain tried to stay calm, but his heart started pounding. His last hope had been to climb out of this trap, but after he fell he hurt too much to try again. Now, as he listened to the stealthy creaking of the gate and quiet footsteps, he gathered a broken wedge of edging stone he'd found lying in the neglected flower bed and waited for a chance to attack. Depending on how many were coming for him, he might yet find a way to get past them.

The scent of food-roasted meat and cold toties-nearly undid the last of his strength. Dain's mouth watered, and for a few moments his hunger consumed him, raging uncontrolled as though it would drive him forward to surrender, to do anything in exchange for nourishment.

”h.e.l.lo,” called a voice, so soft it was barely above a whisper. ”I won't hurt you. I'm a friend.”

Dain did not recognize the voice, and he frowned in the darkness. He had no friends here.

”Don't be afraid,” the voice said, low and rea.s.suring. ”I'm coming in, but I won't hurt you. 1 have some food. I thought you might be hungry.” Dain closed his eyes for a moment as weakness pa.s.sed through him and made his body tremble. He was so hungry, so terribly cold and tired. Steeling himself, he dragged open his eyes and bared his teeth in a silent snarl, curling his fingers tighter around the piece of stone. He had his dagger as well, but he would not draw it unless forced to.

The gate creaked again, louder this time, and then Dain heard it snap shut. His brain woke up and began to think more clearly. He realized that had Prince Gavril come to torment him, he would have kicked the gate open and entered boldly. No, this unseen visitor was trying to be quiet, and he seemed to be alone.

Dain sat up straighter, gathering his legs beneath him. If the gate remained unlocked and he had only one individual to overcome, then perhaps he stood a chance of escape.

Watching closely, he saw a shadow move quietly along the garden path. The moon had waned, making it much harder to see, even with Dain's excellent night vision.

His visitor stopped near the fountain. ”I will put the food here. Take it when you wish,” the voice said.

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