King's Man and Thief (28 page)

Her eyes widened. He removed his finger and she said softly, "But Your Majesty—how could this happen and we your people not know?"

"There is much that the people do not know," replied Castyll, his face grim. "But you must believe me. If I am ever to be a true king to my people I must escape tonight. It is my only hope." He sat back, letting her absorb what he had told her. She seemed stunned. Finally he said, still whispering, "I need your help."

"What... what can I do?"

"You can help me escape. I cannot lie to you. If they find you here tomorrow and me gone, they will interrogate you. Your only chance is to come with me. I know there are people who are still loyal to me. It's my hope that I can find them and rally them to my cause. They do not know," he said sadly. "Even some of my closest men think me happily here in Ilantha for the summer."

Adara edged back, unaware that she was putting the down pillow between herself and the young king. "But... I have my duty as a Blesser. I cannot abandon my Tenders. They are unsettled enough already, with the death of the previous Blesser. To lose me so soon ..."

Castyll realized with a growing sense of horror that he had made an enormous mistake. Adara would not willingly betray him, but he should have tried to escape without involving her. Far better to have lain with her as was expected and have left like a thief in the night. Now it was too late. She would be subjected to mind-reading, he felt certain. And very few mortals, certainly not a person with no magical training, could resist that. She would therefore betray him in the end anyway, if she did not come with him.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. "I'm so sorry. I should never have done this to you. It's only ..." What? Only that he missed speaking heart to heart with someone? That he was weary of guarding his true plans? That he yearned for someone to say
it's all right, you're doing the right thing, I understand'!

She gazed at him for a long moment, then reached to touch his face. "How horrible this must be for you. I cannot imagine ... Of course I will help. I serve Love, and part of our training is to know and understand our own hearts. My heart wants to help, even if that means abandoning my duties. My Tenders will be confused and hurt, but I will serve my goddess best this way."

A lump rose in Castyll's throat and he hugged her tightly. "Thank you," he whispered. "No harm will come to you. I give you my word."

"Speak not so," she warned, "for you tempt the gods when you do."

He nodded, acknowledging the truth of what she said. Castyll took a deep breath. "It would be best to wait until after dark," he said. "I know there will be guards posted."

Adara's brows drew together angrily. "Not around the temple of Love!" she said indignantly. "It would be a blasphemy!"

Castyll nodded sadly. 'These are men who have no sense of honor." He watched her reaction, knowing that this, more than anything had yet said, brought home to her the depths to which his captors would sink.

She glanced down at her hands clenched around the pillow, and deliberately disentangled them. She straightened, and jutted her chin slightly forward. "You came for a purpose other than flight," she reminded him.

Suddenly, Castyll's mouth went dry. He felt shy and awkward, and judging by the flush in Adara's cheeks, she did as well. "True," he managed.

Her mouth opened, her small pink tongue creeping out to moisten suddenly dry lips. "Nightfall ... is a long time away."

Castyll's heart began to race. No, Adara was no beauty like his beloved Cimarys. But she was brave, like Cimmy, and kind. And she was the Blesser of Love. To not lie with her tonight would be an insult. Besides, Castyll found that he was more than ready for her. Their gazes locked and he moved toward her over the soft bed.

"A very long time," he agreed. He gently pressed his lips to hers, felt the soft swell of her small breasts as she arched up toward him.

And for a time, all thoughts of flight were banished from their minds.

Castyll started awake much later. The room was completely dark. His jerky movements awakened Adara, who awoke with a gasp. "Castyll?"

"Shh, I'm sorry. I didn't remember where I was for a moment." She moved toward him, her skin soft as silk, her warm nakedness inviting him back to sleep—or sport. He placed a kiss on her hand and slid out of the bed. "It is time we were gone."

He groped about for his clothes as she rose to light the lamps. She moved gracefully, without embarrassment, as the lights revealed her nakedness to his eyes. Seeing her thus brought the image of Cimarys to his mind, and suddenly tears clouded his vision. He wiped at his eyes. At once Adara was there.

"What is it?" she asked, concerned.

He took a steadying breath. "It's just... forgive me, Adara. But lying with you only makes me want my Cimarys all the more. I miss her so much."

He had thought he would hurt her with the words, but instead Adara flung her arms about his neck. "Oh, Castyll, thank you!" Tears were in her own eyes. "This was my first ... I was afraid I couldn't..." Seeing his confusion, she replied, "A Blesser hopes that the man she has initiated into lovemaking will take that skill to his own bed, share it with his beloved to their mutual joy. I am so happy that you are even more in love with your Byrnian princess after being with me!"

He grinned back at her and kissed her soundly on the lips. "Then know, dear Adara —that when your king lies with his queen, we will both think of you . . . and thank you. But we must hurry. I know not the hour."

Adara dressed quickly. "I have nothing but my Blesser's robes," she said apologetically. "Do you have a cloak?" She nodded. "Then wrap yourself in that. Be quiet—I'm going to take a look around first."

He went to the door, opened it and peered out. It was dark in the main room of the temple. But he couldn't just walk out. Castyll went to the window and gently opened the shutters. And stared, shocked, into the hooded features of a man waiting outside the window.

What has a thousand faces, a hundred voices, the conscience of a cur, and the purse of a beggar? A thespian.
—traditional Byrnian riddle

Swift as a thought, the dark-clad stranger seized both of Castyll's arms just as the king curled his hands into fists.
Friend! Friend!
came a cry, but not in Castyll's ears. It hammered in his brain with a truth that could not be denied. Even as his eyes recognized the face inside the cowl as a familiar one, the young king had already opened his hands.

"Good gods!" breathed Castyll. "Damir! What in the name of—"

"Trying to assist you with what you were obviously planning," replied the Byrnian ambassador as he climbed swiftly in through the window. He bowed toward the startled Blesser. "My apologies, my lady."

"Castyll... who ...?" Adara's voice was faint as she glanced from youth to man. "He is a friend." Castyll flashed Damir a relieved grin. "A very welcome friend, at the moment. But Damir. . . how did you know what I was thinking? Where I was?"

"Your Majesty, when the king goes to become a man under the ministrations of the Blesser of Love, it's hardly a state secret. As for your state of mind—I've known you for some time now, and none of the recent behavior of your country's politics jibes with what I know of its king. But we must hurry. I have several men waiting in the garden area."

Castyll stared, open-mouthed. "But. .. there must be guards everywhere!"

Damir raised an eyebrow, and his thin lips curved into a slight smile. "I have several very
good
men," he amended. "We have not been noticed. Nor shall we be. My Lady Blesser," and again he turned to the young woman, "I'm sorry you had to get involved in all this."

Adara stuck her chin up in a gesture Castyll was coming to recognize. "I know what is right." "It's my fault," said Castyll. "I should have tried to steal away without compromising her." "I'm willing to go," insisted Adara.

"But you do not have to," said Damir. "Not if you trust me. I have mind magic," he added, seeing the confusion on her face. "I can make you forget what has happened—plant a false memory in its place. This way, when Bhakir brings someone in to mind-read you, you will have nothing to fear. You will be utterly innocent, and able to continue with your duties as Blesser."

"Can you really do that, Damir?" asked Castyll, somewhat dubious.

Damir nodded. "And more —if the lady will let me. She can help us, if she will, by following certain instructions not known to her that I will implant. But we must hurry. Every minute we linger increases the risk. Are you willing, lady?" Adara gnawed her lower lip, glancing from one to the other. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "Excellent," said Damir. "Now, come, sit down on the bed, and close your eyes."

She did as she was bid. Damir seated himself next to her and placed the fingers of his right hand against her temple. His expression was composed, almost blank, but as Castyll watched, various emotions flitted about Damir's angular face. At one point, the older man's lips curved into a happy smile. Knowing that Damir was reading the Blesser's thoughts—and guessing at what the Blesser was recalling—Castyll blushed.

"Now," said Damir softly to Adara, "let us go back. Castyll never spoke to you of his plans. You talked for a bit, then completed the holy ritual. Then you slept in the king's arms. You will awake refreshed when the morning comes, and you will be as startled as anyone else that he has gone. Do you understand?"

Beneath her closed lids, Adara's eyes flickered back and forth. "Yes," she said softly. "Now, Castyll," said Damir, his eyes still closed, "do you yet have men loyal to you?"

"Yes," replied the king swiftly. "I hope most of them. Bhakir has been careful to keep my imprisonment a secret. I think most of the guards back at Castle Derlian in Jarmair are loyal to me." "That is hope speaking," reprimanded Damir. 'Tell me who you
know
to be loyal to you unto death."

Castyll licked his lips thinking hard.
Unto death
... "My seneschal. Lord Maren." "And who reports to him that you trust?"
"The Captain of the Guards—Kester."

Damir nodded and leaned over toward Adara again, whispering softly into her ear. Castyll couldn't quite catch the words this time, but it did not matter. Beyond all hope, Damir had come to help him escape.

Damir finished, and gently eased the girl back into her bed. "Help me remove her clothing," he said. When Castyll hesitated, overcome with a bout of shyness, the older man said sternly, "If we want this to work, she can't be found fully dressed in a traveling cloak, now can she?"

Castyll wordlessly conceded the logic of that, and together they removed Adara's clothes. The young king brought the blanket up to her chin, kissed the girl's forehead, and whispered softly, "I will remember." He straightened, and this time the redness on his face was from excitement, not embarrassment. "Let's go."

They extinguished the lamps and Damir went first. He looked around, then quietly eased himself out the window into the flower beds beneath. He helped Castyll out, wincing as Castyll loudly banged a knee against the wooden sill. At Damir's gesture, Castyll froze.

No sound. They had not been spotted. As his eyes adjusted to the dim night lighting, Castyll was able to see Bhakir's guards. Two were out here, one of whom was clearly asleep at his post. The other was facing away from the house. Castyll suspected there were more in the front of the building. Anger flared in him again, but he pushed it aside.

His eyes attuned to the night now, he found he could also make out three of Damir's men. One sat comfortably in a large tree, a bow with a nocked arrow at the ready in case they were discovered. Other than his dark clothes and the soot smeared on his face, the man made little effort to hide himself. Another black-clad man waited by the stone wall. There were no weapons visible, but Castyll suspected the man was well armed indeed. A third man waited with—of all things—horses at the ready.

Castyll frowned in annoyance. "Your men may be good, but they do a damned poor job of hiding themselves," he whispered to Damir.

Damir shot him a look that Castyll couldn't readily decipher. He opened his mouth, was about to say something when a sudden yowl split the night.

It was Timmar, the temple's cat, and all she was doing was performing her duty of keeping the rats at bay. But one of the vermin had clearly managed to get in a good bite before Timmar's sharp claws ended its life, and Timmar was not a creature to suffer in silence.

The drowsing guard started awake while the one on patrol whirled. Castyll's heart climbed into his throat. Timmar and her dead rat were but a yard to his left. The man was staring right at him and Damir!

Panic seized the young man. He began to run toward the waiting horses. Damir grunted softly and reached out to grasp him. "No!" hissed the older man, but it was too late.

The guard began to run in their direction. Suddenly he stumbled and pitched forward. A slender black arrow protruded from his back. The guard who had been sleeping was now on his feet, looking around drowsily. He opened his mouth, perhaps to cry out a warning to his fellow guardsmen, and again an arrow sang through the air. The second of Bhakir's guards toppled, the arrow, fired by Damir's man in the tree, piercing his throat.

By now Damir had seized Castyll, twisted the young king's arm around in a painful grip and covered his mouth with one hand. "Silence!" hissed Damir, his lips brushing Castyll's ear. "I had worked mind magic on Bhakir's guards. We were all invisible to their eyes. They would not have seen us had you not bolted. Be silent, and all may yet be well."

Castyll nodded to indicate that he understood. Damir released him. They stood still as statues, Castyll trying to make even his breathing as quiet as he could, waiting for the sound of the other guards to come rushing back, demanding what was wrong.