Scrivener's Tale (56 page)

The ruse had appeared to work, appeasing her for the time being, but he knew two things for sure, and the first was that Darcelle, the young woman he'd chosen to be his queen, was dead. At no time during their brief conversation was there so much as a flash of the Darcelle he knew, only mimicry of who she'd been. It still looked like Darcelle, had her voice, moved in her graceful manner, showed glimpses of her petulance and self-absorption, and it even laughed in that particularly gleeful tone of hers. But he was grateful that he'd taken the risk, for now he understood that his beautiful wife-to-be was dead; her soul fled to a safer place with her god … for there had never been a trip on the river together, there was no chapel on a cliff built by his great-great-grandmother for anyone. He'd fabricated a memory and the demon walking in Darcelle had gone along with it. If he possessed her memories, he hadn't bothered to refer to them.

Beyond having to accept now that Darcelle was dead he was also sure that the monster using Darcelle's body would not trust him. Darcelle may have been smart, cunning even, and more than capable of intrigue, but what he knew they'd also shared from their first meeting was a mutual trust. For the moment, the demon would give Tamas the benefit of the doubt so the King of Cipres had given himself a slight head start to get away from the Morgravian palace and hopefully the capital.

Sending his young sidekick off to find Menster was a ruse. Menster didn't exist and Tamas was sure Hamelyn would work it out and head, as asked, for the stables. He burst into his rooms and found Captain Wentzl awaiting him, worry deeply etched in his face as he swung around at the king's arrival.

‘Majesty!' he said, relief now smoothing out his expression.

‘I know. Wentzl, hear me now,' Tamas said, peeling off clothes and rapidly moving around his chamber as he spoke, gathering up items into a sack. ‘We are leaving. All our men are to assemble in the bailey and I want you to get them galloping hard for the western harbour and our ship. Send word ahead to the men we left behind to ready her sails.'

Wentzl frowned, watching the king, now almost naked.

‘We're leaving, your majesty?'

‘Indeed.'

His captain baulked. ‘King Tamas —'

Tamas shook his head, pulling on his favourite leathers and riding garb, instantly transforming him from king to noble. ‘I wish I had something even less obvious,' he muttered. ‘I'll find it along the way.'

‘Along the way?' Wentzl repeated. ‘Your majesty, please, what is happening?'

‘It's too long in the explanation, other than to say that we are in danger here and if you value your king's life, you will not fight me on this and you will carry out my instructions without querying me further. I know it flies in the face of everything you know you should be doing for me, but I am attempting to save our lives. If we do this any other way, I will surely die and so will a lot of Cipreans.'

Wentzl looked at his king, baffled, as Tamas pulled on his old worn and much loved boots. ‘Ah, that's better,' he said, thrilled to be out of the regalia of royalty. ‘Now where is that prized bow of mine?'

‘It was put in this chest, your majesty,' his companion said. He fetched it for the king. ‘I'm afraid there are only two arrows. We were going to have more fletched for the hunt when we got here.'

‘One is all I'll need.'

Wentzl frowned, unsure of what his king was referring to but he waited, appreciating that Tamas was on a mission and clearly had a plan.

‘Wentzl, you and the men are to set sail for Cipres as fast as your horses can get you to the ship. Is that clear?' Wentzl nodded, wanting to speak but clearly too confused to form the questions exploding in his mind. ‘Here, take these clothes,' he said, gathering up his discarded finery and reaching for his sword. ‘Run with me, I'll explain as we go. Do you know how to get out of this part of Stoneheart through a back or side entrance?'

Wentzl, still too confounded to speak, nodded. Then he cleared his throat. ‘Forgive me. Yes, of course, your majesty. Follow me.'

‘Bring everyone. Leave no-one here,' Tamas said, pointing to the door where he'd passed guards as he'd entered.

‘But your belongings …' Wentzl queried, looking around the suite.

Tamas knew the man was in shock, but couldn't help smiling. ‘Forget about them, Captain Wentzl. I'm sure my life is worth more than some formal wear. This is all I need,' he said, grabbing his distinctive fur-lined coat. Tamas finished buckling on his sword and reached for his riding gloves and bow. ‘Let's go,' he said, physically pulling the stunned captain with him. ‘Lead the way and pay attention because I'll only have time to explain my plan once.'

Hamelyn had never run faster. Menster was surely a ruse to get him out of Darcelle's clutches. He ignored it and made for the stables. His mind was scattering in various directions. Was he being pursued, or more likely was King Tamas being pursued? In his mind's eye he saw Darcelle suddenly develop fangs and fly, swooping after the king to kiss him or kill him, but either way to claim him. He was worried for Cassien too — could he keep the queen safe and smuggle her out of Stoneheart? He had no idea how that was going to be achieved but he felt that if anyone could, it was Cassien. And Gabe. Coming back to life as he had! It was terrifying, but thrilling, because it meant Gabriel was alive and the Triad, whatever it was, was complete.

‘Where will we all meet?' he murmured to himself as he slid into the stable and the new problem of how he was to access horses arose.

‘Hey, you boy, what's your name?' a deep voice yelled.

‘Er, Ham.'

‘You don't belong in here,' the voice arrived. It belonged to a youngish man, who towered over him. Nevertheless, he wasn't that much older, Ham reckoned; definitely less than a decade between them.

‘Not usually, no,' he said, rallying his confidence. ‘I'm with Master Cassien, who is the queen's newly appointed champion.'

‘Ah, I'd heard rumours this morning. A little bird said he was sleeping with the queen.'

Ham eyed the man and decided he was slightly simple-minded rather than disrespectful. ‘Not sleeping with her, just sleeping outside her chambers for the time being. You know odd things have been happening around the palace, right?'

The man nodded. ‘Aye. Animals have died. Broke the stable master's heart this morning when he found them. Cook wanted to butcher them for the meat, but Master Cole won't hear of it. They were fine horses, those. He's having them put on a pyre. It's where he is now.'

‘I see.' Ham seized his chance. ‘I've come to get our pair of horses,' he said. ‘You wouldn't happen to know where they are?' he asked, looking down the length of the impressively large stables.

‘Of course I do,' his companion said. ‘Master Cole insists on a detailed inventory of every animal we keep and it's listed against its owner.'

‘Perfect. Can you get me our horses and saddles, then?'

‘I could if I could read the list,' he said and grinned innocently at Ham.

Ham smiled back. ‘Or better still, I can point them out.'

‘No, that means I'd have to take your word for it,' the man said, taking off his cap to scratch his head slowly. ‘You need your mounts urgently?'

‘I'm afraid I do. Master Cassien won't be pleased if I keep him waiting.'

‘I know every horse here. I know the visiting animals, but we have a lot of them at present because of the king's arrival.'

Time was moving on and Ham could feel his fears gathering and sounding a distant alarm in his head. He had to be ready; that's what Tamas had conveyed. Tamas was clever with his ruse, but it would all come to naught if he didn't have horses at the ready.

Ham closed his eyes and pictured himself riding with Cassien on their way to Rittylworth. He knew he could do this, knew his mind absorbed every detail of the landscape around him at any given moment. At the next bell, if he were asked to describe this stable in detail he knew he could, even though he'd barely given it more than a cursory glance. It was simply how his mind worked.

‘What is your name?'

‘It's Clef.'

‘Clef, perhaps they'll be stabled nearby to each other?' Ham suggested, hoping he could lead the stableman where he needed.

Clef nodded obligingly. ‘They may even share a stall, as we're crowded right now.'

‘Good. Then shall I describe Master Cassien's horse?'

His companion laughed but not unkindly. He scratched his head again. ‘You could try. Horses are horses,' he said, not sounding helpful.

‘I can be accurate in my description and then, if you recognise the one I tell you about, mine will logically be the one with it or next to its left or right and I'm sure you'll know which.'

Clef frowned, clearly not grasping such obvious reasoning. Ham didn't pause to explain but drew on his skill. ‘It's a mare. She stands this high,' he said, gesturing with a hand. ‘She's a grey, but her tail is a lovely soft golden colour,' he began, glad the horse's light colouring would set her apart quickly from the predominantly chestnut horses.

From the window of her chambers, the gaze of Princess Darcelle absently wandered over the bailey while Cyricus and Aphra plotted.

‘We should stay together,' Aphra argued.

‘No. I need the body of a male. I regret losing Gabriel. I was too hasty.'

‘But in Darcelle you have the power you need,' she pressed.

‘Not entirely, Aphra. As the princess we have some power to command, but at the queen's word, everyone bows, including Darcelle.'

‘Stick to your plan, my beloved,' she cooed. ‘I'll be your Darcelle and you be my Tamas. Then we have power.'

He yawned as Darcelle. ‘Yes, I suppose you're right, although you seem very trusting of the king.'

‘He has no reason to mistrust his bride-to-be. I thought he was very tender toward her just now,' she soothed.

‘Did you?' She didn't reply. ‘I was sure I detected a false note in his words.'

‘No,' she said, firmly.

‘You didn't get the impression that he was eager to be away from Darcelle?'

‘I didn't,' she admitted. ‘Besides, what possible reason could he have for being suspicious of her? He was distracted if anything, by his concern when they found Gabe's body … or what they thought was Tentrell's body.'

‘Yes, I do have to agree with you. Tamas was shocked and profoundly concerned for Darcelle in that courtyard. I also agree that unless Gabe sat up and spoke,' he jested, sounding amused now, ‘I see no possibility that Tamas could know about any other threat.'

‘That's right. And Gabe was
very
dead, my love. We got rid of him long ago,' she assured him.

He hesitated, allowing Darcelle's eyes to scan the bailey, where there seemed to be an inordinate amount of activity. He knew Darcelle's pretty face was frowning while he absently pondered Tamas and what he was looking at.

‘And yet, still I had this sense that the king was being careful.'

‘In what way?'

‘Do you not think that a man would at least wish to kiss the woman he intended to marry when he had her alone in a room?'

‘I suspect he is being highly respectful of the Morgravian Crown's as its guest.'

‘He's a man, Aphra! Men have needs.'

She giggled. ‘So do you, my love. I can't wait to service them when you are flesh again.' She sighed. ‘He wouldn't have been intimate in front of the boy.'

‘The boy … yes, indeed, the quiet child with the steady focus and all-seeing gaze,' Cyricus mused.

‘He was a servant, nothing more,' she said dismissively.

‘But I sensed a lot more. I sensed scrutiny from the shadows. I sensed knowing. I sensed …'

‘What?'

Cyricus gave a soft groan. ‘Ah, it was the child … the child! I had all my concentration on Tamas.'

‘What are you talking about?'

‘I'm talking about that stealthy, quietly spoken, bowing boy, who said the right things in the right places but he was gathering information. He knows!'

‘What?'

‘You heard me. It's his knowledge that my instincts were sensing. Nothing to do with Tamas!'

‘I don't understand,' Aphra bleated.

‘No, I know you don't, which is why you are my slave and I your lord. And why, if I decide to move out of Darcelle's body, I will not need your permission. The boy knows, believe me in this. Oh, I can't imagine why I was so slow to realise it. I've been duped into feeling safe. Who is he? How can he know anything about me?'

‘Cyricus, I think Tamas is —'

‘Don't, Aphra! Don't placate me. I follow my own intuition and it is growling that the child who came with Tamas was far more than a simple messenger boy.'

‘But, the king —'

‘I said, don't,' he murmured so quietly it was definitely a threat. ‘Don't even speak just now.'

He made a low, growling noise of frustration — which issued as a mewl from Darcelle — as he gave his attention in a more focused way to the bailey. To his astonishment he saw Tamas, sitting in the saddle of the beautiful pearl-coloured horse that Florentyna had donated from her personal stable for the king's use. Although Cyricus could ride, he barely knew a smattering about horse husbandry, but even he could appreciate the glowing beauty of the pale horse, whose coat shimmered with two colours beneath the sunlight. And though he knew so little, there was no doubting that horse, and certainly no doubting that glorious fur-lined cloak of King Tamas, brightly flashing azure blue in its silken lining against the gold of the horse's flank.

For a couple of Darcelle's heartbeats he was struck silent and still as a statue. And then he moved, his voice emerging as Darcelle's shriek. ‘No!' he cried, forming the lips of the princess into a helpless snarl. ‘No!'