The Clandestine Circle (25 page)

By the time dawn filtered through the barn’s windows, the orange cat was gone. Varia did not mention him, for she loved a good secret, and the calico cat remained inscrutable.

The sound of banging lids on feed bins and the neighs of hungry horses brought Linsha wide awake and made her aware of her own hunger. She used her fingers to comb the hay and dust out of her hair, brushed off her dirty uniform, and hurried down the ladder in search of breakfast.

Shanron met her in the courtyard and greeted her with cool pleasure. But she took one look at Linsha’s uniform and marched her back to the barracks, where she thrust clean clothes in Linsha’s hands and ordered her to the bathhouse. “If you go into the dining hall looking like that, you’ll have kitchen duty for a week,” Shanron told her.
“Leave your uniform in the bathhouse. The attendants will wash it for you.”

The day was already sultry and windless. The bathhouse stood alone in its shady grove like an oasis of relief, and Linsha decided that Shanron had the right idea. She peeled off her filthy uniform—still stained with dirt, soot, blood, and sweat—tossed it to a bemused attendant, and plunged into the pool like a three-year-old.

Shanron appeared a few minutes later with a flagon of cooled ale and a plate of bread, meat, cheese, and two plums. “I told the cook you were back and had missed dinner, and he nearly fell over himself finding things for you to eat. I think someone has been talking to him about you. He’s usually not so solicitous.”

“Thank you,” Linsha said appreciatively. “Thank you, too, for feeding the cat.”

Shanron smiled with a softness that was unusual to her hard features. “She’s a dear. I can see why the captain wanted her saved. May I continue to feed her? She and I and the cook have formed a routine now.”

“Of course. Just don’t feed her so much. The stable attendant was complaining that she wasn’t catching mice.” Linsha left out the fact that the attendant was an owl.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” the woman guard said. “Well, enjoy. I can’t stay. Commander Durne told me to tell you that you are to report to the weapons master. You still have your training to complete. I’m off to sentry duty at the front gate.” She waved a hand and strode out.

Although the cool water felt delightful, Linsha decided not to overextend her time in the bath. She ate quickly, scrubbed clean, and put on a clean tunic and pants. She had a second uniform tunic, but it was hot and she draped it over her arm and decided to let the weapons master tell her if she needed to wear it. With her sword at her side, she went to the training hall and reported for duty.

The rest of the morning she spent with the weapons master practicing close-order defense and the use of a short pike, a weapon she was not familiar with. At lunch she ate in the
hall, and in the afternoon she stood sentry duty at the back gate with another squire and worked in the stable. She didn’t see Lord Bight or Commander Durne that day, and she was surprised to discover that she missed them both. When she asked, she was told Lord Bight had taken a squad and left to monitor the lava dome on Mount Thunderhorn, while Commander Durne was busy setting up a sick house in the guard camp.

By evening Linsha was weary to the bone, but she finally had a few hours of free time, and she decided to fulfill her duty to another organization. Saddling Windcatcher, she told the stable groom she planned to ride out to exercise her mare. Although she wasn’t supposed to leave the palace grounds unattended, she hoped to slip out of sight for a brief while into the trees above the palace riding fields and make her way to the safe house. By her estimation, the small croft was only a few miles away.

“Bight gave her a what?” asked one of the Circle leaders with quiet incredulity.

“A cutthrull slug,” Linsha repeated. “He brings Sable specimens for her collection in exchange for information.” The lady Knight clasped her hands behind her back and gazed at the three Knights in front of her. They sat at the small table again, like magistrates in court, and even Linsha had to admit they looked as sweaty and tired as she felt. Lady Karine had warned them Linsha would come, and they had been waiting most of the day to hear her report about Lord Bight, but it was not at all what they expected, and the interview had not gone well. Linsha had told them and retold them her tale of the journey to see Sable, and still they could not seem to accept it.

They bent their heads together, murmuring among themselves for a minute. Then the elder Knight turned to Linsha. “We find it difficult to believe that Bight controls Sable with only a few specimens. Are you certain there was nothing else mentioned or alluded to?”

“
Lord
Bight,” Linsha replied with a sharp emphasis on the “Lord.” She was growing tired of the Circle ignoring his title. “And he does not control the black dragon. I believe they have some sort of agreement, but what it is based on, I do not know yet. I can tell you, though, I am convinced Lord Bight will not willingly relinquish control of Sanction to anyone, and that includes the Dark Knights and the Solamnics.”

“We didn’t expect it to be easy,” one Knight snapped. His face was flushed and he appeared unwell. “Have you found any weakness? Anything we can exploit?”

Linsha eyed him thoughtfully and wondered if the leaders had been in the city. She knew they traveled to other clandestine groups in the area and moved frequently, but only they knew where they went. Perhaps, she thought bitterly, if they had spent more time in Sanction, they would have come to understand better the complicated character of the city and its leader.

She drew a long a deep breath and tried to put her thoughts into words. “My lords, I beg you to think long and carefully before you do anything to undermine Lord Bight’s authority. Sanction is a unique place. It has its own problems and factions that are not found anywhere else, and while Lord Bight may be dictatorial and heavy-handed at times, he is the best one to manage its affairs. He controls the volcanoes, he knows the city from the underground up, and he holds a deep respect for its citizens. If you try to control Sanction at this time without Lord Bight, you could be opening yourselves up to disaster.” She stopped on that word, seeing in their stony faces a total unwillingness to bend. She wondered if they had heard anything she said.

The elder Knight shook his head. “It’s clear, Lady Knight, that your appraisal of the situation in Sanction does not agree with ours. Bight is no longer necessary to the government of Sanction.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but the first Knight cut her off with a chop of his hand. “We would relieve you now if you were not the highest placed operative we have. It is
our intention to remove Bight to make way for a Solamnic government that will further our interests in this region and drive a powerful wedge into the side of the Knights of Takhisis. We need you to do your part.”

Sanction doesn’t
need
a Solamnic government, Linsha wanted to shout. Instead, she simply stood, her fingers clenched behind her back, and tried to look penitent. The threat of removal shocked her to the core.

“One more thing,” continued the second Knight. “We think a Dark Knight may have successfully infiltrated Bight’s inner circle. Unfortunately, we don’t know who it is or what position this Knight holds. Be wary. As you know, the Knights of Takhisis were granted control of Sanction nearly thirty years ago. The longer Bight holds them off, the more they want it. The Dark Knights will stoop to anything to regain control of the city and, if possible, destroy Hogan Bight.”

“But we won’t,” Linsha said, half in earnest, half in sarcasm.

“We do what is necessary.”

Linsha nodded a short jerk of the head that held little agreement, then stiffened her arm into a salute. “My lords, you have my report. May I have permission to withdraw and return to the palace before my absence is noticed?”

The first Knight rose to his feet and came to stand in front of her. His rugged face softened into an expression of impersonal compassion. “Lynn of Gateway, we know you are in a difficult position in the city. Remember your Oath and your duty, and you will do what needs to be done. You may go.”

It took all of Linsha’s self-control to contain her dismay, turn on her heel, and march out of the croft. The tendril of frustration that took root during her first meeting with the leaders plunged deep into her angry thoughts and sprang forth into a tangled vine of emotions and confused loyalties.

Brooding behind her silent mask, she rode Windcatcher back to the riding fields and the palace courtyard. She spoke to no one, not even Varia in her loft, while she curried the
mare, forked hay into her manger, and bedded her down for the night. Although the evening was still early, she avoided the dining hall and went directly to her room.

But it was a very long time before she found rest.

T
he next morning, the twelfth dawning since the merchantman had sailed blindly into Sanction Harbor, the sun rose hot and brazen, and the wind died before midday. The heat grew steadily until the streets became like furnaces and even the shade offered by buildings or trees gave little relief. To the west, a pall of smoke and haze draped the shoulders of Mount Thunderhorn where the lava dome slowly grew like a deadly boil on the volcano’s slope. The city’s harbor remained eerily quiet.

Linsha expected to return to the training hall as before, but Commander Durne found her in the court and told her to report to the governor’s audience hall to stand guard through another council meeting. The commander spoke to her formally and turned away as soon as his orders were issued, and yet she saw the pleasure in his eyes and recognized the way his lips tried to turn up in a smile.

Something fluttered in her stomach as she watched him stride away.

Resigning herself to a tedious morning of standing still in a hot uniform, she pulled on her tunic, strapped on her sword, and went to the lofty audience hall where the table and chairs had been set up once more for a meeting of the Privy Council. When she walked in, she was surprised to see the room was empty except for a man sitting in the great seat of the lord governor.

She bowed. “Your Excellency.”

Lord Bight inclined his head. “Squire. I hoped to see you before the others arrive. Are you well? You have no fever or symptoms of the disease?”

“I’m fine. So far,” she replied, both surprised and flattered that he would ask.

“You, Commander Durne, and the others were exposed to the plague during your efforts to fight the fire two nights ago. I have commended them for their courage, but I have not had a chance to tell you. I appreciate your efforts to help this city.” His lips quirked up in a half-grin. “Thank you, too, for your company under the mountain. It was very informative.”

Linsha hesitated. She wasn’t sure how to interpret that last statement. “I hope you were satisfied with my ‘true mettle,’ ” she said finally.

“More than satisfied. I have no doubt that you will do well.”

A blush crept up her cheeks, and she bowed again to hide her embarrassment. There it was again, that stab of guilt. Lately her feelings of inadequacy and disillusionment had become a painful canker in her mind, but the knowledge that she was deliberately misleading Lord Bight, and Ian Durne, burned in her belly like acid.

“I have something to give you,” Lord Bight continued. “Before our visit to Sable, I watched you and wondered if you would become ill after your work with the guards and on the ships. When you did not, I was pleased. Still, I do not want to trust to luck or fate much longer. I want you to have this.” He reached into his robes and drew out something fastened to a slim gold chain. The chain slid through his
fingers like a golden stream as he held it up just high enough for Linsha to see.

She drew in a sharp breath. A bronze dragon scale hung from the chain. The scale was about the size of her fist and gleamed with translucent shades of deep bronze. Its sharp edges had been filed off and rimmed with polished gold.

“I found this years ago and have kept it, waiting for a good use for its beauty and potency. It has been enchanted with protective spells that I believe—after hearing Sable’s tale—will protect you from this contagion. Will you trust me and try it? If its magic works for you, we might be able to find a way to adapt its power for all of us.”