Chapter XXX - Challenge

Hey Everyone!
This chapter is definitely not perfect and needs some TLC but I'm kinda to the point where I just want to keep posting as regularly as I can and then work out the kinks later. Suggestions are welcome, as always!
~Emily "Firebrand"

Chapter Thirty

TWO YEARS, FOUR MONTHS, AND THREE WEEKS

Moonlight streamed through the latticework that crisscrossed the window. Zoe sat in shadow beneath the opening, wrapped in a blanket, and studied the patchwork of silver light that shone on the floor in front of her. It was very late but she could not sleep, so she had left her small closet-room and crept back into the large part of Brysa’s bower to sit and think.

Her mind replayed Rebekka’s account to Brysa earlier: the maid had gone to the market, been surprised by an angry gryphon, spoken with Cormac Alstair, and found out nothing. Brysa had been very dissatisfied with the report and probed for more, clearly believing that there had to be something that Rebekka wasn’t telling her.

“Why are you so dirty?” the princess demanded. “Look at you! What happened?”

“The gryphon attacked, like I said,” Rebekka replied, her face weary. “I was pushed down into the dirt to evade his attack—”

“Who pushed you?”

Rebekka hesitated for a fraction of a second but it was enough for Brysa to pounce. “It was Alstair, wasn’t it?” She smiled triumphantly as Rebekka slowly nodded yes. “He saved you! Now, I ask you: what merchant would risk his life for a complete stranger?”

Rebekka said nothing.

“How did he react to our bait? Why didn’t he give you any information?”

“He did not even know of a Zoe!” protested Rebekka. “I mentioned her and he did not react in the least. He told me that he was tired of being suspected of treason and warned me to never show my face before him again. He did not know who sent me, my lady, but he sent icy regards to my master or mistress.”

Zoe, watching keenly from the other side of the room, could pick out that Rebekka was lying. The maid was not a natural actress, nor well skilled in the art of espionage. Zoe prayed Brysa could not see the same thing.

“I don’t believe you,” Brysa said, shattering Zoe’s hope. Her cool eyes scanned Rebekka’s flushed, downcast face. “I don’t know what happened out there, but there’s more to it then you’re telling me. I did not think you would keep important information from me, Rebekka, but I see I was wrong. Heed my words: I will uncover Alstair’s true identity before the end. I swear it.”

Rebekka had said nothing to refute that and it was the end of the matter. Zoe was not sure what to think. How much did Brysa know, or logically suspect? The Elangsian princess was getting far too close to the truth for comfort.

Zoe’s eyes opened and she studied the diamond-shaped sections of moonlight again. Tancred had protected Rebekka, a girl he had never met before, from a vicious creature. No matter what his disguise, at his core he’ll always be the Hunter, looking out for those in harm’s way, she thought, feeling unexpected stirred by Tancred’s protectiveness of the innocent maid.

Her mind shifted slightly. Once, during Brysa’s interrogation of Rebekka, Zoe had caught a glimpse of something as it flickered through Rebekka’s eyes. The young woman said to Brysa in a quiet voice, “I received no information from him, my lady. He would not be persuaded to share anything”—and a second later she had sent Zoe a quick, meaningful look. It caught Zoe’s full attention. The moment passed, but Zoe was convinced that Tancred had in fact shared something else with Rebekka; something the maid would not share with Brysa but wanted to let Zoe know about.

What? What did he tell her? She glanced across the room at Rebekka’s slumbering form, and wondered. A moment later she stood to her feet and goosebumps erupted on her flesh at the cool fall air that blew through the window. Zoe pulled the blanket tighter around her form and moved silently across the room. She drew close to Rebekka.

Just as she was about to wake her, Rebekka’s eyes opened and she looked directly at Zoe, her face illuminated just enough for Zoe to read her expression. Sitting straight up, she rose to her feet and walked to the other side of the room with Zoe.

“I’ve been waiting for Brysa to fall asleep,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I had to speak to you.”

“Shh. Wait.” Zoe silently motioned to her little closet and quietly opened the door. Once they were both inside the confines of the little room and the door was securely shut behind her, Zoe turned back to Rebekka. As she lit the candle stub she had snagged for her use days earlier, she asked in an undertone, “What happened today with Alstair?”

“I know he’s the Hunter,” Rebekka said gently.

Zoe froze, suspicion rising. Slowly, she set the flickering candle on the small table beside her and looked right at Rebekka. “What do you mean?” she asked carefully. “Did he tell you something?”

She shook her head. “No. I just guessed. He didn’t directly refute it.”

“Oh.” Zoe thought fast. “What else happened?”

“I was supposed to get information out of him on his real identity, using you for bait. That did not work, of course.” Rebekka studied her hands which were folded in her lap. “Then, I tried to get him to leave the city. I told him it wasn’t safe for him to stay. Too many people suspect him right now.”

Zoe was surprised timid Rebekka had said something like that. “How did he respond?”

“He said he wouldn’t leave without you.”

Shocked, Zoe stared at her and wondered if she had heard correctly. “Without me?”

Rebekka nodded.

Why? Why would he stay for her? Zoe had a hard time believing Rebekka’s words but knew the other woman would not lie to her. Shaking her head to clear it, she asked, “Was Jaedon with him? He’s an older man: dark graying hair, hazel eyes?”

Rebekka shook her head. “He was alone.”

Where was Jaedon? Doing reconnaissance? Keeping an eye on Tancred from afar?

Oblivious to Zoe’s unease, Rebekka added tentatively, “And Zoe?”

“Hmm?”

“Something very odd happened in the marketplace after the gryphon attacked but before I talked with the Hunter. I have been trying to figure it out but cannot make sense of it at all.”

“What?”

“There was another man—perhaps a little older than the Hunter himself. He had dark hair and blue eyes. But, Zoe...” Rebekka’s voice trailed off and she stared out the window. “I think he was trying to kill the Hunter.”

Zoe’s body tensed. An assassin? “I have not heard of anyone being sent to kill him,” she said cautiously. “But do you think Montel or even Brastus might have sent somebody to take him out?”

“They don’t have hard evidence against him...”

“No, but they have suspicion and right now they probably don’t want to take any chances.” Zoe’s blood boiled. “What’s the death of one man, innocent or not, in their eyes if it makes their life easier?”

“True.”

Who was the assassin? Would he prove to be a large problem? Zoe was confident Tancred had enough skill to handle him, but still...it would be just another thing, another problem added to the list, and right now they didn’t need that.

“Anyway,” Rebekka said after a moment of silence. She leaned close to Zoe’s ear as she said in a bare whisper, “There is yet more news. Tomorrow night at midnight you, Tryna, and I must be at the postern gate that leads out of the courtyard. He will be waiting for us there. We’ll leave the city immediately after that.”

Zoe’s heart skipped and then began pounding anew with excitement. “He told you that?”

Rebekka nodded.

“But what about Brysa?” Zoe continued in a low voice, thinking out loud. “How do we get around her?”

“We must be absolutely silent. I talked to Tryna already. I stopped in the kitchen before I came up here this afternoon. She said she will be ready.”

“All right,” whispered Zoe, her mind working furiously. “Midnight is a major shift change for the guards in the palace, a factor we can use to our advantage, though it will be difficult. There will be more soldiers and guardsmen roving the castle and the grounds, which means more people to evade, but it also means that there’s more confusion going on. The men getting off duty will be tired and want to leave quickly. The men coming on will be disgruntled because they have to work the earliest morning shift.”

“How do you know all these things?” breathed Rebekka, her eyes rimmed with white in the light of the candle. “I’ve been here months more than you and I did not even notice all that.”

“You learn to pay attention when you live a life like I have,” Zoe said evasively. “It does not matter right now. Where should we meet up with Tryna?”

“I told her to wait for us by the entrance to the Hall of Kings.”

“Perfect.” Zoe gnawed her lip. “I know of just the place to leave from there, too. There’s a door, mostly unused, that leads out into the courtyard. It’s to the left of the main entrance to the castle—much like the postern gate we’ll leave the courtyard is to the left of the main gate.”

“When did you find that?”

“When I was exploring last week,” Zoe replied offhandedly. “I was supposed to be doing something else but, you know....” she shrugged, unapologetic. “The most important thing about the door is that it’s not guarded.”

“What if we do run into some soldiers?”

“Fight, hide, or lie.”

Rebekka shuddered. “Fight? How?”

“There’s a weapons room on the way to the Hall. I’ll make sure we stop there.”

“I don’t know how to use a sword,” murmured Rebekka nervously, “nor does Tryna!”

“It’s not that hard,” Zoe said, striving for patience. “You hold the blunt side and stick the sharp end into the person attacking you.”

Rebekka laughed a little. “It might be easy for you but you’ve handled weapons your whole life.”

“Remember we still have the options of hiding or lying,” Zoe reminded her.

“What could we possibly lie about? We’d be three armed slaves walking around at midnight,” protested Rebekka.

Frustrated, Zoe shook her hair back. She had always hated making plans, and now it was her sole responsibility. Working out the little details was easier said than done, and so time consuming. Tancred, you’d better have your part of this pretty well thought out, she thought grimly. I’ll get us out of the castle; you can definitely take it from there.

“I don’t know what we’d lie about right now,” she finally replied. “If we get to that point, which hopefully we won’t, we can decide what to do.”

“Unless I hide, you fight, and Tryna lies,” Rebekka pointed out, her voice quiet but touched with irony.

Zoe could not suppress a reluctant grin. “That’s true.”

They both fell silent, lost in their own thoughts, and Zoe allowed herself to think of being outside of the stone palace and out in the wild outdoors. She missed the wind and rain and sun and feeling of being astride Brac. And now that the battle between Elangsia and Aerilya was drawing closer by the day—troops had been gathering outside the city walls and coming in from nearby posts, creating an army that swelled in number with each passing day—she wanted to be out of enemy territory before it was too late.

She frowned. The Elangsian army was positioned outside the city walls to the northwest. They probably would not be a problem as Zoe and the others escaped Ruma, but they had to be considered. For one thing, the army was huge. The Aerilyans had their work cut out for them when their enemies arrived. Zoe had already started analyzing what sort of scale the battle would be on and long since realized it was going to be massive. Aerilya did not have as many men as Elangsia, at least that was what she had gathered during her time with Tancred and Jaedon, but they would put up a good defense. Nevertheless, Elangsia’s numbers had grown to well over five thousand now, and they filled the plain to the north and northwest of Ruma. How long could Aerilya stand against an attacking force of that size? Zoe sighed. She was relatively sure Elangsia would be marching on Aerilya soon. She did not know what they were waiting for—more men? The arrival of the Wild Men’s forces? Some sort of signal from scouts close to Aerilya’s borders? It was difficult to tell. Certainly Tancred’s already thought of that, she told herself.

She blinked as a sudden thought disrupted everything else. “Rebekka,” she said urgently. “Did he say anything about Grace?”

Rebekka’s brow furrowed. “No,” she said slowly. “No, he didn’t.”

“I cannot leave the city without her,” Zoe said firmly, feeling ashamed that she had not thought of that sooner. “If I have to be left behind, I will.”

“He won’t allow that.”

Zoe knew Rebekka was speaking of Tancred. She shook her head decisively. “I’ve defied him before and I can do it again if I must,” she whispered. “I came to this city to free that little girl. I have to do it, no matter what.”

“You amaze me. All I can think about is getting out of here and back into the safety of Cedryc’s arms. You still are willing to sacrifice that chance to be free in order to take care of a little girl. I admire you.”

Zoe smiled without humor. “I’ve run too many times in my life. I cannot do it again.”

“You? Run away?” Rebekka looked surprised.

“Yes...and one time, it devastated my life,” Zoe whispered hoarsely. She swallowed hard and focused on Rebekka with difficulty. “Helping Grace might in some way help me atone for past failures.”

Rebekka did not understand her reasoning, but she understood the passion behind Zoe’s words. She laid a cool hand on Zoe’s shoulder. “I commend you for that,” she whispered. “I shall pray that it is not necessary, however. Perhaps she is already free.”

“Perhaps.”

“I’d best get back to sleep. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Rebekka.”

Rebekka stood and quietly opened the door to Zoe’s room. She slipped out and shut the door behind her. Silence followed in her wake.

After blowing out the candle, Zoe stretched out on her padded mat but could not sleep. Details about the coming escape plagued and haunted her. There was so little time to think things out; she just hoped she was not missing something vital. She sighed and shifted on her mat.

Faces old and new swirled around in her head and she tried focusing on them to take her mind off her worries. Tancred, Aiden, Grace, Rebekka, Brysa, Sam, Wren, Tancred, Arnan, Aquila, Daelia, Taerith, Tancred, Ilara, Lady Shyla, Jaedon, Tancred....

She paused, bemused. Why did Tancred keep popping up in her mind? After a moment she shook her head, wearily deciding that she was becoming delusional. She closed her eyes and forced herself to concentrate on sleep, though she was sure dreams of escape would keep her mind active even during slumber.

Soon, Deus. Oh, please, let it be soon....

è è è è è è è è è

ONE DAY LATER

Brysa watched the soldiers tramp by the gate of the palace. The portcullis was lowered, as it was late in the evening, but she could clearly see through the latticed iron as the sun’s waning rays shone of the dull metal of their helmets. Leather plates were sewn together with tough, waxed cord to create armor that covered their chests and backs and slapped against their thighs as they marched. Beneath that layer of protection was chain mail; steel rings linked together to create a strong, flexible mesh. Broadswords and daggers, bows and lances, javelins and spears were all present. It made the princess sick to think of the blood that would be spilled by those very weapons; the life that would be ended when the forces of Aerilya and Elangsia collided on the field of battle.

It was coming soon. The very wind smelled of tension. Brysa inhaled deeply, her arms wrapped around her midsection. Her long cloak protected her from the chill of autumn as the breeze whipped around her, tangling her long unbound hair.

Her thoughts flitted to the Aerilyan women she had in her custody. Brysa held no power of the few Aerilyans who had been condemned to the dungeons of the Elangsian palace; but she did have some sway over the fate of her personal servants. Her hands came forward to grasp the cool metal of the gate in front of her, and her fingers tightened around the rough strips of iron. Rebekka and Zoe. Two women whose fates she, Brysa of Elangsia, alone commanded.

Or did she? She thought of the god—Deus—that Zoe and Rebekka professed to serve. Rebekka claimed he held the reins of the earth and the destinies of all mankind. Brysa was skeptical of this...but had not Zoe’s arm been restored to full strength when it should have taken weeks more to heal? That was one unassailable fact that Brysa had puzzled over for a great amount time, but all her musing had brought up nothing that could adequately explain away Zoe’s sudden healing.

Brysa glanced up for a moment at the heavens, which were slowly darkening. A couple stars twinkled on the violet horizon, hints of the shimmering host that would appear over the next few hours. Deus, Brysa thought, her blue eyes sweeping the sky. If you are truly there, and if you deserve the title lord, where are you?

“Look at this,” she murmured, feeling crazy as she motioned to the soldiers that continued marching along before her. “They are marching out to kill the Aerilyans. Why did you allow this war in the first place? I thought you were against bloodshed. Aren’t you a lord of mercy or something like that?” She snorted. “Why don’t you intervene and stop this? While you’re at it, why don’t you take my father down and keep me from marrying Jaquin?”

Disgust infused her, accompanied by despair. She was truly growing desperate indeed if she was actually praying to a god she did not believe existed. Sighing, she turned away from the gate and began walking slowly across the wide courtyard. Her mind drifted aimlessly for a while before she purposefully directed it to something.

She was suspicious of Rebekka and Zoe. When the golden-haired young woman had returned yesterday after her meeting with Cormac Alstair, something had changed. Brysa was still trying to figure out what. She knew Rebekka had not told her everything that transpired between her and the “merchantman.” One thing that puzzled her was that Alstair had not giving Rebekka information in exchange for news about Zoe—which was the whole point of the meeting. Why not, Alstair? She was sure the man cared for Zoe, and Zoe’s over-protectiveness of him certainly seemed to show that the affection was mutual.

Of course there was the possibility that Rebekka was lying. She could have indeed giving Alstair information about Zoe and gleaned useful tidbits from him in return, but was simply keeping from Brysa. But why would Alstair reveal anything to Rebekka, a girl he had never met before in his life? She is an Aerilyan, Brysa admitted. He may have trusted her on that basis, but I rather doubt it. That did not seem like enough for him to trust her upon—unless Rebekka had turned scheming and used Zoe for her own personal gain rather than Brysa’s.

Frustrated, the princess walked back toward the castle, the soldiers’ tramping footsteps beginning to fade into the distance as the last row of men passed the gates of the palace. She had a feeling that she did not know exactly what was going on, but did not know what to do to find out what she was missing.

Not that it matters very much, she realized wearily. After the battle, Aerilya would be no more. If this Cormac Alstair truly was a spy for them, he would be killed with the rest and whatever Rebekka and Zoe had up their sleeves would fail.

Brysa sighed—and wondered why the thought left her so miserable.

She looked up and was surprised to see Zoe standing in the doorway of the castle. The princess stopped and surveyed the tall young woman. Her drab brown dress swayed in the breeze, its dull hue serving to amplify the color of her waist-length braid, which hung like a thick rope of russet silk over one shoulder. Again Brysa noticed how riveting Zoe’s eyes were: dark green, lit with fire, and filled with things that made her seem far older that her years.

“Hello,” Brysa murmured, not moving from her place.

Zoe studied her. “Hello. Watching the troops march out?”

“Yes.” Brysa squinted a little and motioned for Zoe to join her. The girl shut the heavy castle door behind her and silently walked down the three steps that separated them. They turned and walked in silence for a long while.

The princess finally broke the silence. “It’s cool tonight.”

“Winter will be here before long.”

Brysa exhaled, her heart heavy. “By that time the conflict will be over.” She glanced over to see Zoe staring straight ahead, her expression carefully blanked. “Who do you think will win?”

“The odds are in favor of your country, my lady,” replied Zoe, her voice calm but edged with steel. “However, the Aerilyans are fighting for more than a mere desire to win.”

“Your point?”

“They’re struggling for their homes, their families, their lives—any one of which is a powerful incentive to continue fighting. The Elangsians are invading, trying to take those things. Sometimes it’s easier to hold unto something than it is to wrest it away from someone who desperately wants to keep it.”

“Why do you care for the fate of the Aerilyans if you are not one yourself?”

Zoe stopped and faced the princess. “I told you before that I was dragged into this conflict against my will. But the more I have seen the more I realize I must stand with Aerilya. They uphold ideals that I must follow: freedom, honor, and integrity.”

“And Elangsia does not?” challenged Brysa.

Zoe pinned her with an even stare, the fire in her eyes flickering brighter. “I think you know the answer to that.”

Offended, the princess’s chin rose a couple notches and she opened her mouth to rebuke Zoe. Then, struck suddenly with the truth of Zoe’s words, she stopped herself and dropped her gaze. “Yes.” Her whisper drifted away on the crisp wind and disintegrated in the distance.

“Why must you stand with them?” asked Zoe suddenly. “You do not have any affection for your father and his cause. Why not break free of it all?”

With a harsh laugh, Brysa shook her head. “Break free? How, pray tell? I am a prisoner in my own home. Even now I am being watched. I cannot do anything without someone monitoring me and reporting back to my parents. My father would sooner throw me in the dungeons than have me ruin his carefully laid plans, and my mother would have me kill myself before I let dishonor snatch away my good name.” She uttered the last two words with derision, not caring if Zoe knew just how little the princess of Elangsia thought of her own reputation.

“Kill yourself?” inquired Zoe, her words cautious.

“Oh yes.” Brysa stared at Zoe, her lips twisted mockingly. An odd feeling of recklessness had swept over her, giving her boldness to speak freely to the foreign girl. It did not trouble her if Zoe knew about the poison, the manipulating, the fear and anger. It just did not matter any more. Reaching into a small pocket of her dress she withdrew the pouch of enacoi root. Her mother inquired daily if Brysa had it on her person. She held it up and swung it in front of Zoe’s face. “This is poison. From my mother.” She smiled with cold contempt. “Sweet gift, don’t you think?”

Zoe wordlessly surveyed the swinging silk pouch before her then Brysa replaced it to her pocket. Those sharp green eyes swerved up to connect with Brysa’s, holding her in place with forceful intensity. “You would not use it,” she said. “You would not—right?”

“Wouldn’t I?” replied Brysa, affecting carelessness.

“Why throw away your life in such a useless, stupid way?” demanded Zoe, her voice unexpectedly hot with anger.

Brysa took a step back, surprised by Zoe’s passion. “Throw it away?” she snapped, trying to regain her composure. “I have nothing to throw away! I have no life!”

“You could make yourself one,” Zoe contested stubbornly.

“How?”

“Don’t give in to your parent’s whims.”

“It’s not that easy,” whispered Brysa. She shook her head and felt tears rising in her eyes. “I will never break free.”

“You could! You have the willpower and the strength of mind. You just have told yourself your whole life you must submit to them and do whatever they tell you. In this case, that’s unsound logic. They both want you to do things that are wrong and will hurt you.”

Brysa stared at her. She thinks I have willpower...and strength of mind? It was the first praise she could recall hearing in a long time, and she hardly knew what to say. Slowly she shook her head and argued, “It’s not that simple. I’m not like you. I’m not strong enough to do that.”

“Oh, but you are.” Zoe half-smiled at the princess, her eyes glowing. The wind played with a strand of her hair that had come free from her braid, but she did not brush it away. “You are strong. Your strength has just been hidden away all this time, even from you.” Her smile faded and she pinned Brysa with a penetrating stare. “My question to you, princess, is this: if you were given the chance to use your strength and power without suppression, would you use it for good—or evil?”

With a dip of her head to the princess, Zoe quietly turned and walked back to the palace, leaving Brysa standing there. Wondering.

What was evil? For that matter, what was good? What had Zoe’s words meant? Brysa pondered the foreign girl’s saying with some amount of uncertainty. Somewhere deep inside her the words had struck a chord, but she was not sure why, or for what purpose. Why did she feel as if Zoe had challenged her?

How was she supposed to respond? Confusion reverberated through her, teasing and haunting her. It was as if Zoe’s words, which still seemed to make little sense in the context of the situation, had ripped open a hollow place in her soul. But why? The breeze rippled through her hair and cut through her cloak, raising the flesh on her arms. Mechanically she rubbed her arms, staring blankly at the side of the castle.

What am I missing?

è è è è è è è è è

Night fell. It was cloudy and the moonbeams struggled to penetrate the heavy black cloud-mist. Weak light managed to filter through, but it was hardly enough to make much difference.

Tancred was pleased. The less light the better on a night like this. Thank you, Deus, he thought, glancing up at the sky as he straightened and patted Chale on the shoulder. The stallion nickered and nudged Tancred’s shoulder. Tancred smiled at the horse and murmured, “Soon, Chale. Soon we’ll be out of here.”

Tancred had packed, just finished wrapped Chale and Brac’s hooves in layered cloths to keep them from ringing on the cobblestones as they passed through the city, and dressed for the first time since entering Ruma not in his merchant attire, but instead in the garb of the Hunter. It felt good to wear the dark colored tunic and trousers and slip his feet into his familiar leather boots. Knives in place, sword concealed beneath his gray cloak, and senses on full alert, he felt sharp. He was focused on his mission and nothing would dissuade him.

I’m going to need the focus, he thought. Over the last few weeks the amount of Elangsian soldiers inside Ruma’s walls had definitely grown astronomically. Avoiding them would be a challenge: not impossible, but yet another thing to remember and keep track of. Of course, at this time of night most of them would be loitering in taverns and houses of ill-repute, making Tancred’s task slightly easier.

He returned Chale to the lean-to stable and whispered, “See you in a little while, big guy. Be ready.” Chale snorted and Brac’s black-tipped ears swiveled forward as Tancred walked toward him. He paused in front of the alert stallion. “You’ll be seeing your mistress again tonight, Brac. Keep quiet. Watch for us, okay?”

Brac bobbed his head and whuffed softly as Tancred left the makeshift stable. He had opted against taking the horses with him to the castle. They would be large, hard to maneuver, and completely obliterate his chances of making a stealthy approach on the palace. If all went to plan—which he was not counting on but still hoped for—it would take him just over an hour on foot to reach the palace. He had mapped out the quickest out-of-the-way route from his house to the castle earlier that day. The idea was that not only would he remain unnoticeable in the shadows, he would also avoid the main patrol routes of the soldiers and night city guardsmen.

He took off down the dark streets, his boots making hardly a sound against the stones on the street. After he got the girls from the palace, he knew Zoe could keep up with him but he had to make allowances for Rebekka and Tryna. All that said, he guessed they would be back to get the horses around two o’clock in the morning, and out of Ruma by three or three-thirty at the latest. He smiled slightly. The guards at the southern gate to the city must have received his “gift” by now. Drink deeply, men, he thought, feeling amused.

Just as he had calculated, the Elangsian palace’s walls came into view about an hour later. It was a quarter of an hour to midnight. Fifteen minutes until Zoe, Rebekka, and Tryna were supposed to meet him at the postern gate.

Peering around a nearby house, he quickly picked out the shady forms of the two night guards at the main gate. It was almost time for them to switch with the next shift, which was perfect: these men were tired, bored, and unsuspecting. Despite the activity in the city on account of the nearby army and growing excitement concerning the approaching attack on Aerilya, the palace guardsmen had the same tasks and responsibilities that they always had been given. Judging by the conversations he had eavesdropped on in times past, they were more than a little envious of their fellow soldiers who were preparing for battle outside the city walls. And because of that, they grumbled and complained even more than normal—their attention turned more inward than outward.

Loosening his wrist dagger and positioning his right hand close by the dagger at his waist, Tancred slipped out from behind the house. Now he was now directly in their line of vision. He waited, not really expecting a cry of alarm but ready to silence it instantly if need be.

Neither of the two forms shifted their position in the least. Tancred smirked faintly and began edging along the side of the house, silently thanking Deus again for the cover of darkness He had sent. After reaching the corner of the house, Tancred noiselessly hurried across the open space that led to the palace courtyard’s outer wall. He flattened his form against it, turning his head to look down the wall toward the main gate. His position was parallel with the two guards now, about fifteen paces to their left. Had they noticed his sudden move?

One of them stirred and Tancred remained perfectly still, his eyes fastened on the two dark figures. The guard repositioned his halberd, which he was leaning on more than anything else, and grumbled out, “Cyril and William had better not delay gettin’ here tonight. I’ll lop one of their sorry heads off it they keep on messin’ around with the palace girls and makin’ us late for bed.”

The other grunted. “That’s for sure. This has got to be the worst shift around, it’s so cursed boring.”

Tancred frame stiffened as the distinct sound of rowdy, masculine laughter rose from close by. Who was coming? What direction where they approaching from? Could his position be compromised?

A moment later a group of five or six Elangsian soldiers appeared around a street corner, answering his first two questions but raising the stakes of his last worry. They held a torch, a bright, flickering light that could reveal his location were they to walk to closely to him.

The light flickered across the expressions of the two gatemen, who had jumped to attention at the approach of the military men. At first it looked as if the drunken new arrivals would ignore the guards and walk on past Tancred, which would mean almost certain discovery. Tancred gripped his dagger and tried calculating how many he could take out before they started fighting back. He could probably kill two or three in his initial attack, but between the gatemen and the drunken soldiers, there were eight men to deal with. Plus if any of them managed to raise an alarm, there would be even more...and he had to think about the original reason he was there. He could not start a bloodbath right outside the palace or Zoe, Rebekka, and Tryna would be left high and dry in the courtyard, wondering where in the world he was.

So it was to his relief that the drunken men pulled to a stop at the gate and greeted the two gatemen loudly. “Ho there! What’s goin’ on as the p-palace?”

“Not a great deal,” one of the guards said.

“Yer missin’ all th’ fun at the tav...taverns,” emphatically stated another, swaying on his feet as he stabbed a thick finger into the air.

“We know,” the other gate guard replied dryly.

“Borin’ ‘round here, huh, boys?” slurred another soldier, grinning unevenly. “Pity ye’ll can’t...can’t....”

“Party all night with you?” the first gatemen finished sarcastically.

The soldiers beamed as one. “’Xactly!”

“P’rhaps ye failed to notice, considerin’ yer current mental...state,” one of the guardsmen commented with disgust—and envy, “so let me spell it out for ye: we’ve gotta stand guard and watch the palace gates. We can’t waste the night away like ye, drinkin’ and—”

Loud laughter broke out from the soldiers, and Tancred began edging away. One of the inebriated soldiers cackled out: “T-think about whatcha just said!”

“Who’s actually gonna to be stupid enough to try to break into the palace? They’d have to be dumber than a....than a....” one of the soldiers paused and blinked slowly, obviously lacking the ingenuity to think up an appropriate sobriquet.

“Than a donkey,” supplied one of his companions helpfully.

This was met with another round of laughter. “Aye! Dumber than a donkey....”

Their conversation slowly faded away as Tancred left. A faint grin touched his lips. So he was a donkey, then. Well, he’d heard worse. Rogue, murderer, filth, and swine were just a few of the epithets the Elangsian people had laid upon the Hunter of Mairbrac.

Cool stone slid beneath his touch as he continued making his way along the wall. He reached a corner and he followed the wall around without pausing. He breathed a sigh of relief. Now he was out of the immediate range of sight of both the gatemen and the drunken soldiers. He heard mocking farewells being given from soldiers to gatemen on duty, warning him that they would be passing by him soon. Tancred stopped completely as the soldiers heavily tramping footsteps drew closer to him, accompanied by their loud laughter and dull-witted joking. He watched as they passed beside the small inlet in the wall without pause, though once their torchlight landed directly upon him, causing alarm to streak through him. A moment later, and they were gone, leaving darkness and blessed silence in their wake.

After waiting a minute, Tancred continued his way down the wall. Earlier, while scouting out the position, he had seen that the postern gate was at the very back of a narrow alley built into the wall itself. Now he had to rely on his memory and sense of touch to get him there.

At last, the tips of his fingers connected with rough, weathered wood and he stopped, satisfied. He observed earlier that there was no latch on the outside, so he did not bother even looking for one. Instead, he set his shoulder firmly against it and he gave the door an experimental yet hard shove. After ten seconds of futile pushing, he stopped. It was barred or locked from the inside, as he had expected. The postern gate was not in as obvious a position as the main gate, but it was still positioned so that anyone in the city could walk blithely up to it and get in to the courtyard. It made sense that it would be locked.

Yes, it made sense, and yes, he had been expecting it, but it was still frustrating. Tancred slowly dropped into a crouch beside the door and wrapped his cloak around him. He tucked his hands beneath his arm pits to keep them warm. It was a cool night. He exhaled and closed his eyes, running over the aspects of his plan again in his mind. Realistically he knew that for now, all he could do was wait.

And hope that Rebekka had done her part inside the palace walls—the place where Tancred could not go.

Chapter XXIX – Finale

ONE DAY LATER

Tancred examined his right hand carefully, holding it at such an angle that it caught the most of the sunlight that streamed through the window in the kitchen. Good. Only four days had passed since the assassin broke into his home and sliced his hand open, but already it was showing signs of improvement. The stitches had held excellently and there was no inflammation or oozing pus in or around the wound. It was still sore, especially after each time that he washed it as he just had finished doing, but overall he was pleased with the progress it had already made. He would have to continue favoring it for probably another couple weeks, but as long as it was not aggravated too much, it would be fine.

He threw on a cloak and left the house. Though it was a long walk to the marketplace, he had opted not to ride Chale. It would call even more attention to himself, and with the assassin still loose, attention was the last thing Tancred needed. Because of his injury, he had had to strap his wrist knife to his right arm, so that he could draw and use it with his left hand. His hip dagger and the long knife concealed in his boot had also been likewise repositioned.

Today he was supposed to meet Brysa’a maidservant in the market. He was prepared for confrontation, but he admitted that he did not expect much resistance from the young maid. Now was his chance to get some information for himself, which he was confident he could do without giving much—if any—back to Brysa’s mouthpiece.

It took about an hour to reach Ruma’s expansive market. Tancred paused at its edge and surveyed the place. It was crowded. The place was a mixture of sights, smells, and sounds, some pleasant and some best forgotten. A couple young girls jostled against Tancred as they hurried past, chattering about something that little concerned him. He did not care; he was focused on scanning the crowd. For her. For the golden-haired girl. Where would she have stationed herself for him to find her in the throng?

Execution Square. He frowned as he thought of the place, but it was a well known point in the marketplace and the most logical area for the princess to send her maid to contact him. He might as well start looking for her there.

He stepped forward into the crowd and began making his way through the boisterous hawkers and equally loud shoppers as they haggled over prices. Keeping a wary eye on everything around him, Tancred was suddenly aware of eyes on him. Casting a surreptitious glance to each side, he could not pick up on anything out of the ordinary. Could he be imagining the feeling? Somehow Tancred doubted it. He was not in the habit of construing needless feelings of danger.

But, if there was someone watching him, what could he do in this crowd? Tancred let his mind wander to that scenario for a moment, then gave himself a grim answer: Nothing. A dark image of the assassin flew into his mind and his unease deepened. He truly could do nothing if he were attacked here, and the notion was more than a little disturbing.

Passing a fruit stall, he ignored the eager calls of the vendors that followed in his wake. Since he was dressed as usual in the garb of a merchant, they saw him as a wealthy man, but he wasn’t interested in getting any apples today. Golden braid and blue cloak, he reminded himself as he passed an alley filled with crates and moved closer to Execution Square. Just where are you, little maid—?

His thought was cut off in mid-question at the deafening sound of a donkey braying directly behind him and to his right. Whirling, Tancred’s left hand sought his hip dagger and got a firm grip on its hilt but did not draw it. Both suspicion and faint amusement flooded his mind as he watched the crates he had just passed tumble for no apparent reason into the street—followed by a myriad of pigs, chickens, and _______. What the.... It would have been a comical situation if not for the questionable circumstances surrounding the incident. He scanned the street surrounding the animals, his muscles automatically tightening in preparation for action as people around him dashed around trying to avoid the charging, oddly terrified animals. It was sudden. Too sudden.

And then Tancred saw him.

Directly across the street, in clear view, stood the assassin. In the space of a second Tancred took in the man’s dark hair, his blue eyes that glittered even across the distance, his poised stance, and the knife that he held in his hand. “I will kill you, make no mistake.” Those were the words of the assassin when they last parted. Now he had come to finish the job.

The assassin threw the knife, but at the same moment two things happened that prevented it from finding its mark. First, a loud, vicious scream pierced the panic and confusion that the plummeting crates had started and a large flying form soared through the air over everyone’s heads, generating a powerful current of wind in its wake that slightly altered the knife’s vector. Second, Tancred threw himself forward and to the left, dropping into a roll across the dusty ground.

Thwack. The knife landed almost exactly where Tancred had just been standing.

Thud. Something much larger settled unto the platform of Execution Square, directly in front of where Tancred had rolled.

A strange hush had fallen over the people, leaving everything in an eerie silence. After getting to his feet Tancred sized up this newest addition to the fray and understood the sudden silence. It was a gryphon. Tancred tried to remember the last time he had seen one...it had been a while. This one was on the verge of adulthood, resplendent with tawny hide and golden feathers, and absolutely furious. The beast bellowed out another screech of anger and scanned the marketplace with fierce, keen eyes.

The creature’s shriek seemed to shake everyone in the market back to reality and confusion erupted again. Self-preservation instincts took over and the people began to flee. Women and children were pushed into alleys and out of the main thoroughfare as the gryphon charged off the platform and into the fray. The loose animals also scattered before their newest threat. Large pigs knocked over children and chickens flew erratically into everyone’s faces, spreading the already pervasive panic.

A wide-eyed man ran up to Tancred and yelled, “If you have any weapons, draw them! We must kill the creature before he kills us!”

“Check the weapon smith’s shop,” Tancred instructed, his years of combat training taking over and lending calmness to his attitude and words. “But likely you’d be best off getting out of here. If anyone you know is around, find them and take them elsewhere.”

With a nervous twitch to his movements, the man scampered off, only too happy to heed Tancred’s instruct to leave. By now the gryphon had charged down the street and Tancred tracked him as he took off into the air again, beating the air with his huge wings and flying unevenly down the length of the market. Tancred’s gaze flicked ahead of the creature as he tried to figure out where he was heading.

He blinked. The gryphon was obviously heading toward the meat shop, but it wasn’t that that had arrested his attention. A slender figure cowered close to the ground at the shop’s opening, seeming to be sheltering the form of a small child. Her golden braid caught Tancred’s eye, standing out brightly against the deep blue of her cloak.

Before his mind had even finished assimilating all the facts, Tancred’s body had kicked in. He sprinted across the market, honed in on Brysa’s maid and the child, whom Tancred realized was a young boy. “Out of my way!” he yelled as he streaked through the crowd, shoving his way past the fleeing women and men who were still trying to figure out what to do.

The gryphon screamed right overhead but Tancred ignored it and pushed himself even faster. He reached the maid and boy and threw himself over them, shielding their bodies as the gryphon descended. “Lie flat!” he ordered them tersely, holding his body tautly above them so that he didn’t crush them with all his weight. His right wrist screamed at the unexpected stress on its wound but Tancred couldn’t afford to pay attention to it then. He caught the maid’s frightened glance as she straightened her legs and pulled the boy’s head down to the ground. Tancred lowered himself as far as he could over them, supporting his weight on his arms, and closed his eyes in anticipation of the gryphon’s talons.

He felt them pass inches from his back, and his cloak flapped in the forceful wind created by the creature’s huge wings. The gryphon shot straight up in the sky and Tancred rolled off the young woman and boy into a crouching position, relieving his wrist of his weight. Pain throbbed from the wound; it pulsed out from the half-healed gash and washed up his forearm. He swiftly glanced at his wrist and grimaced. Several of the stitches were broken and fresh blood oozed out of the cut.

“Maglynar!” he heard the assassin shout above the noise of the crowd.

Tancred wondered who Maglynar was but did not allow the thought to sidetrack him. One quick glance at the assassin showed that his attention was currently riveted on the gryphon, which gave Tancred a little bit of time.

He looked at the two people still lying on the ground beside him. The maid’s eyes were wide and rimmed with fear, but she still had placed a protective arm over the crying little boy and seemed to be trying to give him comfort—though she obviously needed it as much as he did. Tancred placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he squinted up at the sky and traced the gryphon’s aerial maneuvers. He had swooped around and seemed to be coming back toward them. Forcing himself to be calm, he said, “It’s all right. Just stay behind me and do exactly what I tell you.”

“Thank you, sir,” the young woman said in a shaky voice.

Tancred’s eyes shifted toward the boy, who had tears streaked on his dirty cheeks. The gryphon was approaching again; he had to distract the boy’s attention. “Shh,” he said kindly. “What’s your name?”

“Kale,” he whimpered, his black eyes bright and terrified. They widened as the gryphon passed over their heads and screeched.

“It’s all right,” Tancred said firmly, leveling his powerful gaze at Kale. “Keep looking at me. You’re going to be fine, Kale.”

A moment later he shifted his eyes to the sky again and slowly rose from his crouching position. The gryphon had passed over them and was closer to the assassin. In fact, he appeared to be looking right at the assassin as he flapped his wings to keep his bulk in a semi-hovering position. Then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, the great creature pivoted in the sky and flew away with one last hoarse, croaking call. Tancred’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t sure why the creature left, but he had a feeling it had something to do with the assassin. Was the gryphon the blue-eyed man’s pet, perhaps? And maybe he named the creature...Maglynar? postulated Tancred.

He turned back to the maidservant and Kale, trying to appear reassuring even as he felt the assassin’s attention shift from the gryphon to he himself. He was running out of time. He extended his good hand to the young woman and instructed in a low voice, “Stay close to me.”

Nodding, she slipped her hand into his and stood up. Tancred reached down and scooped up the boy next, feeling the assassin’s eyes on him all the while. Feigning calmness, he set Kale on his feet and turned around to face the man, deliberately placing himself in front of Kale and Brysa’s maidservant, who were both whispering fearfully together. Tancred silenced the two with a hand motion that jolted fresh pain up his arm, and looked up.

Assassin.

Again, the man was standing there, looking at Tancred but not into his eyes. Slowly the man reached toward his belt and pulled out a spare dagger; his other one was still buried in the dirt at the other end of the marketplace. A strange sort of peaceful calmness settled across Tancred’s shoulders, giving him the strength to face the man firmly. All the assassin had to do was throw the knife. Throw it and Tancred’s life would be over. Thoughts and regrets flew through his head, but at the same time the peace overcame them and reassured him. This is right. This is your place. Between them, and him.

It was true. He was the Hunter. The hidden protector of the Aerilyan people. They did not know who he was on sight, nor did he want them too. His job was simply to protect the innocent from their enemies. Right now, the assassin was the enemy and the maidservant and Kale were the innocent. Tancred could not think of a more appropriate place for the Hunter to be but confronting death and upholding the cause of the guiltless.

To his surprise, the assassin’s harsh stare faltered even as he fingered his knife. He glanced swiftly to his left but Tancred did not look over to see what the man was scrutinizing. His focus remained directly on the assassin.

Is this it, Deus? he quietly prayed. I’m ready. He heard the maid muttering a prayer behind him and Kale’s quiet gasps as he cried. Calmness swathed him. I’m ready.

Then the assassin’s eyes met Tancred’s. Those blue eyes, so full of emotion that Tancred typically would not have associated with a trained killer. Now, they seemed filled with tortured anger and pain. Tancred stood still, attuned to the assassin’s struggle. Something about this man was strange; almost...familiar.

Understanding dawned, and Tancred’s heart throbbed. The assassin was strong and capable, skilled and smart. He was determined, focused, a leader. This man who had tried three times now to murder the Hunter, was not so very different than the Hunter himself. Tancred could only guess at the path that had taken that man down the path of a killer, twisting him into the individual of hate, anger, and regret that he was now.

The assassin’s gaze altered. It flicked to the left again, and then swerved back to Tancred. His grip on the dagger relaxed just a little. But in that second, Tancred knew that everything had changed.

He gave Tancred a nod; small, but still noticeable. Tancred slowly dipped his own head at the dark-haired killer, shock and disbelief simultaneously sweeping through him as he realized what was happening. The assassin turned his back to Tancred and began walking away. In a matter of seconds, he had left the market and was out of Tancred’s sight. Tancred stood there for a moment more, feeling like a statue as everyone around him began moving again and he just remained frozen in place.

It was over.

è è è è è è è è è

The next fifteen minutes were spent searching through the remaining chaos of the market for Kale’s mother. Tancred carried the boy on his left arm, the uninjured one, so that Kale could scan the crowd as easily as Tancred. He squealed when he spotted her and began enthusiastically bouncing up and down.

After the boy was restored to the woman, who sobbed out her gratitude to Tancred and offered to pay him for his kindness—a proposition he refused—Tancred turned around and looked gravely down at his quiet shadow. The golden-haired girl with earnest blue eyes had followed him closely as they searched for Kale’s mother, neither speaking to him nor slipping unobtrusively away into the crowd. It was clear she knew he was the man she had been sent to speak to.

“Come,” he commanded in a low tone.

She followed him silently into a narrow alleyway. A couple abandoned boxes sat there and Tancred offered her a seat, which she tentatively took. She opened her mouth to begin, but he beat her to it.

“What does Brysa want?”

Surprise darted across her face, telling him he had asked the right question to thrown her off balance. “How did you know she sent me?” she breathed.

“I have my ways. What is your name?”

“Rebekka...of Aerilya.”

Aerilya? She’s one of us? His gaze locked with hers and he unmercifully probed their transparent blue depths to see if she spoke the truth. “You were captured?” he asked after a long moment.

“Just two days before Zoe was.”

His eyes narrowed. He had to be careful. This could all be a setup. “Zoe?” He feigned disinterest.

“Yes.” Faint uncertainty flickered across her expression. She had probably been told by the princess that he would jump at information about Zoe.

Well, he wasn’t jumping, and that was bewildering her. Guess again, he silently told Brysa. It would be a sorry day that he groveled for information like a dog.

“You’re Cormac Alstair, right?” Rebekka asked at length, choosing a new tact.

“I am,” he nodded.

Her gaze dropped from his unswerving one and fastened on his injured wrist, which was smeared with blood. “You’re injured,” she said with soft distress touching her voice. She stood and moved closer. “May I?”

He nodded and slowly raised his hand. A moment later he felt her cool fingers gently probing the tender swollen skin. “You opened the wound again,” she stated. “It should be cleaned and re-stitched immediately. Infection will set in otherwise.”

“Leave that to me,” he said quietly, though he knew the truth of her words.

She shook her head, her eyes darting back to him. She looked almost guilty at her refusal. “No, sir,” she replied, swallowing hard. “You saved my life and that little boy’s just a few minutes ago. Taking care of your injury is the least I can do to repay you.”

He half-smiled, touched by her kindness but unmoved. “I don’t require repayment.”

“Please, sir, let me do what I can.”

“And where would you get thread, needle, and clean water?”

“We are a dozen paces from Ruma’s marketplace. Surely there is someone selling such things.”

Amused yet impressed by her insistence, he smiled. “Very well.”

Twenty minutes later they were back in the alley and Rebekka was stitching up his wound. Tancred set his teeth and focused on blocking out the pain. He watched Rebekka’s face, which was tight with concentration. Absently, she murmured out, “You are not a merchant, are you.”

He said nothing. She paused her work for a moment and her eyes flicked up to meet his. A knowing look flashed across her features, which he could easily read like an open book. “No merchant would know how to handle a situation like the one in the market.”

“How do you know that? Perhaps I’m an unusually skilled merchant?” he said, cocking a brow as he tested her.

“You’re not a merchant.” She returned to her stitching. “You’re the Hunter.”

He expertly masked his alarm as his mind began churning. Either Brysa knew a lot more than Tancred thought she did or this girl was way smarter than he originally thought. “That’s quite an interesting claim,” he said in a careless tone.

“It wasn’t too hard to figure out. Zoe and I were separated at the slave market here in Ruma, but I knew she wanted to escape and find the Hunter to gain his assistance. It’s not too difficult to see that she did manage to escape her master, found the Hunter in Mairbrac, and came back here in his company on some sort of mission. It makes sense to me that you are, therefore, the Hunter.”

“Unless I was the one who originally bought Zoe many months ago at the slave market here in Ruma,” countered Tancred. “What if I told you that that she never escaped, but merely has been my slave for all these months?”

Rebekka looked at him again, her brow furrowed. “That’s not possible,” she protested, but her voice was unsure. “She cannot have been in captivity here in Ruma for all those months.”

“Why not?”

“She’d be dead,” Rebekka stated. “She’d have gone mad and killed herself. Not to mention she would hate you with everything in her.”

“Fascinating theory,” he said dryly. “Because I am the man who bought her.”

Confused, Rebekka just stared. “But...I thought...”

“What has Zoe told you about me?”

“Well...” she paused and appeared to be collecting her thoughts. “She is stubbornly bent on protecting you. She refuses to give up any information to Brysa on your whereabouts. Unfortunately the princess has other resources. That’s how she found your house and why I am here today to speak with you.”

Tancred found it more than a little interesting that Zoe was so adamantly protecting him. Why? he wondered, but did not ask. Now was not the time.

“You are a spy,” whispered Rebekka. “I’m certain of it.”

He just stared unblinkingly at her.

“I also know you’re the Hunter. I don’t care if you don’t tell me; I know deep within me it’s true.” She finished stitching up his wound in silence, expertly knotting off the thread. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for Aerilya, but really, you must leave this city.”

He did not refute her previous statements about him being the Hunter, instead focusing on her latter comment about him leaving. “Why?”

“Why am I telling you this?” she laughed softly. She interpreted his question differently than he had meant, but he did not stop her. “I may be a slave here, and I have grown to sympathize deeply with the princess of Elangsia. But my heart lies far away in Aerilya. The Hunter has long been a symbol of something that Elangsia cannot conquer. I will not see that hope destroyed.” She ended in a whisper that was laced with both sadness and determination.

“Why do you think it would be destroyed?”

“Too many people suspect you,” she said, looked up at him with a haunted expression. “Lieutenant Montel is mistrustful, Princess Brysa is far too curious, even the king has heard your name mentioned. If you stay any longer, you will die.”

He shook his head. “You haven’t figured out yet, have you.”

“Figured what out?”

“That I won’t be leaving without Zoe.”

“Why did you bring her with you in the first place?”

He laughed tersely. “She invited herself along.”

“Why?”

“For you.” Rebekka’s eyebrows rose and he continued, “And for Grace, Tryna, and Marisa.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize...” her voice trailed off as she processed this new information.

“How is she?”

“Fine. At first I worried for her. She is so full of passion and fire; I feared she’d incinerate herself before long.” Rebekka paused and gave him a wan smile. “Then when her arm was healed, she changed.”

“Her arm was healed?” Tancred’s attention sharpened.

“It had to have been Deus,” Rebekka said softly. “She could hardly use her right side and now it’s better than new.”

Thank You, Tancred prayed quickly but fervently. “What do you mean that she is changed?”

“She’s still herself, the same Zoe, but there’s a sort of...oh, contentment beneath it all. She’s not as stir-crazy or angry. I think she finally found Deus. She’s slowly beginning to rely on Him.”

Well, that was and unexpected but definitely welcome turn of events. Tancred tried to keep a lid on the pleasure he felt at the revelation. Then he wondered why he felt so much pleasure, and wasn’t sure he liked what he found. Now’s not the time to think of that, he told himself. Instead, he looked back at Rebekka and said, “I have to get her out of there. While we’re at it, we might as well get you too.”

She nodded slowly. “It’s probably doable,” she said quietly. “Brysa trusts me. I don’t want to betray her confidence, but...”

“But you want to be free,” Tancred finished for her. She sighed and nodded. “Good. Is there any way of getting you and Zoe out of the palace walls, or do I need to devise a way to get in?”

“We need to bring Tryna too.”

“Tryna is there as well?”

“Yes. She works in the kitchens.”

Tancred leaned back and stared up at the sliver of blue sky he could see through the top of the alleyway, considering. Suddenly his job had just gone from freeing one girl to getting three out of the palace. At least now he knew Zoe was back to full physical capabilities, so he did not have to worry about that. As for Tryna and Rebekka.... He frowned. Rebekka looked delicate. He doubted she would be able to withstand arduous travel, which could be a problem; and he had no idea about Tryna’s physical capacity.

“I might be able to get all three of us out of the castle walls,” Rebekka said slowly, responding to his earlier question. “But it would be very difficult.”

“Can it be done?” he asked pointedly. “Everything about this will be difficult. I just need to know if there is even the possibility of it working out.”

She slowly nodded. That was all the confirmation he needed.

“What about tomorrow night? Can you get out then?” Tomorrow night would be pushing it, but he saw little point in waiting any longer than they had to.

She nervously fingered the bottom of her braid. “At night?”

“Yes. Darkness will provide a necessary cover.”

“What about the guardsmen at the gates?”

“Leave them to me,” he said quietly. “If the three of you can get out of the palace and into the courtyard without being seen, I will be close at hand to get you out the rest of the way.”

“Not through the main gates, though,” she said quickly, growing more animated as she latched unto the idea. “There’s a small postern gate, close to the gardens. It’s unguarded, too.”

“What section of the surrounding wall?”

She told him, and he nodded. “Be there at midnight,” he instructed, rising to his feet. “I will prepare for you all. Understood?”

“Midnight, at the postern gate,” she repeated in a whisper, also standing. “We’ll be there.” He nodded and turned to leave when she stopped him. “Wait!”

“What is it?” he asked, half-turning back.

“I must tell something to Brysa or she will wonder what I have been doing all this time.”

“Tell her you were harassed by a gryphon, and that I told you I was just a merchant and refused to give you any more information.” He smiled tightly, amused. “All of it will be true.”

She nodded in agreement and he walked away without looking back, his mind beginning to churn. He had a lot to process, arrange, and prepare. Tomorrow night they would be leaving Ruma.

His smile slowly faded and was replaced by grimness. Deus be with us all.