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.