“We can’t leave right now. Hadrian is missing.”
“We can’t wait. Gaunt’s people are suspicious—they think it could be an imperial trap. They’ll back off if we don’t stick to the plan. We need to leave now or the opportunity will pass.”
Royce silently cursed to himself. It was his own fault for not having chased after Hadrian that afternoon. He almost had. Now there was no telling where he was. Etcher was right—the mission had to come first. He would leave word for Hadrian with the Bakers and get the princess to her meeting with Gaunt.
The moist, steamy smell of the boiling cabbage and wood smoke filled the bakery. The candles Arista lit flickered with the opening of the door. Arbor was stirring the pot while Arista set the table. Both looked up, startled.
“Hadrian hasn’t shown?”
“No,” Arista replied.
“We need to get going,” Royce told her.
“Now? But what about Hadrian?”
“He’ll have to catch up. Get your things.”
Arista hesitated only a moment and then crossed to the flour storage to gather her bags.
“Can’t you even stay for dinner?” Arbor asked. “It’s almost ready.”
“We need to get moving. We have a—” Royce stopped as he heard the noisy approach of a horse and cart being driven fast down the road. It stopped just out front, so close they could hear the driver pull the hand brake. Dunstan came through the door a moment later.
“Hadrian’s been arrested!” he announced hurriedly, and then he pointed at Royce and Arista. “The steward ordered your arrests as well.”
“Their arrests?” Arbor said, shocked. “But why?”
“The bailiff was wrong. It looks like Luret has more influence than he thought,” Royce muttered. “Let’s get the horses.”
“His Lordship’s soldiers were just behind me as I started down the hill. They will be here in minutes,” Dunstan said.
“My horse is down by the river,” Etcher said. “It can carry two.”
Royce was thinking quickly, calculating risks and outcomes. “You take her to the rendezvous on your horse, then,” he told Etcher. “I’ll see what I can do to help Hadrian. With any luck, we’ll catch up to you. If we don’t, it shouldn’t matter.” He looked at Arista. “From what I’ve heard of your contact, he will see to your safety even if he ultimately declines your offer.”
“Don’t worry about me.” The princess rushed toward the door with her bags. “I’ll be fine. Just make sure that Hadrian is okay.”
Taking a bag and the princess’s hand, Etcher pulled her out into the night and dodged into the shadows of the buildings.
Royce followed them out, caught hold of the eaves, and climbed up on the Bakers’ shake roof, where he crouched in the shadow of the chimney, listening. He watched about half a dozen men with torches moving fast down the main street from the direction of the manor. They stopped first at the livery, then went to the Bakers’.
“Where are the strangers that rode in with the old blacksmith’s son?” a loud voice he had not heard before demanded.
“They left hours ago,” Dunstan replied.
Royce heard a grunt and a crash, followed by a scream from Arbor and the sound of furniture falling over.
“Their horses are still in the livery. We saw you race from the manor to warn them! Now where are they?”
“Leave him alone!” Arbor shouted. “They ran out when they heard you coming. We don’t know where. They didn’t tell us anything.”
“If you’re lying, you’ll be arrested for treason and hanged, do you understand?”
There was a brief silence.
“Fan out in pairs. You two cover the bridge. You and you search the fields, and you two start going door-to-door. Until further notice, all citizens of Hintindar are to remain in their homes. Arrest anyone outside. Now move!”
The men, marked conveniently by their flaming torches, scattered out of the bakery in all directions, leaving Royce to watch them scurrying about. He glanced across the dark fields. Etcher would have no trouble avoiding the foot search. Once they reached his horse, they would be gone. Arista was safely on her way, his job done. All he had to worry about now was Hadrian.
The manor house’s jail was less a dungeon and more an old well. Forced to descend by a rope, Hadrian was left trapped at the bottom. He waited in silence, looking up at the stars. The rising moon cast a shaft of pale light that descended the wall, marking the slow passage of the night.
Cold spring water seeped in through the walls, leaving them damp and creating a shallow pool at the base. With his feet tiring, Hadrian eventually sat in the cold puddle. Jagged rocks hidden under the water added to his misery. In time, he was forced to stand again to fight the cold.