Fate's Ransom(The First Argentines #4)

“If he agrees to this,” Kiskaddon said, “everything will change.”

The deconeus smiled. “I did feel the influence of the Fountain on my pen,” he said. “The charter wrote itself into existence.” He rolled up the parchment and inserted it back into the leather case, which he handed to Ransom. “My lord, I entrust this to your hands. It is your duty now to persuade the king to validate it.”

Ransom took it and slung it around his back with the strap. “I will do my best. I assume this is not the only copy?”

The deconeus smiled. “No, I had it transcribed.”

“Then summon the aldermen of the city to the sanctuary and show it to them. If the king adds his seal, we can end this conflict at once. No more threats to throw Lord Kiskaddon into the river.”

“I would greatly appreciate that,” said the duke with a chuckle.

“I’ll send word as soon as I can. Guivret will come in person.”

“Good. May better days be ahead. Go with the Fountain, Ransom.”

They parted ways, and Ransom and his knights rode through the gate, admitted by the acolyte standing guard. It was early still, and people remained indoors. The view of the Occitanian fleet down in the harbor below was a menacing sight, and the steady noise of the falls offered little comfort. Once they reached the gates of the city, they left Kingfountain behind and rode hard toward Beestone. Two knights rode ahead to alert the castellan of Beestone that they were coming.

Although the wind blew from the north with an unusual chill, and storm clouds hovered over the western skies, they kept a quick pace. Still, Guivret rode at Ransom’s side, and they were able to speak in spurts. They discussed Guivret’s time in captivity, and Ransom informed him that it was Lady Alix who had murdered Keeva. That knowledge darkened Guivret’s countenance. He hadn’t known. Lady Alix had told him she was dead but inferred that Ransom and Claire were responsible. Her Fountain magic had convinced him of the lie, just like it had convinced him that Ransom was guilty of adultery and unworthy of the title of knight.

Prior to the battle at Auxaunce, Guivret and a few other knights had been sent to protect Drew Argentine, to prevent him from being freed by the duchess or Ransom. The boy had been homesick for his mother and his duchy, but he’d managed to overcome it and find ways to be helpful and happy. But after the Occitanian prisoners were brought to Beestone, Guivret was sent away from the prince and given to Kiskaddon’s custody.

“How did you survive when all the other hostages were killed?” Ransom asked.

A look of grief flashed on Guivret’s face. “I was part of the duke’s household by that time,” he explained. “Not a prisoner. On the day the Espion came to murder me, the duke felt something was amiss. One of the castle servants had died that day of a bleeding ulcer. His corpse had been laid out in a canoe. The Espion didn’t know what I looked like, so when Kiskaddon told them I’d died that day, they were shown the dead body of another man. The Espion fell for the trick, and I’ve been in disguise ever since.”

“Thank the Lady,” Ransom said in astonishment.

“Aye. If that chap hadn’t died, I would not be with you right now. When the duke told me of Drew’s death, I felt such a rage. I was willing to murder the king myself out of revenge.”

“Do you like serving Lord Kiskaddon?” Ransom asked.

“I had happiness in my service to you and Lady Claire,” he said. “But I’ve sworn fealty to Lord Kiskaddon. I cannot break it. Only he can.”

It took twice as long to reach Beestone with the extra patrols needed, and they arrived weary from the journey and anxious for a good meal and a place to sleep. The castellan, Sir Iain, was an aging man. He had served the Elder King and his wife for many years as chamberlain and was given the post of castellan after her death, and although he was no longer capable of riding into battle, he was a keen strategist and had been charged with defending the castle.

“Well met, Lord Ransom,” he said. “The stateroom is ready for you, but I presume you’d like some roast pheasant first?”

Ransom’s stomach growled audibly, and the aging knight laughed.

“What is that strapped to your back, if I may ask?”

“A portent of better days to come,” Ransom answered. “It’s a peace charter. I’m bringing it to the king.”

“Wouldn’t that be a relief!” he said, tugging his white beard.

“How many in the garrison, Sir Iain?”

“We have four hundred. Enough to defend the castle if trouble comes. They’re still building up Tatton Grange. I wish we had enough men to halt their progress.”

So did Ransom, but attacking Occitania wasn’t possible at the moment. “Let’s have some of that pheasant you mentioned.” He clapped the knight on the shoulder and went inside with him while the knights took care of the horses.

The feast was plenteous, and the knights were all grateful for the food and drink and a chance to rest. Most of them would bed down in the great hall for the night.

Ransom spoke candidly to Sir Iain after they finished eating in the solar. “I need to take some of the garrison with me to Averanche.”

Sir Iain frowned. “We have hardly enough to defend the castle, my lord. Why not bring your own men down from Glosstyr?”

“I’m planning to escort the king to Glosstyr,” he said. “I have a feeling that Estian will attack Averanche. I only brought thirty men with me, and I lost several at Kingfountain when the Occitanian fleet attacked.”

They’d discussed the attack over dinner, so the castellan merely nodded. “Is Averanche secure?”

“For now,” Ransom said. “If we encounter any of Estian’s army before we get there, I’ll need to fight my way through. Can I have two hundred?”

Sir Iain blanched. “My lord . . . that takes away half of my defenders.”

“You could defend this castle with fifty men, Sir Iain. We both know that. After we’ve reached Averanche safely and brought the king to Glosstyr, I’ll send them back with reinforcements.”

Sir Iain quickly agreed, then summoned his steward and told him to prepare two hundred men to travel on the morrow.

All was going to plan. Ransom should have felt relieved, but an uneasy feeling stole over him as he sat and drank from his goblet. He looked around the room, trying to determine the source, but the hall was full of his knights. Maybe it was simply worry for the safety of the Argentines. The king and his two children were at the same place. He trusted Cecily and Dawson would act for their protection, but he wished he were back there already. No doubt Estian was looking at the Wizr board and knew they were at Beestone.

Before retiring, Ransom ordered the captain of his knights to have a watch that night and alert him if there was any trouble. He knew Alix could enter the castle through the fountains, but that warning had already been given, and guards had been posted to prevent her from entering that way.

He brought a candle to his room and bolted the door. Taking off his sword belt, he set his scabbard next to his bed. He was about to take off his hauberk too, but felt that same wariness as before and didn’t remove it. That feeling compelled him to examine the room more closely, but he saw nothing out of sorts. Still, he could not help but wonder if the hidden passages in this castle were as widespread as they were in Kingfountain. He tried to reach out with his Fountain magic, but there was nothing. The window was high up on the wall, too small for a person to get inside.

Gripping the leather tube in his hand, he sat down at the edge of the bed and blew the candle out. The smell of its smoke stung his nose. He lay down, weary, and rested the tube against his hip, his hand covering it protectively. His muscles ached, and he felt his body succumb to its need for sleep. It was a new moon that night, so the darkness was complete.