“No, Squiremaster,” we said together, though the words were barely discernible as we had to hold our breath not to laugh.
“Well, Rufra,” he said, “you may think your new friend means an easy ride for you, but it is not the case. You can spar with me today.” The smile fell from Rufra’s face.
“Yes, Nywulf,” he said and then the squiremaster turned to me.
“You have other business—the castle calls,” he said and passed me a square of paper. It was sealed with the queen’s symbol, though the paper was cheap.
“Thank you, Squiremaster,” I said, but he had already turned away to choose a practice sword.
Outside the squireyard I opened my note. It was from Gusteffa. It gave me no name, only a time and a place to be if I wanted to intercept my guard, and I wondered at how she had got the information so quickly. From the height of the sun I didn’t have long to act so made my way around the wall and to the barracks at a run.
I had barely waited ten minutes before the guard who had been outside the kennels left to take up his duty at the keep. I checked I had my small eating knife on me and followed him, watching for the right moment to act. He stopped to chat amiably with the men and women on the gate. I loitered, pretending to be interested in the ruined carvings on the walls, until he moved on. The further into the keep he got the more nervous he became. It was like the man was a puppet controlled by an increasingly shaky puppetmaster: his body spasmed and tensed, his hands clenched and his breathing became staccato. Twice, he almost physically jumped when other guards appeared around the corner. All this made following him more difficult as he would stop to peer around and I would have to hide to avoid being seen. I trailed him to the higher floors of the keep where the corridors ran in a square with rooms off either side. As the guard reached the top of the stairs he turned left. I followed, almost walking into him at the top of the stairs as he had turned on his heel and was hurrying back the way he had come. Curious about what had made him retreat, I carried on walking and came across a group of guards with splotches of red on their armour. They watched in silence as I sauntered past and then their whispered conversation resumed behind me.
When I turned the far corner I saw my guard stationed outside a room. He was nervous, holding his pike tightly and constantly glancing up and down the corridor. When he looked away I inched my way along the wall using the door recesses to hide in. When I was near enough to make a dash for the man I slipped my eating knife from its sheath. A shudder ran through me and for a second I was back in the kennels, white teeth flashing, the scent of dog shit thick in my nostrils as one of the brutes launched itself at me.
Breathe out.
I was going to find out who had locked me in there and I was going to make them pay.
Breathe in.
I took a step forward and a hand closed around my knife, pulling me back into the alcove. A voice whispered into my ear and the smell of facepaint filled my nostrils.
“What are you intending to do with that, apprentice?”
Muscles, tensed for combat a second ago, relaxed, though only a little.
“Find out who locked me in the kennel, Master.”
“You think he’ll tell you?”
“I think I’ll make him.”
She laughed quietly.
“How?” Her hand tightened around the knife. “Cut him? Has anger driven everything I ever taught you from your mind?” She cuffed me around the back of the head, hard enough to hurt. I wanted, more than anything, to lash out at her.
“They locked me in with war dogs,” I said through gritted teeth.
“And he likely knows nothing more than he was set to guard a door. One shout from him will bring every guard in Maniyadoc running. Unlike you, Gusteffa is only a fool in name and told me what you were about. I will get you your information. Stay here, stay quiet. Watch what I do.”
She let go of me and walked out into the centre of the corridor. The guard turned, looked her up and down and then ignored her. A jester was no threat to him. My master cartwheeled up the corridor, stopping in front of the guard and leaning forward until her face was right in front of his. She brought her hands up, pulling at the corners of her mouth and sticking out her tongue.
“Piss off or I’ll gut you,” said the guard.
She acted hurt, miming tears, and I saw her palm a small mirror on a string from her pocket and knew what she intended, the Careless Gossip, a way of causing someone to talk and forget all about it afterwards. Like the Wild Gaze it was a skill I lacked the patience for. As the guard opened his mouth to say something my master brought up the mirror. It dangled from her finger and she set it spinning with her thumb, then placed her other hand on the back of the guard’s head. He stiffened at the unexpected touch and she leaned further forward, whispering to him in the Voice of Sleep. He shook in her hands, frozen in place, and my master slipped the spinning mirror back into her pocket and continued to whisper to him. She gently removed his pike from a limp hand and leaned it against the wall. The she placed a hand on the top of his head and with a gentle push he fell to his knees, looking up at her like a quill holder at a priest on signing day.
“Girton,” she said quietly, “ask him your questions now and then think about how much easier tasks are when tackled with the right tools.”
I bristled at the implied criticism and placed myself between my master and the guard. He was drooling and his eyes were unfocused.
“What is your name?” I asked.
“Anjohn.”
“Anjohn, recently you were set to guard the kennels, is this true?”
“Yes.”
“Who set you to it?”
“Captain Dollis.”
“And who commanded him?”
“I do not know.”
“Don’t lie,” I barked, drawing back my hand to slap the man, but my master grabbed my wrist.
“He cannot lie, Girton, you know that. He will remember nothing of this, but if you give him a bruise his mind will wander back along this track to find the cause. Is that what you want?”
“No, Master.”
“Ask then.”
“What were your orders, Anjohn?”
“Guard the kennel. Wait to be relieved.”
“Who relieved you?”
“Dollis came, beat me for being drunk though I swear I never touched a drop.”
“There has to be more,” I hissed, looking back at my master.
“Doubtful—he is only a guard,” said my master calmly and then leaned in close to Anjohn. “Wake at the next waterclock bell, Anjohn. Remember nothing of this.” My hand itched for the knife my master had taken from me, even though I knew it would be pointless to hurt the man; he knew nothing and had not been responsible for locking me in with the dogs. My master took my arm and pulled me away. “Come. Best we are not discovered here.”
“Who is Dollis?”
“Aydor’s man. Captain of his dayguard.”
“The heir. I should have known.” I remembered the man with the missing tooth and how he’d sneered at me.