“Did you mention Heamus when you asked Daana for authorisation to leave?”
“Aye, but only said we worried about him.”
“But if he knew what Heamus and Neander were doing …?” I said.‘I saw symbols in Daana ap Dhyrrin’s bin that resembled the Landsman’s Leash. He must have been preparing protections in case he needed them.” My master considered what I had said before shaking her head.
Did I catch a gleam in her eye?
“It is not our problem, Girton.” She turned away. “Adran has told us to go.”
“But Rufra will die.”
“We cannot solve this before dawn tomorrow, Girton. We have had our time here and found nothing. Events have only happened to us. And besides, you have given up.”
“Master, please, let us at least free Rufra.”
“Why should I care?” she hissed, tears in her eyes. “Why should I put myself in danger for your wishes if you only plan to kill yourself afterwards?”
For a moment I was lost for words. Then I realised my despair had passed, replaced by something new.
“I want to live. And I want revenge, Master, revenge for Drusl.”
“We are assassins, Girton; revenge is not our trade.” She said this quietly and before I could get angry she spoke again: “Adran has given us a chance to leave alive and we must take it. But—” she held up her hand before I could shout at her “—I think we can free Rufra. I can give you that at least, I think. If you will promise to live.”
She sat again, and this time I did not move my leg though she did not seem to notice. Her warmth seeped into my cold and painful clubbed foot.
“Thank you, Master.”
“The Landsmen have been sent for. They will scour this place, and if anyone else was involved in Drusl’s death they will find them. They will make them pay.”
She held my gaze. It was the moment I changed from child to adult. She lied to me and I knew she lied. A few weeks before it would never have occurred to me that she may lie as I had a child’s total belief in my guardian. A few days ago her lie would have made me angry, but no longer. She lied to me and I understood it. I understood it from the tear held in her eye, the lines in her face and the grey streaks in her hair. The Landsmen would no doubt find a scapegoat. It would be no one important. They would come and favours would be exchanged and everything would return to how it was before—only the names may change. I had once believed we were the hand of justice, but now I knew us for what we were—pinpricks on the back of a great beast that careened forward heedless of what it destroyed. We could prick it a million times and it would barely notice.
My master was tired.
I was tired.
“Very well. Let us free Rufra and be gone.”
She gave me a small smile, more an acknowledgement of our shared impotence than anything else.
“Thank you. Now pack. Adran has made it clear that if we are not gone before the water clock strikes for the midnight signing sermon she will tell everyone we are here. A king cannot countenance assassins in his castle, even if he is dying. I would rather not leave with the castle’s guards on our heels.”
“But the king already knows we are here,” I said.
My master stiffened, and then stared into the air as if it contained secrets only she could see.
“He does. You are right. In my worry for you I had forgotten that.” She tipped her head back and let out a long breath then ran a hand through her hair. “Girton, tell me exactly what was said and done between you and the king.”
“I was on one of the towers,” I said, puzzled by her reaction, “and he told me he was familiar with the ap Gwynrs and knew they had only daughters, so I must be his assassin.”
“Those exact words?”
“Yes, he said, ‘So you must be my assassin,’ then he raised his head to offer me his throat. I was about to tell him I wasn’t there for him when—”
“Girton!” She sat me up, holding me by the tops of my arms and smiling her feral, dangerous smile. “Why didn’t you tell me this when it happened? He was not offering you his throat. That was a salute—subject to king or king to subject.” She stared at me, her gaze boring into me as if she expected some reaction. “Don’t you see, Girton? It changes everything.”
“It does?” She talked over me, no longer listening and the tiredness that had seemed to be all but overwhelming her a moment ago hadfled.
“There are times, Girton,” she said. “Times, moments when everything may change.” Her grip loosened but she did not let go. “You said your friend Rufra would be a good king. Are you sure?” I didn’t understand what she saw. I didn’t know what to say. “Are you sure?” She shook me.
“Yes. I am sure.”
She nodded and a gleam appeared in her eye that I had not seen for long on long. She let go of me and hopped off the bed to pace up and down the room. “Very well. Remember what Adran said? ‘We work with what we have.’ How many Riders did you say Rufra has at Festival?”
“Fifteen,” I said. “The woman Cearis said she had fifteen good Riders.”
“Fifteen.” She brought her hand up to her mouth, pushing the knuckle of a finger against her lips. “Fifteen good Riders, Girton. It is not many, but if the stables are taken no one else will have cavalry, and it might be enough you know. That may do it, yes. Go now, Girton. Free Rufra from the dungeons and get him to Festival. Tell him to ready his Riders.”
“Why?”
“To take his throne of course. Why else?” She picked up her blades and strapped them to her waist.
“With only fifteen knights? But Master—”
“Tonight the castle will be thrown into disarray.” She cinched buckles tight. “Rufra will never have a better chance. They want to burn him on a fool’s throne? Well, we will do what we can to put him on a real one. Do you still have the letter Adran wrote allowing you to leave?” I nodded and handed it over; she sat by the window and began to scrape at the ink with a knife as she spoke. “Find some slave’s clothes. By the time you have done that I will have altered the date, wording and authority on this to allow a slave carrying a message to pass through the gates. No one looks at slaves. Once you have Rufra away, tell Adran that this business is not over yet and if she values her son’s life she will meet me in the king’s chamber. You must get Adran, without Aydor, to the king’s chamber by—” she pushed her head out of the window so she could see the water clock “—ten o’clock. That should be enough time.”
“And what then, Master?”
She pulled her head back into the room and turned to me. Her eyes shone, and she smiled her assassin’s smile, more a showing of teeth than anything else.
“Then we shall do what you wanted to do in the stables and what I have dreamed about most of my life, though I expect it to cost us ours.” She took out her stabsword and checked the keenness of the edge. “Tonight, Girton, you and I shall bring this entire castle tumbling down around our ears.”
Chapter 25