Castle Maniyadoc’s dungeons had two entrances. One was within the keep and the other led in from the outside—so those who were to be executed or had been tortured didn’t trail their misery, blood or both through the keep. The inner stairway was well guarded and designed to be defended—a tight spiralling staircase that could be held by a single guard—and as I was known to be a friend of Rufra I knew I had little chance of getting past the guards without an alarm being raised. The outer door, however, was rarely guarded as it was garlanded with thick chains, heavy locks and, after all, who breaks into a dungeon?
I wore no armour as this would arouse suspicion, and all I carried to defend myself was my Conwy stabsword and my eating knife. I itched for the comfortable weight of a second blade at my hip, but my master had taken my longsword with her, saying it would serve me well later.
I felt alive.
The courtyard was quiet; only faraway shouts and calls from those enjoying themselves at Festival echoed around the shadowy landscape. A movement in the darkness below the wall caught my eye, a figure trying to keep hidden. He was not being obvious about it, no hugging the walls or moving at a crouch, but his walk was too casual for a man just strolling, although there was a familiar, taut, anger in every step the figure took.
Nywulf.
He was being followed: two people, a man and woman both dressed as slaves and utilising the same blindness to the doings of slaves that I intended Rufra take advantage of. They were good. They did not stay close to Nywulf and changed who watched him frequently. I melted into the shadows and reached for the Simple Invisibility, but where it should be I found a rock face as dark and pitted as the keepyard wall. The sigil incised into my chest throbbed and squirmed as if my chest were infested with worms. I put the sensation out of my mind and hugged the wall, keeping low and thanking my master for the nightsuit she had made me. Without shoes and with the hood pulled down I was skilled enough to remain practically invisible, even without magic. For a moment I thought about taking down the watchers—it would not be difficult—but then I put that thought aside. I would have to hide the bodies, and if they were expected to report to someone then who knew how long I would have before they would be missed? Besides, they watched Nywulf not me, and that could be used to my advantage. I easily outpaced the squiremaster and his watchers then waited behind one of the wedge-shaped buttresses of the wall. I hissed his name as he walked past.
He sauntered to a stop within a short distance of me as if he were a man having second thoughts about something. Now he was nearer I could see the bulge of weapons underneath his jerkin, more than one man would usually carry.
“Girton,” he said slowly. “I did not expect you to be here but I should not be surprised.” His hand went to the hilt of his blade. “Have you come for Rufra?”
“Yes,” I said. His hand tightened around the blade hilt at his hip.
“You must be angry,” he said, “about what happened to the girl. I understand that. But Rufra was not with Neander; he had nothing to do with the death of Drusl, no matter what you may hear.”
A stab in my heart at Drusl’s name.
“I know Rufra isn’t responsible,” I said. “I’m here to free him.”
“As am I. You would be a welcome help.”
“You are being followed, Nywulf.”
“I know,” he said. “Two of them.”
“They’ll bring the guards before you can free Rufra.”
“I am no amateur, boy.” His knuckles whitened around the hilt of his weapon. “Besides, you could easily take care of my watchers for me. I have a key to the dungeon and, in truth, I don’t expect that Rufra or I will make it past the keepyard, but it’s better that the boy die with a blade in his hand than on the fire.” He breathed heavily, like a bull about to charge. “I’ll not let them burn him,” he said. I remembered what Rufra had said about his awful sword and how it was given to those destined to die.
“He need not die at all.” Nywulf turned his head towards me, only a fraction, something barely noticeable, but I felt his scrutiny of me double. “Lead your shadows away, Nywulf,” I whispered. “Drop the key there and lead them away. I have a forged letter and clothes which will get Rufra through the postern door and keepyard gate as a slave. I will free him and send him to Festival. Trust me. There is a Rider at Festival called Cearis—”
“Cearis is here?” Now his concentration on me was almost a physical thing, like it pushed against my skin.
“Aye, with her Riders, and she says they will follow Rufra. Tell them to be ready. Bring any others you can find.”
“Be ready for what?”
“I don’t know yet. Not exactly. But an opportunity will present itself and you must make sure Rufra is ready to act.”
Nywulf stared up at the slow dance of the stars.
“I’m a fighting man,” he said, his voice rough as newly cut planks. “I’m not fitted out for this sort of skulking in the shadows.” He glanced at me “You promise you’ll get Rufra out safe? Promise he’ll get a fighting chance?”
“I can only promise I will do my best.”
He turned to look at me, gave me a quick smile and ran a hand over his bald head.
“If you’d said anything else I’d have known you for a liar and killed you here.” He stared up at the castle, swore and turned to walk away.
“Nywulf,’ I whispered. He slowed. “Take the stables. My master said that you must take the stables.”
He gave a small nod and walked away from me with the air of a man who had changed his mind. Where he had stood a key shone in the dirt. I counted out a hundred my-masters and heard Nywulf talk to the guards, be let out, then the postern door shut behind him. Fifteen my-masters later the door opened and closed again. I waited without moving for another fifty my-masters to see if I picked up any movement in my peripheral vision, but there was nothing. Nywulf had taken his shadows with him.
Now Rufra’s life depended solely on me.
Nywulf’s key opened the huge locks and the chains fell away. When I lifted the bar from across the door it seemed so loud I thought the whole castle must hear. I waited, first tracking the movements of the guards at the massive gate until I was sure they had heard nothing. Then I pressed my ear against the door to make sure I was not heard by anyone inside. If there was a crossbowyer behind the door then my attempt to free Rufra ended here.
The door inched open at my touch. The heavy wood was bound with iron hinges that creaked loudly as I slipped in and shut it behind me. It seemed impossible I was not heard. I crouched, holding my breath and waiting in the dark for my eyes to adjust and for someone to investigate the noise, but no one came and I breathed again. In front of me a staircase curved away, and torchlight from below created an arc of warm light against the stone. Within the light was the shadow of a helmed head—a guard further down the stair.