Percival grunted in assent, then raised his voice.
“This wasn’t the greeting we expected, after hand delivering the key to the rebellion’s victory,” the sergeant called out. “Tell your men to lower their crossbows first.”
“What are you talking about?” the voice replied. “What key?”
“The nobles you’ve been looking for,” Percival replied.
“What’s he doing?” Elaine hissed, and Arcturus noticed the girl lying beside him, her hair pinned to the ground by one of the Twenty-Fourth’s feet.
“He’s pretending they captured us,” Arcturus said.
There was silence now.
“Lower your crossbows, you fools!” the voice called, and there was a rattle of metal as the weapons were taken from their rests on the railings.
“Down, lads,” Percival said, and suddenly Arcturus was blinking in the light, and rough hands were lifting him to his feet. He was shoved out of the group, and he fell to his knees. Only now could he see the face of the voice, and it did not surprise him.
Crawley, flanked by a dozen rebels, their dark cloaks swirling as they marched toward them. These men still had their crossbows raised, the points squared firmly at his chest. Arcturus saw Alice and Elaine thrown to the ground beside him, and heard the rusted scrape of wheels as the cart was pushed forward also.
The servant crouched before him, and his long, spidery fingers cupped Arcturus’s face.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Crawley whispered.
CHAPTER
40
ARCTURUS MANAGED TO PULL away, quelling the battering of Sacharissa, her desperation to come out near blinding him with confusion.
“You?” Alice spluttered in recognition. “Crawley? How could you?!”
“How could I not?” Crawley replied dismissively, waving two soldiers forward. “Letting you sniveling brats order me about like a slave. It was high time you were all taught a lesson.”
“Wait…,” Arcturus began, the shadows of an idea forming in his mind. But Sacharissa’s consciousness was distracting him, and he was forced to quell its writhing with a thought.
“Tie their hands,” Crawley ordered, gesturing toward them. “Tightly now, or they’ll be able to etch spells with their fingers.”
Rebels approached them, and Arcturus heard the ripping of cloth as they tore strips from the hems of their robes.
“Wait!” Arcturus hissed. “I didn’t tell them.”
“Tell them what?” Crawley said, even as a man took Arcturus’s hands and began to wrap cloth around them.
“That you were a rebel,” Arcturus growled. “I kept your secret!”
“You knew?” Alice gasped, her face screwed up with pain as the men jerked her fractured arm in their haste to tie her hands.
Arcturus turned to her, his heart twisting. He wanted to wink at her, let her know he was still on their side … but it was too risky. And … there was a snake of doubt twisting in his stomach. Was he still on their side?
The king and his nobles had lost. Vocans had been taken, and its students captured. Why not throw his lot in with the winning side? He owed Alfric no loyalty, and there was nothing he could do for his friends as just another captive.
“Don’t you see, I’ve … I’ve been loyal to you all along,” Arcturus said, stumbling over his words in his haste to explain. “A few hours with these spoiled, pampered kids and I knew which side my bread was buttered.”
“We trusted you!” Elaine cried out while, next to her, Alice glared at him, her eyes blazing with anger.
“I couldn’t get away,” Arcturus said, loudly this time, wincing as his fingers were crushed in the tight binding. “But I’m here now.”
Crawley stared for a few seconds, but was distracted by a growl from behind Arcturus. Then Crawley was sprinting for the cart, a curved knife clutched in his hand.
“No!” Alice screamed, lunging for him with her feet.
Arcturus spun, and saw the Canid struggling beneath the cloaks they had swaddled him in. Arcturus struggled to get to his feet, straining against the rebel’s hands that pushed him down, as Crawley put the knife to Edmund’s throat.
By now Gelert had wriggled his upper body from the cloak and was snapping at Crawley, but the servant remained calm in the face of it all, lifting Edmund’s head and jerking the knife threateningly.
“That’s right, you stupid creature,” the servant hissed. “Daddy goes bye-bye if you don’t settle down.”
The Canid’s barking stopped. It was replaced with a low growl, hatred burning in his eyes. With one lunge, Gelert could swallow Crawley’s head whole … but he would not risk his master’s life.
“I said, settle down!” Crawley bawled.
The sound stopped.
“Dorcas, bind this monster’s legs,” Crawley ordered.
The rebel holding down Arcturus hesitated for a moment, then hurried to do Crawley’s bidding. Dorcas was a large man, with broad shoulders that made Arcturus think he had once been a blacksmith. But despite his size, the man’s hands shook as he tied Gelert’s paws, muzzle and even tail together, leaving the demon trussed up like a turkey.
The whole atrium watched as it was done, and Arcturus was stunned by the still silence of the hundred rebels above them. Not a word passed their lips, nor did a cloak stir, as if they were gargoyles arrayed across a church roof.
With the Canid secured, Crawley withdrew the blade and strode toward Arcturus. Then it was Arcturus’s turn to feel the cold of the knife against his throat, and he resisted the urge to gulp as the point was pressed against his windpipe.
“You did not seem so keen when we last spoke,” Crawley said, his voice low so that only Arcturus could hear. “In fact, I distinctly remember you being insolent.”
“I … didn’t … know,” Arcturus said, each syllable slicing the knife deeper into his neck. He felt a rivulet of warm blood trickle down to his chest.
Crawley eased the pressure and gripped Arcturus’s hair.
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you right now,” Crawley asked. “I could say the nobles killed you. Killed the first common summoner. That would get the people on our side. It was what we were going to do anyway.”
“Leave him alone!” Elaine yelled, and Arcturus heard a slap, then a whimper. He felt the hot rage stir in him then, and he quelled it as best he could.
“I can find more,” Arcturus managed, looking Crawley in the eyes.
“More what?” Crawley asked, twisting the knife’s point cruelly. “Choose your words more carefully, Arcturus. They may be your last.”
“Common summoners,” Arcturus mumbled, feeling faint. “You need a summoner to test for them.”
Crawley pulled the knife away and tapped it against his chin thoughtfully, leaving a bloody mark on his skin.
“Keep talking,” he said.
“Where are you going to find another summoner to work for you? They’re all nobles,” Arcturus said. “There are more of me out there, the provost said so.”
“What, more bastards, like you?” Crawley asked, and grinned at the look of surprise on Arcturus’s face. “You thought I didn’t know? There’s not much old Crawley doesn’t know about what goes on at Vocans.”
“Bastards or not, you’ll need them in the coming days,” Arcturus said. He did not mention that he had no idea how to test someone for summoning abilities.
Crawley stared at him with narrowed eyes, and for a moment, Arcturus considered telling him about the other common summoners—unrelated to the nobility. But it would not do to muddy the waters.
“All right,” Crawley said, sheathing the knife. Arcturus felt a flood of relief, and stemmed the flow from the wound on his neck with the rags on his hands.
“Twenty-Fourth, you’ll wait in the summoning room,” Crawley ordered Percival’s men, turning away from Arcturus. “We’ll find a useful task for you when I return.”
If there was any doubt that Crawley was in charge, it was gone now. The man had once commanded the servants here, and was clearly used to giving orders. Only now he commanded an army.