they got into the plainer hallways of the quarters belonging to those who were not quite nobility, but not exactly servants -- like the Archivist and the Master of Horse -- they stepped into a granite-walled alcove long enough to strip off their outer garments to reveal their well-worn traveling leathers. In the dim light of the infrequent candles they looked enough like servants that Tarma hoped no one would look at them too carefully. They covered their hair with scarves, and folded their clothing into bulky bundles; they carried those bundles conspicuously, so that they were unlikely (Tarma hoped) to be levied into some task or other as extra hands.
The corridor had changed. Gone were the soft, heavy hangings, the frequent lanterns. The passage here was bare stone, polished granite, floor and wall, and the lighting was by cheap clay lanterns or cheaper tallow candles placed in holders along the walls at long intervals. It was chilly here, and damp, and the tallow candles smoked.
'Well, this explains one thing about that sour old bastard,' Tarma muttered under her breath, while Kethry counted doors.
'Seven, eight -- who? What?'
'Jadrek. Why he's such a meddlar-face. Man's obviously got bones as stiff as I'm going to have in a few years. Living in this section must make him as creaky as a pair of new boots.'
'Ten -- never thought of that. Remind me to stay on the right side of Royal displeasure. This should be it.'
Kethry stopped at a wooden door set into the corridor wall, a door no different from any of the others, and knocked softly.
Tarma listened as hard as she could; heard limping footsteps; then the door creaked open a crack, showing a line of light at its edge --
She rammed her shoulder into it without giving Jadrek a chance to see who was on the other side of it, and shoved it open before the Archivist had time to react. Kethry was less than half a step behind her. They were inside and had the door shut tightly behind them before Jadrek had a chance to go from shock to outrage at their intrusion.
Tarma put her back to the rough wood of the door and braced herself against it; no half-cripple like Jadrek was going to be able to move her away from the door until she was good and ready. The rest was up to Kethry's silver tongue.
Jadrek glared, his whole attitude one of affronted dignity, but did not call for help or gibber in helpless anger as Tarma had half expected. Instead every word he spoke was forceful, but deadly cold, controlled -- and quiet.
'What, pray, is this supposed to mean?' The gray eyes were shadowed with considerable pain at the moment; Tarma hoped it was not because of something she'd done to him in getting the door open. 'I have come to expect a certain amount of cavalier treatment, but not in my own quarters!'
'My lord -- ' Kethry began.
'I,' he said bitterly, 'am no one's lord. You may abandon that pretense.'
Kethry sighed. 'Jadrek, I humbly beg your pardon, but we were trying to find a way to speak with you without drawing undue attention. If you want us to leave this moment, we will -- but damnitall, we are trying to find out what's become of our Captain, and you seem to be the only source of reliable information!'
He raised one eyebrow in surprise at her outspokenness, and looked at her steadily. 'And you might well be the instrument of my execution for treason.'
Tarma whistled softly through her teeth, causing both of their heads to swivel in her direction. 'That bad, is it?'
His jaw tightened, but he did not answer.
'Believe or not, I've got an answer for you. Look, I would assume you are probably the most well-read man in this city; that's what the Captain seemed to think,' Kethry continued. 'Do you know what a kyree is?'
He nodded warily.
'Do you know what it means to be mindmated to one?'
'A little. I also know that they are reputedly incapable of lying mind-to-mind -- '
At Kethry's hand signal, Tarma stood away from the door, crossed the room at a sprint and flung open the casement window that looked out over the stableyard. She had seen Jadrek at this window the night before, which was how she and Kethry had figured out which set of rooms was his. Warrl was ready, in the yard below; Tarma could see him bulking dark in the thin moonlight. Before Jadrek could react to Tarma's sudden movement, Warrl launched himself through the open window and landed lightly in the middle of the rather small room. It seemed that much smaller for his being there.
