mortals won’t find it so simple.
‘Glad you think so,’ Ilumene said, his eyes fixed on the castle wall just visible through the trees. ‘We wait for that cloudbank to cover the moon, then move.’
The forest gate was on the right where the road cut through the trees and a hundred yards of cleared ground between forest and walls. From where they lurked Grisat couldn’t see the guards on the walls, but he knew they were there, so a straight run would be lunacy.
‘Won’t we be seen?’ Grisat hissed as Ilumene began to edge his way into a position where he could see the moon clearly. ‘You said they’d detect any magic.’
‘We best not use any then.’
Grisat hesitated, looking to Saranay for support, but she was focused on the castle walls. He followed her gaze and caught a wink of light from atop the battlements, then a second.
‘A signal?’ he breathed, feeling the heat of Ilumene’s scorn as soon as the words left his mouth.
‘You think?’ he asked. ‘But who would be signalling from the castle wall? Don’t tell me there’s a traitor in their midst, Grisat — say it ain’t so!’
The mercenary bit down on his lip and looked away. Ilumene was always at his most antagonistic and animated before a fight. Keeping his mouth shut was the only sensible choice from here on.
The signal repeated a few minutes later, and intermittently after that, but they had to wait in the shadows for almost half an hour before slow-drifting cloud covered the moon. Ilumene wrapped a black scarf around his head with slow, deliberate movements, then slipped silently onto the open ground, Saranay and Venn at his heel.
Grisat followed as silently as he could, wincing at every twig breaking underfoot. The shield he’d looted from the battlefield felt ungainly, slung over his back, but he’d seen men spitted for questioning Ilumene’s orders, so he kept silent.
The castle wall ahead bulged out in front of them, protecting the ballista behind, and a square barbican enclosed the forest gate. The dense forest, steep slope and cleared land, not to mention the swift rivers running behind, meant the castle wasn’t as vulnerable as it might look at first sight.
The group stopped when they reached the wall and pressed themselves flat against the stone to hide from those above, but there was hardly time for them to check their bearings before the signal came: a husk of corn dropped from the battlements above, flashing down past Grisat’s face. Venn plucked it from the air and held it up to Ilumene, a quizzical expression on his face, but Ilumene only beamed in response and headed off along the wall towards the gate.
In less than a minute the group had reached the near side of the forest gate, where they found a rope hanging down the shadowed corner of the barbican. The squat little building had just the gate below and a small room above, which no doubt housed a couple of soldiers. A ditch in front was deep enough to need a bridge to cross it and made breaking down the iron-banded gate difficult for any attacker.
Ilumene scrambled up the rope with an agility that belied his size and pulled himself over the lowest part of the battlement. Grisat held his breath, aware how exposed the man was, but there were no shouts of alarm or warning. Within minutes, a tiny scraping sound came from the gate as the bolts were drawn back and it opened, just enough for them to slip through. Ilumene closed it after them again, a wide grin on his face. In the gloom Grisat could make out a spray of black droplets on the man’s ash-grey brigandine.
‘Saranay, up those stairs,’ Ilumene whispered, pointing to a narrow flight set into the wall. ‘Deal with any curious guards that come your way and keep the gate clear for us.’
She scowled at being left behind, but didn’t argue. She spared Grisat an ambiguous look as she trotted up the stairs, one long knife already freed from its sheath.
Ilumene was already focused on the next step of his plan. He kept look-out — for what, Grisat had no idea — but after a long wait he finally gestured, and without a word started off around the walled yard. His group followed noiselessly. Grisat had been shoved into the middle by one of the nameless Harlequins; he was forced to follow Venn so closely he was terrified of tripping him and causing a commotion. Ilumene led them through the stable and into a cobbled courtyard, then past the large main door to the castle to a smaller one set in the stone wall. While his companions crouched in the shadow of a massive creeper, Ilumene turned his attention to the door.
He had it open in a matter of seconds — their agent had managed to leave the great bolts open, Grisat guessed. Once inside, Ilumene allowed them to pause, and Grisat found his heart was pounding so furiously against his chest that he could feel the coin’s pinch on his skin.
‘Servants’ quarters,’ Ilumene whispered, pointing ahead where a short corridor was faintly illuminated by moonlight from the room on the left. As he led the way, Grisat caught a glimpse of a long hallway with an enormous map painted on one wall. Once past the moonlit room it was almost pitch-black in the servants’ corridor, but there were no obstacles, so Grisat copied Ilumene’s lead and walked with one hand following the line of the wall, the other on his knife.
It took a time to traverse the castle at such a cautious pace, but eventually they came through a curtained arch into the tower. Ilumene glanced back at his comrades and nodded to Venn before drawing his other long knife and trotted up the stairway, one of the nameless Harlequins close on his heel. Grisat followed as fast as he could, but he didn’t even see the guard until Ilumene’s knife was sliding out of the man. Beside him a second Narkang man was gaping in horror at the sword piercing his mailed chest; the Harlequin had lunged and his sword, arm and outstretched leg describing a near-perfect straight line.
Both guards had died without a sound, and they continued up the staircase. Grisat could taste the fear in his own mouth, peppery and sour, as his heart thumped madly. One small mistake, one tiny sound and they would all be dead. Well, maybe not all, Grisat thought bitterly, but I’ll be first to bite it, so screw the rest of ’em. This is their cause, not mine. I just don’t want to die.
At a grander door than any they’d seen thus far, Ilumene gestured for Grisat and one of the Harlequins to wait. Grisat had worked some jobs in Narkang; he recognised the king’s bee emblem worked into the carved door panels. Venn and the second Harlequin disappeared up the stairs towards the upper chambers, where the scryer was most likely quartered.
Ilumene caught Grisat’s eye and gestured to his back, and Grisat nodded and sheathed his knife before slipping the narrow cavalry shield off his back, his eyes still on the door in case it opened unexpectedly. Ilumene took hold of the shield and inspected the runes he’d scratched into it a few hours before. The marks were very like the coins they all wore as a mark of their allegiance; Grisat hadn’t asked questions, but the fact Ilumene had checked the runes cheered him.
Got to be some sort of protection, Grisat had told himself, something temporary, before Ilumene gets his knife into the man.
Ilumene gestured that he and Grisat would go through together, then split up to draw the mage’s attention while the Harlequin came in close behind. Grisat drew his sword and hunched low behind the shield, waiting for the signal. When Ilumene rapped smartly on the door with his knuckles, Grisat almost dropped his sword in surprise.
There came a grunt from within, the surprised sounds of a man waking suddenly. ‘What is it?’
‘Tea, sir,’ Ilumene called, affecting a breathy wheedle to his voice. ‘Found some juniper berries in the kitchen; thought you might want some.’
‘But how-?’ The man’s voice tailed off and Grisat heard footsteps in the room beyond that stopped short before they reached the door. ‘Come,’ the man ordered eventually, unbolting the door with a sharp clack.
Grisat flinched as he stood poised to burst through the door.
Ilumene turned the latch-ring smartly and opened the door part-way, not enough to afford the mage within a view, but sufficient to provoke any preemptive attack, should one be coming, but nothing happened, so Ilumene grinned fiercely and elbowed Grisat, prompting them rush in side by side.
Huddled behind his shield, the mercenary caught only a glimpse of the room beyond: a large fireplace was in front of him, the orange glow of flames casting a soft light across the rich red rug and slender chairs set before it. Dark wooden furniture blended into the shadows around the walls. There was a narrow spiral staircase on the right, at the foot of which stood a man, his face illuminated by a lamp on the wall above him. White traces of light were frozen in motion around his lowered fingers as Grisat started to charge forward, his feet suddenly leaden.
Ilumene was already a step ahead of him, driving forward with his knives held low. The mage’s mouth was open, an O of surprise, before a flash of light danced in his grey eyes. Grisat watched the change as he continued to flounder forward.
