against sorcery? It was beyond ridiculous. Liana looked at him with a hopeful expression, like he was the answer to all their ills.
You don’t know me. I’m not the solution.
“I’ll help you,” he said, not believing the words as they came out of his mouth.
This time when eyes turned to him, he didn’t feel the same animosity. Grendt sneered, of course, and muttered under his breath. And Ramon watched with an unreadable expression beneath his dirt-caked beard, but the rest had the look of convicted men who had just been given a reprieve from the hangman’s noose.
“But it has to be tonight.”
That evoked a chorus of grumbles and forced laughter.
Ramon quieted them down. “We need time. To plan, to gather more men. Everyone here is about ready to fall down where they stand.”
“It has to be now. The anthill is already knocked over. We can take advantage of the confusion before they restore order.”
Keegan nodded. “If they’re looking for us in the outer districts of the city, there’ll be fewer to stop us at the prison.”
Ramon looked around. Many of the men were nodding to themselves.
“All right. If that is the decision of the clans, then me and my fighters will abide by it.”
Then he left the room with Grendt and a few others trailing after him. Caim could find no reason to be relieved. He had just agreed to a suicide mission in the name of people he hardly knew, and he wasn’t even getting paid for it. What was I thinking?
Liana whispered with her father off to the side of the room. She shook her head several times, more and more emphatically, but the old man’s frown only deepened. Finally, he gestured toward the door, but she walked past Caim to her brother.
She grasped Keegan’s hand. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Sure, Li. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Caim is with us. Nothing can go wrong.”
Caim wanted to vanish into a crack in the wall when Liana swung her gaze to him.
“Look out for him,” she said.
“I will.”
Hugging herself, she ran out of the room, followed by the slower steps of her father.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A cold wind blew down the alley on the east side of the city where Caim crouched. Its icy fingers found ways inside his cloak and jacket. Snow fell in thick, wet flakes that lent a placid air to the occasion. He was worried about more than snow at the moment. Specifically, Ramon’s plan, or lack of one.
The outline of their destination towered above the skyline. The prison house was a colossal block of stone on the banks of the river that flowed around the eastern flank of the city. Ramon’s plan was a full-on charge, or close enough that Caim considered leaving them to their own devices, no matter what he’d said before. But every time he glanced at Keegan, who squatted behind Ramon and the others, pangs of responsibility returned. So what’s stopping you from leaving?
He didn’t know, and that bothered him. Only twenty-two outlaws had volunteered for the mission. A score of men-some of them untrained, others too old to be useful if it came to blows-to assault a fortress that looked like it could hold off an army. The prospects weren’t encouraging.
Caim flexed his injured forearm. The pain was getting worse. He checked his knives, keeping his hand well clear of the hilt jutting over his shoulder. The sword had been quiet since the battle in the alley, and he was content for it to remain dormant. The shadows, as always, were nearby, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. He opened the bulging pouch at his waist and dipped the fingers of a gloved hand inside. Pulling out a handful of black ash, he dabbed it on the buckles of his clothing, the pommels of his knives, and over his face. He felt Keegan presence beside him. He could see the youth without looking over, lanky hair that hung past his shoulders, his narrow mouth, the sharp jut of his chin.
“What’s with the makeup?”
Caim held up the pouch. “Put some on your face, and the backs of your hands if you don’t have gloves. Cover anything that could reflect light.”
Keegan did as he was told, until he resembled a raccoon with sooty paws.
“Better,” Caim said. “When we go in, I want you to stay with me. I mean right on my heels. When I turn, you turn. Got it?”
“I don’t need a nursemaid. Father’s already enough of a pain in my prick.”
Caim snatched the boy’s collar and pulled him in close. “Listen up. A lot of your friends are going to get themselves killed tonight. If you want to see the sunrise, you’ll do what I say.”
“If you know something-”
“I know stupid when I see it. I can’t save anyone who won’t listen, and Ramon isn’t about to take orders from me. But I can save you.”
Keegan’s mouth settled in a firm line. There was something in the youth’s eyes, like he wanted someone to hit him. Caim let him go, and the youth nodded.
“All right. What did you bring in case we run into a fight?”
Keegan touched his belt. “I’ve only got my hunting knife. My sword broke back in the…” He swallowed and his eyes tightened. “After we left Uncle Corgan’s store.”
Caim reached under his cloak and drew the sword he had taken off the dead soldier in the alleyway. It was a falcata, a curved single-edged blade a little shorter and heavier than a cavalry saber. The steel shone bright in the dim light as Keegan took the weapon with both hands.
“This will serve you better than that bit of tin you were carrying before. Keep it ready, but don’t go stabbing everything you see. Things might get confusing in there-”
“Let’s go!” Ramon said from the front of the group.
Caim pulled Keegan to his feet as the outlaws filed out of the plaza. “Just stay close.”
As they joined the tail of the procession, slipping through the dark streets, getting closer to the massive structure, Caim felt a tugging in his chest. He slowed down. It was the same sensation he’d felt at the clearing, right before the armored giant arrived, but stronger. He placed a hand on his chest and took a deep breath as he hurried to catch up with the others. If Keegan noticed the lapse, he didn’t say anything. For the next couple minutes, Caim concentrated on taking slow, even breaths. Gradually the sensation lessened, until it was only a faint throb behind his breastbone. Irritating, but nothing he couldn’t work around. While he wondered what had triggered it, for now he could only push it out of his thoughts and focus on the task at hand. If the Beast was here…
Caim reached back to loosen his knives in their sheaths.
The thudding of the outlaws’ boots on the snow-packed street was loud enough to wake the neighborhood, but the shutters on the buildings remained closed as they passed, the windows unlit. Caim imagined the people huddled inside, afraid to look out of their own homes.
When they reached the next intersection, the prison’s outline loomed before them, six stories tall with a twelve-foot-high stone wall surrounding its grounds. Square towers studded the corners of the outer wall; lights burned within their arched windows. The entire compound was surrounded by a hundred yards of wide-open space without buildings or cover of any kind-a killing ground. Had there been a moon out tonight, it would have been suicide for them to even attempt to enter, but black clouds continued to obscure the sky. Their luck was holding.
Without the time for a full casing, Caim scanned the compound and tried to guess the best point of entry. The side facing them was bisected by a small gatehouse; probably the best-defended part of the prison. The western side didn’t look much better, but the east bordered the river. There was still a wall on that side, but the sentries might have trained themselves over time to ignore that sector. Caim scanned the walls for signs of sentries, and was both relieved and daunted to find none. Against his better judgment, he reached up to lay a finger on the hilt of the black sword. At once, the night erupted into a vivid palette of colors. Still, the walls appeared clear even to his
