“Don’t worry, child. It’s not for you to be visiting a barracks full of men for sure. You go back to your room and get ready for your dinner.” Hannah shooed her out and then bustled off towards the barracks.
She found Jennery leaning against the doorframe of a room in the guest barracks. He looked clean and relaxed, dressed only in his linen shirt and trousers. His blond hair was still damp from its recent wash, and he was laughing at something someone in the room had said. Her eyes dwelled fondly on his handsome face. Jennery straightened up in surprise when he saw her, his shirt moulding to his body as he moved. “Hannah, what are you doing here. The barracks are not the place for women!”
Hannah laughed. “I’m too old to worry about that. Anyway, it’s better I come than the Lady Alyssa.”
Jennery tensed. “Lady Alyssa? What happened? Come, sit down. Bryce won’t mind sharing his chair,” he said as Bryce hastily vacated the only chair in the room. He was similarly smelling of soap and looked much younger and relaxed out of uniform. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he was freshly shaven.
Hannah smiled her thanks. If only she were younger, she wouldn’t mind being held by those strong arms. She dragged her attention away from Bryce’s trim body and looked at her son. “Well, from what Lady Alyssa tells me, her brother Simeon is not going to give her father the full Leaving tomorrow. She wants you to go and find some lady called Silene and bring her back here tonight to talk some sense into him.”
Bryce whistled softly from his perch on the end of his bed. “That would be a mistake by the lad, that’s for sure.”
“And that’s not all. It sounds like her brother is keeping a watch on Lady Alyssa’s movements, him and that henchman of his. I am not sure what they are planning, but it doesn’t sound like it will be a benefit to the girl or the Watch,” Hannah said. “So, you had better get on your horse and go fetch this Silene now.”
Jennery scowled. “You’re worse than the Commander! Yes, alright I’m going, I’m going. Bryce, you might have to give my apologies. I doubt I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
Bryce waved him off. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
Watch Towers, Stoneford Watch
Tagerill cursed under his breath. “What is he thinking, why didn’t he wait for us?” he said, peering out of the door.
“Do you think he is enspelled?”
“Not Birlerion, no way. He must have seen something.”
Jerrol scanned the courtyard. “You go and restrain the off-duty guard. I’ll find a diversion to distract any others.” Tagerill didn’t argue. Instead, he moved stealthily across the courtyard.
Jerrol skirted the courtyard and entered the square building opposite the tower. The corridors were silent. He hadn’t seen any guards, and he wondered where they were; possibly off duty, he supposed. Hopefully, Tagerill would deal with most of them. He crossed the main hall, once catering to hundreds of students, now echoing emptily. This place was a forgotten place, shrouded in history and deliberate misdirection.
He needed to speak to the King. He would instruct Liliian to reassess the purpose here. To care for the Watchers and find out how they could patch the Veil. How many years had it been unprotected? No wonder the Veil was shredding, and magic was leaking back in. How could they have forgotten the purpose of the towers? A niggling thought surfaced. What did Torsion know that they didn’t? And where was he?
Searching the dining hall, Jerrol couldn’t find anything flammable except the tables, and they would make too much noise to move. He needed to be careful; he didn’t want to put the watchers at risk, but it had to be a big enough distraction to draw everyone, so he and Tagerill could pick them off. Maybe the kitchen would be better. He left the dining hall and peered around the door to the kitchen.
The kitchen was surprisingly empty. He had expected the cook to be firing up the ovens for the morning baking, but only dust motes spiralled in the silence. The room was dominated by a large wooden table in the centre, with an iron rack suspended from the ceiling. Hanging from the rack was a variety of utensils. The ovens lined the far wall, butting up to an open fire with a pot hanging over it in the corner. To the other side was a stack of kindling wood – piled neatly and promisingly inflammatory.
Jerrol skirted the table, moving towards the hearth. The fire was banked, a sullen red glow at its centre. He scooped up a shovelful of glowing coals and deposited them in the middle of the kindling wood. He piled some pieces on the top for good measure and left it smouldering, and then headed for the back exit.
“Well, what do we have here?” the man almost purred. “A rescue attempt, is it? Have you come to save the Lady’s Captain? I knew he was the one; he had to be.”
“I think you must be mistaken,” Jerrol replied as he met the dark eyes of the thin man across the table. His face was narrow with deep creases around his mouth, his eyes black and pitiless. He wore long black robes that made his skin appear even paler than it was. He was remarkably similar in looks and build to the man they had tied up in Velmouth, and to Torsion, come to think of it.
“Oh no, I have you now. Are you a Sentinal? I know all about the Lady’s Guard. We have much to talk about.”
“I don’t think so,” disagreed Jerrol, “unless you’re going to explain what you are up to here. Who are you, and where is Torsion?”
The man stared at him intently, his eyes pools of shadow. “Ah, you think you can resist. You all
