So young and so bitter. She wanted to hold him, give him the hugs his father withheld. Lane suspected it was too late for any number of hugs to do him much good. You don’t become a killer at ten without getting a permanent scar on your soul. How many scars did Damien’s carry?
Chapter 26
Baron Kannon’s keep loomed dark and menacing where it sat on a cliff overlooking the border five miles away. Dark clouds gathered behind it, setting a gloomy scene. Surrounded on three sides by sheer vertical drops, the only way to approach the fortress was up a steep, winding path that ended at a high, crenelated wall.
The keep itself towered three stories high. A dozen arrow slits covered the front and sides. A dark-green banner with a golden bow embroidered on it snapped in the wind from a pole on the right-hand tower. The baron’s ancestors had chosen well when they built their home.
Now the question was, would the current Baron Kannon make a wise decision and stick to his duty. Damien hoped so. If they could accomplish this mission without killing that was fine with him.
A soft breeze blew through the spruce, filling the air with the scent of evergreen. Damien breathed deep, enjoying the moment.
“It’s so peaceful here,” Lane said. She’d been a lot nicer to him since the battle with the Daggers. Was it pity or fear? He didn’t know or especially care. Whatever melted her icy personality, it was a welcome change. “You’d hardly guess a day’s ride south bands of murderers constantly gathered and plotted how best to kill and plunder our land.”
“At least they’re flesh-and-blood humans and not monsters or demons. Our soldiers can handle them. The problem is sometimes they try to cross in small groups that are hard to detect. That’s why the barons need to maintain their patrols.”
“Don’t worry,” Lane said. “I’ll convince them. I can’t imagine they’ll want to make an enemy of the kingdom.”
Lane didn’t know how right she was. “Any thoughts on your strategy?”
“Not yet. I need to hear all their complaints before I can figure out how best to address them.”
“I assume your mother warned you the barons might be dangerous.”
Lane nodded. “I think she’s overly concerned.”
“Either that, or we’re walking into a trap.”
“Does that worry you?”
Damien shrugged. “Not especially.” He’d welcome a trap. It would eliminate all the stupid politics. If they attacked he’d counterattack and they’d all die. Problem solved.
They started up the steep trail, letting their horses pick their own path. If any conventional army tried to attack this place they’d be cut to pieces by the baron’s archers before they ever closed on the keep. They reached the top without incident.
Two gatehouses bracketed a double set of portcullises. A guard stood behind the first portcullis. He wore mail and carried a sword at his waist. A dark beard streaked with silver marked him as a veteran. They reined in about four feet from the gate.
Lane pulled out her badge. “I’m from the diplomatic corps. The barons are expecting me.”
“Yes, ma’am. You’re the last to arrive. Open the gate!” The inner and outer portcullises clanked up until they could ride underneath. “Go on in. Master Miles, the baron’s majordomo, is expecting you.”
“Thank you.” Lane went through first and Damien followed a moment later.
Damien nodded as his horse walked past, one soldier to another. The gate guard seemed competent. Hopefully the rest of the guards were cut from the same mold.
Halfway across the yard a pair of boys came running. Damien swung down, collected his gear, and handed his reins to a blond youngster about ten. Why was it always stable boys? You’d think there’d be a stable girl somewhere.
The boys led the horses and mule away as the double doors to the keep swung open. A man in his fifties with an oiled goatee and a long, forest-green robe strode out, his staff of office tapping on the stone. He came down three steps, paused, and bowed to Lane.
“Officer Thorn, welcome to Kannon Keep. I received word from your august mother, informing me of your assignment. I do so hope you can straighten out this business with the taxes and soldiers. My lord has been so terribly upset he hasn’t slept the night through in months.”
Lane plastered on a fake smile. “I’ll certainly do my best. After all everyone wants this matter cleared up as quickly as possible.”
Miles beamed. “My thoughts exactly. Follow me, please. Your bags will be brought up presently. We’ve arranged for you and your bodyguard to have adjoining rooms. I trust that’s convenient?”
The last was addressed to Damien and he nodded. “Perfect, sir. It seems you’ve thought of everything.”
Miles laughed. “That’s my job, young man.”
The majordomo led them inside. The doors opened directly into a great hall. A huge fireplace blazed with a tree’s worth of wood. A golden chandelier, its fifty candles unlit, hung from the ceiling. A second-floor balcony overlooked the hall. Miles guided them to a set of steps leading upstairs. A couple of twists and turns later they came to a pair of doors fifteen feet apart.
“Your rooms,” Miles said. “Should you need anything just use the pull rope and a servant will be along in short order. I’ll leave you to prepare for the feast.”
“Feast?” Damien asked.
“Of course. The annual gathering always opens with a great feast. It is my lord’s honor to set the finest table. Never fear, there’s always plenty of leftovers for the guards and servants.”
Miles trotted off, his staff tapping away, no doubt to alert his master that they’d arrived.
“I need to clean up and change,” Lane said. “Did you bring something appropriate?”
“I think I have a clean tunic. I’m a guard, remember? I don’t need to dress up to enjoy the barons’ leftovers.”
