“So far so good,” he muttered to Narin out of the corner of his mouth. “What happens when we reach the Citadel?”
“Ask the guard at the gate for an escort to the dungeons,” Narin replied, scarcely moving his lips as he spoke. “Once we are down there, we will be taken to the execution room, at the end of a row of holding cells for condemned prisoners. Since you are royalty and my crime is high treason, we should have no problem pushing to the front of the line. Have one of our men collect a body bag on the way in, and put me in it after you have killed me. Then, we walk back out.”
“Sounds good. Think it will work?”
“I hope so. Otherwise I’m dead.”
Relam nodded. “And that would be bad.”
“Shut up,” Narin grunted.
“You mean ‘Shut up, your highness’,” Relam said with a slight smile.
The guards snorted with laughter, then quickly composed themselves. All in all, it was one of the most cheerful execution parties ever. But that would not do when they reached the Citadel. Relam glanced over his shoulder at the guards.
“When we get there, you have to act the part. Imagine how you would be feeling if you were ordered to murder your commander. Channel that thought and play the part well. But don’t overdo it.”
The guards nodded and Relam turned back to face front, leading the small band to the right, out of the main flow of traffic. The Citadel was not much further, its massive walls rearing up over the wide street and casting it in shadow. As they approached the Citadel, a cloaked man with his eyes on the ground bumped into Relam, jostling him severely.
“Sorry,” the man muttered. “Didn’ see ye there.”
Relam reached for his dagger, just in case, but the man was already moving on. As Relam relaxed, his hand brushed a fragment of folded parchment protruding from his pocket. He snatched it free quickly and unfolded it.
“What’s that?” Narin asked.
Relam scanned the parchment briefly. “It looks like gibberish,” he replied. “Possess I, meet at RG five, E. Signed T, N, N.”
“That’s a code,” Narin countered, smiling slightly.
“What’s it say?”
“Not now. I’ll tell you while the others are burying me.”
Relam grinned and slipped the parchment to Narin. And not a moment too soon. Almost immediately after they had done so, the traffic cleared out ahead and they found themselves at the gates of the Citadel.
“Halt!” the captain of the guards at the gate shouted. “Who goes there?”
“His Highness, Prince Relam,” Relam replied, drawing himself up. “I’m here to use the execution room. I have a man here convicted of treason.”
“Treason?” the guard asked, glancing at Narin. “He is sentenced to death?”
“Yes,” Relam said flatly. “I need a guide to take me to the dungeons. My men and I will handle the rest.”
“Of course, your highness, right away,” the guard replied, recovering from his momentary surprise. “Clen, escort his highness to the dungeons, then report back.”
“Yes, sir!” a guard replied, stepping forward.
The gates of the Citadel swung open to admit them, the portcullis rattling as it was hauled upwards. “Welcome to the Citadel, your highness,” the captain said, smiling.
Relam inclined his head briefly in reply, then followed Clen into the Citadel.
The Citadel guard turned abruptly, just inside the doorway, and led Relam’s group down a narrow flight of stairs. The lanterns were fewer and farther between here, and the air was cold and damp. The flight of stairs was short, only one or two stories, then the floor took a sharp turn to the left and leveled out. This corridor ran some hundred meters until they emerged in a wide circular room.
The walls and floor were unadorned stone, the ceiling vaulted and ribbed to provide support. All around, more hallways branched off the main room, twelve in all. In the center of the room was a ring-like desk with a polished marble surface. A meter wide gap at the far end of the ring provided access to the five seats arranged inside the ring. Only one chair was occupied at the moment, the one facing directly towards the entrance Relam and his guards had just come through. The clerk sitting there was hunched over his desk, and had not noticed them yet. Four Citadel guards stood around the perimeter of the room, standing quietly at attention.
Clen gestured to the clerk. “He can help you from here, your highness.” Then, the guard was gone, hurrying back towards the stairs to the surface. Relam watched him go for a moment, then strode forward confidently.
“Yes?” the clerk said without looking up as Relam approached. Now that he was in front of the man, Relam could see he was scribbling in a ledger of some sort, his bald head gleaming in the lantern light.
“We have one for execution,” Relam announced.
“Name?”
“Mine or his?”
The clerk looked up, annoyed with his visitor’s ignorance. Then, his mouth dropped open and he stood quickly. “Your highness! I-”
“Don’t worry about it,” Relam said, cutting off his apology. “It’s fine.”
“Oh, yes. Let’s see, execution you said? The room is not in use now if you would like to take care of it immediately.”
“That will suffice.”
“Excellent,” the clerk said. “Your guards will witness?”
“Yes, and they’ll take care of the body as well.”
“Perfect,” the clerk said, scribbling notes in the ledger. “I don’t even have to dispose of him. Very well, very well, what is the condemned man’s name?”
“Narin.”
“Narin,” the clerk repeated, adding the name to the book. “Excellent,” he said again, nodding several times. “Here is a bag,” he continued, tossing a thick canvas bag to one
