They wended around another bend in the stairs. Ahead lay the landing that led to Tashijan’s field room. Lorr and Hesharian climbed off the stairs, following the massive bullhound. Lorr glanced back at Kathryn, his hard eyes shining. He motioned her forward, while whistling under his breath to Hern.
The bullhound behind Kathryn pushed her and Gerrod forward.
Lorr spoke as she passed him. The field room lay halfway down the corridor. “I’ll see to watering Hern and Barrin. I’ll meet you outside the field room when you’re done.”
They stepped away. Gerrod glanced askance at her, his question still unanswered. Do you trust him?
She considered, then nodded to Gerrod, surprised at her answer but still sure. “I do.”
She had seen how Lorr cared for the great wooly beasts, firm but kind, demanding but patient. She also saw the deep wound in his eyes at finding the slaughtered young man. There was a well of depth hidden behind that hard countenance. He would not break his word.
Hesharian reached the door to the field room ahead of them, clearly glad to escape the company of the bullhounds. He inspected his white robe for bits of stray fur or any hole burned by a spatter of hound saliva.
A pair of young Shadowknights stood post on either side of the door. One swept forward and opened the way.
Kathryn eyed the young men, picturing another, the knight slaughtered and bled. A pang of sorrow and anger fired through her. She strode into the field room.
It looked the same as when last she was there, except the far windows overlooking the tourney grounds were unshuttered, open on the twilit skies. Torches hung at each corner, well away from the racked rolls of maps and documents.
The same men stood around the scarred wyrmwood table. Keeper Ryngold of the house staff, the black- stubbled knight Symon ser Jaklar, whose sneer seemed a permanent stamp, and of course, at the table’s head, Argent ser Fields.
The warden straightened from the map of Tashijan pinned to the table’s surface. Small silver tokens marked the placement of men throughout the Citadel. His one eye took in the latecomers, settling on Kathryn.
“Castellan Vail,” he said with good cheer. “I feared you would not receive the summons in time. My man Lowl has been scouring the Citadel attempting to find you. It seemed strange that someone accompanied by two hulking bullhounds could be so hard to find.”
“Tashijan is large,” she answered, waving to the map. “Plenty of places to hide.”
Keeper Ryngold chuckled, a strange sound among so many dour and black-cloaked figures. His purple surcoat and the silver baldric of his station stood out brightly. “Such is the problem we face now,” he said. “How to guard a place with so many secret corners?”
Symon ser Jaklar’s sneer deepened.
Warden Fields merely sighed. “But we do have new allies.” He stepped aside to reveal a figure limned against the twilight skies, half lost in the darkness, easy to miss. A Shadowknight. He turned to face them, his masklin lying around his neck, exposing his face, as was custom in this room.
Kathryn flinched at the man’s appearance, his bone-white features, snowy hair, eyes a silvery red.
“May I present Darjon ser Hightower,” Argent introduced. “Formerly of the Summering Isles, now here to lend his service and counsel to the capture of Tylar de Noche.”
Kathryn waited for the introductions to finish. Hesharian nodded to the stranger, his arms folded into the long sleeves of his robe. Kathryn used the time to study the newcomer. His expression remained stern and unwelcoming. He seemed disinterested in the proceedings. Something about the man’s eyes disturbed her-not the odd color, but something deeper, a coldness that went beyond an absence of warmth.
But more important, what held her transfixed was the absence of stripes on his face. Yet he wore a Shadowcloak and his eyes clearly shone with Grace.
This did not escape the notice of Master Hesharian. “Why are you unmarked, Ser Hightower?”
“It is a long story,” the knight said. The only emotion was a crinkling of a brow, irritation.
“He is indeed a sworn and accepted knight,” Argent insisted. “It was a mishap at birth, a blessing went awry, that left his skin unable to bear any pigment, natural or otherwise.”
Darjon gave Argent a baleful look.
“But enough of these introductions. We have plans to settle now that we know the godslayer has made landfall here.”
“In Foulsham Dell?” Kathryn asked.
“So word has come from one of our knights in the Dell. There is some confusion. Tylar de Noche apparently attacked Lord Balger, actually absconding with the god’s hand, so the story is told. Balger attempted to apprehend Tylar in the swamps but with no success. The search continues there, but we must not assume the godslayer is still among the swamps. His appearance at our borders confirms his goal. To come here.” Argent’s eyes fell upon Kathryn. “To come for you.”
Kathryn felt another pair of eyes fix to her. Darjon’s attention felt like a wash of icy waters.
“But we will be prepared,” Argent affirmed. “We have knights coming in from surrounding realms to aid in the capture of the godslayer. Our numbers have swelled to two thousand.”
Kathryn now understood why the hallways seemed so crowded of late. It was becoming such that one couldn’t turn a corner without bumping into another knight.
“Before we get down to details here…” Argent turned his attention to the last member of this council who had yet to be addressed. “Gerrod Rothkild, it has come to my attention that you will be leaving us, to proceed to Chrismferry on a research trip, is this not so?”
Kathryn forced herself not to react. She and Gerrod had decided only earlier in the day to search for clues in Chrismferry. How had Argent known? Kathryn noted Master Hesharian seeming to take particular attention in the dirt under one of his nails. Gerrod also glanced to the head of the Council of Masters. Plainly he must have informed the council to get permission to leave, and word had reached Argent through his fat puppet.
Gerrod bowed his head. “I am indeed heading to Chrismferry at dawn. I wish to consult the ancient library of Nirraborath and to obtain a few alchemic items.”
“Good… very good. I was wondering if you’d be willing to do a favor for the Citadel. Master Hesharian has assured me you’d be most cooperative.”
“If it is in my capacity to comply, I certainly will.”
“I have a parcel that I wish carried by a most trusted hand to Chrism’s castillion. It may be delivered to the keeper of the house there. Keeper Ryngold has already dispatched a raven to announce your coming. I hope that wasn’t presumptuous.”
“Not at all. There is an alchemy shop I wish to visit in the shadow of the castillion.”
“Thank you. Visit Keeper Ryngold’s chambers before retiring to obtain and secure the parcel.” Argent’s attention swung away, as good as a dismissal. His gaze again fell upon Kathryn. Argent smiled but the warmth did not reach his one eye. “Am I to understand that you need a courier to dispatch a message to Chrismferry? Mayhap Master Rothkild could deliver that also?”
Kathryn stood very still, attempting to keep from letting any sign of shock showing. No one knew about the letter except Gerrod, herself
… and Lorr. She pictured the tracker. Moments before she had professed her trust in the man. Was it misplaced? But she had only told Lorr about the letter and her wish to visit Perryl when she was ready to leave her chambers. The tracker had not been out of her sight after that.
So how had Argent found out?
She cleared her throat. “That is most kind, Warden Fields, but Master Rothkild and I have already discussed the matter in private.”
Then again, did she have any privacy? Argent clearly was enjoying this moment. Was that all the purpose of the show here? To illustrate to Kathryn how much a stranglehold Argent had on her comings and goings, on her most intimate moments and plans? He must have spies everywhere.
She refused to let him rattle her. “This matter is best handled by a Shadowknight.”
Argent nodded and waved away the question. “So be it. You are the castellan of Tashijan.”
Master Hesharian wore a thick smirk at these words.
Argent began to turn away, then swung back toward Kathryn. “If that’s the case, mayhap you’d best deliver your letter without further waste. We can handle matters from here on our own. It’s all a tedious matter of shuffling
