you have found a way to let them live?’
‘Don’t be absurd!’
Berren picked up the guard’s helmet and jammed it on his head. ‘I’ll stay here on guard then.’ He crouched down inside the arch out of sight, shaking. For a second he thought he was going to be sick.
One after the other, Syannis hoisted the dead men onto his shoulder and heaved them into the pit. Then he beckoned Hain closer and gave him the guard’s helmet off Berren’s head. ‘Stay here for an hour,’ he said. ‘Make sure there’s no alarm. Keep the exit clear. After that, we’re either caught or we’ve escaped another way. At the top of the gorge by the river there are six horses. Wait for us there. If we get there first, we’ll not wait for you but we’ll leave one horse behind. Follow us. We’ll be heading north for Forgenver, and at speed.’
Hain looked aghast. Berren just nodded. This was the way it had always been, back in the old days. The two of them. It felt natural and his head wasn’t thinking straight just now; it was still too full of the man whose blood was all over him, wondering who he was. Just another soldier like Tarn or any of the others.
Hain was beside himself. ‘Sire!’
Syannis growled. ‘He does this much better than you, Hain. He’s a dark-skin thief, but that’s what this needs.’ He pulled Berren to his feet and slipped through the arch into a stone passage which turned and led up some steps and stopped at a door. They tiptoed in, feeling their way between barrels and crates and sacks filled with apples and other things — in the dark, Berren couldn’t tell what.
‘It’s here somewhere,’ muttered the thief-taker. They reached a wall and Syannis stopped. ‘Door.’ A line of golden torchlight lit up the floor. Syannis lifted a latch. ‘You
‘If it comes to fighting then I will. But I can’t just murder a man. That’s not what I am.’
‘Bugger,’ said a voice from the other side. Wood scraped on stone, the sound of a chair being pushed back. ‘That’s three in a row.’
Syannis opened the door a crack. ‘Then wait here!’ he hissed. Torchlight filled the space beyond. The air was thick with smoke.
Another voice muttered something, then Syannis threw open the door and leaped out of the gloom, sword flashing. Three soldiers sat around a table. Over the reek of torch smoke, Berren could smell wine. There were dice, coins. .
And blood. The thief-taker’s short sword sliced through the first man’s neck and stabbed the second straight through his gaping mouth. By the time Berren reached the table, Syannis had done for the third too, opening his throat from ear to ear in a single slash. ‘I told you to stay where you were!’
‘And I didn’t.’
Syannis nodded at Berren’s sword. ‘I hear you’ve finally learned how to use that.’
‘You call me a dark-skin thief again, you’ll learn a lot more.’
‘That was for Hain, not for you.’ Syannis dragged the bodies back into the cellar, then ran to a heavy locked door and took out his keys again.
‘Now what?’
Syannis opened the door and stepped inside. Dozens of crossbows lined the walls and boxes full of bolts were stacked on the floor. An armoury. ‘Not the sort of weapon you want people running around with most of the time.’ He bared his teeth. ‘Did Talon teach you to use one of these at last?’
‘I taught myself.’
‘Good.’ The thief-taker closed the door and locked them inside. ‘Take one and sabotage the rest.’ While Berren cut nicks into the crossbow strings, Syannis set about clearing the back wall of the armoury. When he was done, he pressed his ear against it and began tapping the panelling. Then he stopped, pulled a hand axe from his belt and swung at it. Berren cringed. In the confined space of the armoury, the blow sounded like a clap of thunder.
A thought came to him: he was alone with the man who’d killed Tasahre. Alone where no one would see. He finished with the crossbows and took the last one for himself, cocking it softly while Syannis hacked at the wall. Then he held a bolt in his other hand and looked at it. Looked at it, and at the thief-taker.
No. Couldn’t do that. Even though a part of him wanted to.
‘My grandfather’s grandfather built this armoury,’ Syannis said as he tore at the thin veneer of wood, pulling it away. ‘No one alive knows this door exists except me and Talon. And now you.’ He finished and held up a candle so that Berren could see. Behind the wood was another wall, made of stone, and in the wall a door. Everything was covered in ancient cobwebs. The door had no lock, but it was heavy and the hinges were rusted almost solid. It took the two of them together to pull it ajar. Beyond was yet more wood.
‘We put a panel over it,’ muttered Syannis. ‘It’s a single piece of wood. A good hard. .’ He rammed it with his shoulder. There was a loud crack, but the panel held. ‘Damn! Stuck!’
‘Stop!’ hissed Berren.
‘I felt it move! Another. .’ Syannis made to charge the wall again. This time Berren held him back.
‘Wait!’ He took the bolt he was still holding and fitted it to the crossbow. For a moment, as it pointed at Syannis, he caught a flash of what it would feel like if he pulled the trigger right there and then. Exaltation, for a moment, and then sadness. Emptiness.
He fired the crossbow into the panel Syannis had been trying to knock down. ‘You left Hain and brought me because I’m the thief, didn’t you? When we’re done here, you give me what you promised and then I want nothing more to do with any of you.’ He held the crossbow bolt and nudged at the panel. As soon as he felt it give, he stopped and, using the bolt as a handle, moved it slowly aside. Silently, until there was gap large enough for him to squeeze through.
‘See,’ he whispered. ‘That’s how a cut-purse thief from Shipwrights’ does it. He does it
22
Berren stepped cautiously through the space where the panel had been into a long wide passage that ran along the back of the castle. Here and there glimmers of light crept through narrow slits of windows.
‘We used to call this the Long Gallery,’ whispered Syannis. ‘Go left. That way leads to the royal apartments. Meridian should be there. And Aimes.’
‘You’re never going to get him out. Not quietly enough. Not through all those doors and passages.’
‘What if he
On either side pictures hung on the walls; in alcoves busts stood on pedestals. There was too little light to make out the faces staring down out of the shadows, but their presence made Berren’s skin tingle. He felt himself being watched. Something didn’t feel right. He stopped. In the gloom Syannis almost walked into him.
‘What?’
‘Listen!’ Berren stood absolutely still and held his breath. Faint noises came from outside: the wind, the idle chatter of a pair of bored guards by the wall, even a distant hiss that might have been the sea. Within, everything was quiet.
‘I hear nothing. Come on!’ Syannis pushed passed him.
‘Yeh. Nothing.’ And that wasn’t right, was it? Anxiously, Berren followed. At the end of the gallery an archway led into darkness.
‘The king’s apartments. Aimes’ rooms will be here somewhere.’
Berren stopped again. The feeling in the pit of his stomach was getting worse. If these were the king’s apartments, then where were the king’s guard?
‘The sun-chapel is to the left. Through the arch.’ Syannis’s voice was barely audible now. ‘That’s how we get out. There’s another passage down to the caves. The rooms on the right will be the king’s. Go straight on.’
‘Where are the guards?’
‘Guards?’ Syannis snorted. ‘
