‘Someone sabotaged it, as well as the north palace entry. The only way into the palace right now is through the sea-dock gate, or here.’
Locklear looked concerned. ‘They even had the gate jammed to keep us from reaching the palace?’
James nodded. ‘That would explain the mystery. Look, go see Arutha and I’ll catch up with you later.’
‘That’s the way?’ asked Locklear.
‘Yes,’ said James. He fished out a key and handed it to Locklear. ‘But we’ve locked the secret door so you’d have had a long wait if I hadn’t chanced by.’
‘I might have picked the lock,’ said Locklear. ‘I’ve watched you do it a few times.’
‘And pigs might fly,’ said James with a pat on his friend’s shoulder. ‘It’s good to see you back, even if under such dark clouds.’ He pointed the way he had come. ‘Make your way past two large culverts on the left, and you’ll find the ladder to the palace.’ With a departing grin, he added, ‘I suggest you bathe before calling upon Arutha.’
Locklear smiled, then laughed. For the first time in months he suddenly felt safe. They were but a short walk away from the entrance to the palace, and he knew that soon he would be enjoying a hot bath. ‘Come see me when you’ve returned,’ he said to James. ‘We have much to catch up on.’
‘I will,’ said James.
Locklear led Gorath and Owyn to the ladder that led up into the palace, a series of iron bars hammered into the stones rising a floor above. There a grate with a heavy lock had been erected, and Locklear used the key James had provided to open it. They swung aside the grate and moved into a small tunnel just above the sewers, leading into the lower basement of the palace. Locklear silently led them to a door. Once through, Owyn and Gorath saw they were in another passage, this one lit by torches in widely separated sconces, and when the door was returned to its resting place, it vanished into the stone wall.
Locklear led them to his quarters, past a pair of palace guards who only watched with interest as the Prince’s squire walked past with another youth and what looked like a tall elf.
Glancing through a window overlooking the city, Locklear said, ‘Suppertime’s in about an hour. Time for a bath and a change of clothing. We can talk to the Prince after the meal.’
Gorath said, ‘It seems so … odd to be here.’
Opening the door to his quarters, Locklear said, ‘Not nearly as odd as having you here.’ He stepped aside to admit his guests, and turned to wave at a page hurrying down a nearby hall. ‘Boy!’ he shouted.
The page stopped and turned to run toward him. ‘Sir?’ he said.
‘Send word to the Prince that I’ve returned with a message of the gravest consequence.’
The boy, who knew Locklear well, indulged himself in an observation: ‘It’ll be grave, all right; your grave, if the Prince doesn’t agree, squire.’
With a playful slap to the side of the head, Locklear sent him off. ‘And pass word I need enough hot water for three baths!’
The boy waved he had heard and said, ‘I’ll tell the staff, squire.’
Locklear turned into his room and found Owyn sitting on his bed, lying back against the wall. Gorath stood a short way off, patiently waiting. Locklear went to his wardrobe and selected some clothing. ‘We’ll send for something closer your size while we bathe,’ he said to Gorath. He took the clothing and handed a tunic and trousers to Owyn, along with fresh smallclothes, then said, ‘This way to the bath, my friends.’
At the end of the hall he found four servants pouring hot water into a large tub, while another waited. ‘In you go,’ he said to Owyn, who stripped off his filthy garments and climbed into the tub. He settled in with a satisfied ‘ah’ sound and rested back in the hot water.
Gorath said, ‘Is that third tub for me?’
‘I was going to take that one, but if you –’
‘Fill it with cold water.’
The servants exchanged glances, but Locklear nodded, so they finished filling the second tub and ran off, turning around a pair of servants hurrying from the kitchen with hot buckets. Soon they returned with cold water and started filling the tub.
Gorath stripped and climbed in, allowing them to pour the cold water over his head. He endured the cold water without comment. When they were done bathing and clean clothes had been fetched for Gorath, Owyn asked, ‘Why cold water?’
‘We bathe in mountain streams in a land that always sees ice upon the peaks,’ said Gorath. ‘This water was too warm for my taste.’
Locklear shrugged. ‘You learn something new every day.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Gorath. ‘You do.’
When they were dressed, they left the bathing chamber to discover a squad of palace guards waiting for them. ‘We’re to escort you to the Prince, squire.’
Locklear dryly said, ‘No need. I know the way.’
The sergeant, a tough old veteran, ignored the young noble’s marginal rank and said, ‘The Prince thought there was a need, sir.’
He signalled and two soldiers fell in on either side of Gorath and two fell in behind him. They moved along the hall until they were ushered into the dining hall, where Prince Arutha, Princess Anita and their guests were finishing their dinner.
Arutha, ruler of the Western Realm of the Kingdom of the Isles, sat at the centre of the head table. He was still a young man. Despite having ruled the realm for ten years, his face was only now starting to show the lines which age and responsibility bring. He kept his chin shaved, so that he still resembled the youth who had emerged a hero of the Riftwar. His hair was mostly black with a few stray grey hairs beginning to show, but otherwise he looked much as he had when Locklear had first come to Krondor, a page boy fresh from his father’s court at Land’s End. His brown eyes settled on Locklear with a gaze that had reduced lesser men to trembling children over the years; Locklear had endured that gaze many times in the ten years he had served in Arutha’s court.
Princess Anita favoured Locklear with a smile, her green eyes alight at one of her favourite courtiers returning after a long absence. Locklear, like the other younger men in the court, almost worshipped the Princess for her effortless grace and genuine charm.
At the table were others known to Locklear: Gardan, Knight-Marshal of the Principality; Duke Brendan, Lord of the Southern Marches; and others. But near the Princess’s seat was one who was unknown to Locklear; a man wearing the black robe of a Tsurani Great One. He had receding snow-white hair that fell to his shoulders. His eyes fastened upon Locklear, and Owyn could sense that this was a man who possessed powers rivalled by few in the world. Locklear knew it must be Makala, the Tsurani Great One come recently to this court.
‘Seigneur,’ began Arutha, formally, ‘you were ordered to attend to the needs of the Earl of Tyr-Sog for a year. By my calculations, you are many months short of that duty. Have you a persuasive reason for ignoring my orders?’
Locklear bowed and said, ‘Highness. Only the most grave tidings from the north would have me quit my post and hasten here. This is Gorath, Chieftain of the Ardanien, who has come to warn you.’
‘Warn me of what, moredhel?’ asked Arutha with a suspicious gaze. His previous experience with the moredhel was murder and deception.
Gorath stepped forward. ‘I warn you of war and bloodshed. The war drums beat at Sar-Sargoth once more and the clans gather.’
‘For what purpose?’ asked Arutha.
‘Delekhan, Chieftain of the Darkanien, gathers the clans. He sings songs of power and musters to return south.’
Arutha said, ‘Why? For what purpose?’
Gorath said, ‘He swears that Murmandamus lives, and that you hold him captive in the city of Sethanon. And he swears by the blood of our ancestors we must return to free our leader.’
Arutha sat stunned. He had killed Murmandamus, though few had witnessed the duel. He also knew that Murmandamus had been a fraud, perpetrated by the Pantathian Serpent Priests to gull the moredhel into serving their dark cause.
Arutha stood. ‘We will speak of this in my private council.’ He bowed to his wife, then motioned to Makala. ‘If you would join us?’
The Tsurani magician nodded and rose, and Locklear saw he was unusually tall for a Tsurani, perhaps five feet ten inches in height. Makala spoke briefly to a servant, who bowed low and hurried off to do his master’s bidding.
Locklear motioned for Owyn and Gorath to accompany him through large doors on the right of the dining hall, the entrance into the Royal Family’s private apartments. To Gorath he said, ‘I hope you have more to tell Arutha than that, or we’re both in deep trouble.’
‘More trouble than you know, human,’ said Gorath.
• FIVE • (#ulink_272427b5-8854-5fa9-a306-26fdcffcda33)
