Chapter 7.3.1

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My plan was to loiter in Rockridge castle until midnight, when I would slip out the sally port and then make my way down the mountainside to the town of Krast, where the others would be waiting at the tavern. It was a logical place for a badly wounded emissary to spend the night, and the visit of a Silent Monk to a dying man should bring no suspicion. My plans, however, faced a sudden fault in the form of the Bard leaning against the doorsill.

Sharp was wrapped in his traveling cloak, with his lute strapped to his back. His arms were crossed – but at the sight of me his narrow chin jerked upwards. Monk, he mouthed, as he reached for his sword.

Damn it, he should have been in the Great Hall, playing for his supper and smiling for his bed, not preparing himself for a journey. Once again I had no sword to defend myself, for it was locked in my trunk. Along with Skyfire.

Sharp’s eyes narrowed as his hand closed on nothing. But he still had his hands, and the power to pull back my disguise. He moved toward me.

Chapter 7.2

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Torches barely touched the sodden darkness of the courtyard where my carriage waited for us. Sounds of merriment came from the Great Hall, where Lord Guerney and his castle enjoyed their dinner while we were being sent on our way without ours. Only a few soldiers, the castle Steward, and a Silent Monk were there to watch us leave.

Jason and Ison came out first, carrying my trunk between them. They carefully lifted it to the top of the carriage and lashed it down, then went back to get the rest of their things. When those were secured, Ison climbed up to the driver’s seat while Jason went back to help Charles with my limp form. I was wrapped up tight against the cold, with scarf and gloves, and it was obvious that I was in no shape to travel. The Silent Monk signed a blessing at the travesty.

As I was placed into the carriage, the Steward came forward and spoke to Charles, and handed him a folded letter. He tried to look into my face, but I was not about to give him the satisfaction of seeing his Lord’s handiwork. I lay slumped in the seat.

Jason took his seat beside Ison, and Charles climbed in and shut the carriage door. And then the Captain of the guard moved forward with a tall, muscular man. The Captain gestured to the other man, who hefted a broadsword and drove it into the side of my trunk.

My men promptly protested this destruction of my property, but could do nothing else. The Captain responded that if were not smuggling anything from the castle, then no harm had been done.

Then the castle gates opened. My carriage rolled through, and the doors shut soundly behind it. I turned, pulling my bare feet from the ankle deep mud, and walked toward the keep. On my way I signed a blessing on the ashen-faced Steward who still stared after the departed carriage.

Chapter 7.1

The hard bed slammed into my mouth as I was unceremoniously dumped by the soldiers. I twisted my face upwards with a grimace, and saw the Captain smirking with delight. Then he gestured at the soldiers who had my guardsmen pinned against the wall, motioning them to leave.

"What did you do to him?" Charles demanded to know.

"Gave him what he deserved," the Captain gloated.

"Lord Reinard will not be pleased with this."

"Lord Reinard had best think twice before sending a spy into another’s castle. You have half an hour to pack your things, and then you will be escorted out of the holding." He spun on his heal and left with his men.

Charles snatched up his sword and crossed the room to the door, and flung it open. There he found himself face to face with two armed soldiers. He drew his blade from its sheath and said, "Step aside, fools."

I snapped my fingers at him, then waved back at the scattered belongings. Honor and pride were delicate things – but our interests were best served by leaving quickly and safely.
Obviously disappointed, he retreated and closed the door.

I lay back and closed my eyes. I needed a few minutes to calm my stomach and my emotions. I could not afford much more than that, however. In the night, I would certainly have fresh nightmares as old demons crept out and danced in my head, but just then I needed to think clearly.

There was a thump on the shutter. Jason opened them enough to peek out, then opened them wide. A pair of feet dangled outside the window. Elise’s feet.

Jason and Ison reached out and helped her in. The rope she had climbed down still hung from somewhere above, trailing rain into the room.

"The corridor is filled with guards." She untied a bag from her waist, and pulled out bread and cold meat, which she offered to my men.

"We know that," Ison grumbled. "There would have been a small war if Gerard hadn’t called us back."

"Three against twenty is poor odds." Elise took a damp cloth from her apron pocket and started washing down my face. "Oh, my poor, poor Bard."

From the look on Charles face, he had not known how bad the situation was. "We’re being sent away."

"He’s an evil man, Lord Guerney is, sending Gerard off when he’s in such a bad way. He could die."

"What did he do?"

"Cut his tongue out, he did. They showed it off in the dining room, even."

Now my men looked puzzled. "A whole tongue?" Jason asked.

"Aye."

Charles frowned. "I don’t see how."

"You use a good sharp knife," Elise snapped.

"Yes, but..."

"There’s mischief here, isn’t there?" Jason said.

I nodded.

It was Elise’s turn to look confused.

"It’s why he doesn’t talk, ye see," Jason said quietly. "The old lord, the Bard-killer, he took exception to this child’s pretty voice. He took it out ten years ago."

"But the tongue, and the blood..." Her voice trailed off.

"Some sort of mischief. And where’s there’s mischief, there’s danger. The sooner we quit this place, the better." He gathered his things quickly into his bag.

Then Charles, showing a rare intelligence, said, "And we need to take her with us. She’s in danger, too."

"But I can’t go. Not without my Lord’s leave."

"You need to go without his leave or knowledge," Charles insisted. He pointed to my trunk. "Can we hide her in that?"

Chapter 6.8

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My limp, battered form was dragged into the Great Hall where all the castle folk waited to eat. I was the pre-dinner entertainment. Sharp, sitting at the foot of the Lord’s own table, grinned at my wretchedness. The Lady Victoria could not take her gaze from my bare feet, her expression one of recognition and horror. Elise, serving at the edge of the room, set down her tray and looked at if she might cry. Lord Guerney heaved his bulk from his chair and stepped down to stand in front of me.

"So, are we now what we appear to be?" He laughed.

Just like your daughter? I vomited blood at his feet.

"Excellent. Go back to room and pack – I’ll have my answer to Lord Reinard sent there before much longer. You can leave straight away."

And be on the road in the winter darkness, prey for the wolves and the Silver-eyed. Not even my Lord Reinard deserved such a man for a father-in-law.