The question became moot when Hawes frowned at his approach, half turned, and called out, “Dorian.”
A dark-haired sage in a midnight blue robe appeared from beyond the left of the tunnel’s inner end. He was wiping away blood dripping from his nose. Hawes whispered something to the young man and handed Wynn over to him.
“Premin, no!” Wynn cried, trying to pull from the male sage’s grasp.
The dark-robed young sage, a metaologer like Hawes, began dragging Wynn toward the keep’s main building. She struggled and shouted at him to let go, but to no avail.
As Rodian entered the courtyard, he had an urge to rush in and pull the bloody-nosed sage off Wynn. Then he spotted two more sages, both in dark blue robes, and the pair fell in behind Wynn. All four passed through the keep’s doors and out of sight.
Rodian was alone in the courtyard with Hawes, and he turned on her.
“What is happening here?” he barked. “Where is she being taken?”
Premin Hawes was as composed and still as the keep’s cold stone. “Captain, you of all people are aware that Journeyor Hygeorht is given to excesses. This is for her own safety.”
“Safety from what? Don’t tell me it was that man fighting his way out of here. I saw them together the night they helped put down the black mage. Remember ... the one who’d been killing your people over old books no one was allowed to see?”
“There was trouble with other interlopers earlier this evening,” she answered. “That is why the high premin called for you. We require your assistance with security.”
Rodian would’ve preferred dealing with High-Tower. The dwarf was easier to prod into a slip of temper. Even Sykion could be shaken. But this premin was calm and unmoved. Her tone told him nothing beneath her words.
“Interlopers?” he repeated. “Not the one who just left with Wynn’s wolf?”
“He is of no concern, and we managed to send away the others I mentioned. We intend that you keep them away.”
Rodian tensed. Her words were too close to the tone of Sykion’s “request” for his presence. “Who are these interlopers? What did they do to earn so much concern ... and fear?”
Hawes said nothing, and Rodian chose a different tactic, putting the burden on her, if the sages wanted his help.
“I’ll need complete descriptions if my men are to—”
“High Premin Sykion requests that you simply man the gate for now. Allow no one in or out without clear authorization from a member of the Premin Council.”
Rodian’s jaw muscles twitched. “With due respect, Premin, that won’t—”
Hawes turned away, cutting him off. “I am certain Premin Sykion will make all clear to you soon.”
He wasn’t being put off that easily, and quick-stepped around to cut her off. Hawes didn’t look the slightest bit intimidated.
“What does Journeyor Hygeorht have to do with this?” he demanded. “You should know that much ... you had better, for what I just saw.”
Rodian was still unsettled by the sight of Wynn being dragged off. For any trouble that had spilled beyond these walls in the past year, Wynn had usually been at the heart of it. But if they violated her legal rights, then that was all he needed to put the whole Premin Council, including Hawes, up against a wall.
She merely looked up at him, studying him dispassionately. “Journeyor Hygeorht will be returned to her room soon, but she may not leave it without the benefit of an escort.”
“Without an escort?” The ramifications began to sink in. “She may be a member of the guild, but she’s also a citizen. Her rights as such override any jurisdiction of the guild.”
For the first time, the slightest flicker of emotion lit up Hawes’s hazel eyes. Perhaps it was concern, but Rodian couldn’t quite read it.
“Captain,” she said slowly. “I believe you will find that the council has the full support of the royal family in this matter. Under the protection of the Âreskynna, we called you to provide security for the guild.”
Rodian backstepped unintentionally. There it was, like some fixed game of gambling tiles. Whenever pressed, the council always played the same tile: unquestioning patronage from the royals of Malourné.
Hawes moved around Rodian and headed toward the main keep. She called out once as she opened one of the doors.
“All will be clear soon, Captain.”
Once again, Rodian found himself hobbled in something murky, like everything to do with the sages. Unlike the last time, he wouldn’t be fooled into accepting Wynn Hygeorht as their scapegoat. Wynn might be up to something, but she certainly was not the only one scheming within these walls. However, she appeared to be alone in whatever conflict was playing out between her and the premins.
Rodian stalked down the gatehouse tunnel to where his men still waited. Angus rubbed at his shoulder, but his armor must have protected him, as he didn’t seem injured. Branwell stood there with a hard scowl, holding Snowbird’s reins.
“Sir?” he asked.
His tone set Rodian’s teeth further on edge. Every time Branwell used that word, it sounded like a subtle curse of disdain. Something had to be done to jerk him into line soon. For now, Rodian had larger questions and concerns.
There was only one place to seek a remedy: from the royal family, in person. He snatched Snowbird’s reins from the lieutenant’s hand and swung into the saddle.
“Lock this place down until I say otherwise,” he commanded. Before Branwell started questioning, Rodian shouted, “Lúcan!”
The corporal was limping slightly but otherwise seemed unhurt. He’d barely drawn near when Rodian spoke loud and clear for all present.
“I have a singular duty for you, Corporal. No one is to relieve you for any reason, unless you hear it directly from me.”
At that, Branwell’s scowl deepened, but Lúcan’s features were set in certainty. Before Rodian even explained, Lúcan nodded sharply.
“Done, Captain.”
Wynn stopped struggling or trying to reason with Dorian once he’d dragged her inside the main keep. It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d gotten loose; there were two more just like him right behind her.
Once through the keep’s double doors, Dorian turned left and pulled Wynn down the front passage. He turned right toward the end and on to the stairway leading up, and she realized where he was taking her: to Premin Sykion’s office for questioning. Without meaning to, she slowed, putting more tension on Dorian’s grip.
Perhaps she had miscalculated in sending off Leesil, Magiere, and Chap, and then Chane. Now Shade was gone, as well, likely seeing what was necessary to get Chane and the scroll out of the guild. Before any of this, Wynn had thought herself at least safe here, but she began to question that assumption. She was cut off from anyone who understood anything about what she’d been trying to do in stopping another great war from coming. She was cut off from all who cared about her.
However, she’d seen Rodian’s face when Dorian grabbed her, and she well knew his feelings toward the domins and premins here. She probably couldn’t expect help from his quarter, but he had not looked happy with the situation. Why would Sykion call for him over a few unexpected guests in the archives?
“Dorian,” a familiar voice called from behind.
As Wynn’s procession slowed, Premin Hawes walked quickly past them.
Wynn refused to even look at Hawes as the premin took the lead up the stairs. Once, Wynn had considered Hawes a potential ally, but no more—not after tonight. When they reached the landing for Sykion’s office, Hawes walked right past Sykion’s door and onward.