“Wait.” Sir Gavin put a hand on Achan’s shoulder. “Who’s this Sparrow?”
“Lad who was with him in the dungeon,” Sir Caleb said. “Pudgy little thing. Screams like an old hag.”
“A criminal?”
“Macoun Hadar’s apprentice,” Achan said. “Sparrow took care of my wounds. Used to apprentice for an apothecary before the Kingsguards took him.”
“He’s the one who called out to me then!” Sir Gavin reached down and untied Achan’s ankles.
Achan’s eyes widened. “Sparrow called out to you? When?”
“Two nights ago. He said your life was in danger and gave me the location of your cell. Freeing you couldn’t wait until I arrived, so I sent Inko and Sir Caleb.”
Sparrow had called Sir Gavin? Then he had saved him. And now he was suffering at the hands of Nathak and Hadar. He had to try to help his fellow stray, this Vrell Sparrow.
Sir Gavin tugged on his beard braid. “You say the boy is Macoun Hadar’s apprentice?”
Achan nodded. “Who is Macoun Hadar, anyway? Some royal cousin?”
“He’s King Johan’s illegitimate son.” Sir Gavin slipped off his boots and stretched his legs out. “Which makes him King Axel’s uncle, of sorts. He’s not to be trusted, Achan. Macoun Hadar operates on his own agenda. And his age drives him to desperation.”
“What do you mean?”
“He goes through several apprentices a year, uses them to do what he cannot. He spies on people. Knows more secrets than Arman himself.”
Achan smirked. “Can’t be that bad, then. Arman knows nothing compared to Isemios.”
Inko sat straight up in his chair. “What? Isemios? The boy is not already believing in the Way?”
“Why would he?” Sir Gavin said. “Who in Sitna would have taught him right? They worship Cetheria there.”
Inko shook his head. “I am being much hesitant, Gavin. Are you having certainty about this — absolute certainty?”
Sir Gavin yawned. “I am, old friend. But even if I’m wrong, his character speaks for itself. And anything would be better than what we have now.”
Achan kept trying to follow but could not understand this thread of conversation.
“But there is Prince Oren,” Sir Caleb said. “He is a believer, at least.”
Sir Gavin folded his arms. “We shall take it before the Council and see if the truth will set us all free.”
“Wait!” Achan yelled. “What are you talking about?”
Sir Gavin patted Achan’s shoulder. “Nothing to worry yourself with today, lad. Did you learn anything from this Sparrow?”
Achan reluctantly let his confusion go. “He could sense this room, but not its location. He sensed two men with me. Then Hadar used Sparrow to speak with me.”
Inko sucked in a sharp breath.
Sir Gavin’s eyes zeroed in on Achan’s. “What did he say?”
“He wants me as his apprentice. He said he has a proposal for me that doesn’t involve Lord Nathak. And he said if I don’t meet him at dawn, Sparrow will die.”
“Fire and ash!” Inko jumped from his chair and paced to the door. “I am telling you, we should not be mingling with this man.”
Sir Gavin turned to Inko. “We’re not mingling with him. We’re avoiding him.”
“But he will be sitting there to be hearing it all. To be knowing our plans.” Inko motioned to Achan. “It could be that he is listening right now.”
Achan scowled. “I know how to block.” Thanks to Sparrow.
“Don’t worry,” Sir Gavin said. “He’d find out soon enough regardless. It’s in Arman’s hands. He’ll see justice done.”
Achan grew ill of this coded banter. “What of Sparrow? Can’t we help him? He’s a smart little twig. And he’s helped me more than once. Maybe you could use a healer like him on your assignments.”
“We don’t get assignments anymore,” Sir Caleb said. “We’ve been banished.”
“By who?”
“The Council of Seven,” Sir Gavin said. “I’m the only one who still gets to serve, though even I am not considered an active Kingsguard. I don’t know how much longer they’ll use me at all. Over the past few years, Lord Nathak has corrupted several Council members. As have Macoun Hadar, Lord Levy, and a dozen others. They all seek to fulfill personal agendas.”
Sir Gavin sighed. “When Prince Gidon takes the throne, the downward spiral will happen quickly. All who seek truth are being banished or killed. Their false gods have corrupted their minds. They’ve all lost their way and will drag Er’Rets into chaos and war if something isn’t done.”
War? A chill ran over Achan. “What can be done?”
“You’ll soon see.” Sir Gavin twisted his beard. “Now, tell us where you’re to meet Macoun Hadar, and we shall try to save your little friend.”
22
Vrell woke on the floor in front of the fireplace in Master Hadar’s bedchamber. She focused in on a kettle hanging above the flames. Her head throbbed as if someone had taken an axe to it.
Then she remembered: Master Hadar had used her to speak to Achan. What had they discussed? Why had it hurt so? Because she had not invited him in? Or had he used her physical strength to compensate for his own?
She struggled to her feet, thankful Lord Nathak was gone. Master Hadar sat writing at his desk. She glanced at the windows and saw that it was dark outside. Still night.
Master Hadar rose from his desk. “Good. You’re awake.” He walked to his sideboard. “Sit, sit. I’ll tend your wound.”
Vrell lifted her fingers to her throat and released a trembling breath. The crusty scratch stung at her touch, but it could not be bad if the blood had dried. Why had Master Hadar not cleaned it already? She shakily lowered herself onto the stool at the table by his bed and fought back tears. What would Bran say if he knew Vrell had been threatened at knifepoint twice since leaving home? Not only threatened, but cut by deranged men?
She needed to find Sir Rigil. The sooner the better. Hope welled inside. With Achan safe, she could now leave here without any worries. And she would. As soon as Master Hadar dismissed her.
Master Hadar offered a wet towel. “It’s only a scratch. I doubt you’ll even need a salve.”
“Thank you.” Vrell pressed the cool cloth to her neck.
Master Hadar hurried to the fireplace and carried the steaming kettle to the sideboard. “Some tea will calm you. Lord Nathak’s temper sometimes causes accidents.”
Vrell watched him fiddle with different canisters. Why was he being so nice? Never had he offered her tea. Rarely had she seen him so much as move, yet now he flitted about his chamber like a firefly.
He carried a mug of tea and a slice of bread to the table and set it before her. A blue vein pulsed on his forehead. “There now. That should help you feel better.”
Vrell lifted the tea to her lips and sipped. A familiar bitterness flooded her mouth. The âleh flower! Master Hadar had doused the tea with honey, but its flavor could not be masked. Was he wanting to silence her bloodvoice — or open her mind to his probing?
She pretended to sip and nibbled the bread until the tea cooled. Master Hadar sat at his desk, eyes closed. Was he speaking to someone or spying?
Vrell took her chance. She lowered the cup to her side and drained it into her right boot. The tepid, slimy liquid doused her foot, but it was better than the alternative. Plus, if Master Hadar thought she was immune to the effects of the âleh flower, perhaps he would not try to sneak the tonic on her again. Before she could finish her bread, someone knocked on the door.