Linsha closed her eyes, ignoring the pain, and tried to rest for a minute or two. She must have slept a little, for the next thing she knew, an unexpected noise jerked her awake. She peered muzzily at the door of the cell and saw it swing open. Sir Hugh and another Knight she couldn’t see well walked into the cell. Maybe Sir Hugh had finally remembered that paper he promised.
Linsha forced herself to sit upright. “Water,” she croaked.
“Untie her,” the strange Knight demanded. He shifted slightly behind Sir Hugh, and Linsha saw the faint glint of a short sword in his hand. Her eyes flew to his face. He wore the daily work tunic of the Solamnic Knights and a light cloak, but even in the dim light she would have recognized those features anywhere.
Sir Hugh approached her, the planes of his face wary and tense. He looked at her wrists and the rope, winced, then shook his head. “You’ll have to cut it,” he said.
The other Knight swiftly slid the blade of a dagger between Linsha’s wrists and cut the ropes. She gasped as the ropes fell away and the blood throbbed through her wrists and fingers.
Sir Hugh backed away from the Knight.
The strange Knight turned swiftly, the short sword raised to strike.
Linsha moved quickly, too. She threw herself on the Knight’s arm, deflecting the weapon from its intended victim. “Don’t kill him,” she demanded. “It’s not his doing.”
Sir Hugh had not moved to evade the Knight or fight back. He held up his hands in a gesture of conciliation. “Take her and go. The guards on the walls will soon grow suspicious if they do not see the sentries posted at the inner gate.”
“Bring the others down here,” the strange Knight called up the corridor.
Footsteps hurried down the stairs and four Solamnics appeared, carrying a fifth. Two of the Knights unceremoniously dumped the recumbent man on the slab, shoved their two companions into the cell, and blocked the doorway with their swords.
“You,” the stranger said, pointed to a Knight closest in size to Linsha. “Give her your tunic.”
Linsha pulled hers off with clumsy fingers and put the man’s plainer and cleaner tunic on. Her three rescuers backed out of the door, opening a way for her to leave the small stone penal cell.
She turned once and said to Sir Hugh, “Thank you. Your willingness to believe in the possibility of my innocence is not misplaced.”
He watched her with shadowed eyes and said nothing.
The stranger ushered her out and, after locking the cell door behind her, led the small group up the stairs and through the guardroom. This late at night, only the Knights on duty were awake, so the room in the tower was nearly empty. Two men who had not fared so well when the intruders entered, lay close to the door. They were quickly moved out of sight from casual view.
“They’re not dead,” the leader reassured Linsha when he saw the look of pained dismay on her face.
At the door, he held her back and placed a light helm over her head to hide her tell-tale curls. “We brought an extra man with us,” he explained. “So four arrived and four will leave.”
Linsha settled the helm carefully over her bruised face. “The man you had to carry down?” It wasn’t much of guess.
“Yes, but he is a gift to your circle.”
One of the other “Knights” chuckled. “He’s a spy from the Knights of Neraka we caught a few days ago. Sent by Beryl. We thought your Knights should have him.”
In the brighter light from the oil lamps around the room, Linsha finally recognized the other two men as well. Legionnaires, all three of them. “Lanther,” she said to the leader, “Why are you doing this? Does Falaius know?”
“He didn’t want to know. Something about Solamnic jurisdiction.” The tall Legionnaire opened the door wide so the light spilled out into the darkness. “We’re not out of here yet,” he cautioned the others, “so keep quiet and move fast.”
Linsha picked up a light cloak from a hook on the wall and threw it over her shoulders to help disguise her shape. “How did you get in here?” she asked softly.
“We told the gate warden we had messages for the Senior Knight from the elves outside Silvanesti. We have delivered our message, and we are leaving. Now.”
As he said the word, he stepped out the door and strode to a post where four horses stood hitched. Linsha came behind without hesitation, followed closely behind by the other two. Silently, with stern purpose, they mounted and rode through the outer ward to the castle’s main gate. A small postern door had been placed on the right side of the stout iron bound gates. It had already been closed and locked again for the night, but a sentry came quickly at their approach.
“You’re not staying the night?” he said in some surprise. “It is a long way back to Silvanesti without rest.”
“Our commander told us to return as quickly as possible,” Lanther said, adding just the right amount of world-weary disgust in his tone.
The sentry shrugged. Holding his torch in one hand, he began to turn the lock in the postern door.
Linsha glanced surreptitiously around the outer ward. From her position near the main gate, she could see the stony ramparts of the inner wall and through the tower gateway into the inner ward. A block of light shone in the darkness at the base of the gate tower and went out as quickly. Linsha stiffened. Someone had just walked into the guardroom.
Lanther and the two Legionnaires had not noticed, for their attention was fixed on the sentry, who was taking an inordinate amount of time unlocking the postern. Any moment the unconscious Knights in the guardroom would be discovered, or Sir Hugh and his men would give an alarm.
Linsha strained to listen, her body taut as a bowstring. Her horse, sensing her tension, tossed his head and sidled nervously into the horse beside him, who jumped forward into Lanther’s mount. In that brief moment of jostling horses, Lanther glanced back, and Linsha caught his eye and jerked her head toward the inner tower.
In that moment the click of the lock came loud and very welcome. The sentry began to pull the gate open. A distant, muffled shout sounded from the inner ward. The sentry paused, the gate half-open. Lanther snatched the moment of surprise. With a muffled oath, he wrenched the gate open and kicked his horse into a full canter, knocking the sentry aside as he went by.
Shouts echoed from wall to wall; a horn blew an alarm from the inner keep. Linsha knew all too well the skill of the archers who manned the high parapets and the tower vantage points. Like a plainsman, she ducked low over her restive horse’s neck and sent him leaping through the gate after Lanther. The other two men followed suit. Spread out in a line, the four riders spurred their horses out from the shadow of the great wall and down the road into the dark, out of range of the powerful Solamnic bows.
Linsha heard the sharp snap of several bows and the thrum of speeding arrows, but the shafts missed the last horse by several lengths. The surprise had been complete enough that the four escapees were out of range before the archers could find their targets. Linsha lifted her head into the wind and grinned in pure relief.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a silhouette, a ghastly shape on the hillside, showing black against the stars-the gallows, nearly complete and waiting for morning. It could continue to wait, Linsha thought. Let Sir Remmik find some other use for it. She was away.