“Now,” Regis answered with a ghost of a smile, “we get you out of here.”
Felix glanced toward the splintered wooden debris where Regis had wrenched the door aside.
Regis shook his head. “I don’t think we can manage that way. Not without a rope.” Felix’s captors had left him neither blanket nor anything else that might be used to escape, except his own clothing. “Besides,” Regis added, “I’ll need your help with the others. Are you with me?”
Felix straightened his shoulders and nodded.
“Come on, then.”
As Regis had expected, the latch had no lock. Darkovans did not lock their doors within their own homes. Instead, a bar had been installed on the outside. Regis took out his dagger and maneuvered the slender blade through the gap between the door and its framing. It took several attempts to lever the bar free. When he succeeded, the bar clattered to the floor outside.
Regis and Felix held still, barely breathing, listening for sounds of alarm. The last echoes of the bar falling died into silence. Gesturing for Felix to stay back, Regis lifted the latch. The door opened with a creak.
A corridor ran the length of the house, lined on either side with closed doors. Each door, like Felix’s, had been fitted on the outside with a bar. A window of cloudy, poor-quality glass admitted a diffuse light at the far end. The floor was bare wood. Once, it must have been very fine, but age and lack of care had dulled its luster. An arched opening midway along one wall led to a staircase going down.
Regis moved silently to the nearest door. There was no response when he tapped. The bar slipped easily from its brackets. The room, very much like Felix’s with bare pallets on simple frame beds, a single rickety chair and little else, was empty. There was no sign of food or water. When Regis asked Felix how long it had been since he’d eaten, Felix shrugged.
The next two rooms were empty but in use, from the rumpled ticking on the pallets. A sense of urgency grew in Regis. The longer they delayed, the greater the chance of discovery. Tiphani might have gone, but Haldred was still in the house.
“Downstairs, maybe?” Felix whispered.
“Let’s go, then. Stay behind me. We don’t know what’s down there, but in case it’s trouble . . .” Regis touched the hilt of his dagger.
Felix flashed Regis a crooked grin. Clearly, having a course of action steadied the youngster.
Keeping to one wall, Regis led the way down the stairs. As they stepped on to the landing and changed directions, muffled sounds wafted upwards. Children’s voices rose and fell in unison, although Regis could not make out their words.
They descended another few stairs. The ground floor came into view. There were no bedrooms here, only a wide hall tiled in faded mosaics, a smaller door that must lead to a parlor or formal dining room, and there, at the far end, a set of double exterior doors. Carvings swirled across the dark wood like frozen shadows.
Regis slipped his dagger free. There was no sign of Haldred or anyone else, but he could not tell how long their luck would hold. He glanced back at Felix and lifted one finger of his free hand to his lips. Felix nodded, eyes huge and somber.
With only a whisper of footsteps, they crept down the remaining stairs. Felix might not have had cadet training, but he carried himself well.
The sounds of the children grew louder, then stopped. Regis froze. A man’s voice took over, in that same rhythmic cadence. Regis recognized a devotional chant from Nevarsin.
The hallway was still clear, but they were exposed, with nowhere to hide or run. Regis motioned Felix to stay close as he hurried across the mosaic floor. Before he could reach the double doors, however, the side door opened. Regis spun around just as a man, dour-faced and broad of shoulder, entered the hall.
Haldred Ridenow.
Haldred hesitated, caught momentarily off-guard. Dagger in hand, Regis moved into the lapse. Haldred was already reaching for his sword when Regis closed with him, dagger aimed for his throat. Haldred yelped, his voice echoing in the near-empty hall, and jumped back.
Regis followed closely, circling. With his free hand, he grabbed Haldred’s wrist and twisted hard. In a fluid, circular movement, Regis spun Haldred around. Haldred staggered, but Regis held his arm twisted behind his back so tightly that their joined hands were almost at the level of Haldred’s shoulder blades. Regis knew from experience that even a little more leverage would produce excruciating pain. He laid the edge of the dagger, less sharp than its point but effective nonetheless, against Haldred’s neck.
Gasping, Haldred managed to hold still. “What—what are you doing here?” he muttered through clenched teeth.
“Rescuing the Legate’s son. My niece. A few others. You’ll know them, I expect.” Regis nudged Haldred toward the double doors. “In there, are they?”
“You’ll never get away with this!”
“Who taught you to talk like that? Valdir?”
“That weakling!” Haldred struggled, then gasped in pain.
“Do that again, and I’ll slice your throat,” Regis hissed. “Felix, can you open the doors? Good. Then you and I, Haldred, are going through them slowly. Do you understand me?”
Haldred gulped noisily. Regis took the movement for assent.
Felix shoved the doors open. Regis half prodded, half dragged Haldred through the opening. The room was spacious and bright, its windows of unblemished glass. A fireplace of chalky stone held a small fire. The chamber had been designed for elegance as well as comfort and might have once been used for dances. Now rows of benches filled the center, all facing a freestanding altar.
A man in sandals and a brown cristofororobe stood with his back to the blaze, absorbing its warmth. He was short and balding, well-padded around the middle.
A handful of children in sacks of brown cloth huddled on the benches. Their feet were bare and their eyes dull. Regis spotted Ariel among them. Several had the bright red hair of the Comyn.
“Savage!” the priest screamed. “How dare you disturb us—or carry weapons into this place of holy learning! Sacrilege, I say!”
Regis had neither the time nor the temper to answer. “All of you,” he called to the children, “we’re taking you home! Felix, get them together—”
His next words were cut off by the clamor of men’s voices and booted feet over tile. Two men armed with swords pelted down the hallway. From his vantage, Regis could not see if they had come from outside or elsewhere in the house. One or two of the children shrieked. The others whimpered and clung to one another.
Regis whirled Haldred around so that the newcomers could see the dagger. “Stop there or he dies!”
One of the men scowled, ready for a fight. Regis wasn’t sure he could carry through his threat, or what he might do against three swordsmen with just his dagger. He couldn’t risk Felix, and the children on the benches looked too intimidated to move on their own.
The second man raised his hands well away from his weapon. “It’s Lord Regis . . .”
“Get back, both of you!” Regis barked.
“You men, why are you standing there?” the priest demanded. “Do your duty! Seize the intruder!”
Regis ignored him, keeping his eyes on the two swordsmen. “We’re going to move very carefully toward the street. All of us. Do you understand?”
Both men nodded, the first more reluctantly. The priest made incoherent mutters of protest. From his peripheral vision, Regis caught the expression on Felix’s face and it heartened him.
“Good,” he said. “Then you’ll oblige me by taking off your sword belts and laying them on the floor.” They did so and backed away at his command.
“Stop!” yelled the priest. “Where are you going with those students?”