“You know I hate it when you call me that, Sir Alton.”
“Yes. Yes I do.”
Turesti surveyed the small room. Mostly empty shelves stood against three of the walls: a store room, picked clean by the war effort and not yet restocked. He’d have to poke fun at Hu Dondon, the Lord Chamberlain, the next time he saw him.
The next time I see him when the two of us aren’t skulking about.
Sir Alton sat on a foot stool in the far corner of the room, but rose when his guest entered. He wore a full set of leather and chain mail; his ever-present sword hung on one hip, a dagger on the other side, and Turesti wondered why he would be clad thus. Sienhin took a step toward him and the High Chancellor tensed involuntarily.
“The kingdom has gone for a shit.”
The knight’s choice of words caught him off-guard and Turesti stifled a laugh. Though true and obvious, the general’s flair for the melodramatic often struck him as funny.
“Sir Alton,” Turesti said, relaxing a little, “this is not news. We are-”
“Perdaro is in league with the Archon.”
The robe around Turesti’s shoulders suddenly felt as though an alchemist had transformed its gold threads into lead. His shoulders sagged and his gaze slid toward the floor.
“Hahn? It can’t be. I’ve known him since he was a child. I-”
“Nothing is as we think, Smoke. The king has opened the gates to the enemy and the Archon holds his son captive. One of his most trusted advisors plots against the kingdom. Sir Matte is dead. These are desperate times and I need to know if you are worthy of my trust.”
“Of course,” Turesti said looking up into Sienhin’s gauging eyes. “I’ve lived my entire life for the kingdom.”
Sir Alton regarded him; a minute passed in silence. Finally, the general nodded once. Turesti’s shoulders relaxed and he released his held breath.
“I will leave in two hours to go to Achtindel, and I will return with an army.”
“You’ll be seen leaving,” Turesti said, surprised. “You won’t get through the guards at the gate.”
“I’ll not be going out the gates.”
Turesti’s eyes narrowed, his head tilted slightly to the right. The general looked at him without speaking.
“The tunnels?” Turesti finally asked.
“Aye. There’s one from this very room that will lead me straight outside the walls. There I’ll get a horse and be in the capital in a few days.”
A thought occurred to Turesti and he suppressed a shudder. “And you’re telling me because you want me to accompany you?”
A laugh burst out of the general hard enough to make his mustache quiver. He slapped Turesti on the shoulder.
“No offence, Smoke, but if I’m taking anyone, it wouldn’t be you.”
“Hu, then?”
“No, not him, either.” Sir Alton’s eyes narrowed, his hand dropped off Turesti’s shoulder and his cheeks took on the pink hue they acquired whenever he became deadly serious, which was often. “Don’t tell Dondon what we spoke of. It’s best not to trust anyone.”
Turesti’s eyes widened. “But I saw him leaving. You already spoke to him.”
The knight’s glare bore into the older man, making him want to shrink away, but he held his ground. Turesti imagined that, if Sienhin’s mustache didn’t hide the majority of his jaw, he’d see the general grinding his teeth.
“For the sake of the kingdom, keep our conversation to yourself.”
Turesti nodded vigorously. “Of course.”
“Good. Be off with you then. Go about your duties like nothing is any different, but watch for a messenger in less than a week’s time. We will need someone trustworthy to open the gate so we may take back our kingdom. That will be your role.”
“I will, Sir Alton. I will.”
Turesti opened the door, stepped halfway through, then paused and looked back at the knight. Sir Alton Sienhin offered a half smile-denoted by a slight movement in the bushy ends of his mustache-then waved him to go. Turesti did, shutting the door behind him.
He picked his way through the lane’s detritus, then strode down the boulevard, a lopsided smile on his face. It surprised him how good he felt knowing the general trusted him with such a pivotal task. After so many years in the service of more than one king, he’d been trusted with much, but this felt different, more important than anything he’d ever done. Never were the threats to the kingdom like this before, never this severe.
He took a left down a narrower street that passed between the stores buildings on the way to his quarters, his footsteps echoing, his mind racing. The kidnapping of the king’s son explained much. Turesti didn’t have children himself for he never cared to take a wife-his tastes leaned toward decidedly different things than those of the average man-but he’d seen the bond between Therrador and Graymon.
But what made Hahn turn his back on the kingdom?
Perhaps King Braymon’s fall made him lose faith; it had shaken many, to be sure. And was it possible that Hu Dondon couldn’t be trusted, either? He’d been in service of the kingdom almost as long as himself.
Emon Turesti shook his head as he walked, struggling to understand, trying to discern what to believe. At the end of the avenue, he turned right onto a narrow lane, at the end of which lay his quarters.
“Smoke. What’s a man of your stature doing out so late at night?”
The familiar voice startled Turesti and he stopped suddenly with an audible gasp. Even with his face hidden in shadow, he knew it was Hahn Perdaro standing before him.
“H-Hahn,” Turesti said, failing in his effort to keep fear from his voice. “I’m just on my way to my quarters to call it a night.”
“Hmm. More likely out buggering someone’s son, I suppose.”
Turesti felt his cheeks flush; he shook his head. “No, I…I’m going home, nothing more.”
Perdaro stepped out of the deep shadow into the street and Turesti took a step back.
“What are you doing here, Hahn?”
“Looking for you, of course. Why else would I be here at this time of night?”
“L-looking for me? What ever could you want with me?”
“I heard you had a clandestine meeting with Sir Alton. I need you to tell me what you spoke of.”
“Sir Alton? Why no, I’ve not seen the general.” Turesti peered over his shoulder then back at Perdaro. “Why would you think I’ve seen him?”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Do you forget with whom you speak, Smoke? I am not just the Voice of the People, I am also their ears. Little happens that I don’t hear.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t seen the general.”
“Liar,” Perdaro barked. “It will do you no good, Smoke. I’ll have the truth from you one way or another. Which way is up to you.”
Turesti’s thoughts spun. Hahn Perdaro wasn’t a soldier, but he was younger and stronger. Turesti knew he wouldn’t fare well against him should he choose to fight, but perhaps the general was still where he left him. Maybe he could make it back to him ahead of Hahn.
Perdaro smiled, eyes gleaming. Turesti stutter-stepped back, then spun around and ran directly into a soldier standing behind him. His head stuck hard against something solid, sending him stumbling, dazed. It took a second for his vision to refocus but when it did, he clearly saw the splash of red across a background of black chain mail. He raised his eyes and gazed upon rheumy eyes and cheeks black with rot. The undead soldier stepped toward him.
“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me, Smoke?”
Emon Turesti parted his lips to scream, but Hahn Perdaro’s hand over his mouth stopped him.
***
Sir Alton heaved a sigh and sagged down on the stool.
Well, that’s done. Now let’s see what happens.
He sat for a minute before blowing out the candle on the shelf and leaving the musty-smelling store room.
He’d chosen this spot to meet the councilors because the building across the boulevard offered an ideal hiding spot from which to watch over it. After a quick check to be sure no one was around, he hurried across the street, unlocked the door and stole inside. He knew the room to be empty, but he stood by the door for a minute, waiting for his eyes to grow accustomed to the dark. Once they did, he crossed the room and crept up the creaky wooden steps to the second floor.