The banging only increased in ferocity.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, your Highness!” shouted Pirem. There was such urgency in his voice that Lynan almost went to the door immediately.
“Maybe the king needs to consult with his new roving ambassador,” Jenrosa suggested.
“Pirem, couldn’t it wait?”
“Now, Your Highness, please!” Pirem banged the door a few more times for effect.
Jenrosa laughed quietly. “You don’t suppose he’s been listening outside, do you, and wants to make sure you don’t say anything too foolish?”
“Foolish?”
“Your Highness, please!”
Lynan could no longer ignore the pleading in his servant’s voice. He stomped down the stairs to the door and opened it slightly. “This had better be important, Pirem—”
He managed to get no more out before Pirem, breathless and pale and carrying Lynan’s coat and sword belt, forced his way in. He pushed his master away from the door, quickly glanced back at the corridor, then slammed it shut. He grabbed Lynan by the hand and dragged him up the stairs into the turret room. The servant’s eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of his head. “Quickly, Lynan, you have to leave the pal—” His words died in his throat when he saw Jenrosa.
“How long has she been here?” he hissed.
“Pirem, you forget yourself! And what business is it of yours how long Magicker Alucar has been here?”
Pirem wrung his hands in distress. “Oh, I am sorry, your Highness, but not as sorry as you’ll be if you don’t leave the palace right now! This very minute!”
Jenrosa stood up. “What’s happening?”
Pirem thrust himself between her and Lynan. “How does His Highness know he can trust you?”
“What are you talking about?” Lynan demanded angrily.
“She may be one of them!” he hissed.
Lynan shook his head in frustration. “You have some explaining to do, Pirem. Be quick.”
“Your brother’s dead!”
“Dead? Which brother?”
“The king! He’s been murdered!”
There was a stunned silence, then Lynan said sternly. “That isn’t funny, Pirem. Your sense of humor is as sour as your tongue—”
“I don’t think he’s joking,” Jenrosa said, carefully watching the servant. “Can’t you see how terrified he is? Pirem, how can you know Berayma is dead? Who killed him?”
“I saw his body!”
Lynan grabbed his servant by the shoulders. “Who killed him, Pirem? Who?”
“Orkid! An‘ Dejanus!”
Lynan stared at Pirem, not knowing what to say, not wishing to believe his servant’s words.
“Your Highness, please believe me. I haven’t been drinkin‘. I wasn’t dreamin’. I know I’m an old fool sometimes, but I’m not an idiot!”
“Tell me what you saw,” Lynan said, struggling to remain calm. “Everything you saw.”
“There isn’t time for that!” He took Lynan by one arm and tried dragging him down the steps. Lynan resisted with all his strength. “They want to kill you, Lynan!”
“Kill me?”
“I’ll explain as we go,” Pirem said and again pulled on Lynan’s arm, at the same time handing Lynan his cloak and sword belt. “Follow me!”
There was enough of the boy in Lynan, and still enough authority in Pirem’s voice, to make him obey the command. Pirem led the way out of the room and down into the main part of the palace, not far from Lynan’s chambers. “You can’t go back to your room, that’s the first place they’ll look for you. We have to get you a horse.”
He led the way toward the royal stables, followed by Lynan and an uncertain Jenrosa. Lynan stopped and told Jenrosa to return to make her own way out of the palace. “I don’t know what’s going on, but there’s no need for you to become involved.”
Jenrosa agreed readily. “I want no part of a palace revolution.” She turned to go, but froze at the sound of tramping feet and jangling armor coming from around the corner at the far end of the hallway. “Then again…” she said halfheartedly.
“Come now!” Pirem pleaded. “Quickly, before they see us!”
He ducked down a side corridor, followed by his two charges, and hurried through a maze of little used passages and servants’ ways. They soon heard a commotion from the general direction of Lynan’s quarters.
“They’ve just discovered you’re missing,” Pirem said grimly, then stopped suddenly.
“What’s wrong?” Lynan demanded.
“I’m an idiot! They’ll be waitin‘ for you at the stables!” His brow furrowed in concentration. “But you still need a horse.” Then his eyes lit up. “The Royal Guards’ stables! They won’t think of that! Not yet, at least.”
They started off again, and a few minutes later they came out into an area behind the palace, near the stables of the Royal Guards. Pirem turned to the other two. “Be quiet, for God’s sake, or we’re all dead!” he said between clenched teeth. “We’ll have to work quickly and quietly to get you a mount, Your Highness.”
“But where will I go?” Lynan asked, his voice rising.
“Away from here,” Pirem answered, peering into the darkness as he spoke. “After that, I can’t help you, an‘ I’ll slow you down if I come with you.” He peered into the darkness for a moment, then hissed, “The way is clear!”
At a half-crouch the three fugitives ran across the open ground to the first enclosure. Lynan’s nose wrinkled.
“Don’t they ever clean these stables?”
“Of course they do, your Highness, but only once a day. These aren’t the Royal Stables. There, in the fourth booth, that looks like a good mount.”
The horse was a fine-looking brown mare with a clean coat and a nose splashed with white. As Jenrosa led her from the booth, Lynan put on his coat and buckled on his sword belt. Pirem then helped him select a harness and saddle from those hanging from a wall opposite the entrance, and handed a bridle to Jenrosa.
“I was in my room, your Highness,” Pirem started explaining suddenly, “when Harnan Beresard came asking me to find you an‘ tell you that the king wanted to see you right away.” The two men lifted a saddle off its hooks and carried it to the waiting mare. As Lynan adjusted the saddle’s straps, Pirem continued his story.
“I couldn’t find you, o’course…” Pirem glanced at Jenrosa. “… so I went to tell the king there’d be a delay. When I got to his room, I heard voices, so I didn’t go straight in, thinking it best to wait until whoever it was had finished their business with his Majesty. Then I recognized the voices as belonging to Orkid an‘ Dejanus. They were saying how some plan had to go right or somethin’, an‘ I realized they could be talkin’ for hours, so I crept up to the door quiet as a cat to catch someone’s eye.”
Lynan’s fingers were fumbling at tasks that had been automatic for years. Jenrosa was having similar difficulties fitting the bridle.
“I was lookin‘ into the room…” Pirem grabbed Lynan’s arm so tightly it hurt. His old, rheumy eyes looked up into Lynan’s face, tears rolling down his cheeks. “The king was on the floor in a bloody heap! I think they stabbed him right in the…” Pirem gagged, but managed to finish the sentence in a burst, “… in the neck, your Highness, pierced like a sticker in a boar’s belly, an’ the blood was everywhere.”
Jenrosa swayed and held onto the mare’s head to stop herself from falling. Lynan was already crouching, but he too suddenly felt faint. He put a hand on the horse’s flank to steady himself.
“They saw me! As I ran away, I heard Orkid tell Dejanus to kill me, an‘ then to come after you! But I know this place like the back of my hand, all the servants’ ways, so I was able to get to you well before them. You know the rest.”
Lynan slowly stood erect, taking the reins from Jenrosa. Pirem was resting against the wall, his hands shaking.
“Thank you, Pirem,” Lynan said softly, trying to keep his voice even despite the fear threatening to overwhelm him. “You have risked your life to save mine. I will never forget it. Now you and Jenrosa must go. Find a place to hide, and I’ll try and let you know what happens to me.”