They made their way southeast through the city. When Kumul pulled them up and ordered them off their horses, Lynan could smell the harbor not far away.
“We’ll leave the horses here,” Kumul told them. “It’s best now if we go on foot.”
“Where are we going?” Jenrosa asked.
“A friend’s place,” he answered. “Now, no more questions until we get there. The less attention we draw to ourselves with unnecessary chatter, the better our chances of surviving the night.”
They slapped their horses to send them on their way; if unhindered, they would eventually return to their stable. In a few minutes the companions had reached the docks. Ropes and pulleys creaked and clanked in the onshore evening breeze, and rats scurried out of their way. The harbor smelled of sewage and bilge and rotting flesh. Everything is death tonight, Lynan thought bitterly.
Kumul, setting a rapid pace, led them east along the harbor for a league or so before heading north, back into the city proper. They passed warehouses smelling of exotic spices and busy taverns smelling of stale beer and urine. Skinny dogs sniffing for garbage scampered out of their way or growled at them defiantly. As the streets turned into alleys with houses dangerously leaning over them, the night air became strangled and still. The only sound was their own footsteps on the cobblestones and the occasional furtive scraping of a scavenging rodent or a hunting cat.
At last, Kumul slowed to an easy walk as he peered through the dark trying to recognize features and landmarks.
“It’s around here somewhere,” he whispered to himself.
For a few minutes more they kept on this way and then, with a satisfied grunt, he stopped and knocked impatiently on a door.
“Where are we?” Lynan asked.
Before Kumul could reply, the door opened and a man shorter than Kumul but just as wide came out on to the street. “Who the hell do you think you are, my friend, rousing me from my warm chair…” The man craned forward toward the constable. “… at this hour… Kumul?”
Kumul chuckled, a sound like a small avalanche of gravel. “Who else do you know who’s as big as me, Grapnel?”
The one called Grapnel laughed in turn and put his hands on Kumul’s shoulders, then noticed his companions. “You’ve brought friends, I see.”
“Can we come in? It isn’t safe out here.”
“Not safe? Who in their right minds would be after you?” Grapnel asked, but he ushered them inside without waiting for an answer.
They were crowded into a narrow hallway. Grapnel squeezed his way to the front and showed them into a living area. A bright fire was burning in a deep grate at one end of the room, and before it were mismatched chairs and a long table. The walls were made from whitewashed mud brick, and long beams supported a clinker-built roof.
Grapnel set chairs in a semicircle in front of the fire and bade them sit. He disappeared into an adjoining room, appearing a moment later with five mugs and a jug of home brew.
For the first time that night, Lynan saw that the close-cropped graying hairs at the back of Kumul’s head were matted with dried blood, and a red smear covered the nape of his neck.
Lynan turned his attention to Grapnel. Their host had a wide, swarthy face with two raised white scars, one on either cheek, which joined the corners of his mouth, giving him a permanent and macabre grin. His brown hair was cut as close to the scalp as Kumul’s, and each ear sported a large gold earring. Brown eyes were half hidden by drooping eyelids that made him look as if he would fall asleep at any moment. Although not as tall as Kumul, he still loomed over Lynan.
Their host poured beers for them, then sat back in his chair and waited for Kumul’s explanation.
“This is Captain Ager Parmer, late of the Royal Guards,” Kumul started, nodding in the crookback’s direction. “He was once a captain in the Kendra Spears.”
Grapnel leaned forward and peered at Ager’s face. “By all the creatures in the sea, you are Captain Parmer. And you’ve had hard times, I see.”
“And I remember you, Grapnel,” Ager replied. “You were Kumul’s lieutenant in the Red Shields.”
Grapnel nodded, and then looked at Jenrosa. “And you are?”
“My name is Jenrosa Alucar. 1 am a student magicker with the Theurgia of Stars.” She shook her head. “Or I was.”
Grapnel looked questioningly at Kumul.
“She was Prince Lynan’s companion tonight,” the constable told him.
“Good grief, Kumul,” Grapnel said, grinning slyly. “No wonder you’re in trouble.”
Kumul sighed. “And this is the prince in question,” he continued, indicating Lynan.
Grapnel shot to his feet, his chair falling over behind him. His cheeks reddened, making the scars stand out like welts. “Grief, your Highness! My apologies!” He glanced at Jenrosa. “And to you, ma’am.”
Lynan could not help a smile creasing his face, and he tried to hide it in his cup. Strong, bitter stout coursed down his gullet, almost choking him. Jenrosa blushed as deeply as Grapnel, but there was anger behind it.
“You misunderstand our relationship,” she said quietly.
Grapnel started apologizing again, but Kumul interrupted him. “And this, Your Highness, is Grapnel Moorice, trader and ship owner. One of your father’s most loyal and hard-fighting soldiers. And a friend.” Kumul took Grapnel’s arm. “Evil things have happened tonight. King Berayma has been murdered by conspirators, and now they’re after Prince Lynan.”
Grapnel’s mouth dropped open. “On our friendship, Kumul, are you telling me the truth?” Kumul nodded. “How much do you know?”
Kumul shrugged helplessly. “For me, it started with Dejanus, Berayma’s Life Guard.” Kumul quickly explained how he had been fooled by Dejanus. “I think he thought I was dead; either that, or he had some other part for me to play before the night was over. When I woke, I was too groggy to think. I managed to reach the courtyard when Ager found me. We immediately went to Berayma’s chambers in case Dejanus meant him harm as well, but we were too late.”
“At first we didn’t know what to do,” Ager continued. “Kumul was still dazed. I left him there and went to give the alarm, but found out from a guard that it had already been raised and that the order was out for Kumul, Lynan, and Lynan’s servant to be captured or killed because they had just slain the king.”
“I knew Lynan could not have had anything to do with Berayma’s slaying,” Kumul said. “I also knew it was too late to make for his chambers—others would be well ahead of us—so I gambled that they would make for one of the stables.”
“How did you guess we’d head for the Royal Guards’ stables?” Lynan asked.
“They were closest,” Ager said, and shrugged apologetically. “By that stage we figured we needed some luck.”
Lynan then recounted what Pirem had said about the involvement of Orkid, then about their rush for the stables and Pirem’s death.
“Pirem?” Grapnel asked. “The general’s old servant?”
Lynan nodded.
“I am sorry to hear of his death. He was a good soldier. What happened next?”
“Then Kumul and Ager turned up.”
“Thank God,” Jenrosa said. “They saved our lives.”
“That’s half my job done,” Kumul said grimly. “Now that you are both safe for the moment, I’ll go back and kill Dejanus and Orkid.” He stood up to leave.
“You can’t!” Lynan exclaimed. Kumul had become his rock in the last two hours and he wanted to hang on to him for as long as possible. “They’ll be looking out for you! That guard who got away couldn’t have mistaken for you for someone else. As soon as you turn up, they’ll kill you or take you prisoner.”
“Not if I tell them what really happened,” Kumul said. “Most of the guards are good and loyal lads. The ones at the stables tonight must have been Dejanus’ favorites.”