He smiled as his fingers left Castyll's temples. "It is there, locked away, as a miser might hoard his treasure. I fear it is far too deeply rooted in your mind for you to locate it on your own. It might take weeks of searching, but I could guide you."
"Will you, Damir? Will you be my tutor?"
Damir chuckled. His face was dim in the starlight. "Let us recapture your kingdom first, Your Majesty. Then we will be free to contemplate tutoring and other such happy activities."
They moved on before dawn of the following morning. Castyll ached from such long hours in the saddle, but reminded himself that had he been forced to walk the distance, he'd have long since been captured.
He had desperately wanted to ride into the capital city openly, with his royal standard snapping in the breeze, waving to the people he was certain were still loyal. Damir had immediately quashed the idea. "Assassins," he had said simply. "The humblest peasant could be one of Bhakir's men in disguise. We will proceed carefully. There is always the chance that my plan might not have worked."
"Do your plans have a history of not working, Damir?"
"Not often."
"They call you the Problem Solver. Did you know that?"
Damir laughed. "So I have heard. Your Majesty."
By the end of that long day, Castyll's royal bottom was aching and his legs screamed for rest. But Jarmair was within sight, and even from this place up in the hills he could see the castle that had been his home since the day he was born.
"Castle Derlian," he said softly. "Oh, Damir. We're almost there."
On Damir's instructions, they waited for full night. Then, after all the men, including Castyll, had armored up and checked their weapons, they rode slowly into the quiet farmlands that surrounded Castle Derlian, keeping well away from the darkened houses. Damir's men closed ranks about the king, while Damir rode, sometimes scouting ahead, sometimes circling behind. Castyll guessed that Byrn's finest ambassador was using his formidable mind magic, trying to sense danger. It was all very reassuring.
At last, they came within sight of the mammoth gates of Castle Derlian. Damir kneed his horse and approached Castyll and the circle of men. "We go no further without reassurance that we're not walking into a trap," he stated bluntly.
"What do you suggest?" queried Castyll.
"We send in a decoy." Damir's bright eyes roamed over the faces of his men, and it was to them that he addressed his next words. "I'll cast an illusion on one of you. You will go forward and demand entrance. You will appear to be the king-alone, unarmed. If they attack the decoy, then the rest of us flee. If they take the false king inside, we wait till we hear a report and if not, then-"
"What?" cried Castyll, aghast. "You'd send a man to walk into a trap?"
"With His Majesty's pardon," spoke up one of the men, "we have all faced death many times before. That is our duty. Any one of us would consider it an honor to die protecting you and obeying our own king's orders."
"No." Castyll shook his dark head. "I won't allow it."
Damir sighed in exasperation. "Majesty-"
"You are under orders to obey me as if I were your own king, yes?" asked Castyll, knowing the answer.
"Aye, but it would behoove you to listen to someone with my experience."
"I have, Damir, and I know you know what you're doing. But — this is my kingship we're talking about. I should be the one walking into a trap, if there is one. Let us compromise. I will agree to send a man up as a decoy. But if they attack him-me-then we fight. And if they want to take him into the castle, we ride up and reveal the deception."
"Your Majesty," replied Damir with more than a touch of exasperation, "what if I'm right and you are walking willingly to your death?"
Castyll weighed his words carefully before he spoke. "It is my firm belief that this castle is manned with people loyal to me. That they have no idea of the evil Bhakir has been perpetrating. If that's true, and if your plan has worked, then we are walking toward the final victory, the restoration of my kingdom. If it's not true-if there is no one inside those stone walls who remains loyal to me- then there is no one within these borders whom I can trust. And the kingdom is lost beyond recapture. The Derlian line will have come to an end, and I will go down fighting to uphold the honor of those who have died before me."
He turned in the saddle to look at the men who had risked so much for him already. "I'm not your king. This is not your fight. If need be I will go forward alone, and take my chances. Come with me of your own will, if you choose. But I will not order you forward, nor will I allow Damir to do so."
Damir frowned terribly. Castyll knew he was angry, but he didn't care. He knew in his heart that was making the right decision.
"Very well," said Damir. "I will go with you, Your Majesty."
"And I," said the man to Damir's right. "And I," said another. In swift succession, Castyll faced six men who had pledged to fight or die with him. Tears stung his eyes; he blinked them away. "We shall not fail," he said.
A few moments later, a man wearing Castyll's body and face ran up the cobblestone road that led to the castle walls. Castyll, safe for the moment in the shadows cast by Damir's magic, marvelled at the depth of the man's skill. The decoy looked exactly like the young king. He appeared to have no armor or weapons, though Castyll knew he was in reality well equipped with both. His heart hammered rapidly as the false Castyll hammered on the huge wooden doors.
"Who comes?" came the challenge from above.
The decoy tossed back the hood of his cloak, revealing his face plainly in the torchlight.
"It is I, your king!" he cried. Castyll silently shook his head. Damir had even gotten the voice right. "I have escaped and have come to where men are still loyal to me!"
"Majesty! We were told to expect you!"
At once Castyll heard the grinding, mechanical sound of the portcullis being raised. A moment later, the doors of the keep were opened, and "Castyll" was surrounded by men wearing the royal livery who immediately knelt to their liege. There was no attempt to usher the "king" in, either quietly or by force.
Castyll couldn't suppress a smile of triumph as he shot a glance at Damir. The Byrnian's face was inscrutable, but he replied, "It would appear that you were correct, Majesty."
Taking a deep breath, Castyll squeezed his mount forward, riding into sight from the concealing shadows. "Right pleased I am to see that the men of Castle Derlian have not forgotten their liege- even though they have mistaken him!"
The guards, confused, glanced from one "king" to the other. With an unobtrusive wave of his hand, Damir dispelled the illusion.
"A necessary precaution in these troubled times," said Castyll by way of apology, as the man the guards had taken for their king resumed his true appearance. "You were told to expect me. Might I ask by whom?"
"Why, by Lord Maren and Lord Kester. They had word from a source they would not name that all was not well with you and that you had to come by stealth to the castle that is your birthright," replied the man who was clearly in charge of the night's watch. Castyll nodded. Neither Maren nor Kester would have said anything that would have put Adara in any danger. "My lord Maren awaits your appearance in the main hall. He has news for you."
"Then let us not keep my loyal seneschal waiting!" said Castyll. He would have cantered forward eagerly into the courtyard had not the five men who had so carefully guarded him up till this moment closed in around him again. Even now, it would appear, Damir was suspicious. No doubt the diplomat's caution had been wise, but surely there was nothing to fear now. Nonetheless, Castyll did not protest the extra precaution.