Nim had started him on the path, and later Arcadius and Hadrian had guided his way, but it was Gwen who had finally unlocked the cell door. She shoved it open and stood just outside calling, assuring him it was safe. He could smell the fresh air and see the brilliance of the sun. He was almost through, almost out-almost.
The whispering came from near the pool.
He thought everyone was asleep. They had traveled a long distance that day over hard terrain. No one had called for him to stop, but he had seen them stumbling-all except the dwarf. The little rat never seemed to tire but continued to scurry, and more than once, Royce had spotted a little smile behind the mustache and remains of his beard.
He had almost killed Magnus that first night they had spent at The Laughing Gnome. The thought had danced teasingly on his mind. That was before Myron came back from dinner and got all chatty. Royce would not admit it to anyone, but the dwarf was useful, and on surprisingly good behavior-which showed even more good sense. More than that, he discovered he no longer had the desire. Like everything else, the dwarf’s crime had been made trivial by Gwen’s death. Both love and hate were banished from him. He was a desert, dry of all passion. Mostly he was tired. He had one last job to do and he would do it, not for the empire, not even for Hadrian-this was for Gwen.
He got to his feet silently, out of curiosity more than concern. The whispering was definitely coming from the party-not some intruder. He spotted the princess lying on her side, wrapped in twisted blankets. She was jerking and thrashing again, that creepy robe glowing different colors, fading out and lighting up. He had no idea if the robe was causing her to dream so violently or if her dreams sparked the robe’s response. He did not see how it was any of his business and moved on.
At first, he thought it might be Magnus and Gaunt whispering. He frequently spied them traveling together and talking when the rest were too far to hear. Drawing closer, he discovered the source-it was Elden. He could see the huge reclined form up on one elbow under the blanket. His conspirator was on the far side and blocked from view. Wyatt lay a short distance away. He too was awake and watching.
“What’s going on?” Royce whispered to the sailor. “Who’s Elden talking to?”
“The monk.”
“Myron?”
Wyatt nodded.
“Is it normal for him to talk to strangers like that?”
Wyatt looked at him. “He’s talked more to that little monk in the last three days than he has to me in the last decade. They were doing this last night too, and I swear I heard Elden crying. I once watched while a ship’s surgeon put a red-hot poker to a wound on his thigh. Elden didn’t make a sound, but last night that little monk had him weeping so bad his eyes were red the next morning.”
Royce said nothing.
“Funny thing, though, he was smiling. All day long, I saw Elden grinning from ear to ear. That’s just not like him.”
“Best get back to sleep,” Royce told him. “I’ll be waking everyone in another hour.”
Royce stopped again.
Hadrian could see him over the heads of the others from his position at the rear. This time, Royce knelt down, placed the lantern on the ground beside him, and scraped the dirt. Alric approached and stood slightly to one side.
The party spent most of that day, like the one before, traveling in a single column in the narrow corridor. Overhead, water dripped, soaking their heads and shoulders; likewise, their feet felt pickled from wading through ankle-deep pools.
“What is it this time?” he heard Degan mutter with disdain. “He’s stopping every twenty feet now. This is the problem with monarchies and the whole feudal system, for that matter. Alric is in charge by no other virtue than his birth, and the man is clearly incompetent. He lost his own kingdom twice over in a single year, and now he is in charge of us? We should have a leader who is elected on merit, not lineage. Someone who is the most talented, the most gifted, but no-we have Alric. And the king in all his minuscule wisdom has chosen Royce to guide us. If I were in charge, I would put Magnus out front. He’s obviously far more gifted. He’s constantly correcting Royce’s mistakes. We would be making twice the time we are now. I’ve observed that people respect you.”
Hadrian noticed Gaunt was looking at him. Up until that moment, he had not known who Gaunt was speaking to.
“No one says it, no one bows or anything, but you are highly regarded, I can tell-more than Alric, that’s for certain. If you were to support me, I think we could persuade the others to accept my command of this group. I know Magnus would.”
“Why you?” Hadrian asked.
“Huh?”
“Why should you be in charge?”
“Oh-well, for one thing I am the descendant of Novron and will be emperor. And second, I am smarter than that oaf Alric, by far.”
“I thought you said you wanted a system based on merit, not lineage.”
“I did, but like I said, I am far better suited to the task than he is. Besides, why else am I here if not to lead?”
“Alric has led men into battle, and when I say led, I mean it. He personally charged the gates of Medford under a hail of arrows ahead of everyone, even his bodyguards.”
“Exactly, the man is a fool.”
“All right, it might not have been the smartest choice, but it did show courage and an unwillingness to sit back in safety while sending others into peril. That right there gives him credit in my book. But okay, I see your point. He might not be the smartest leader. So if you want someone with brains and merit, then Princess Arista is your clear choice.”
Degan chuckled, apparently taking his comments as a joke. When he saw Hadrian’s scowl, he stopped. “You’re not serious? She’s a woman-an irritating, manipulative, bossy woman. She shouldn’t even be on this trip. She’s got Alric wrapped around her finger and it will get us all killed. Did you know she tried to free me from that dungeon all by herself? She failed miserably, got herself captured and her bodyguard killed. That’s what she does, you know. She gets people killed. She’s a menace. And on top of that she’s also a wit-”
Degan struck the wall with the back of his head, bounced off, and fell to his knees. Hadrian felt the pain in his knuckles and only then realized he had hit him.
Gaunt glared up, his eyes watering, his hands cupping his face. “Crazy fool! Are you mad?”
“What’s going on?” Arista called back down the line.
“This idiot just punched me in the face! My nose is bleeding!”
“ Hadrian did?” the princess said, stunned.
“It was… an accident,” Hadrian replied, knowing it sounded feeble, but not knowing how else to describe his actions. He had not meant to hit Gaunt; it had just happened.
“You accidentally punched him?” Wyatt asked, suppressing a chuckle. “I’m not sure you have a full understanding of the whole bodyguard thing.”
“Hadrian!” Royce called.
“What?” he shouted back, irritated that even Royce was going to join in this embarrassing moment.
“Come up here. I need you to look at something.”
Degan was still on his knees in a pool of water. “Um-sorry ’bout that.”
“Get away from me!”
Hadrian moved up the line as Wyatt, Elden, and Myron pressed themselves against the walls to let him pass, each one looking at him curiously.
“What did he do?” Arista whispered as he reached her.
“Nothing, really.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You punched him for no reason?”
“Well, no, but-it’s complicated. I’m not even sure I understand it. It was sort of like a reflex, I guess.”
“A… reflex?” she said.
“I told him I was sorry.”
“Anytime today would be nice,” Royce said.
Arista stepped aside, looking at him suspiciously as he passed.
“What was all that about?” Alric asked as he approached.