The young clansman just ahead of us forced another man to remove his gloves before allowing him to pass through the doors. Then it was our turn. Aidan was laughing, his head close together with the countess, their arms entwined. I clung to the count and shrank from the clansman, while using my left hand to ready my knife.
The warrior motioned to Aidan. “Show your hands before you pass. Take off those gloves.”
But before Aidan could turn his head, the count laid his hand on the jeweled hilt of his sword. “Touch anyone in my party, and I will remove your nose and ears.”
“I have orders—”
“You have no orders that pertain to the Count de’Journay. I will pass here as I choose, or we will settle it with blood. However skilled you may deem yourself, consider that I have forty years’ experience in my arm. You will not prevail.”
The warrior looked helplessly at Driscoll’s averted back, but the commander was still occupied with the rebellious young nobleman. Evidently the count’s name carried weight, for the Rider gritted his teeth and jerked his head toward the gate. “Pass. I’ll inform my commander of your refusal.”
“Tell your mongrel commander that my challenge extends to him also, beast rider.”
The count escorted me and his wife and Aidan, who had scarcely paused in his chatter, through the iron gates. We came onto a broad terrace that hung out over the night like a dead limb of the brightly lit palace. Servants passed through the crowd with trays of wineglasses, and Aidan carefully handed them around. He lifted his own in a toast to the count and his lady. “Though it is proper to toast Aberthain and its king when on this terrace, I will offer my first to the noble and gallant Count de’Journay, the hero who turned back the barbarians at Desmarniers as well as in this latest minor skirmish, and to his ravishing wife—may you continue to grace Aberthain and Elyria with honor and beauty.”
The count nodded an acknowledgment, then responded with a toast to the king. I only pretended to drink. I needed all of my wit to keep the fool of a Senai alive.
The swan countess put her hand on Aidan’s arm. “Tell us your identity, Lord Fool. I’m sure I know you, such a charming young gentleman. Your voice is so familiar.”
“Ah, my lady, now is not the time to show ourselves. Allow us lesser lights to glow for a while longer in your brilliance. When the moment comes to unmask, all shall be revealed. But if I am not to be found, you must ask King Devlin, when next you meet him, who it was knew the story of his father’s missing crossbow. For now I must beg your indulgence. My Lady Fire has never seen the dread glory of Aberthain, and I would show her before the trumpets recall us to our dancing.”
As he kissed her hand, the swan lady laughed at his foolishness. Then she took her husband’s arm and moved away to greet someone else.
Though his voice had been light and even, Aidan was trembling as he guided me to the outer wall of the terrace. A gout of fire arced across the sky, and the crowd cheered along with a distant bellow. “To the western edge,” he said. “The wall is lower there.”
From the pit of blackness before us came an answering bellow, closer this time, furious, tormented. MacAllister faltered, losing what color remained in his face. I draped my arms around him and laughed as if we were flirting, but I kept him moving toward the wall. “How long until they go back inside?” I said. “Is there any place to hide? No one bothered to tell me your plan.” Anything to draw him from his distraction. “Tell me what to do, or I might as well put this knife in you right now.”
“Over the wall.” He forced the words out. “Around the outside to the steps. We’ve only a few moments, no more, until everyone goes inside again.”
The crowd was thinner near the waist-high wall on the west end of the terrace. Most of the guests remained well away from the wall, chattering and laughing as if they had no idea what horror lay so close by in the darkness; several couples, who seemed to enjoy being alone among so many, drifted toward the outer edges of the crowd. Three men and one woman stood singly, gazing out over the dark lair. Those four were the dangerous ones—lone observers who might notice something unusual.
“We’re going over the wall?” I said. Aidan nodded, drawing breath sharply as another cry echoed from the towering cliffs to our right and left. I put my hands around his neck and drew his head down close to mine. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his breath came shallowly. He was not going to be able to think of his plan, much less tell me of it. “I’m going to sit on the wall,” I said, “and you must examine my ankle as if I’ve hurt it. Do you understand me?”
“Ankle ... yes ...”
“You’ll have to help me get up.” I stumbled and grabbed onto his arm. He put his arm around me and half dragged, half carried me across the terrace, then awkwardly supported my waist as I lifted myself onto the wall. “Sorry,” he said. “I can’t—”
“It’s all right. Now examine my ankle however a Senai gentleman would think proper.”
He knelt in front of me, murmuring so softly I had to bend over to hear him. “Lara, I’ve got to tell you—”
He was interrupted by another trumpet fanfare. Dancing music started up inside the palace, and laughing guests began to stroll inside. One of the lone observers walked away.
“When I tell you, dive headfirst over the wall ...” I peered over my shoulder to make sure of the terrain. It was as bad as I expected—a narrow, outsloping strip of rock and turf, verging on nothing. “... instantly.”
The terrace was emptying rapidly. We couldn’t wait too long or we’d be too conspicuous. The clansmen might check for stragglers. The count was arguing with the Ridemark warrior again. The second man of the four single stragglers called out to a friend and moved toward the gates, and the woman hurried away.
Aidan pretended to adjust my nonexistent shoe. I reached down and removed the pearls from my feet, dropping them into his gloved hand. He stared at them for a moment, and then stuffed them into the pocket of his cloak. The last lone man glanced toward the doors, where Duren Driscoll was gesturing violently at the Count de’ Journay.
“Now,” I said, and rolled backward off the wall. Aidan came headfirst after me, and we tumbled and slid down the small weedy slope much too fast. I dug in my fingers and toes to stop us. None too soon. My head dangled over the edge of the cliff, looking down upon the fire-streaked desolation of Aberthain Lair.
Trumpets blared from behind the wall, and a voice cried out, “All hail the glory of Aberthain!” We heard a clash of iron as the gates were closed and locked. MacAllister and I lay paralyzed, waiting to hear the alarm raised, but no cry interrupted the noise of the ballroom, now muffled by the palace walls. No head peered over the wall. No sword jabbed our necks. We gave it a few agonizing moments, then crept along the narrowing gap between the wall to our right and the sheer drop to our left. But just as we reached the steep flight of steps that dropped from the terrace into the black pit, the iron gates rolled back again. We crowded into the dark gully where our little shelf of rock and dirt met the stone steps.
“... fools not to get the attendance list. He mocks us by putting it there for all to see.” The voice floated over the terrace wall just above our heads.
“Who could expect he’d use his father’s title?”
“Not the cretins I sent here to watch, obviously. Two of you check the walls. The rest of you into the lair. The vermin will not escape us this time.”
“Hurry,” I whispered to MacAllister as I yanked the small knife from my skirt and the longer one from the strap on my leg. “Go on down. I’ll take care of these bastards from behind and catch up with you.”