Even an entire army would have trouble getting into this citadel, Shea thought.
Then it occurred to him that getting out might turn out to be every bit as hard as getting in.
“You’re sure about this?” Shea asked Panamon Creel impulsively, but the thief just smiled.
They rode out of the badlands and up to the huge gates, Panamon leading the way and showing no particular concern for what lay ahead. When they arrived at the walls, he called up to the watch to let them enter, giving his name. To the surprise of the Ohmsford brothers, the gates opened almost at once, allowing them to pass through and enter a courtyard where they were met by other guards. They dismounted, and their horses were taken from them and led away. A member of the household staff, clearly identifiable by his more ornate garb, came out to meet them and led them inside.
The interior of the stronghold wasn’t much to look at, consisting for the most part of stone–block walls lacking decoration or softness; hard, bare surfaces were clearly the preferred decor. They passed down countless hallways, climbed dozens of steps, and entered and departed numerous chambers before finally reaching a dining room where they were met by other members of the household staff and taken to seats at a long wooden table. Platters of food were brought, and they were urged by their guide to eat all they wanted. All three were hungry enough not to argue the matter or ask after their host, and they set about consuming everything in sight. Ale was poured and musicians appeared from behind curtains, and all at once it felt like a festive celebration.
“Why are they so happy to see us?” Shea asked Panamon at one point, leaning close so that the attendants wouldn’t hear.
The thief shrugged. “I told you. Chule considers me a friend. He’s trying to make an impression.”
Shea let the matter drop and went back to eating the first good meal they’d enjoyed since leaving the Vale. But just as he was finishing, he noticed that a number of guards from the gates had entered the room and were standing watch at all the doors. A sickening feeling swept through him.
He was about to alert Flick when a small, ferret–faced man with a thick mop of black hair and a heavy mustache entered the room and called out to Panamon in a surprisingly deep voice.
“Well met, old friend!” he boomed. “Welcome, welcome!”
Panamon rose at once and moved out to greet him with arms open wide. Hugs and backslapping followed, and Shea thought it all just a little overdone given what Panamon had come here to do. But he supposed the thief felt it was necessary or he wouldn’t be doing it.
When they finally ended their embrace, Kestra Chule turned to Shea and Flick. “And these are your young friends.” He made it a statement of fact. Smiling broadly, his hands extended, he walked over to greet them. “Welcome to my home. So good of you to come.”
He shook their hands and then looked past them. “Guards,” he called out.
Before they realized what was happening, Shea and Flick had been seized and their wrists bound. Without a word to either of them, Panamon stepped forward, reached into Shea’s tunic, and withdrew the pouch containing the Elfstones.
“Sorry about this, Shea,” he said, hefting the pouch as he smiled at the Valeman. “Some things can’t be helped.”
He turned away and presented the Elfstones to Chule. The other man eagerly loosened the drawstrings and dumped the contents into his hand. “Oh, my! Look at this. The only ones of their kind, and now they belong to me!”
Shea felt a surge of fury on watching the man fondle and caress the Elfstones. But even now he could not bring himself to believe that this had been Panamon’s sole plan. They had been friends for too long, had gone through so much together. He knew Panamon Creel and he trusted him. For Panamon to betray him like this was unthinkable.
“You are the lowest sort of vermin!” Flick was screaming at the thief. “You are worse than any snake!”
“Now, now,” Panamon soothed. “Name–calling is pointless. Best just to accept things for what they are, Flick.”
Shea tried to think. “You know you can’t use them,” he said to Chule. “No one who isn’t an Elf can. You’ve stolen them for nothing.”
“You don’t understand, Shea,” Panamon said. “Kestra doesn’t have any interest in using the Elfstones. He simply wants to add them to his collection of rare artifacts. The Stones are more valuable and unique than the Irix; anyone who is a serious collector would want them for his own.”
“At our expense,” Flick spat at him.
“Unfortunately.”
Chule was dumping the Elfstones back in their pouch as the thief turned to him. “Better make sure you lock those away somewhere safe,” he cautioned. “Others will hear of this and try to find a way to relieve you of them.”
“Oh, I don’t think I have to worry about that,” the other said, grinning. “This is a difficult place to break into. Nevertheless, I will lock them away with my other treasures.”
“You’ll keep our bargain, I trust?” Panamon asked.
“You mean the gold I promised you? Of course.”
“I mean keeping these young men as your guests overnight and then releasing them in the morning.”
Kestra Chule frowned. “I don’t imagine they can do anything to hurt me. But still, we’ll see. I’ll have to think on it. Guards!” He beckoned. “Escort our young friends to their quarters. Lock them in and keep them there until morning. I’ll decide what to do with them then.” He glanced at Panamon. “That’s the best I can do, I’m afraid.”
Panamon smiled and shrugged. “Then why don’t we sit and celebrate the successful completion of our arrangement with a glass of ale?”
Guards grabbed Shea and Flick and steered them across the floor and out of the room. “Release their bonds once you have them safely inside their quarters and ready to be locked up for the night!” Chule called after them as they were led away. “Good night, young friends! Sleep well!”
And with that the brothers were hustled from the room and down a succession of passageways and through countless doors deep into the bowels of the stronghold. For a time, Shea tried to keep track of their progress, but he soon grew so confused that he gave it up. The one thing he was certain about was that they were not going to find their way out easily.
Finally, they passed down a hallway with cell doors on either side, stopped at one midway down, and were ushered through the doorway, where two guards held each Valeman in turn while a third cut the bonds that secured his wrists. Then they were shoved down on their knees while the guards backed out and the door was secured.
The brothers stood together in silence as the footfalls receded and finally disappeared.
* * *
“I’m getting the Elfstones back,” Shea declared, pacing the narrow confines of their prison cell. “I don’t know how, but I’m going to.”
Flick sat glumly on the thin pallet rolled out on his wooden slat bed, his head in his hands. “We should never have come here in the first place.”
Shea stopped and looked at him. “What? And miss out on these fine accommodations?”
Flick returned his gaze. He was not smiling. “I told you this would happen. I warned you. This was Panamon’s plan all along. He was always after the Elfstones.”
Their cell was roughly ten feet by ten feet, the walls windowless and the floor bare. The iron door through which they had entered provided the only exit. Except for a pair of rudimentary beds and a single wooden table with a candle on it, the room was empty of everything but themselves.