“I don’t think you know. But I think you will help me. I saw the way you watched my horses. I need clothes, Gram. A weapon better than this stone. I need any help you can give—if you are for the rebels.”
She went to a cupboard and rummaged among clothes, then drew forth a full skirt of brown hearthspun and a gray linen smock. “You will have to go barefoot; my shoes won’t fit, nor will Kiri’s. You will not be able to fasten the skirt, but you can tie the belt. The smock will be tight in the shoulders.”
He dressed quickly and found the skirt hit him at mid-calf. The loose smock covered him well enough, and he tied over his head the scarf she offered. She adjusted it so it covered more of his face. “We will go the back way.”
“We?”
“I will lead you. Unless you are more familiar with the palace than I. You will be less suspect as one of a pair of old women than going alone. You must walk like a woman, and keep your face down.”
“The upper treasure room first, the one near the parapet.”
She nodded. “That stone weapon of yours could break a lock, I suppose.” She took from a cupboard a finely made sword, in a scabbard. He buckled the scabbard on, then tied over it the apron she handed him, grinning at her.
“You are very resourceful.”
She didn’t answer but led him out and along the path to the south. She carried only a lantern, unlit. “Do try to bend over, Prince Tebmund. And take smaller steps. No old woman has that kind of stride.”
Below them in the streets the fighting had moved to the north and eastward toward the harbor. When he turned to look back, toward the sea in the north, he could see no movement in the sky there; nor could he see any ships. Just down the hill, half a dozen bodies sprawled. A band of riderless horses galloped up the road toward the palace, reins and stirrups flying.
Gram entered through a small gate in the palace wall. They passed the servants’ quarters, then climbed a narrow stair in darkness, holding hands. They went along an upper passage, Gram careful and certain. “Here,” she said, “this is the door.” He reached out, could feel the oak and the crossed metal strapping. Behind them, they heard footsteps, then saw a light down the hall. They moved away, pressing into a niche beside a cupboard. A soldier passed them swinging his lantern, jingling keys.
It was the treasure room door the soldier opened. His light shone in on barrels and crates and a scattering of gold goblets and bowls. Teb hit him on the head with the stone. He dropped at their feet. Teb pocketed his keys and dragged him inside, then stood surveying the chamber.
There was no sense of bright power here, as there had once been outside the door. The barrels and crates would take all night to open and the effort turn out useless. Teb locked the door and they went on, winding through black passages by Gram’s sense of the palace until at last she had to stop and strike flint to light her lantern. A quarter hour later, they descended a narrow stair, going steeply down. The air felt damp and smelled of mold. They went along a cleft in the mountain where no pretense had been made to smooth the walls.
When they came to a metal-clad door, Teb tried the five keys but none would turn. Gram removed a clasp from her hair and, as he held the lantern, she poked it into the lock, twisting delicately. He had to laugh. A dragon would have melted the lock with one breath, but now he had only Gram, trying to pick it with a trinket of tin.
Chapter 18
The setting sun stained the sky with blood, mirroring the blood in Dacia’s streets, and still the royal armies wheeled after rebels that struck from behind, then vanished to strike again. The king’s frustrated troops took as prisoners the confused townsfolk they found cowering in corners and abandoned shops, unwilling to fight for either side. These were herded into makeshift cells, and the doors and windows were nailed shut.
In some quarters the rebel army tried to force the uncertain townsfolk to stand ground against the king, but found only a useless, cowering lot on their hands. On a corner near the quays, Garit’s forty raiders fled from a green-clad battalion and vanished, then silently attacked from behind. They confiscated the dead soldiers’ uniforms and pulled them on, and took the uninjured horses and the weapons. So a new king’s band rode through Dacia, joining other king’s soldiers, then turning on them with the king’s own swords. It was the only attack they could master now, for in many quarters of the city the dark forces were winning.
But the dark leaders got no new reinforcements from the sea as they had expected. No boat stirred the waters, and still the sky was patrolled by the three dragons.
Atop the stone watchtower, Kiri and Camery killed five horsemen, and saw them relieved of their yellow tunics and their weapons and wandering mounts. The false army grew slowly against the larger forces of the dark. But the dark lusted for battle and took strength from seeing men die.
In the back of the barrelwright’s storeroom behind stacks of oak timbers and lathes, children kept the stew pot boiling, dished up meals and tended wounds. There were too many wounded and not enough blankets or bandages. In the chandler’s, weapons were passed out the back door. In the sleeping loft of a tavern, four young girls picked off the king’s soldiers with heavy slingshots and sharp stones. Along the coast the great cats massed, charging into side streets to cripple and stampede the king’s horses and kill the fallen riders with quick, bone-crushing skill.
Teb and Gram could hear the lock’s insides move, but they couldn’t get it open with her hair clasp. At last he took the stone to it, pounding until it gave way with a loud snap, scattering its parts across the stone floor. He pulled the door open; Gram held the lamp high.
The cave had a tall ceiling and was so deep the light melted away before it reached the back. The floor could not be seen for the piles of silver and gold that reflected the guttering light. There were shields and caskets, pitchers and plateware and urns and saddlery, gold bedposts and chamber pots and tall, gold-crusted chairs with laddered backs. Casks and chests stood open, with jewels spilling to the floor.
But Teb surveyed the treasure room with disappointment. There was no sense of the lyre here, no hint of the magic he had felt in the palace above. Then Gram caught her breath sharply and he spun, sword drawn.
Accacia stood in the doorway flanked by four green-clad soldiers, their blades catching the light. Teb flung the lamp at them and spilled fire over one, struck another with a blow that sent him rolling among the treasure, moaning. He faced the other two crouching, and caught a glimpse of Gram snatching up something bright from the treasure heap. He countered the two blades, trying not to be backed into the tangle of treasure and tripped, fighting close and hard with short jabs. Soon one soldier was down, but the other had drawn a knife and ducked under Teb’s blows—then he went down suddenly, his head lolling against his shoulder. Gram stood over him, the hilt of a gold ax tight in her two thin hands. Accacia snatched up his fallen blade and swung. Teb tripped her, forced the blade from her, and forced her down with his knee. She glowered up at him as he pulled off the heavy cord that bound her hair.
“Tie her hands, Gram.”
Gram tied her hands roughly, the two scowling at each other. There was no love between these two. Accacia’s eyes were hard, her mouth set in a scowl.
Teb looked her over coldly. “Why did you come here? Why did you follow us?”
She stared at him, mute and furious.
“You came because you knew I would search for the lyre,” he said more gently. “But why didn’t you just tell the king, let him deal with me?”
Her look remained defiant, but he saw a flash of some deeper anger, too.