Even so, something in Kaira wanted to find this man, to bring him, kicking and screaming if necessary, to the stairs of her temple. To shout out the Matron Mother, to tell her she had succeeded in the task given, and on her own terms.
Besides that, it was obvious this man wanted Merrick for nothing good. Kaira could not simply stand by and let the Guild find him. Though they were safe within the boundaries of the palace, they could not stay inside its walls forever. It was only a matter of time before the Guild would make their move. And if they found him they would most likely find her, and it was doubtful they’d greet her with smiles and hugs of friendship.
Kaira Stormfall was not the type to wait for trouble to come to her. If there was a fight to be had she would take it right to the enemy’s door.
And this urchin — Rag, the street rat — was the key to it all.
Kaira looked down at the girl, still deciding if she could trust her. Perhaps she had no choice. Was she to torture her for the location of the Guild’s leader? Hand her over to the Inquisition and let Seneschal Rogan use his own inimitable methods? Not likely. Even if Kaira could have allowed such a thing to happen to a young girl, there was no guarantee Rogan wasn’t already in the Guild’s pocket.
‘Do you know what the Guild intends to do with this Merrick Ryder?’ Kaira asked.
Rag shrugged. ‘They didn’t say.’
‘What do you think they’ll do?’
This time there was no shrug. Rag had every idea what they’d do.
‘Nothing good, I’ll wager,’ the girl replied.
‘And you’re happy with that?’
Kaira could see Rag weighing that up. She clearly understood the implications of her actions.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘No I’m bloody not. I’ve …’ She stopped herself.
‘You’ve what, Rag?’
The girl’s brow furrowed into a frown and then her face crumpled. ‘I’ve had enough of watching what they do to people. I’ve had enough of seeing the misery they cause folks. The things they make people do … I only wanted to join up ’cos I was sick of living day to day with nothing to eat and no roof over my head. But they … they …’ She looked down at her hands, squeezed together all white-knuckled, on her lap. ‘All I wanted was somewhere to belong. But I don’t belong with them. I’m just not like them.’
Kaira took Rag’s hands in hers.
‘I can help you,’ she said with a smile. ‘I can protect you from them. Give you a new life if you want it. But you have to help me first. Do you think you can you do that?’
Rag nodded. How could she turn down the prospect of a new life away from Friedrik and his vicious ways. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘This man Friedrik. I want him. And I need you to lure him out so that I can get him.’
Rag understood. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘But how am I going to do that?’
‘He’s after this Merrick. If you tell him you’ve managed to infiltrate the Sentinel barracks, you’ll gain his trust. Say you can lure Merrick out but you’ll need more time. Persuade Friedrik to meet you at a certain time and place when Merrick will be outside the palace. That is when I will strike.’
‘All right,’ said Rag. ‘I can do that.’
She stood up and wiped her eyes dry. Kaira placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders.
‘I can trust you, can’t I, Rag?’
Although Rag’s nod seemed sincere enough, Kaira hoped that Vorena was watching and this girl’s lament about the Guild was indeed genuine.
‘How do I get them to believe me?’ Rag asked. ‘To believe me enough to do what I say?’
Kaira thought for a moment. It would certainly help the girl to persuade Friedrik and the Guild to follow her if she had something to back up her words.
‘Take this,’ Kaira said, removing the Sentinel medallion from around her neck. ‘As a show of trust. It could also help you to convince this Friedrik that you have been successful; that you have found the man he’s looking for. Tell him it belongs to Merrick Ryder.’
Rag took the shiny steel medallion and ran her thumb across the face of it as though the crown and swords emblazoned there might rub off.
‘Thanks,’ she said, putting the medallion round her neck and tucking it inside her shirt. She took it a little too easily, tucked it away rather too deftly, and again Kaira had fleeting doubts. But what choice did she really have?
She guided Rag out of the barracks, across the courtyard and out onto the street beyond.
‘I’m counting on you, Rag,’ Kaira said as they stood in the shadow of Skyhelm.
‘I know,’ the girl replied, and walked quickly away.
Kaira watched her go, hoping her faith would be justified. Only time would tell.
As for Merrick — did he have to know about this? That the Guild had not forgotten about him and were even now planning to kill him? No. He had enough to worry about right now.
Kaira would see this through on her own.
SEVENTEEN
It started raining just before nightfall. Kaira had come to relieve him of duty at the queen’s chamber door and all Merrick wanted right now was to indulge in the luxury of sleep. These past days at the queen’s side had not allowed him or the three other Sentinels the usual amount of respite. They barely had enough time to eat and shit before they were once again on duty. Not that Merrick would have complained — this was his time to shine, to prove himself.
And is that what you want, Ryder? To shine? To show your devotion to the Crown and make your father proud? Or are you fooling yourself? Nothing’s changed, has it, Ryder? You’re still the same useless bastard, only now you’ve got a shiny suit of armour to strut around in.
Making his way through the gates of the barracks he could hear men shouting as they trained in the courtyard beyond. So far he’d managed to avoid the Wyvern Guard, which was fine by him. All they seemed to do was practise, practise, practise. Training themselves to a physical peak, honing their sword skills or beating the shit out of each other just for the fun of it. Merrick had been forced to train hard upon joining the Sentinels, but had never been subjected to anything like this.
The courtyard was full of men stripped to the waist, the rain glistening on their bodies in the lantern light, steam rising off them as they exerted themselves in the cold evening. Two men with canes walked up and down a line of warriors who were performing push-ups. Every man did them in unison. Any man who dropped behind the pace received a whack with the cane.
Despite his fatigue, Merrick was tempted to watch a while from the shelter of the eaves. Part of him envied these men their strength and dedication. Though he was a consummate swordsman who had endured his share of gruelling training, Merrick doubted he would respond well to being beaten. He’d most likely have told them where to shove their bloody canes.
That had always been his problem — too independent, too headstrong. It was an attitude that hadn’t served him well over the past few years, and having someone else making his decisions might have been a good thing. But, you had to play the hand you were dealt the best you could. No use crying over it.
‘Impressive aren’t they?’
Merrick turned to see a grizzled-looking man standing at his shoulder. His hair and beard were close-cropped, his nose a broken mess. From his age and demeanour, and the fact he wasn’t sweating like a pig with the rest of the Wyvern Guard, Merrick guessed he was one of the Lord Marshal’s lieutenants.
‘They’re certainly good at push-ups,’ Merrick replied. ‘Though being beaten with a stick would motivate most men.’
‘Lord Marshal Ryder believes in obedience at all times. Pain is a good reminder of that. Most of these lads have been training under him for years. Long, hard years learning the spear and sword. They’re as disciplined a bunch of men as you’ll find in all the armies of the world.’