“Yes, he is. So was Hawkins.” The Vorquelf drew his knees up and rested his arms on them. “That was why Hawkins had to die.”
Will leaned heavily on the foot of the bed and shook his head. “I don’t believe it. How could Crow be Hawkins?”
“Because he was too trusting. The basic story is true. Hawkins accompanied Lord Norrington, your grandfather, and Leigh Norrington, your father, on the last war against Chytrine. That was a quarter century ago. Along the way your father found a terrible sword, Temmer. It made him invincible in battle, though not invulnerable. The price the wielder paid was that he would lose his last battle.
“That last battle came at Fortress Draconis. Chytrine had one ancient sullanciri—an undead hoargoun. You saw some of the frost giants at Svoin, though this one had been dead long before I was born. It used fear the way a skunk uses stink. The warriors who faced it broke and ran, your father among them. Only two men stood to oppose it.”
Will looked up. “At that interior gate?”
Resolute nodded solemnly. “Your father had run, and Scrainwood with him. Hawkins ran, too, but his fear was for your father. He found him, took Temmer from him, and slew the sullanciri‘’
“Really?” The young thief frowned. “I never heard that.”
“Those who were there knew it, but many had been so fear-mad they seldom wanted to think about that whole battle.”
“You said two men stood against it. The other was Princess Alexia’s father, wasn’t it?”
The Vorquelf nodded. “You saw the plaza at Fortress Draconis. You saw where he died. Hawkins couldn’t save him, but he saved many others. Because of that, he was selected to go north with your grandfather and King Augustus, to chase after Chytrine’s retreating army. When Chytrine split off from the army, Hawkins was allowed to join the band heading after her.”
“Of course; he had Temmer.”
“No. Temmer was shattered killing the sullanciri” The Vorquelf’s head turned toward the sword with the keystone pommel. “That is Tsamoc, and the sword Hawkins carried as he went after Chytrine.”
Will nodded. He’d seen Crow use the sword in battle. It had a glowing, opalescent gem set in the blade’s forte. The sword had enough magick in it to been using it at the time.
“That band of heroes knew they were off on a suicide mission, but they went anyway. Only it turned out to be worse than that, for Chytrine trapped them. She slew some, hurt others badly, but turned all to her will. She made them into her new sullanciri, since the old ones had been slain. And she tortured Hawkins, physically and mentally. She offered to make him her consort, to give him all of the Southlands if he would lead her troops.
“Hawkins refused and survived her attempt to kill him. He came south and reported to the crowned heads what Chytrine had told him: that the children of that day would never live to see their own children mature. She vowed to invade again, and everyone knew her threat was a potent one.”
Will frowned. “But if things are as you say, then Hawkins did nothing wrong. Why does Scrainwood want him dead?”
“Scrainwood’s hatred for Hawkins runs deep. Scrainwood wanted Temmer for himself. He wanted to be a hero, but instead he proved a coward. Hawkins knew it. But, more importantly, the kings and queens faced a problem. Okrannel had fallen to Chytrine, and that scared a lot of people. They knew that if Chytrine’s threats were made common knowledge, there would be panic. People would revolt. The safety people craved would mean their sons and daughters would be sent off to die fighting for Okrannel. It was the same reasoning they have used when they refuse to liberate my homeland, Vorquellyn. Hawkins had to be destroyed so he would never be believed.”
Resolute’s chin came up. “In Yslin, in Fortress Gryps, Hawkins’ father stripped him of his mask. His father told him he had no son named Tarrant. It wasn’t quite then that Crow was born, but that was surely when Hawkins died. We Vorquelves took him in, because we know what it is to be without a home. And we knew Hawkins couldn’t be the person they said he was.”
Resolute smiled, his eyes narrowing at the same time. “Not long after I met Hawkins, he vowed he’d see Vorquellyn liberated in his lifetime. Just as Oracle knew you were part of a prophecy, part of the web of events that would lead to Vorquellyn’s redemption, so we knew Hawkins was part of it, too. Because of that, we knew the rumors had to be false.”
Will blinked. “You’re telling me all this, and yet you’re not helping me to free him? Fat lot of good his execution will do your island’s redemption.”
Resolute shook his head fiercely. “You’re missing it, boy; think. For over two decades Crow never set foot in Oriosa. Why? Because we knew, at some point, someone would let the truth slip. Vorquelven minstrels started the Squab songs. They started the rumor that Hawkins had killed himself, and people believed it because they thought a traitor ought to have the decency to kill himself in shame. Later, the same minstrels started the Kedyn’s Crow songs—all of them true, mind you. Despite all that, though, we knew that coming to Oriosa would be too risky.“
“Why did he do it, then?”
“You can answer that question.”
Will closed his eyes and concentrated. Crow had spent a quarter century fighting Chytrine. He had searched the world for Will, knowing he was the last of the Norrington bloodline, which was prophesied to destroy Chytrine. He’d fought to destroy her troops and to keep her from obtaining a fragment of the DragonCrown. And, coming south, they’d killed another sullanciri and returned Princess Ryhope and her children to Oriosa.
The thief opened his eyes again. “Crow felt that getting here, delivering Ryhope, was worth the risk of his life?”
“Ryhope? You were more important, Will. You are the Norrington.”
Will rolled his eyes. “That’s beside the point. We can’t let Crow rot in that pit they’ve got him in.”
“We won’t, but breaking in and pulling him out isn’t going to work, either. You can be smart, Will, so use your head.”
“I am. Getting him out of jail here will be easier than in Meredo.”
Resolute shook his head. “Think more deeply. Crow’s freedom will be won by something other than a sword.”
Will shifted his shoulders uneasily. “Maybe, but sticking a blade into someone like Call Mably would be fun.”
“And cause more trouble than it would prevent.” The Vorquelf stretched out again. “Think of a solution that would work for a shadow, not a blade.”
The youth sighed mightily. “You’re no help at all.”
“When you have a plan that will work, I will help.”
“The help I need is in making a plan.” Will frowned. “So until then, you’re going to do nothing?”
“No, I’m going to sleep.” Resolute yawned. “Not the whole time it will take you to come up with a plan, however. I doubt I need much more than a week’s sleep.”
The thief stuck his tongue out at the elf. “Well, I’m going down to the common room for inspiration.”
Before Will could reach the door, Resolute called out. “Don’t forget your mask.”
Will stiffened, then pulled it from the peg on the wall. The simple mask of green leather had an orphan’s notch cut beneath the right eyehole. The Oriosan king’s seal had branded the mask above and between the eyes. Will pulled it on. The leather felt cool on his face. As he knotted it, he made sure to catch a strand of hair in the knot, to make the mask a part of him.
He turned and opened his hands. “Satisfied?”
“For now.“
Will slipped from the room and down the short corridor, passing Alexia’s room on the right and Kerrigan’s on the left. He found it annoying that both of them had retired for the evening; he would have thought that they wanted to free Crow as badly as he did. His irritation passed, however, when he thought about what Resolute had forced him to consider.