‘You leave me scant choice,’ he muttered.
‘I would ask you to swear,’ said Naphur, ‘but I’ve learned how little your word means. I leave you, then, with threats instead. Do not return, Corlas. Blades!’
Four large blades entered the cell, moving to unlock the grille.
‘Take him quickly,’ Baygis instructed. ‘Speak of this to no one. Do not shackle him, but if he tries anything, kill him. He is to be led past the wards and then turned free. Make sure he puts down some distance before you return.’
The blades nodded, and ushered the big taskmaster out of the cell.
‘Goodbye, Corlas,’ said Fahren sadly.
Corlas stared ahead with glazed eyes, silent as he was escorted from the cell.
‘Where is he?’ Bel demanded. ‘Where have you taken him?’
He’d caught up with the three men at the entrance chamber of the Open Castle. Baygis stood straight and tall, his face neutral. Naphur’s eyes were troubled, and Fahren’s more so. The old mage had been like a grandfather to him and Bel couldn’t believe that he would hold back at a time like this.
‘Fahren?’ he said.
‘He’s gone,’ said Fahren hesitantly.
‘Gone?’ said Bel. ‘What do you mean?’
‘We did not want to see him answer those charges,’ said Naphur. ‘None of us wish your father executed. Better that he disappear, as quickly as possible, before it gets too difficult to …’
‘To cover it up,’ said Baygis flatly.
Bel fell silent for a moment, remembering his father’s admissions in the cell. Corlas had not been at fault – that damned peacekeeper had brought his fate on himself. How could these three fail to see that?
‘It’s for the best,’ said the Throne, placing a hand on Bel’s shoulder.
Bel glanced down at the hand, then pushed it away. ‘I want to see my father. Where is he?’
‘There is good news with the bad, Bel,’ said Fahren desperately. ‘The Throne has reconsidered your request about Jaya. She is to be released.’
‘Jaya?’ said Bel, momentarily distracted. ‘But she’s been sentenced.’
‘Well …we’ll see about that,’ said Naphur. ‘If you love her, she’s almost family – and perhaps she had a good reason for her crime. If Cydus is guilty of wrongdoing …’
His words did not have the calming effect they’d hoped.
‘That is well!’ spat Bel savagely. ‘Very well indeed, though it could have come sooner. Now tell me where my father is, or I will consider him murdered, as I have no evidence to the contrary. I will be forced to search the Halls for his body, dig up every grave, violate every tomb!’
‘You will do no such thing,’ said Baygis levelly. ‘Do you imagine that your anger grants you ultimate authority?’
‘ After I am convinced that his body isn’t here, I will search for him outside the Halls,’ continued Bel. ‘I will search until I find him and know that he is safe, that he has left of his own accord – which I find hard to believe, given he bade me no farewell.’
‘It is a delicate situation,’ said Fahren. ‘He had to leave as quickly as possible.’
‘And we never claimed he left of his own accord,’ added Baygis. ‘He failed in service to his Throne, and still my father did not wish him dead. He is exiled.’
Suddenly Bel drew his sword, the shine flashing silver along its edge. Baygis raised a protective hand. ‘Bel …’ he warned.
Bel grinned madly, raised the sword to his own breast and slid it between a join in his leather armour.
‘Bel, no!’ said Fahren.
Bel tightened his grip. ‘Where is he?’
‘Lower that sword!’ commanded Naphur.
‘Don’t move,’ said Bel, ‘unless you want me to skewer my half a heart.’
‘You’re bluffing,’ said Baygis.
‘Am I? How can you be sure what I’m capable of? You know that I’m unbalanced, you know that part of my very soul is missing. Oh, I know I’ve been told that all I lack is some dark thing that crawled away – that I am the good it left behind. Nice to believe in such convenience, isn’t it!’ He screamed the last, and tensed his hand.
‘Steady,’ said Fahren. ‘Don’t do anything rash …’
‘Don’t tell me what to do,’ said Bel, backing further away. ‘I’m the one you need. I am your saviour. But I can’t be a saviour if I’m dead, can I?’
The three men looked at each other, knowing they had no choice.
‘The east gate,’ said Naphur quietly, and sighed. ‘That was where he was taken out. The soldiers he was with have not yet returned. Hurry and you will catch him.’
Bel rushed from the hall.
‘This doesn’t bode well,’ said Fahren.
‘I’d better go after him,’ said Baygis, ‘and make sure that he comes back.’
He glanced at his father, who nodded.
‘Be careful.’
‘I will.’
Baygis left swiftly. It was but a few moments later that Naphur and Fahren realised there was nothing else for them to do but follow.
Bel rode hard through the east gate, his sweaty palms slick on the reins. Outside, he cast feverish eyes about the hilly grasslands. White ward stones shone softly in the distance, and he spotted soldiers coming towards him, a group of four on horseback.
‘Have you been with Taskmaster Corlas?’ he called.
The blades looked uncertain about how to reply, which was all the answer Bel needed. He kicked his steed sharply and away he went, riding in the direction the soldiers had come from, following a trail of trampled grass. He passed the wards at speed. The sun was close to setting and orange light coated the hills. Cresting a hill, he spotted movement against a line of trees. Hope flared and, as he drew closer, he saw it was a man on a horse with a pack on his back and an axe at his side. Corlas.
‘Father!’ Bel shouted. Corlas turned in dismay at the sound of his son’s voice. Bel almost fell from the saddle and rushed towards him.
Corlas jumped from his own steed. ‘Go back!’ he shouted.
Bel hardly heard him, and a moment later the two smashed into each other in a brief embrace.
‘Do not leave,’ said Bel. ‘Return with me, and together we will change the Throne’s ruling.’
‘I think not,’ said Corlas, his face stormy. He glanced around uneasily. ‘You must not stay here, Bel. It is not safe.’
‘I’ll ride with you then.’
‘No,’ said Corlas. ‘It’s too dangerous. The Shadowdreamer hunts you still, that you must believe. You must return to the Halls at once.’
‘I do not quail before the Shadowdreamer,’ said Bel. ‘Let him come and face me, and I shall cut off his lips and feed them to him.’
Corlas felt tears filling his eyes. Despite all his anger, he knew that Bel still needed the protection of Naphur and Fahren. ‘Your woman is there,’ he tried. ‘And you will love her in a way you won’t believe possible.’
There was a soft chirping from the tree line. Corlas spun, drawing his axe. ‘You must away from here!’ he shouted to Bel. ‘Now!’
Out of the trees flew a little bird, flashing prettily in the dying light. Corlas bellowed in alarm, raising his axe.
Your weapon is no protection against me, Varenkai, came Iassia’s voice in his head.
Corlas swung as the bird flew over, twittering with laughter as the axe swished uselessly through the air.
I’m so glad to finally see you past the wards, said Iassia. And with your son as well. Too perfect.
The weaver circled them as Corlas stood frozen, all the blood draining from his face. Bel looked on in confusion. ‘What is going on, Father?’