«I didn’t ask for excuses or explanations. Just take me to him!»
Once more he tightened his iron grip and finally the gasping captive nodded violently his acquiescence. Menion released him with a snap of his wrist and the nearly throttled man fell dizzily to one knee. Quickly the highlander slipped out of his robe and into his clothing, strapping on the sword and shoving the dagger into his belt. For an instant he thought about arousing Shirl in the next room, but quickly discarded that idea. His plan was dangerous enough, there was no reason to risk her life as well. If he succeeded in freeing his friends, there would be time enough to come back for her. He turned to his captive, drawing the dagger from his belt and holding it up for the other to see.
«The present that you were so kind to bring me will be returned to you, assassin, if you attempt to trick or betray me in any way,” he warned in his most menacing tone of voice. «So don’t try to be clever. When we leave this room, you will take me down the back corridors and stairs to the prison where Balinor and his companions are held. Don’t try to alarm the guards — you won’t be fast enough. If you doubt anything I’ve told you, then understand this. I was sent to this city by Allanon!»
Stenmin seemed to go suddenly white at the mention of the giant Druid and undisguised fear shot into his widening eyes. Apparently cowed into obeying his captor, the scarlet mystic moved silently toward the bedroom door and Menion fell into step directly behind him, the dagger back in his belt with one hand gripping the hilt. Time was the all–important factor now. He had to act quickly, freeing Balinor and the other imprisoned members of the company of friends and seizing the deranged Palance before the members of the palace guard were alerted. Then a quick message to Janus Senpre would bring to their aid those still loyal to Balinor, and the power of the monarchy would be restored without a battle.
Already the massive Northland army would be mobilizing on the grasslands above the island of Kern, preparing to move on Tyrsis. If the Border Legion could be reassembled and deployed quickly enough that day, there was a chance the invader might be stopped on the north shore of the Mermidon. It would be a nearly impossible task to cross that flooded river with a defensive force holding the opposite bank, and it would take the enemy several days to manage a flanking maneuver — more than enough time for the armies of Eventine to reach them. Menion knew it would all depend on the next few minutes.
The two men stepped cautiously into the hallway beyond the room. Menion quickly glanced in both directions for any sign of the black–garbed sentries, but the hall was deserted, and the highlander motioned Stenmin ahead. The mystic reluctantly led his captor toward the inner rooms of the central palace, winding his way along the corridors that ran to the rear of the ancient building, carefully avoiding the occupied rooms. Twice they passed members of the palace guard, but each time Stenmin withheld any comment or greeting, his dark face lowered in grim determination.
Through the latticework of the castle windows, Menion could see the gardens that decorated the grounds of the Buckhannah home, the sunlight falling warmly on the brightly colored flowers. It was already midmorning, and before much longer the normal gathering of visitors and business personages would begin. There had been no sign of Palance Buckhannah, and Menion was hopeful that the Prince was preoccupied with other matters.
As the two walked slowly down the hallways, the sound of voices was distinctly audible in all directions. Servants began to appear in increasing numbers, moving busily about their assigned tasks. When they passed, they pointedly ignored Stenmin and his apparent companion, a good indication that they neither liked nor trusted the mystic. None questioned their presence and at last they approached the massive doorway that led to the castle cellars. Two armed sentries were stationed before the door, and a huge metal bar now held the latches firmly in place.
«Be careful what you say,” Menion cautioned in a sharp whisper as they neared the guards.
They came to a slow halt before the massive cellar door, the watchful highlander placing one hand in a leisurely manner on the hilt of the dagger as he stood close behind Stenmin. The guards glanced curiously at him for a moment, then turned their attention to the King’s adviser, who had begun to address them.
«Open the door, guards. The Prince of Leah and I will inspect the wine cellar and the dungeons.»
«All persons are forbidden to enter this area by order of the King, my Lord,” the guard to the right stated pointedly.
«I am here by order of the King!» Stenmin shouted angrily, causing Menion to give him a warning nudge.
«Sentry, this is the King’s personal counselor — not an enemy of the Kingdom,” the highlander pointed out with a deceiving smile. «We are on a tour of the palace, and since it was I who rescued the King’s betrothed, it was his belief that I might recognize the lady’s abductors. Now if necessary, I shall disturb the King and bring him down here…»
He trailed off meaningfully, praying that the guards would be sufficiently forewarned of Palance’s irrational behavior to think twice about calling him down. The guards hesitated momentarily, then nodded quietly, released the latches on the door and stepped aside, swinging the massive portal open to reveal the stone stairway leading downward. Stenmin again led the way without comment. Apparently he had decided to follow Menion’s instructions to the letter, but the cautious highlander knew that the mystic was no fool. If Balinor were successfully freed and restored to command of the Border Legion, then his own power over the throne of Callahorn would be finished. He would undoubtedly attempt something, but the time and the place had not yet come. The heavy door closed quietly behind them and they began their descent into the torchlit cellar.
Menion saw the trapdoor in the center of the cellar floor almost immediately. The guards had not bothered to conceal it a second time with the wine barrels, but had fastened a series of iron bars and latches across the stone slab, effectively preventing anyone imprisoned below from breaking free. Although Menion could not have known, the prisoners had not been returned to their cells following the aborted escape attempt earlier that same morning. Instead, they had been left to roam in the darkness of the dungeon corridors. Two guards were stationed next to the sealed opening, their attention now focused on the two men who had just been admitted from the palace. Menion saw a plate of cheese and bread resting half eaten on one of the wine barrels and two cups of wine placed next to a half–drained flask. They had been drinking. The highlander smiled slightly.
As the two reached the stone flooring, Menion pretended to glance about the wine cellar in great interest, beginning a jovial conversation with the silent Stenmin. The guards rose slowly and came to attention at the sight of the King’s adviser, who was looking decidedly grim about something. The highlander knew they had been caught off balance by this unexpected visit and he decided to make the most of it.
«I see what you mean, my Lord.» He glowered fiercely at the mystic as they drew near to the sentries. «These men have been drinking while on duty! Suppose the prisoners should have escaped while these men lay in a drunken stupor? The King must be told of this as soon as we have finished our business here.»
The guards turned pale with fear at mention of the King.
«My Lord, you are mistaken,” the one pleaded hastily. «We were only taking a little wine with our breakfast. We have not been lax…»
«The King should decide that.» Menion cut him off with a wave of his hand.
«But… the King will not listen…»
Stenmin glowered in fury at the deception, but the guards misunderstood and quickly assumed he meant to have them punished. The mystic tried to say something, but Menion moved quickly in front of him, as if in an effort to restrain his advance toward the unfortunate guards, drawing the dagger and holding it close to the man’s unprotected chest.