Try as he might, Mikel could find no fault with Dace’s plan. Saving the chicks from a freezing death was a good deed, and brave too, when one considered where the nest was located. Although Dace insisted on calling their rescue mission “stealing” he joined in the escapade willingly. His enthusiasm pleased the young thief enormously. He acted almost as happy as his sister Kali, the first time that he had agreed he really did love her.
Strange people, these Medalonians.
“How are we going to get into the Keep?” Mikel demanded as he hurried alongside Dace toward the old fort. Dace had been disturbingly vague on that point. The ground was slushy underfoot from a light snowfall the night before which had turned to mud almost as soon as the sun touched it. Mikel hated this Medalonian weather. He fervently wished it would snow properly, like it did in Yarnarrow or Kirkland, not this half-hearted mucky stuff that fell from the skies every few days with no other purpose than to make everything muddy and damp.
“They change the guard just before sundown,” Dace explained. “We’ll sneak in then.”
Mikel had not been inside Treason Keep since the day he had been interrogated by Tarja and Lord Wolfblade. He tried hard not to think of that day. The memories still hurt too much for him to be able to recall them willingly. Even the Keep’s unofficial name seemed to taunt him.
“But aren’t there guards on the tower?”
“Lord Jenga says it’s too dangerous up there and not worth repairing. The guards stay on the wall-walk. Once we get inside, we’ll be fine.” Mikel could hardly question such a confident assurance, so he trudged alongside the thief and prayed to the Overlord that Dace was right. “Besides,” Dace added cheerily, “It’s Founder’s Day. Lord Jenga declared a holiday. There won’t be many guards on duty.”
“What’s Founder’s Day?”
“It’s when the Medalonians celebrate the day they stole Medalon from the Harshini.” Dace suddenly stopped walking and grinned at Mikel. “Now that was an interesting time, let me tell you! The others were steaming mad. Of course, a theft on that scale made me stronger than Zegarnald for a time, but then the Sisterhood launched their purge and the fighting started and I went back to being just plain old me. It was fun for a while, though.”
“Dace, what are you talking about?”
The thief shrugged. “Nothing. Come on, we’d better hurry. It’s almost sundown and we won’t be able see the nest in the dark.”
Shaking his head, Mikel hurried after Dace. The boy had a habit of wandering off like that. It was very disconcerting.
As Dace predicted, they were not challenged as they passed through the gate into the Keep. The Defenders barely even glanced at them. Mikel followed as he walked boldly across the muddy yard to the dangerously crumbling steps that led to the tower. As they carefully climbed the broken stairs, Mikel understood why Lord Jenga had condemned the tower. The masonry wobbled under even his slight weight.
The sun appeared to be resting on the steep peaks of the Sanctuary Mountains as they reached the top of the tower. It was a blocky, square structure but the merlons had crumbled and in one corner there was nothing but a pile of fallen rubble, almost as tall as Mikel. It was to the pile that Dace led him, squeezing in through the narrow opening between the rubble and the wall. It smelled musty in the tiny cave formed by the ruined masonry, but the mother swallow had picked her location well. The nest was protected from the wind and from the eye of any roving hawk looking for an easy meal.
“See! Five eggs!” Dace declared.
“I can’t see a thing!” he complained. It was so dark inside the little cavern he could only make out Dace from his glittering eyes.
“Look, it’s over...”
“Sshhh!” Mikel froze as the sound of footsteps reached him. He turned slightly, so he could see outside.
It was Princess Adrina. He bit back a cry of surprise as a man joined her on the tower. The Hythrun Warlord’s profile was sharp against the setting sun.
“I trust you have a reason for this perilous expedition?” the princess demanded as she turned to stare out over the plain.
“I thought you might enjoy the view, your Highness.”
Damin Wolfblade really should learn to speak to the princess with more respect.
“It’s lovely. Can we go now?”
“Tell me what you see.”
“I see nothing, and I’m freezing. Is this really necessary?”
“You see nothing,” Damin repeated thoughtfully. “Interesting, don’t you think?”
“You find nothing interesting? Well, that’s hardly surprising for a man of your limited intellect.”
Mikel grinned in the darkness of his hidey-hole. That’s telling him!
“Adrina, a few leagues from here, your husband’s army sits and waits. They do nothing. They don’t attack. They don’t train. They don’t even run away. They just sit there, waiting for something. I want to know what they’re waiting for.”
Adrina turned north, her expression puzzled. Rather than the biting retort Mikel was expecting, she shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Were they planning something, before you left? Something that would account for their willingness to hold an army of that size immobile for so long?”
“I’d tell you if I knew. Their war council did little more than argue, and you’ve already seen their idea of battle. The Dukes of Karien are not renowned for their tactical genius. When you have countless troops to throw into battle it isn’t really necessary.”
Mikel wasn’t sure he believed what he was hearing. They sounded so... friendly.
“Could one of the Dukes have advised him to wait?”
“Lord Roache may have,” Adrina shrugged.
“What did the Duke of Setenton advise?”
“Lord Terbolt? He’s not there. He sent his brother Ciril in his place.”
The warlord frowned. “Terbolt isn’t there? He’s Jasnoff’s most trusted commander. Where is he?”
“I don’t know. Cratyn didn’t seem surprised by his absence, though. Perhaps Jasnoff had other plans for him.”
“What other plans?” Damin asked, the concern in his voice obvious even to Mikel.
“I was permitted to join their war council rather begrudgingly, my Lord. They weren’t in the habit of discussing anything of import while I was present.”
Damin laughed softly. “Not an unwise precaution, in light of recent events.”
Adrina turned on the Warlord. “That remark was uncalled for, my Lord.”
Damin sighed. “That’s right, I forgot. You aren’t committing treason, you just want to be free.”
“Free! Get this damned collar off my neck, then I might remember what the word means!”
As Damin moved closer to her, Mikel wanted to leap to the defence of his princess, but Dace held him back.
“No!” the thief whispered.
Burning with frustration and not at all certain why he remained hidden, Mikel turned back to watch, thinking the Warlord was much too close to the princess to be proper.
Damin was fingering the golden collar Adrina wore with surprisingly gentle fingers. It reflected the setting sun, making the wolf’s ruby eyes glitter malignantly. Adrina’s rigid posture betrayed more than she imagined.
“What would you give to be free, Adrina?” he asked softly.