Chapter Eleven

E ron's head hurt worse than the time he'd fallen from a tree while learning to hunt mountain goats with Kene. He'd been confined to bed then, not the unyielding surface he currently found himself on. Every muscle ached. What, exactly, had he done last night?

The hard surface at his back must be a stone floor. Staring into the darkness didn't give him any information, so he stood, walking in one direction with his hands out in front of him, chains clanking from the shackles on his ankles. Stone. He followed the stone to a corner, then nearly tripped over something. Ah, a bed. More stone, more stone, corner… bars.

Bars meant cells. The last few hours returned to him. Wait. Hadn't there been an enchanted mist?

Eron followed the wall to the bed and sat. Why had he been captured alive? To torment? Did someone want information on Kene? After all, he and Kene had plagued the king's visitors throughout Bain's reign. Eron reached into his shirt. No medallion. Some thieving soldier likely now wore it or planned to court some woman with the trinket.

The mage was supposed to have met Eron. Where was he?

The stone still lay in Eron's pocket. The stone purported to change his appearance so no one would know of Eron's kinship to the last king. Was this that crazy old mage's way of getting Eron into the castle? Why not slip him in as a servant if he must be here?

Eron rose and paced the limited space. One pace, two paces, wall. Now, the other way. One pace, two paces, bars. Well, there went a few seconds. What now?

Heavy steps and the click, click, click of hard soles grew nearer. Eron braced himself for what might come. Whoever approached most certainly fell into the foe category, but a pretty face and prettier words might sway a guard.

Gods had blessed Eron with both.

The man came, holding aloft a lantern, the scowl on his face betraying his feelings. So, he didn't want to be here either. There went any chances of Eron flirting his way out of the cell. Or acquiring a blanket to drive back the chill. The stone walls would make the space unbearably cold in a few ten-days.

"Well, well, thief. We've finally stopped your reign of terror. Soon, we'll have your accomplice, too, my dear Estian." The man frowned, which didn't help his already dour appearance. Shadows chiseled his features into the angular likeness of Chan, God of the Unredeemed.

Eron lifted his chin in defiance, using an Estian accent. Why would this man think Eron was Estian? Whatever the reason, the ruse would keep suspicion away from Kene and her home in Dillane. "You couldn't fight me like a man? Had to have a mage knock me out with magic? Why go through the trouble if you only plan to kill me?" What good were all the sword lessons if an opponent resorted to magery?

"At the moment, you're of more use to me alive than dead, Lord Night."

"Alas, I am but Lordling. If it's my accomplice you're after, don't use me as a lure. He's done with me and deserted me. He'll never come."

"What a lovely idea, but no. I have better plans for you."

I have better plans. Not we. "I do not know who you are, but doesn't the king pull your strings like a child with a puppet?"

The man's sneer was a thing of beauty. "I am His Grace Crau Neueld, Duke of Fairweather and former commander of the king's guard, though I still assume the role when called upon to do so by King Bain."

"You must not have been a very good commander if you lost the position."

"I didn't lose the position," Crau snapped. Oh, how easily he riled. "I was given the honor of a dukedom."

"There was already a duke at Fairweather. I doubt he surrendered his home willingly."

"Many loyal to that fool Lothan received their just rewards."

Darkness hid Eron's flinch. He kept his voice even though he seethed inside. "There's an Estian bird that will wait for hours for something in its death throes to die. Then, the bird swoops down and picks the carcass clean. You bring that bird to mind."

Crau thrust his hand through the bars, but Eron stepped back from his grasping fingers. "I have plans for you, my thief. After a few days of the king's hospitality, you'll be desperate to do anything I say." He whirled in dramatic fashion, making the lantern light flicker. His boot heels led away from Eron's cell.

Well, that was… certainly something. What, Eron couldn't say at the moment. His very existence seemed to annoy Crau, and yet the arrogant peacock of a man didn't appear inclined to commit murder outright.

Interesting, useful, and possibly a huge mistake.

A soft glow shone outside the bars a short time later. Eron wouldn't call out. The glow grew closer—a shuttered lamp. Whoever approached kept their footsteps quiet, a lesson Kene had taught Eron from an early age.

"Shh…" someone said from the direction of the light. "The guard would be highly disappointed to discover I slipped by him, as would his commander. As much as their annoyance would please me, now is not the time."

"Who are you?"

"A… friend. Are you hungry? Thirsty?" The man unshuttered the lamp partway and handed Eron a cup. "Drink."

Should Eron trust him? Well, what choice did he have? The guards certainly didn't seem to have left him with sustenance. He gratefully drained the cup and handed it back to his benefactor.

The man with the lamp chuckled while untying a sack from his waist and handing it to Eron. "Here, this is all I could find for food. Were we at an inn, I'd complain most loudly to the cook."

The sack containing bread and cheese might well have been a feast—a brief one, given how fast Eron ate.

"I'll get you more, but it wouldn't do for the guards to see you well-fed and watered. They cannot know I'm here."

That rich tenor poured over Eron's senses. He'd heard many cultured voices and many crass ones, but none so distinct as what currently emerged from the shadows. "You never answered my question. Who are you?"

The man didn't answer immediately, but finally said, "A man who brings you food and drink. Who might you be?"

Eron debated the answer. He couldn't reveal his given name, and Edry might connect him to Lady Kennestone. Still, Edry was a common enough name. "You may call me Edry."

The man tested the name. "Edry. But that's actually not your name."

"It's what I've been called since I was a lad." True enough.

The man chucked. "All right, Edry. You can call me Cap."

"Cap? What kind of name is Cap?"

The man placed the lantern on the floor and leaned one shoulder against the bars, arms folded across his chest. His face remained in shadow, though the muscles in his arms bunched nicely. "One I've been called since I was a bit older than a lad. Do you know why you were brought here?"

How much should Eron tell this stranger? It would be easy to win a man's trust with a clandestine visit, food, and water if this visit was meant to gain knowledge. "I do not know." Again, Eron offered a bit of truth. Sooner or later, he'd have to lie outright, without a doubt.

"Is it because you rob the king's visitors or perhaps something more?"

So much for Eron keeping secrets, "I have been accused of such, yes. However, when they accosted me, I had nothing on me but a medallion given to me by a… friend. One of the bastards took it."

"They brought you in alive, which they've never done for a highwayman before," Cap mused, as though simply making idle conversation.

"And you would know?"

"Yes, I'd know. After all, I've lived far more seasons than I'd like to confess confined to these stone walls."

Eron squinted into the darkness. "Can I see you?"

The man lifted the lamp, removing the shutter. "Only for a moment."

An angelic vision appeared before Eron. "Your hair! It's silver!" Silver hair, silver eyes.…

A guard's uniform.

"It is? I hadn't noticed." Cap chuckled. He was taller than Eron by a few inches and muscular.

"Who are you?" Eron growled. "One of the guards come to taunt me?"

"A friend who wants to help. Sadly, I cannot release you. Not until I'm sure I can get you away from this place. Have no fear, I mean you no harm."

"But you're a guard." Now Eron crossed his arms over his chest. Thinking back to several uniforms Kene kept on hand, he added, "Or you're dressed like one."

"I do not guard the current monster in power."

Eron remained quiet, but Cap didn't elaborate. "Well, there's that, I suppose."

Cap held the lamp higher. "You're…you're.… you look like…" Whatever he planned to say, he kept to himself, substituting, "You're a beautiful man."

So was Cap, though slightly older than Eron, perhaps having seen thirty summers. "I'm glad I meet with your approval, but now isn't the time for flirtation." In other circumstances, more than flirting might happen. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because, Edry, it matters not who you really are. You're still a far better man than King Bain." Cap spat the title.

Eron gave a bow. "Once again, I'm glad to meet with your approval."

"So, how should we pass the time? Tell stories? We could play cards, but I have none." Cap sounded so casual, as though they weren't meeting on the opposite sides of cell bars.

Some of the bravado bled from Eron. "Why don't you stay right there, letting me know I'm not alone?" He lowered himself to the bed. Straw poked his ass, but at least it was a mattress. He'd worry about vermin later. For now, he laid his head on his folded arms.

Cap sang, keeping his voice low. The words tickled a memory that Eron couldn't quite grasp. He closed his eyes, letting the melody soothe him. The man truly possessed a lovely singing voice.

Eron awoke alone.