The Sorcerer's Oath - Books 1-2

Chapter 3-3

With a conscious effort Tarkyn pushed his cloak back and sat down, spreading his hands wide. “So there you have it.” It went against all his instincts and upbringing to present himself for comment to anyone but the king. But he had never been in such an invidious position before and could think of nothing else to do, if he wanted their help.

The taller man gave a small chuckle, “You’re in one b****y great pickle then, aren’t you, my lord?”

The shorter one whistled, “And you thought we were bad. We’re just petty thieves. But you, Your Highness! You’ve committed high treason, and destroyed a whole public building… Well, they’ll say you did, whether you did or not. You’re in a league of your own.”

“And you’re no master criminal, that’s for sure,” cackled the old grandmother. “You’ve cut the ground from under your feet, good and proper. Now we know you won’t hurt Morayne and probably not any of the rest of us either. You’re too much of a gentleman, Your Highness. Not wise to have told us that.”

The prince considered her, unsure whether she spoke a warning or a threat. After a moment he shrugged and gave her a faint smile, “I have placed my fate in your hands and my faith in your honour. Was that so unwise?”

She stared at him, stunned. And as she thought about it, she realised that what he said was true. He was no longer using force. And hard upon that came the realization that no one outside the family, let alone a prince, had ever even conceived that she might be honourable, let alone staked his or her life on it.

“You really have, haven’t you?” A slow smile appeared on her sharp, wrinkled face. The grandmother put hand on her heart and bowed. “No, Your Highness, that was not unwise. You do us great honour and we will live up to your faith in us.”

A short time later, Tarkyn heard her berating her tribe as they left, “Now, not a word to anyone. Do you understand? I know this is the biggest news we’ve ever had but we can’t tell people. Not anyone. Got it?”

There then followed a long, tedious wait. Tarkyn prowled the inside perimeter of the warehouse, then paced back and forth across the floor until he felt he knew every stone and scrap of rubbish intimately. He tested the rear doors and found that they were all locked. The only way out was through the gaping front door at the front of the building. If his thieving family brought back the city guard, he was trapped.

He considered using a blast of magic to destroy a lock in a back door but he hesitated to betray his uncertainty in their honour. Sooner or later they, and in particular the old grandmother, would notice what he had done.

After two hours, his nerves were worn thin with apprehension. He crossed to the front door for the umpteenth time and peered out from within the shadows. Always there were people within his line of sight, carrying goods down to the river docks or hurrying about their business. And everywhere he could see animated knots of people standing and talking in the morning sunshine, arms waving in graphic description. Even from a distance, it was clear that last night’s events were dominating the town.

Tarkyn sighed and retired into the gloom of the derelict warehouse to sit dispiritedly against a wall. He pulled his hood up and tried to doze, knowing he had slept little last night and would have to travel again tonight. But he was too much on edge and every slight sound from outside jerked him back to wakefulness. After a while, he gave up and renewed his prowling.

Finally, when the sun was near its zenith, the taller man slipped quietly into the warehouse. He gestured for Tarkyn to be quiet and to follow him to a dark recess at the rear of the building. He shrugged a heavy bag off his shoulder before bowing briefly to the prince.

“Where have you been?” hissed Tarkyn. “And where are the others?”

“Your Highness, soldiers are everywhere. We had to travel far across town in case someone wondered where we got your pin. Then we split up and are all coming back by different routes, making sure we’re not followed. Your life wouldn’t be worth a small tasty sausage out there at the moment.” He glanced sympathetically at the prince. “You’re worth just as much dead as alive to the king, and most people want you dead.”

Although he had known this would happen, still Tarkyn’s stomach knotted. “And how much is the reward?” he managed to ask casually.

The taller man’s mouth quirked in a half smile, “I don’t rightly know, Sire. Town criers came through earlier this morning and they’ll be posting up notices this afternoon. But rumours are flying so hard and fast that it’s difficult to tell what the town criers actually said.”

“What is your name?” Tarkyn was suddenly aware of this man as more than just one member of a thieving family.

“Tomas, Sire.”

“And so, Tomas, were you tempted?”

“Tempted? No Sire. Honour amongst thieves, so to speak. Not that you’re a thief, Your Highness – I didn’t mean that. But you are firmly on the wrong side of the law now, just as we are, and under our protection. Besides,” Tomas gave an embarrassed shrug, “the chance even to meet you, let alone talk to you and do you a service is beyond my wildest dreams. In my whole lifetime, I have never come within a hundred yards of anyone in your family and even then it was only a glimpse at a parade.”

Tarkyn was saved from responding to this by the advent of Morayne, followed at discrete intervals by the rest of the family. The grandmother was last to arrive. Like the others, she dropped a heavy bag on the floor before bowing to Tarkyn. “Your Highness, there are soldiers at the top of the road conducting a door to door search. We must hide you.” In a complete change of voice, she said sharply, “Come on you lot! We’ll have to go down in the cellar. Move that stone.”

Then, to Tarkyn’s intense interest, the five of them trained their variously coloured beams of magic on a large stone block, slowly pushing it sideways. When he realised what they were doing, he joined his bronze beam to theirs. Immediately, the stone moved noticeably more easily.

“It’s true, innit?” observed the shorter man, “His magic is strong.”

Tomas snorted, “Of course it is. He won the tournament, didn’t he?”

“Nothing to do with it,” snapped the grandmother. “The whole Royal Family’s magic has been strong for generations. Well known.”

“I am right here,” said Tarkyn, with a clear note of annoyance, “should you wish to speak to me rather than about me.”

Tomas flashed him a smile as he continued to train his orange beam on the slowly moving stone. “We’re used to talking about you, not to you, Your Highness. It’s hard to change the habits of a lifetime.”

A reluctant, answering smile broke through the prince’s reserves as he remembered their previous conversation. “Make the most of it, Tomas. Talk to me while you can.” A shout and the sound of running feet further up the road made Tarkyn start in alarm. “Where do you want this blasted stone?” he demanded.

“Another foot should do it.”

Tarkyn focused and sent a pulse of power at the heavy stone, thrusting it away from him the required distance along the floor. A trapdoor now came into sight that had been hidden beneath it. There was a rope attached to the middle of the underside of the stone that fed along a narrow channel cut into the wood of the trapdoor and from there down a hole into the cavity below.

The shorter man drew up the trapdoor and as they all clattered down the ladder, Tomas explained, “There’s a slight slope to the floor. That’s why it’s so hard to push the stone away. But we can pull the stone back over the trap door from within the cellar. All that is left are a few rub marks. And we make sure there are rub marks beside many of the fallen rocks so that this one doesn’t stand out. It’s worked so far.”

“Hmph. Very ingenious. I saw those marks while I was pacing around waiting for you. I vaguely wondered what they were but to be honest with you, my powers of concentration aren’t up to much at the moment.”

As soon as all people and bags were at the bottom of the ladder, the trapdoor was closed behind them and the two men pulled hard on the rope until it was hanging straight down and they knew that the stone was back in place. It was pitch dark in the cellar.

A thought suddenly occurred to the prince. “And how do we get back out of the trapdoor? How do you move that stone away from down here?”

The shorter man chuckled in the dark. “We don’t, Your Highness. We can’t move the stone from down here.”

Something in the quality of the silence that followed let them know that Tarkyn did not like being toyed with. After waiting in vain for him to ask the obvious question, the voice continued, this time more carefully courteous, “There is a series of small rooms beyond this one, Your Highness, and from the last of them, a small grating leads down onto the mudflats of the river. Only Morayne and Charkon are small enough to climb through the gap. So, later, when all is clear, they will go back up and release us.”

“But surely that stone is too heavy for them to move on their own?”

“It just takes longer to move, Sire,” came Morayne’s voice, “with only two lots of magic to move it. But we can do it.”

“And do we intend to sit in pitch darkness all afternoon?”

“No, Sire. But it is not safe to strike a light in here in case any glimmer of it shines up through the cracks. If you will allow us, we will guide you through into the next room and there we can be less cautious.”

“Thank you. I do not think I could endure hours of this.” But when a hand landed gently on his back to guide him, he still flinched at the unaccustomed touch.

Ignoring his reaction, Tomas said from beside him, “This way, Your Highness. Just be warned. There is step upwards in a minute,” as he used his hand to guide the prince through a doorway into the next room.

Suddenly, they heard shouting and the sounds of heavy boots on the wooden flooring above them. Tarkyn and the thieves froze where they were. As the footsteps milled around straight above them, Tarkyn felt the thief’s hand on his back give him a reassuring pat. Once he had quelled his initial affront at Tomas’ over-familiarity, Tarkyn found the gesture surprisingly comforting.

After a few fraught minutes, the footsteps gradually diminished and the thieves and Tarkyn resumed their manoeuvres in the dark into the adjoining room. Once the door had closed behind them, Tarkyn waited for a light to appear but instead he heard the sound of scrabbling and quiet cursing. With a slight smile, he intoned, Lumaya, and a soft ball of light appeared in his hand. “Will this help?”

“Oh, thanks very much, Sire,” said the shorter man. “You’re pretty handy with your magic, aren’t you? Ah, here we are. I couldn’t find the flint in the dark. It must have been knocked off the shelf as we came through.”

Once the lamp was lit, there was a moment of awkwardness while the family realised that the only place to sit was on the floor. And none of them could sit down while the prince stood. In a flash of inspiration, Charkon emptied the contents of his bag and lay the bag out on the floor, “Perhaps you would like to sit here, Your Highness. Then your clothes will not get too dirty.”

“Thank you,” said Tarkyn gravely, not actually as concerned as they feared. “Perhaps you would all like to be seated too, if we have a long wait ahead of us.”

Not being totally clear on court etiquette, each of them gave a short bow before sitting down on the ground around him.

“And now, Your Highness,” the old grandmother’s eyes were shining with excitement as she began to unpack her bag, “we have brought food and drink such as you have never seen before.”

“Actually, old Ma,” said Tomas dryly, “he probably has. It’s us who haven’t.”

The grandmother waved away his objection as she produced a large square of bleached linen. “And look! I even bought a cloth to put it all on.”

From every bag came pies, meats, fruit, breads and cakes, yellow butter and soft white cheeses. Bottles of wine, ale, milk and fruit juice were distributed around the little room and then, when all was set before them, the family heaved a collective sigh of contentment and sat back, looking expectantly at the prince.

Tarkyn smiled, “It is indeed a magnificent spread. Shall we?”

With permission granted, the feasting began. There were no plates or cutlery. Everyone used their knives to cut portions or spread butter on hunks of bread and held their food in their fingers.

When the first frenzy had passed, and they were sitting around drinking and picking occasionally at the remnants, the family turned their attention to other items in their bags. Under the grandmother’s strict directions, they had all been allowed to buy one personal item each on their way back; partly for the joy of it and partly to give themselves time to check that they weren’t being followed. These items were now paraded before Tarkyn and each other. The boy had a fine new pair of boots and the girl had bought a warm, hand-woven shawl. Tomas and Gillis had bought shirts and the old grandmother held up a smart black jacket that contrasted noticeably with the worn material of her present garb.

There was a lull after this and Tarkyn spotted members of the family exchanging surreptitious glances as they reached for a bottle or more food. He had a fair idea that they were waiting for him to ask for his money, but he refused to accommodate them. He was determined that he would not show the slightest doubt in their honour.

Eventually, the grandmother gave a deep sigh and shook her head, smiling, “Oh, Your Highness, your patience and courtesy are beyond belief.”

“I am not renowned for my patience actually,” said Tarkyn dryly, “only in some situations.”

From one of the bags that was still fuller than the others, she produced a well-filled rucksack. She handed it to Tarkyn saying, “This is from all of us. It is a sturdier, more practical bag than the one you carry and we have filled it with supplies for your journey. Your money is in an inside pocket.”

A rush of feeling threatened his equanimity as he realised that once he left them, he would encounter no one well disposed towards him. He swallowed before replying, “Thank you. I did not expect such kindness.”

“You have a hard road ahead of you, my lord,” said Tomas. “We have just done what we could to ease your passage.”