Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(72)

Well, he thought, maybe my brother can benefit from my bad experience. Somebody ought to.

After another minute or two of sulking, Robert nodded. “All right,” he said. “I’ll come with you. Nobody’s responded to my inquiries but you, anyway.”

“Fortunately for you.”

Robert drew a deep breath, then blew it out. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“We can hope that King Jarat is smart enough to know that if he takes action against the hostages, there can be no reconciliation, ever. This civil war won’t end until he’s dead, or we are.”

Hal stood. “Now. Where are you staying? We should go get your things and both move somewhere else. We’ll leave in the morning. Our luck can’t last forever.”

Robert drained the rest of his cider and stood, pulling his cloak from the back of his chair. “It’s just a few blocks down, close to Citadel Hill.”

When they walked out into the spring night, Hal still felt no need for a cloak, though the air was moist, promising rain. You’ve grown tougher during your time in the north, he thought.

They hadn’t gone more than a block down the darkened street when Hal heard the thud of boots on cobblestones and the familiar hiss of swords sliding from their scabbards. Hal and Robert put their backs to a building and drew their own swords, only to find themselves facing a ring of steel.

“Stand down, in the name of the king,” one of the swordsmen said, “or we’ll gut the pair of you.”

Robert broadened his stance, lifting the tip of his blade, and Hal knew he had visions of fighting his way out. His little brother was a devil with a sword, and he’d draw plenty of blood before he went down, but there was no doubt about the outcome. Hal put a hand on his arm. “Lower your blade,” he said. “Remember what I said about being drawn into a battle we can’t win?”

“That sounds like wise advice, Mister . . . Cordray, is it? I do hope you’ll take it.” Someone stepped forward, raising a lantern so that it shone down into Hal’s face, all but blinding him. The man was tall, slender, dressed in the black of the King’s Guard. “Blood of the martyrs,” he muttered. “What have we here?” The officer’s voice was faintly familiar, but Hal couldn’t place it immediately.

He turned to his men. “Disarm them and bind their hands.”

The blackbirds complied, collecting the brothers’ swords and chaining their wrists.

The officer handed the lantern off to one of the blackbirds, so, once Hal’s eyes adjusted, he could finally see his face.

It was Lieutenant Destin Karn, the king’s spymaster. Son of Hal’s nemesis, General Marin Karn.

The situation had rapidly gone from bad to worse.

Hal opened his mouth to speak, but Karn raised a hand to stop him. “Please,” he said. “It’s beginning to rain. We’ll talk later.” He turned to the commander of the blackbirds. “Take them to Newgate. Put them in the Aerie.”

“Newgate? But—”

Now Karn’s voice turned deadly cold. “Was there something you didn’t understand about that order, Sergeant . . . Levesque, is it?” The way he said it, he was taking down names.

“No, sir, it’s just that it’s unusual to—”

“Did I ask for your opinion?”

Levesque reddened. “No, sir, but—”

“Then why are we still standing here in the rain? Now, go. Set a close guard on them and make sure that they are well provisioned and comfortable. I’ll hold you personally responsible if they are not in good condition for interrogation.”

“Yes, sir.” Levesque turned to his men. “Bring them, and follow me.”

Karn turned with a swirl of his cloak and stalked off down the street in the other direction until he was lost in the darkness between the streetlamps.

“Do you know who that was?” Robert said into Hal’s ear as they marched down the narrow street.

“That was Destin Karn, the king’s spymaster. At least, I assume he still is, under the new king.”

“Karn? But that’s—”

“This is his son. He was in Delphi for a while. I don’t think you ever met him.”

“Oh.” A few more steps, and then, “Have you heard of Newgate?” Robert whispered, trying to sound nonchalant.

Hal nodded. “I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know much about it.”

What he knew about it was mostly rumors, and mostly discouraging. Newgate was the prison used by the king’s intelligence service for prisoners thought to have valuable information that needed extracting. Or political prisoners too valuable to mingle with the general prison population.

He tried to lighten the situation by saying, “Well, you’ve been trying to get more information about the king’s prison. Now we’ll see it for ourselves.”

“I’m sorry, Hal,” Robert said.

“Don’t worry,” Hal said, though he actually had plenty of worries. How was it that he’d ended up leaving one prison only to end up in another? And he had a feeling that this one would be worse.





29


CAPTIVES


When Lyss awakened, she was immediately sorry. Everything hurt—her head, her back, her arms and legs. She was one big mass of bruises, and one of her arms seemed to be immobilized, strapped to her side. Worse, she was aware of an unpleasant sensation, as if the world was rocking under her.