The Alchemist of Souls (Night's Masque, #1)(135)

"I've wasted enough time on you already," Mal told him.

Never taking his eyes off his opponent, Mal retrieved his sword belt and backed away. When Grey made no move to follow, Mal turned and bounded up the stairs to the courtyard. Somewhere out there, Sandy was waiting for him.

The porter strode across the courtyard towards them, crossbow raised. He halted when he saw what they were carrying.

"Put his lordship down gently, or I shoot."

"If you shoot me, I'll drop him," Coby replied. "Help us, if you want your master to live."

With the porter's aid they carried the duke up to his bedchamber, where his doctor fussed over him and scolded them all in broken English and what Coby guessed was obscene Italian.

"Now then, you two, come with me," the porter said.

"No," the duke gasped. "Let them go. It is too late now."

The porter looked dumbfounded, but he could hardly contradict his master so he left them with a curt bow. On the table nearby, next to a large medicine cabinet, Coby spotted a white porcelain dish contained the missing pearl earring. How had that ended up here? She scooped it up and dropped it in her pocket.

"Where is my son?" Suffolk asked.

"In the cellar with Mal," Ned said. "Settling an old score."

The duke nodded. "He had his chance. He cannot stop me now."

Coby exchanged glances with Ned, who shrugged.

"What have you done with Sandy?" she asked Suffolk.

"I? Nothing." The duke smiled bitterly. "I underestimated Erishen. It has been too long since any of us tried such a manoeuvre."

"He's raving," Ned said, picking up the black doublet that lay draped over a chair. "Come on, let's find Mal."

"Yes, go, go," the doctor said, shooing them out of the door. "His Grace must rest."

Back in the courtyard they were met by Mal. In the leaden light of a cold September afternoon he looked almost as haggard as his brother, his pale flesh slick with sweat. Coby handed him the doublet and he put it on gratefully.

Then they heard the hoofbeats. Looking through the open gate Coby could see a lone rider cantering down the drive, but by the sounds of it there were a dozen or so others behind him. There was no sign of the porter.

"The river," Mal said to her as they ran back into the house.

"We have a boat," she gasped, "but it's some distance off."

"How do we get out?"

"I saw a door at the far end of the passage–"

"Locked," Ned told them as they reached him.

"Don't you have lock-picks?"

"Yes, but…" He looked sheepish. "I have no idea how to use them."

"Here, give them to me."

She shook out the canvas roll and selected a probe. All those hours spent dawdling over her broom in the workshop, so she could eavesdrop on her father instructing his apprentices, would not be for naught.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Ned asked.

"Hush."

She felt around inside the lock. Typical symmetrical design, three wards. She probed the furthest for depth and width, then chose a skeleton key from the roll. It turned in the lock, but did not engage with the mechanism. She withdrew it and selected another.

"Hurry up!"

"I told you to be quiet," she replied. "Damn, too wide."

She tried one after another, searching the roll in vain for another key of the right size. Longer and narrower. Ah! She seized the key and slid it into the lock, whispering a prayer. It turned, and the bolt snicked back.

"Well done!" Master Catlyn helped her to her feet whilst Ned rolled the lock-pick set up and stuffed it in his satchel. "Now, let's get out of here."

The door emerged between two buttresses onto a narrow strip of level ground. Beyond, a grassy slope was all that lay between them and the river. Several boats were still moored at the jetty. Mal paused. They still didn't know where Sandy was, though as long as he was away from here, that had to be a good thing. Or so he hoped. He scanned the fa?ade of the palace opposite. Its windows gleamed dull gold in the afternoon sun. Was Prince Robert there now, staring back?

"At least we don't have to run all the way to Syon House," Ned said with a grin. "All we have to do is row across to the palace–"

"No."

"What do you mean, no?" Ned gestured towards the palace. "Where better to take sanctuary?"

"What would we tell the prince's household?"

"That you and Sandy were abducted and held prisoner–"

"By the prince's own mentor? And that I attacked the duke's son and left him for dead?"

"Good point."

A low rumble to the east made Mal look up. Leaden clouds massed overhead – another thunderstorm? Reaching the jetty, he found Hendricks had untied all but one of the boats and was pushing them out into the river.

"Well played!" He patted her on the shoulder. "Now, everyone aboard!"

Hendricks and Ned got in, taking the fore and aft oars respectively. Mal cast off, leaping into the little craft as it started to move downstream. He gestured for Hendricks to surrender her oars; the girl was already white, her face taut with pain. She smiled in thanks and moved to sit in the narrow space between the two rowers.