The Prince of Lies (Night's Masque, #3)(106)

“About time,” the stranger shouted. “I was beginning to think you’d been caught and strung up.”

The well-dressed man laughed. “The way was cleared for us. Our masters have all under their command.”

The two boys were hustled into the farmhouse and taken down some rickety stairs, where they were locked in a cellar without so much as a stick of furniture to make it comfortable. A few thin bars of moonlight crept in through the shuttered windows, which were too high up to reach.

“I wish I had my sword,” Kit muttered, jumping ineffectually to try and reach the wooden slats. “We could hack this open, wriggle out and steal a horse.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sidney said with a sniff. He sat down on the floor and tried to examine his feet in the faint light of the waxing moon.

“Don’t be a baby.”

“I’m not a baby.” He glared up at Kit. “I’m seven years old, older than–”

“Ssh!” Kit went to the other end of the cellar, ignoring his own stinging feet. The floorboards overhead were warped and uneven, with gaps between some of them big enough to stick his finger through. He craned his neck and listened.

“…still, it’s a lot of trouble to go to for a pair of skinny wretches–”

“Our orders were very specific. The King’s godson and the hedge-knight’s brat, alive and whole.”

Kit’s mouth tightened. His father was no hedge-knight! He had lands and a patron at court and everything.

“Well I don’t like it. Stealing kids ain’t my idea of a good day’s work.”

“No one’s asking you to like it. And it’s a little late to complain now, don’t you think?”

The first speaker – one of the workmen – grumbled something that Kit couldn’t make out.

“Good, then. Now, gentlemen, get some sleep. One more day and we’ll be done, then you can collect your pay and depart if you wish.”

Kit sank back down to the ground, trembling with a mixture of panic and delight. Only one day left, which meant they had to escape tonight, but on the other hand their captors were going to sleep. He waited as long as he dared, fearing he might fall asleep himself, before padding across to the door. The lock was old and rusty, and anyway he had no idea how one was supposed to pick them; it was always made to sound so easy in stories. It would have to be the window, then.

“Here, Sidney, wake up!”

His companion woke with a cry. “Yes, Your Highness, I’m coming!”

“Ssh! It’s me, Catlyn. We’ve been taken prisoner, remember?”

Sidney gave a sniff and a gulp. “What…?”

“Come on, we’re going to escape.”

“How?”

“You’re going to climb onto my shoulders and pull the slats off one of the windows.”

“I can’t. My feet hurt too much.”

“Yes, you can. Or do you want to be sold into slavery?”

Sidney squeaked. “Slaves? They can’t do that, I’m–”

“The prince’s cousin, yes, I know. So act like one.” Kit sighed, and went over to the wall below the shutter with the widest gaps in it. “Come on.”

Sidney got to his feet and limped over. Kit laced his hands together and gave the boy a boost up. Sidney scrambled wildly for purchase, slipped, and they fell in a painful heap on the floor.

“Ow! Clumsy ox! What did you do that for?”

“It wasn’t me, you didn’t stand still–”

“You were sticking your foot in my ear–”

“I had to put it somewhere–”

“Ssshh!”

Kit clamped his hand over Sidney’s mouth. They lay there, locked together, for long minutes, waiting for the well-dressed man to come and tell them off.

“I don’t think they heard us,” Kit said at last, letting his breath out in a great sigh.

“It was your fault–”

“Hush! Or do you want to get us both killed?”

Sidney didn’t answer.

“Come on, then, let’s try again.”

This time Sidney managed to climb onto his shoulders without mishap. He pulled at one of the slats.

“They’re not coming away, Catlyn.”

“Pull harder.” Kit braced himself against the wall.

A moment later there was a creaking, tearing sound, followed by a dull clatter as the first slat fell to the cellar floor.

“I did it!”

Another slat fell, and another. Then nothing.

“What are you doing up there?” Kit whispered.

“I don’t think I can pull any more loose. They’re all too strong.”

“Can you get through the hole?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Get down, let me have a go.”

Sidney half-climbed, half-fell to the floor.

“I don’t know if I can hold you,” he said, his face paper-white in the moonlight.

“You have to try. Come on, I’m taller and skinnier than you. Just get down on all fours and I’ll stand on your back.”

Sidney did as he was told, and Kit placed a foot on the boy’s trembling back. Holding himself steady against the wall he pushed upwards until he was standing with his eyes just below the level of the window. It wouldn’t be easy, but there were a few slats he could reach. He took hold of one and carefully worked it loose.