The Prince of Lies (Night's Masque, #3)(51)

“It’s nearly dark. I say we wait here a while longer, then make our move. Find the skrayling, break him out and be gone before dawn.”

“How? We can hardly smuggle him out through that lot,” Ned said, pointing back towards the gatehouse.

“We’ll have to climb over the walls.”

“In the dark? You are completely insane, you know that?”

“So I’m told.” Danziger showed his teeth in what could charitably be called a smile. “I like to think I’m just a little bolder than most men. It gives me the element of surprise.”

Ned shook his head. They would be caught and executed as spies, he was sure of it.

The guns had fallen silent, both sides hoarding their ammunition for a last assault at dawn, most likely. The three men walked quietly across the near-empty ward, past the kitchen and the smithy. A long, low building appeared to be barracks; they skirted it cautiously, slipping from one shadow to the next. Beyond was a small solidly built brick shed, perhaps a powder store or armoury. However its door was bolted and barred, which seemed an unlikely way to leave an armoury in the middle of an attack. He nudged Gabriel and pointed to it. The actor nodded.

Thankfully the armoury door was shielded from direct view by the back of the barracks. Gabriel and Danziger gently lifted the bar and slid back the bolts. Ned winced at every squeak and scrape of metal, but no one raised the alarm or came running. Danziger took hold of the door handle and Gabriel hefted his cudgel. Ned remembered Mal’s account of the Corsican watchtower and the skrayling captives who had killed themselves rather than be sold into slavery. Dear God, please say Hennaq had not resorted to the same.

The door swung open and they peered inside. At first Ned could see nothing, then the lines of shadow resolved into the tattooed face of a skrayling. Gabriel beckoned to him.

“Captain Hennaq?”

The skrayling didn’t move. Ned stepped inside the hut and held out his hand.

“You want to leave here?”

A rough palm scraped against his own, and strong fingers closed around his hand. Ned pulled the skrayling to his feet, and sniffed.

“Is there still gunpowder in here, or has the smell of it seeped into the walls?”



The explosion made a perfect diversion. The entire garrison, or so it seemed, rushed to the south wall, convinced the fort was under attack again. The three men and their skrayling companion slipped into the north tower unseen and paused, panting, in the shadows. Ned wiped the sweat from his brow with his good hand and willed his heart to cease its frantic pounding.

“Well, that worked a treat!” Danziger said. “Now we just have to get over the wall.”

“How?” Gabriel looked around at his companions. “We left our best climber in the outer ward, and in any case we have no rope.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” the Dutchman said. He unwound his sash and pulled up his tunic to reveal a layer of rope wound about his torso.

“You’ve been wearing that all this time? Why didn’t you tell us?”

Danziger shrugged. “We had no need of it until now.”

“What about Pierre and Raoul?” Ned asked. “We can’t just leave them here.”

“They’re no fools. Probably out of the front gates already and on their way to meet the Hayreddin. Come on!”

He led them up a flight of steps to the wall-walk, which was thankfully deserted. The four of them crouched behind the crenelated wall and peered out through the embrasures.

“Hah, as I hoped.” He pointed out to sea. “I knew our good captain would not fail us.”

Barely visible with the glare of burning buildings behind them, the Hayreddin stood out to sea about a mile offshore. Danziger lashed the end of his rope to one of the merlons and paid it out gently.

“How am I going to get down that with only one hand?” Ned muttered. “Rigging’s one thing, but this…”

“I’ll show you,” Danziger replied.

He looped the rope under his right leg and over his left shoulder.

“Your bottom hand–” he took hold of the rope behind his back “–controls your descent, your top one–” he clasped the end tied to the merlon “–only steadies you. You can do that, yes?”

Before Ned could answer, Danziger climbed over the wall and began to lower himself down. Ned leaned over to watch. The young Dutchman made it look so easy…

Muttered curses came from below.

“What is it?” Ned hissed.

“The rope’s a few yards too short. I’ll have to jump.”

He did so, landing on the rocks below with an ankle-crunching impact. To Ned’s relief Danziger stood up, seemingly unhurt, and waved for the rest of them to come down.

“You go next,” Ned told Gabriel.

“You’re not planning something stupid, are you?”

“No, I just don’t trust Danziger with Hennaq.” It was part of the truth. Enough of it. He took Gabriel’s head in both hands and kissed him soundly, sun-chapped lips grazing on stubble. “Now go.”

The moment Gabriel disappeared over the wall, Ned turned back to the eastern side of the fortress. The soldiers were still running back and forth, loading muskets and cannon. He had only moments alone with the skrayling; better be quick.