The Outcast (Summoner #4)(71)

Percival grunted in assent, then raised his voice.

“This wasn’t the greeting we expected, after hand delivering the key to the rebellion’s victory,” the sergeant called out. “Tell your men to lower their crossbows first.”

“What are you talking about?” the voice replied. “What key?”

“The nobles you’ve been looking for,” Percival replied.

“What’s he doing?” Elaine hissed, and Arcturus noticed the girl lying beside him, her hair pinned to the ground by one of the Twenty-Fourth’s feet.

“He’s pretending they captured us,” Arcturus said.

There was silence now.

“Lower your crossbows, you fools!” the voice called, and there was a rattle of metal as the weapons were taken from their rests on the railings.

“Down, lads,” Percival said, and suddenly Arcturus was blinking in the light, and rough hands were lifting him to his feet. He was shoved out of the group, and he fell to his knees. Only now could he see the face of the voice, and it did not surprise him.

Crawley, flanked by a dozen rebels, their dark cloaks swirling as they marched toward them. These men still had their crossbows raised, the points squared firmly at his chest. Arcturus saw Alice and Elaine thrown to the ground beside him, and heard the rusted scrape of wheels as the cart was pushed forward also.

The servant crouched before him, and his long, spidery fingers cupped Arcturus’s face.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Crawley whispered.





CHAPTER

40

ARCTURUS MANAGED TO PULL away, quelling the battering of Sacharissa, her desperation to come out near blinding him with confusion.

“You?” Alice spluttered in recognition. “Crawley? How could you?!”

“How could I not?” Crawley replied dismissively, waving two soldiers forward. “Letting you sniveling brats order me about like a slave. It was high time you were all taught a lesson.”

“Wait…,” Arcturus began, the shadows of an idea forming in his mind. But Sacharissa’s consciousness was distracting him, and he was forced to quell its writhing with a thought.

“Tie their hands,” Crawley ordered, gesturing toward them. “Tightly now, or they’ll be able to etch spells with their fingers.”

Rebels approached them, and Arcturus heard the ripping of cloth as they tore strips from the hems of their robes.

“Wait!” Arcturus hissed. “I didn’t tell them.”

“Tell them what?” Crawley said, even as a man took Arcturus’s hands and began to wrap cloth around them.

“That you were a rebel,” Arcturus growled. “I kept your secret!”

“You knew?” Alice gasped, her face screwed up with pain as the men jerked her fractured arm in their haste to tie her hands.

Arcturus turned to her, his heart twisting. He wanted to wink at her, let her know he was still on their side … but it was too risky. And … there was a snake of doubt twisting in his stomach. Was he still on their side?

The king and his nobles had lost. Vocans had been taken, and its students captured. Why not throw his lot in with the winning side? He owed Alfric no loyalty, and there was nothing he could do for his friends as just another captive.

“Don’t you see, I’ve … I’ve been loyal to you all along,” Arcturus said, stumbling over his words in his haste to explain. “A few hours with these spoiled, pampered kids and I knew which side my bread was buttered.”

“We trusted you!” Elaine cried out while, next to her, Alice glared at him, her eyes blazing with anger.

“I couldn’t get away,” Arcturus said, loudly this time, wincing as his fingers were crushed in the tight binding. “But I’m here now.”

Crawley stared for a few seconds, but was distracted by a growl from behind Arcturus. Then Crawley was sprinting for the cart, a curved knife clutched in his hand.

“No!” Alice screamed, lunging for him with her feet.

Arcturus spun, and saw the Canid struggling beneath the cloaks they had swaddled him in. Arcturus struggled to get to his feet, straining against the rebel’s hands that pushed him down, as Crawley put the knife to Edmund’s throat.

By now Gelert had wriggled his upper body from the cloak and was snapping at Crawley, but the servant remained calm in the face of it all, lifting Edmund’s head and jerking the knife threateningly.

“That’s right, you stupid creature,” the servant hissed. “Daddy goes bye-bye if you don’t settle down.”

The Canid’s barking stopped. It was replaced with a low growl, hatred burning in his eyes. With one lunge, Gelert could swallow Crawley’s head whole … but he would not risk his master’s life.

“I said, settle down!” Crawley bawled.

The sound stopped.

“Dorcas, bind this monster’s legs,” Crawley ordered.

The rebel holding down Arcturus hesitated for a moment, then hurried to do Crawley’s bidding. Dorcas was a large man, with broad shoulders that made Arcturus think he had once been a blacksmith. But despite his size, the man’s hands shook as he tied Gelert’s paws, muzzle and even tail together, leaving the demon trussed up like a turkey.

The whole atrium watched as it was done, and Arcturus was stunned by the still silence of the hundred rebels above them. Not a word passed their lips, nor did a cloak stir, as if they were gargoyles arrayed across a church roof.