The Outcast (Summoner #4)(72)

With the Canid secured, Crawley withdrew the blade and strode toward Arcturus. Then it was Arcturus’s turn to feel the cold of the knife against his throat, and he resisted the urge to gulp as the point was pressed against his windpipe.

“You did not seem so keen when we last spoke,” Crawley said, his voice low so that only Arcturus could hear. “In fact, I distinctly remember you being insolent.”

“I … didn’t … know,” Arcturus said, each syllable slicing the knife deeper into his neck. He felt a rivulet of warm blood trickle down to his chest.

Crawley eased the pressure and gripped Arcturus’s hair.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you right now,” Crawley asked. “I could say the nobles killed you. Killed the first common summoner. That would get the people on our side. It was what we were going to do anyway.”

“Leave him alone!” Elaine yelled, and Arcturus heard a slap, then a whimper. He felt the hot rage stir in him then, and he quelled it as best he could.

“I can find more,” Arcturus managed, looking Crawley in the eyes.

“More what?” Crawley asked, twisting the knife’s point cruelly. “Choose your words more carefully, Arcturus. They may be your last.”

“Common summoners,” Arcturus mumbled, feeling faint. “You need a summoner to test for them.”

Crawley pulled the knife away and tapped it against his chin thoughtfully, leaving a bloody mark on his skin.

“Keep talking,” he said.

“Where are you going to find another summoner to work for you? They’re all nobles,” Arcturus said. “There are more of me out there, the provost said so.”

“What, more bastards, like you?” Crawley asked, and grinned at the look of surprise on Arcturus’s face. “You thought I didn’t know? There’s not much old Crawley doesn’t know about what goes on at Vocans.”

“Bastards or not, you’ll need them in the coming days,” Arcturus said. He did not mention that he had no idea how to test someone for summoning abilities.

Crawley stared at him with narrowed eyes, and for a moment, Arcturus considered telling him about the other common summoners—unrelated to the nobility. But it would not do to muddy the waters.

“All right,” Crawley said, sheathing the knife. Arcturus felt a flood of relief, and stemmed the flow from the wound on his neck with the rags on his hands.

“Twenty-Fourth, you’ll wait in the summoning room,” Crawley ordered Percival’s men, turning away from Arcturus. “We’ll find a useful task for you when I return.”

If there was any doubt that Crawley was in charge, it was gone now. The man had once commanded the servants here, and was clearly used to giving orders. Only now he commanded an army.

Percival bowed in agreement, and Arcturus saw the frustration in the man’s eyes.

“Like he said, lads, in quick order,” the sergeant instructed, and the men trooped to the open set of double doors that led to the summoning room. Arcturus looked after them, knowing the men might be his only hope of escape.

“You lot, escort the nobles to the safe room,” Crawley barked, snapping his fingers. “And take their weapons. Dorcas, with me. Bring the common boy, and keep a close eye on him. He hasn’t proven his loyalty yet.”

“You must send someone to look after Edmund,” Alice called out. “He’s no use to you dead.”

Crawley paused, then turned and slapped Alice across the face.

“You don’t give me orders anymore, girl,” Crawley snarled.

Then he strode up the winding staircase, and Arcturus was shoved along behind him. He caught one last look over his shoulder, and saw Elaine being manhandled into the cart, squashed in beside Gelert. Then they were out of sight.

He gave Dorcas a smile, as if to say they were on the same side. Instead, he earned himself a thick ear, and a forceful shove that skinned his elbows on the stairs.

At each floor, Arcturus saw the long row of crossbowmen, standing to attention in the shadows beyond the railings. Not one looked away from their posts, and Arcturus realized they were waiting in ambush for whoever entered the castle. The drawbridge had been left open for a reason.

“Where are we going?” Arcturus asked, wincing as Dorcas thumped his ear again.

“To present you to the man behind all of this,” Crawley said cheerfully. “He’ll decide if you’re more useful alive or dead.”

Arcturus stifled a shudder. Then he realized who Crawley was talking about. The man behind all this.

General Barcroft.





CHAPTER

41

THEY REACHED THE TOP floor and hurried down a corridor, and Arcturus felt strange to be back in a place so familiar, yet different at the same time. The door of every room was open, and within he could see more rebels, some sleeping, others sharpening and oiling weapons. Many of them were soldiers, their jackets turned out and black. This was no rabble, but an army.

For a moment he considered whether the nobility had any chance of defeating the rebellion, even with demons on their side. It was hard to say—he had never seen a full-fledged summoner go into battle.

“Wait here,” Crawley snapped, stopping outside a redwood door, complete with a large lock on the other side. He rapped his knuckles against the wood in a staccato pattern, a secret code of sorts that prompted a rattle of keys, the rasp of a metal bar and finally an open door, where he was met by crossed blades.