Voice Of The Demon (Book 2) (29 page)

Micah’s eyebrows rose. ‘Does he know something, my lord?’

‘No. He’s just fishing. He’s trying to tell me that I can trust him with whatever secret it is that I’m hiding. He’s already made the assumption that there is one – as you accurately predicted. Here’s your silver.’

Micah took the coin, examined it, bit it between his teeth – Robert had to laugh.

‘Well, you never know these days, my lord. Nothing is sacred any more.’ The coin disappeared into a pocket and Micah leaned forward over the wall again.

‘What are you looking for?’

‘Last time I was up here I dropped that knife Deverin gave me. I tried looking for it this afternoon, but I couldn’t see it anywhere. Now he’s asking me about it and I thought I might be able to see it from up here. He’ll kill me if he finds out I’ve lost it.’

‘That’s if you’re lucky,’ Robert agreed, leaning over next to Micah. ‘Let me see if I can find it.’

‘I didn’t know you could find something like that. I thought it was only people you could Seek.’

‘It is,’ Robert grunted, straining in the growing dusk to see anything hidden in the deep grass below.

‘What’s that?’ Micah murmured, straightening up.

‘What? Where?’

Micah tapped his shoulder and pointed further out to where a rider approached the castle. ‘Who’d be arriving at this hour? Are you expecting someone?’

‘No.’ Robert frowned. In this light, with the sun setting behind him, the rider’s identity was impossible to guess.

‘By the gods!’ Micah breathed suddenly. He took an involuntary step backwards, his face white with shock.

‘What is it, Micah? Do you know who that is?’

‘Don’t you?’

Robert took another look; while there was something subtly familiar about the stranger, he couldn’t put a name on it. ‘No. Who is it?’

Micah looked at him, eyes wide with something bordering on fear. ‘My father!’

By the gods, indeed! David Maclean? On his way to Dunlorn? Impossible – and yet, there he was, approaching the castle gates without a hint of hesitation.

‘I don’t like this,’ Micah whispered. ‘I’ll go down and meet him.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Robert began, but Micah paused on the steps to the courtyard, his hands raised.

‘Please, my lord. I beg you to wait here. You know how he feels about you.’

‘Of course,’ Robert said. Micah took the short steep steps down to the courtyard while Robert stayed above and watched him disappear around a corner, then reappear by the gate, just as David Maclean was ready to dismount. The two men exchanged a few words and Micah’s fidgeting abruptly stopped. He took a step back and turned to look up at Robert.

Then Micah took his father across the courtyard and
around the corner. Soon Robert could hear both men climbing the steps to the battlements. What was Robert to say to this man? He had virtually disowned his youngest son because Micah had refused to leave Robert’s service. And now he was here?

‘My lord . . .’ Micah stammered breathlessly, a thin film of sweat on his furrowed brow. ‘My father, Master David Maclean. He . . . wishes to speak to you.’

Robert felt Micah’s discomfort keenly and tried to make this meeting as easy as possible. ‘Good evening, Master Maclean.’

Maclean bowed slightly. ‘Good evening, Your Grace.’

Yes, he was Micah’s father, all right. He was as tall as Robert, broad-shouldered and strong from years of farming. The hair was a darker hue of red, but the forehead was the same, as were the eyes, though older and lined by age. The gaze was nothing if not stony.

‘How may I be of service, Master Maclean?’ Robert asked as evenly as possible.

The older man glanced at his son then at the nearest guard, who was too far away to hear anything. He took a breath and said, ‘I must ask you to come with me, Your Grace.’

‘Where?’

‘I cannot say.’

‘I see.’ Robert didn’t see, but that didn’t make any difference. ‘Now?’

David Maclean nodded. ‘With as little attention as possible.’

What could possibly drive this man to come here with such a request? It must be very important indeed to bring him here, to make him actually speak to his son – to ask something of Robert. How could Robert refuse?

‘Micah, have Deverin saddle us some horses quickly. I’ll go and make my excuses to my mother. I’ll see you at the gate in ten minutes.’

*

The sun sank beneath the horizon, leaving only a washed-out glow behind the evening clouds. Robert frowned up at
the sky, then across at Micah, ‘It’ll rain again tonight. Remind me to send someone down tomorrow to reinforce the bridge across the river. At this rate it’ll be washed away before winter.’

‘Yes, my lord,’ Micah nodded, his voice belying the tension in his shoulders. He rode between his father and Robert, but not a word passed between father and son. Micah was obviously torn.

‘How long will it take us to reach this place?’ Robert asked genially.

Maclean glanced up, his eyes invisible in the darkness. ‘Another hour, perhaps more.’

‘Then we are likely to get wet?’

With a stiff nod, Maclean replied, ‘If Your Grace says so.’

‘My Grace would happily defer to one with greater knowledge of the weather,’ Robert replied without pausing. ‘One such as a master farmer.’

‘A poor master farmer would have little knowledge to improve upon that of an educated man such as Your Grace.’

Robert grinned. ‘Then it will rain! Wonderful. I love getting soaked to the skin. It makes me feel all young and irresponsible.’

Maclean turned and watched him steadily. Micah was shifting his head this way and that, his face twisting in silent plea to both of them.

Maclean ignored him. ‘Why have you come with me? Is it only to mock me?’

Robert dropped the smile and held up his hand. ‘I mock only myself, Master Maclean. No one else is fair game. Come, let’s put on some speed.’

The rain did come, but, like a delicate mediator, it was little more than a gentle mist, dusting the horses with a faint sheen and leaving Robert’s face moist and refreshed. By the time they reached the hilltop, the rain had all but ceased, the clouds thinning and allowing some moonlight to filter through. It was damned cold, though.

‘That’s the place,’ Maclean said heavily, ‘down there.’

‘And what awaits us?’ Micah asked, bringing his horse around to face his father. There was an unbridled challenge
between them – one Micah was not going to back down from. ‘Tell us what this is all about.’

Maclean stared at his son, neither angry nor bitter. He shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know! Then why are we here?’

‘I was asked to bring His Grace to this wood. That’s all I can tell you.’

‘But—

‘It’s all right, Micah,’ Robert interjected. ‘I trust your father. For all that he despises me, I doubt there’s a trap down there. He wouldn’t have allowed you to come, otherwise.’

Maclean directed his horse around Micah’s. ‘I would not have been able to stop him.’

Robert nodded encouragement to Micah. ‘That makes two of us.’

They entered the wood where the floor was darkened by moonshadows and damp bushes. It was almost silent; only the odd skittering here and there spoke of animal life. Robert rode beside Maclean, his eyes searching for danger despite his earlier words. This was no time to become complacent.

A small drop in the ground brought them out into a clearing. A makeshift shelter stood to the right, where a tall, blond young man guarded another lying beneath. A poor fire warmed other folk, huddled around. They all stood as Robert dismounted.

He moved forward, scanning the faces for some answer, some meaning – then one face caught his eye. Robert instantly went down on his knee. ‘Your Grace! What are you doing here?’

‘Please, my lord,’ Rosalind moved forward. She brought him to his feet and closer to the fire. ‘We are in dire need of your help. I was afraid you wouldn’t come.’

Robert frowned. This was unbelievable. He glanced over his shoulder at Maclean. He stood to one side, no surprise on that gruff face. He just watched Robert with that same stony expression. He must have known the Queen was here, but he’d said nothing. Typical Maclean.

Robert turned back to Rosalind. ‘What help do you need? Why are you here?’

She clasped her hands together, her expression one of profound peace. ‘I have run away, my lord. I have left the King’s side just as you did. I need your help to leave Lusara. We are exhausted, injured and much in need of rest. I throw us on your mercy and pray you will be kind in return.’

Left? Just like that? Did she realize . . . Of course she did. No one knew better the King’s wrath. She was watching him, trying to hide her fear of his rejection. He turned away and looked over the others surrounding the fire. The children! They, too? And . . . was that Samah? And . . . ‘Greetings, Kandar.’

‘Your Grace,’ George nodded.

‘You find yourself in interesting company.’

‘The best, my lord.’

‘And who is that injured?’

‘One of my men as we overcame a patrol out hunting for the Queen.’

‘I see.’ Robert walked over to the little shelter and gazed down at the sleeping man. He looked close to death. ‘How long have you camped here?’

‘Since last night,’ Kandar replied, joining him.

‘Then it’s amazing you haven’t been discovered. . .’ Robert’s voice trailed off as a figure emerged from behind the shelter. Small, cloaked and silent. Hands rose up to pull the hood down.

‘Hello, Robert.’

By the gods! Why hadn’t he noticed? Why hadn’t he sensed her aura? Of course, that’s how David Maclean had been involved! Jenn knew where to get help. Get Maclean to find Micah – Micah could bring Robert . . . Oh yes, it all made sense now.

And here she was, standing before him, her eyes steady on his, waiting for his reaction.

‘What are you doing here?’ Robert said.

‘Helping the Queen, as you are.’

‘What kind of fool answer is that?’ he hissed. ‘You could have got yourself killed! What the hell were you thinking?’

Jenn’s eyes flashed. ‘Probably more than you. After all, I at least knew what I was dealing with. What kind of idiot leaves the safety of his own castle on the word of a man who openly despises him?’

‘A man you sent to get me here.’

‘Well, it worked, didn’t it? I knew you’d fall for it.’ She took a breath, then her face was composed again, though her eyes still brimmed with anger. ‘The only thing left is for you to decide where your loyalties lie. Make your choice.’

Robert moved close, towering over her. ‘And what if I choose not to help?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t.’

He had to laugh – because if he didn’t, he would have hit her. ‘Then I won’t, will I? After all, how could I refuse such a gracious invitation? A pity I wasn’t allowed to make a free choice. Now you’ll never know what I would have said.’

Confusion warred across her face like clouds in a stormy sky. ‘Why did you give in so easily? You know I have no power over you.’

‘Then why make the threat, Jenn?’ Robert leaned close so only she could hear him. ‘Did it make you feel good?’

He didn’t wait for a response. He turned quickly and strode back to the fire. ‘Pack your things up. The sooner we get to Dunlorn, the sooner we can get warm. Micah, you and your father will accompany the Earl of Kandar back through the gate. He’ll wear my cloak, ride my horse. With any luck, everyone will assume it’s me returning. The rest of us will take another route.’

Kandar quickly gained Rosalind’s side, his stance utterly defiant. ‘I will not leave Her Grace. Send another to go back with your men. I’ll stay here.’

‘George,’ Rosalind murmured, ‘please do as he says. He’s our only hope now.’

‘I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I don’t trust him.’

‘That’s all right,’ Robert gestured expansively, ‘I don’t trust me either. Nevertheless …

‘My answer is no,’ Kandar repeated, standing firm.

Robert took a step forward, meeting Kandar’s defiance
with a steady unflinching gaze. Then, with his voice low he said carefully and precisely, ‘You will do exactly as I say.’

Kandar met his gaze for a long time. A time in which nobody in the clearing moved. Then abruptly he looked away, a wry smile on his face. ‘Very well,’ he nodded. ‘I‘ll go. But if . . .’

‘Make no threats,’ Robert shook his head, ‘that’s already been done for you. Now come, we need to get moving.’

By the time they got back through the gates, Micah’s hands were freezing, although it probably had more to do with the way he’d clenched them up during the ride home than the actual cold of the night. Nobody challenged them, or even noticed that the man accompanying him was not Robert but a stranger. Maclean said nothing, but simply accompanied him through the castle and up to Robert’s study.

Micah closed the door, but didn’t dare lock it. It would have been much easier if he could have fetched Patric to put a warning on it, but there was no way of knowing if Robert wanted Patric to know about all this. And what would Patric say – not just about the Queen’s sudden appearance, but about Jenn?

Once inside, Kandar threw off the cloak as though it were a devil on his back. He strode around the room like a wild animal on a leash. Maclean waited quietly by the window, his hands clasped behind his back.

‘So what do we do now?’ Kandar demanded.

‘We wait,’ Micah replied, stoking up the fire.

‘For what?’

‘For my lord to return.’

Kandar stopped pacing. ‘And what if he doesn’t bring the others with him?’

‘He will.’ Maclean said this without moving from the
window. In the ensuing silence, he glanced over his shoulder at Kandar, not Micah. ‘The Duke will return, my lord, and he will bring the Queen with him. Safely.’

‘And how do you know that?’

‘Because he has no choice.’ He returned to the window. ‘The girl will make sure of that.’

*

She should have known he’d react like this. Storm-walled, defiant and utterly unreachable. Stubbornly proud and totally convinced that he was right and everyone else was wrong. What was she doing involving herself in something so dangerous? Didn’t she realize she was just a foolish child, incapable of doing anything right?