The High King's Tomb
Page 55
Her boots rapped on the spiraling stone stairs as she descended to the keep’s main level. Despite her reputation, she found herself constantly having to reinforce her role. Returning to Mirwellton after the old lord-governor’s fall had been risky. There were those who suspected she had betrayed him. Otherwise, wouldn’t the king have executed her as well, or at least kept her in prison? Not that anyone would admit they approved of the old lord or his plans to dethrone King Zachary…but it did generate her share of enemies among those who remained secretly loyal to the dead man and his ambitions.
She ensured none of these suspicions led to the truth, that no one exposed her real affiliations and compromised her position as an operative of King Zachary’s. Her mission was to keep watch on Timas Mirwell, to make sure he did not follow in the footsteps of his traitorous father.
She entered the main hall. Soldiers saluted her and courtiers spared her a nervous glance before hurrying away. She allowed herself a small, grim smile. If she caught wind of anyone expressing suspicions about her, if she believed they would reveal her true affiliations, her true duty, they quietly disappeared, never to be heard from again.
She was not what one would consider a typical Green Rider.
Beryl contemplated what her next step should be. Timas persisted in assigning her duties that would keep her away, seriously hampering her overriding duty to maintain vigil over him. There were two possibilities: either Timas just didn’t like her, or something else was afoot and he couldn’t trust her. If it were the latter, it meant her mission was compromised. If the mission was compromised, it meant she’d been exposed and was likely in danger, unless they—Colonel Birch and Lord Mirwell—believed her ignorant of their activities and that she continued to give only positive reports to King Zachary.
She must get to the bottom of it while feigning ignorance, but that was bloody hard when they kept sending her away.
Crossing the main hall and starting down a corridor toward her quarters, Beryl was wondering how she might get out of her latest orders when she heard Birch speaking with someone behind her. She turned about and peered back into the main hall. A runner handed him a folded piece of paper. He opened it and glanced at it before folding it back up and dropping it into his pocket. He dismissed the runner and headed toward the keep’s entranceway. Guards hauled open the massive ironbound doors for him, and even before Beryl could feel the draft of chill air against her face, he walked out into the night.
She decided to follow him. If she needed information, this was the way to start: to see what Birch was about. If he and Timas were up to something the king did not approve of, it was her duty to find out about it. And if they were diverting her attention because they knew her real identity and wanted her out of the way, she had to correct the situation.
She paused for several moments before crossing the main hall. The guards opened the great doors once again at her approach, and she strode out onto the front steps. Torches sputtered on either side of her, so she descended the steps to stand in the deeper gloom of the night to allow her eyes time to adjust to the dark. Across the courtyard she could make out Birch receding into the night.
She glanced about to make sure no one was watching and set off across the courtyard with a determined stride, leaving the torchlit entrance behind. Birch was angling toward the stables. Would she have to follow him somewhere on horseback?
The heavy, cool air subdued the world around her. No breeze stirred the treetops, there was no sound of owls hooting or dogs baying in the distance; only her feet crunching on the gravel walkway.
She slowed as she approached the stable, not wishing to give away her presence. There were no lanterns lit within, just the blackened windows gaping at her. At this hour, the horses were quiet inside, dozing or munching on hay. She hoped her own mare, Luna Moth, would not catch wind of her and call out with a whinny as she sometimes did.
Unsure of where Birch had gotten to, Beryl paused and listened. The damp air carried the nearby sound of voices to her. She judged that Birch and whomever he met with were located just on the other side of the stables.
She stepped off the gravel walkway and onto the grass to conceal the sound of her footsteps. Cautiously she inched forward, closer to the building, sticking to the shadows, hardly daring to breathe, all her senses taut.
As she edged toward a corner of the building, the voices grew louder.
“—taking a chance by coming here,” Birch said.
“Don’t think so,” said a man. “I wanted to deliver this myself.”
Beryl peered around the corner. Her eyesight wasn’t the best, and though her specs were tucked in an inner pocket of her shortcoat, she didn’t dare risk the movement to take them out. So she was left squinting in the dark, discerning a figure that must be Birch standing before a horseman in plain leathers and a cloak. He sat his horse like a trained soldier, but if he was someone she knew, the dark and her nearsightedness confounded her ability to identify him.
“You got it then,” Birch said in a pleased murmur.
“Aye, and our thief has agreed to the other assignment as well. He believed our cover story that our ‘employer’ was a nobleman desiring to settle a matter of honor.” The horseman leaned over his horse’s withers to hand Birch a document case.
“Grandmother will be most pleased to see this,” Birch said.
Grandmother? Beryl wondered. Birch was working with a thief on behalf of his grandmother?
“Thought she would be,” the horseman said. “The thief is good, though he met with some resistance at the museum.” He laughed. “A lady in a dress of all things! She didn’t give him much trouble.”
She ensured none of these suspicions led to the truth, that no one exposed her real affiliations and compromised her position as an operative of King Zachary’s. Her mission was to keep watch on Timas Mirwell, to make sure he did not follow in the footsteps of his traitorous father.
She entered the main hall. Soldiers saluted her and courtiers spared her a nervous glance before hurrying away. She allowed herself a small, grim smile. If she caught wind of anyone expressing suspicions about her, if she believed they would reveal her true affiliations, her true duty, they quietly disappeared, never to be heard from again.
She was not what one would consider a typical Green Rider.
Beryl contemplated what her next step should be. Timas persisted in assigning her duties that would keep her away, seriously hampering her overriding duty to maintain vigil over him. There were two possibilities: either Timas just didn’t like her, or something else was afoot and he couldn’t trust her. If it were the latter, it meant her mission was compromised. If the mission was compromised, it meant she’d been exposed and was likely in danger, unless they—Colonel Birch and Lord Mirwell—believed her ignorant of their activities and that she continued to give only positive reports to King Zachary.
She must get to the bottom of it while feigning ignorance, but that was bloody hard when they kept sending her away.
Crossing the main hall and starting down a corridor toward her quarters, Beryl was wondering how she might get out of her latest orders when she heard Birch speaking with someone behind her. She turned about and peered back into the main hall. A runner handed him a folded piece of paper. He opened it and glanced at it before folding it back up and dropping it into his pocket. He dismissed the runner and headed toward the keep’s entranceway. Guards hauled open the massive ironbound doors for him, and even before Beryl could feel the draft of chill air against her face, he walked out into the night.
She decided to follow him. If she needed information, this was the way to start: to see what Birch was about. If he and Timas were up to something the king did not approve of, it was her duty to find out about it. And if they were diverting her attention because they knew her real identity and wanted her out of the way, she had to correct the situation.
She paused for several moments before crossing the main hall. The guards opened the great doors once again at her approach, and she strode out onto the front steps. Torches sputtered on either side of her, so she descended the steps to stand in the deeper gloom of the night to allow her eyes time to adjust to the dark. Across the courtyard she could make out Birch receding into the night.
She glanced about to make sure no one was watching and set off across the courtyard with a determined stride, leaving the torchlit entrance behind. Birch was angling toward the stables. Would she have to follow him somewhere on horseback?
The heavy, cool air subdued the world around her. No breeze stirred the treetops, there was no sound of owls hooting or dogs baying in the distance; only her feet crunching on the gravel walkway.
She slowed as she approached the stable, not wishing to give away her presence. There were no lanterns lit within, just the blackened windows gaping at her. At this hour, the horses were quiet inside, dozing or munching on hay. She hoped her own mare, Luna Moth, would not catch wind of her and call out with a whinny as she sometimes did.
Unsure of where Birch had gotten to, Beryl paused and listened. The damp air carried the nearby sound of voices to her. She judged that Birch and whomever he met with were located just on the other side of the stables.
She stepped off the gravel walkway and onto the grass to conceal the sound of her footsteps. Cautiously she inched forward, closer to the building, sticking to the shadows, hardly daring to breathe, all her senses taut.
As she edged toward a corner of the building, the voices grew louder.
“—taking a chance by coming here,” Birch said.
“Don’t think so,” said a man. “I wanted to deliver this myself.”
Beryl peered around the corner. Her eyesight wasn’t the best, and though her specs were tucked in an inner pocket of her shortcoat, she didn’t dare risk the movement to take them out. So she was left squinting in the dark, discerning a figure that must be Birch standing before a horseman in plain leathers and a cloak. He sat his horse like a trained soldier, but if he was someone she knew, the dark and her nearsightedness confounded her ability to identify him.
“You got it then,” Birch said in a pleased murmur.
“Aye, and our thief has agreed to the other assignment as well. He believed our cover story that our ‘employer’ was a nobleman desiring to settle a matter of honor.” The horseman leaned over his horse’s withers to hand Birch a document case.
“Grandmother will be most pleased to see this,” Birch said.
Grandmother? Beryl wondered. Birch was working with a thief on behalf of his grandmother?
“Thought she would be,” the horseman said. “The thief is good, though he met with some resistance at the museum.” He laughed. “A lady in a dress of all things! She didn’t give him much trouble.”
