LOCRYN

37

Regrets and Recriminations

Locryn stood in the shadows of the Keep, watching as Rasmus screamed at Breock the Gate Guardian. Locryn wanted to scream himself. His stomach felt cold, and the inside of his head was full of spiders - little creeping thoughts spinning pain and regret. He shook it, trying to clear his mind, focusing instead on the uncomfortable scene playing out below. He was not alone, two score men and women of the Own stood in the courtyard of the moongate to bear witness to Breock's humiliation at the hands of the Aetheling lord.

Breock stood tall and unbent in front of Rasmus, his face proud, an ugly purple bruise blooming where the lord's fist had struck him moments before.

"Take this man down to the cells," commanded Rasmus, shoving Breock forward. As one, the members of the Own stared up at him, unmoving, their faces like stone.

Rasmus glared around at them all, turning in a low, menacing circle. Those closest to him took an involuntary step back. "Listen up, convicts," he said, raising his voice "And let me make this plain: Dantalion has been removed from office, and I am your new Mester. So obey me or suffer the consequences." He glared around at them all and Locryn stiffened as he caught a momentary flash of blue. Had anyone else seen it? Had he imagined it?

Two men came forward and begrudgingly escorted Breock into the Keep.

"Thank you," said Lord Rasmus, sarcastically. "At last! The fabled efficiency of the Ancestors Own!" The men and women gathered in front of him stirred restlessly, muttering to each other. "You!" said Rasmus, pointing his finger randomly, "Go and find the spy."

"How, syr?" asked the unlucky man, spreading his hands in perplexity. "None of us saw which soil she took. She could be anywhere in the Seven Realms."

"I don't know," Rasmus screamed, spit flying. He turned, his cloak swirling dramatically. "Just do it! Go through every gate and check! Stop complaining and get it done." The man looked down at the hundred or so pots in front of the gate and gulped.

"Yes, syr."

"It's about time someone cleared this place up," said Rasmus, sweeping through the silent throng. He stamped up the stairs and into the Keep. "Arthwg, with me." The Mester's assistant hurried after him, his eyes downcast.

Locryn instinctively pulled back into the shadows of the wall as they went past. The last thing he wanted was to draw the foul man's attention. His stomach roiled in disgust. What had he done? He had sent Candle fleeing the Keep, thinking everyone was against her, thinking he was against her. What foul magic had Rasmus worked on him to make him so easily persuaded?

He felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped. He turned to face its owner, and his face broke into a rare smile.

"Pasco, my friend! It is really good to see you."

Pasco looked tired, and in need of a good wash but seemed otherwise unharmed. There were some bloodstains on his clothing, but from the way he stood, Locryn decided they must belong to the hapless and probably deceased barbarians who had been stupid enough to try and get in Pasco's way.

"What in the Night is going on?" Pasco signed, and Locryn's face returned to its earlier thunderous state.

"Nothing good," he said. Looking around warily, he gesturing sharply at the moongate. "Let's get out of here while we can. We can talk at Dawn Watch."

Pasco nodded his agreement, and they set off across the courtyard which had exploded into conversation and activity once Rasmus had disappeared through the iron gates. With the place in uproar and with no guard on the gate, it was a simple enough matter for them to slip through the Gate without anyone noticing.

They emerged onto the mountaintop that overlooked the Hanternos valley, and Locryn breathed in a sigh of relief. The narrow strip of blue that was the Bleujen river glimmered in the afternoon sun. It was strangely peaceful after the chaos at Gwavas.

"I don't know what was going on back there," Pasco was signing, "but I know madness when I see it. If that man has been put in charge by the Kenning-" He spread his hands wide, leaving the sentence unfinished but Locryn agreed with his unspoken words. They needed to keep as far away from Rasmus as was humanly possible without breaking their oaths. The Mester's last order to them had been to send them to Dawn Watch, after all. With any luck, Rasmus would ignore them if they were out of his immediate sight. Locryn's innards clenched at the thought of Candle growing up with Rasmus. No wonder she had run away. He wondered if Candle would seek sanctuary at Dawn Watch. He swore under his breath, of course, she wouldn't, he had put paid to that.

He started guiltily as Delen arrived like a ton of bricks, enveloping him in a bear hug. He glowered down at her without moving until she let go and moved on to Pasco.

"I'm so glad you are back," she said, ignoring Locryn's frosty reception. "Where's Meraud? I mean Candle? What happened? Are you all alright?"

Jory appeared out of the ruin and clasped both men by the arm.

"Candle?" he asked, while Delen stopped for a breath. Pasco looked sideways at Locryn who sank heavily to the ground, his back immobile and his head in his hands.

"I don't really know what happened," he signed. "I just got back to Gwavas now. The Keep is in chaos, and Lord Rasmus seems to be in charge. He said - he said the Mester had been arrested and was facing trial at the Lizard."

"What?"

"Locryn?" asked Jory.

"I don't know what to think," he said, at last. "I don't know what happened. I mean - I was there-"

"Is she alive?" Delen's cheek lost their colour. "Is Candle alive?"

"Yes, yes, she's alive but I-Rasmus-" His voice choked, and Pasco squeezed his shoulder. They all sat around him in a circle waiting for him to find the words. He swallowed and told them what happened at Sterlester, and then what had happened when they got back to Gwavas. And what he suspected had happened but could not confirm.

"A demon?" cried Delen, "Poor Candle!"

Pasco and Jory exchanged troubled glances.

"When I was there," said Locryn slowly, "in that room, his words seemed so persuasive-"

"You're an idiot," interrupted Delen, "if you thought for a moment that Candle was a barbarian spy. How would she be able to speak Havian?"

"There are ways," said Pasco, "and if her eyes are blue..."

"Anyway," Locryn glared at Delen, then deflated, looking down at his hands, "I can't say it was completely Rasmus, if that is even true, I was suspicious-"

"Arse," muttered Delen, under her breath. Locryn slammed his fist into the ground, and then cradled the bruised hand in his lap, staring at the dirt, his back hunched.

"I knew her eyes were blue," said Delen with a snort, leaning back against a rock. "I've known since the second day."

"And you didn't tell us?" said Jory.

"I don't tell you everything! And anyway the Mester trusted her, and that's good enough for me. She would have told us if there was something wrong with her. She always knows."

"That is a very good point," said Jory, slowly. "The Mester interviewed Candle several times. If she were a spy or had a demon, she would have known."

"I know," said Locryn, grinding his teeth. "Candle saved my life, I think? After Sterlester... I'm still not completely sure what happened." His fingers drifted to his side, where he remembered an injury, and he shook his head again. His memories of the beach were still hazy. He knew Candle meant well, but there was something she wasn't telling them - but then they all had secrets. His mind flashed back, unasked, to the day he had killed his best friend, over the girl who looked so much like Candle. He swallowed, trying desperatly to contain his emotions. To his relief no one seemed to notice his distress.

"At least she got away," said Delen, after a while. "But what are we going to do? What can we do? If the Kenning's put that cretin in charge?"

"That cretin deserves to be in a cell under the Keep," said Jory, "not in charge of it."

They all nodded in solemn agreement, staring out into the void of empty air over the edge of the cliff.

After a few minutes, Pasco stood up, his face determined.

"Do what you can here," he signed. "I'm going to find the Mester."