Page 33 of Weaving Winter

“Thank you. I can’t even remember where my key went?—”

“This is it, Mistress. One day, I noticed it sitting on the shelf in your room, and I pocketed it in case we might need it later. This was back when the prince started to change—when he began to fall into his paranoia.”

“Good thinking,” Fenling said. “All right, I have to figure out how to free Bran. It wouldn’t surprise me to hear that Karehl plans to execute him. He can make up anything he wants to about the situation, and the people will have to accept it, or he’ll send them to the axe as well.”

“Would he really sentence Bran to execution?” The thought made me shudder. “I thought Bran was beloved by the people?—”

“Figure of speech. Even Karehl’s not stupid enough to flaunt his power that way in front of a populace who adored their father and both sons. No, Bran will fall ill, no doubt, and die. It’s easy to find poisons that mimic illnesses. It may take longer, but it wouldn’t incite the violence that an assassination might.” Fenling’s voice was shaking. “I can’t believe this is happening. We all thought the prince might lose it at some point, but there’s a vast gulf between possibility and reality.”

“This way,” Tonyah said, as we came to an intersection in the tunnels. “We turn right, and then, after a stretch, left, and we’ll be at the supply closet. We can wait there till nightfall and slip away.”

“We’ll need to get our horses out,” Fenling said. “Can you contact your stable hand friend? And do you think he can talk to Quen?”

Tonyah thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, actually. Let me get you safely into the closet, then I’ll cloak up and find him.”

“We owe you more than gratitude,” Fenling said.

We came to the storage closet. It was filled with food and other items that looked like they were meant for travelers, and Tonyah handed us a key, then pulled her hood down over her head and slipped away to find her friend.

We locked ourselves into the closet, and Fenling immediately began preparing several bags of food and other items like rope and flint.

“I can’t believe this all happened so quickly?—”

“It’s been a long time coming. Your presence is only peripheral to the main issue. I’m sorry you got caught up in things. Karehl knew his father wanted Bran to take the crown, but given he’s older, he had the rightful claim. Even the king’s wishes couldn’t go against the royal traditions.”

“What about their mother? Is she still living?”

“I think Karehl exiled his mother to some other place to live. Or he had her killed. Bran won’t talk about it. Karehl’s always been greedy for power to the exclusion of all else. Nothing else matters to him.” Fenling handed me a loaf of hard-bread, along with some dried meat. “Eat. We may not have a chance to stop when we’re on the road. We have to get back into the Bramble Fel Forest.”

I ate, then helped her pack what we could so that it was easier carrying. We waited, tensely listening for any footsteps, for what seemed like an eternity until a tap on the door caught our attention.

“It’s me,” Tonya softly called through the door.

Fenling opened it. Tonya was there with another figure—he looked like a young man barely into early adulthood, with just a whisper of a beard on his face. He, too, was wearing a cloak but the hood was pushed back.

“This is Sparrow. He works in the stables. You can trust him.”

“Sparrow? I need you to do three things: one, get a message to Quen, first lieutenant in the Lorani. Bring him here to talk to me, and don’t let anyone see him. Go now, and tell him it’s an emergency.” Fenling pulled out several coins. “These will be yours when you return with him. And more later, if you make certain nobody else knows.”

“Yes, Mistress.” The young man’s eyes glimmered and he turned, cloaking up as he moved away from the door.

“You’re sure we can trust him?” I asked.

Tonyah nodded. “As much as I can trust anybody. He’s an orphan. I’ve watched out for him for the past few years, since he first arrived in Eleago. He’s loyal to me.” She glanced around the storeroom. “Did you find the cache?”

“What are you talking about?” Fenling asked.

“Over here. The spies for the prince use this room now and then to outfit themselves before going out.” Tonyah knelt down, loosening the floor boards in the corner.

“What kind of spies does Karehl employ?” Fenling asked.

Tonyah sighed. “I thought Lord Bran would have told you. In the past few years, the prince has sent out spies. I’m never sure what they’re looking for, but I know of them because the keeper of this storage room is a friend of mine and she told me. They hide here, waiting to leave at night. The bed in that far corner? It gives them a place to rest.”

“I wonder…” Fenling turned to me. “About a month before we found you, several new members joined the Lorani. I wonder if any of them were sent by the prince to watch us from within. Usually Bran decides our members, but Karehl promised several of them spots.”

“Quen might know more,” I said.

We whiled away the better part of an hour until Sparrow returned. Quen was behind him, also cloaked up and looking weary. The wound was healing quite well, but he looked tired.

---