Chapter Nineteen #2
On the other side of the stable, he counted the steps back, until he was reasonably confident he was on the exact opposite side of the stables from the secret entrance into the castle. He was now facing the outer wall of the castle… and he just had to find the secret entrance here.
Not giving himself any time to second guess himself, Pel stepped up to the wall and treated it just like the entrance from the courtyard, with the extra reach that Tor had shown him what seemed like a lifetime ago.
Stand here. Press here with one hand stretched out to span two stones. Press there with one elbow. Lean in. Come on, come on, come—
Just as silently as the other two doors, this one swung in, and if it weren’t the worst timing ever, Pel would have cheered.
Instead, he looked to left and right to ensure he was still unobserved and then rushed inside.
This time, he took a moment to check the passage that he’d never been through before, but it proved to be almost unnecessary. The wall was thick, but not that thick. Even in the gloom, Pel could make out the other side ahead of him. There was basically enough room for the two doors to open.
Pel stepped all the way inside and pressed the door closed behind them. He shuffled across the space, this time keeping his free hand outstretched, and within a few steps, he’d reached the opposite side.
He once again found the lever by touch, and praying fervently to the goddess, he pushed it up. The door swung open, Pel checked to make sure no one was about to leap out at them, and then he stepped through.
He stayed by the wall until the door closed smoothly once more. The last thing the castle needed right now was for there to be another way for people to gain entrance.
They seemed to be in a park or other green area, with yet one more strategically placed tree that hid the entrance from the average onlooker—not that there was anyone looking at this time of night.
Now Pel could only pray that no one was paying that much attention or would question what he was doing.
He was hardly an inconspicuous sight wandering around with a man slung over his shoulder like this.
But the further away he got from the castle, the less likely it would look that they were somehow involved.
He might be able to convince someone that his friend had just had too much to drink. He supposed that was one benefit to carrying the High Prince of the United Realms like he was a sack of potatoes—it was way harder to see his face this way.
He cut through the green space, moving steadily away from the castle wall and then going down a side street as soon as he could. Though he was curious to know if the gate of the castle was now protected, it wasn’t worth potentially being seen.
He sent a quick prayer flying up to the goddess, hoping that Tor’s family and all the innocent people in the castle were safe, but he’d made Tor his priority, and he was sticking with that.
He still had no idea where his inn was located, but maybe it made more sense at this point to get to the boat. Surely, he could at least find the Great River. He was on tenterhooks as he walked down the dark streets, trying to appear casual but keeping eyes and ears peeled for any sort of threat.
Someone loomed out of the shadows, and Pel was slashing out with his knife before he could consider that this might be a perfectly innocent civilian.
A hand caught his wrist and pressed hard enough to stop him but not enough to actually do any damage.
“It’s just me.”
Pel could have wept with relief. “What are you doing here?”
“Bela sent me,” Cavun said calmly, like he stopped people from accidentally stabbing him with knives all the time. “Thought you might be in a spot of trouble when neither of you showed up earlier. Want me to take him?”
Pel felt an immediate urge to clutch Tor closer—but that was nonsensical. He hadn’t let himself think about how heavy Tor was getting, but Pel had been coming to the end of his strength. He’d just been determined to carry on anyway.
But now he didn’t have to. Cavun was big enough to be able to carry Tor with ease.
“Yes, please,” he said, since that was the only reasonable answer. “Be careful. He’s injured.”
Cavun plucked Tor from Pel as though he weighed nothing, carrying him in his arms as though he were a baby. Tor’s head lolled against Cavun’s chest, and Pel swallowed thickly, his fingers itching to check Tor’s pulse.
What did Pel intend to do if it wasn’t there? Better to get to the inn and then figure everything out.
Cavun strode quickly as though he weren’t burdened at all by Tor’s weight. Pel felt weirdly unbalanced now, like an integral part of him was missing. His first few steps were stumbling, but then he caught up to Cavun and hurried along by his side.
By the time they reached the inn, Pel’s brain had spun in every direction uselessly. Thankfully, no one observed them carrying Tor up the stairs, though Pel had been practically quivering with his readiness to claim that Tor had drunk too much.
Beluna wasn’t sleeping when they arrived, and her look of worry intensified when she saw Tor.
Pel made sure the door was shut and locked behind them before he said, “It’s really not good.”
Cavun laid Tor down in the bed, and Pel immediately reached for his neck.
He felt a wave of dizziness wash through him when he felt that unsteady thrum beneath his fingertips.
It was fine. It was totally fine. Tor’s heart was still beating. He was a bit cool to the touch, but that had happened when he’d magically exhausted himself up the mountain. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t the end of the world.
Worrying about the end of the world seemed a lot more necessary than it had earlier today—and Pel had been well aware that they were going to meet the High King who probably wasn’t going to approve of Pel.
Everything had definitely been put into perspective for him.
Pel twined their hands together, still not liking the coldness. That might be one thing in this giant mess that he could fix.
“Do we have more blankets?”
Beluna raided the chest at the foot of the bed, and they piled several blankets on Tor. Pel climbed onto the bed with him, because he couldn’t tear himself away.
He took several deep breaths, sucking the air into his lungs and then expelling it slowly. Like he’d told Beluna, it was definitely not good, but it could have been worse.
He’d got Tor out of the castle, and that was the first step. He wasn’t flopping around suspended over Pel’s shoulder anymore, or even carried more comfortably by Cavun. He was in an inn, in a bed, and wrapped up in blankets.
“What happened?” Beluna asked, gaze intent on Pel’s face.
“He’s probably magically exhausted again,” Pel admitted. “I mean, the symptoms seem to be similar. Oh, but he’s injured!”
They pulled back the blankets, and Pel castigated himself for not having pointed that out right away. Magical exhaustion was his best guess, and there wasn’t anything Pel could do about that without a healer, but they could definitely address Tor’s physical wounds.
Beluna pushed Pel aside, unbinding Pel’s sloppy bandages and getting Tor out of his tunic and hose to make sure there were no other bad injuries. He was covered in bruises and scratches, but his leg and side were by far the worst.
They cleaned each area and spread ointment over the minor ones. (It turned out that Beluna planned ahead and had brought supplies in case any of them were injured. Pel vowed that he would never forget again. Not that something like this was ever allowed to happen again, but still.)
“Are we likely to be able to take Tor to a healer anytime soon?” Beluna wanted to know.
Pel shook his head. He couldn’t see how. The only healer Pel knew personally was Wavilon, and not only was he days and days away, Pel couldn’t imagine taking Tor back to Baless and the castle. With the mood his father was in, he’d happily turn Tor over—or take care of the problem himself.
Beluna just nodded to herself, not seeming particularly surprised, and then pulled out needle and thread and neatly stitched up the wound in Tor’s leg and side.
Tor didn’t rouse even slightly, once again enforcing the idea that he was magically exhausted.
Pel watched with morbid fascination through all of the stitching. Beluna was very matter-of-fact, but she was definitely poking someone repeatedly with a needle and pulling thread through their skin.
Then she spread ointment over those wounds, too, and carefully bandaged them up again.
Beluna cleaned her equipment and then carefully packed it away, and Pel realized that she and Cavun had been incredibly patient, not asking questions and prioritizing Tor’s safety. But they needed to know what was going on.
Swallowing thickly, Pel told them, “It went extremely badly this morning.” This morning. It was hard to believe how much had changed in such a little time. “The High King accused Prince Torex of committing treason, and he bound over his magic and imprisoned him in the dungeon.”
They looked stunned. Pel sighed.
“My father’s letter definitely didn’t help. There were apparently rumors of growing instability between Tond and the exiles, and somehow, all of that was laid at Tor’s door. We weren’t even given the chance of explaining what really happened. Tor got blamed for everything.”
Both of them looked disapproving, and Pel wondered if it would have helped after all if they’d all gone. Or would that just have landed more of them in the dungeon?
“Why didn’t you come and get us?” Beluna demanded. “We would have helped you get him out.”
Pel was touched by Beluna’s willingness to commit treason for them… and felt his cheeks flare hot at what he had to confess next. “I didn’t actually help get Tor out of the dungeon. I’m not sure how he got out, but it seems like it might have been part of a whole plot?”