Page 112 of Play of Shadows

Chapter 54

Gaol Break

I followed my grandfather from the cells beneath the palace, through heavy, iron-banded doors, up increasingly wide staircases and along ever more gleaming halls until at last we reached the ground level and made for the gates to the courtyard and a semblance of freedom. The guards we passed glared, smirked or pretended to spit to mark our passing, all keeping their hands on the hilts of their weapons as if at any moment they might decide to execute the impudent commoners who dared leave the dungeon while still breathing.

My grandfather loved it. ‘Feels just like the old days,’ he murmured happily as he gave a polite nod to the retainer flanked by two spearmen who had reminded us–twice– that I hadn’t been freed, only paroled on the duke’s goodwill– and that I could be arrested again at any time without cause.

‘How is that different from everyone else in this city?’ I’d asked before my grandfather had shushed me and then gone about puffing up the retainer.

‘Don’t bother the gentleman with your silly questions, boy,’ he had said, patting the fellow’s chest repeatedly. ‘He’s a very important man, with a lot to do, yes? And we are fortunate for his generous nature.’ He actually stopped to shake the retainer’shand, several times. ‘Very important fellow. Our thanks, sir. Many,manythanks.’

After we’d gone, I couldn’t help but give my grandfather a withering look. ‘What was all that about? I thought they called you the King’s Courtesy, not the King’s Lickspittle.’

The old man had a veritable spring in his step now. ‘Ah, I do miss it, my boy. The dirty looks, the whispers of “Trattari” or “tatter-cloak” from primping thugs with precious little brains and even less honour. The subtle hint that, at a moment’s notice, they might draw their blades on you and then, well, anything could happen. Positively enriching!’ He opened his left hand and showed me the three coins and two keys on his palm.

‘Youpickpocketeda ducal official?’

‘He was rude,’ my grandfather replied, as if that explained everything.

‘Some magistrate,’ I said, laughing despite my concerns for the potential cost of such brazenness. ‘When next they need to replenish the Order of the Greatcoats, I know a few thieving alley-rats who would be more than qualified, if that’s the standard.’

The old man huffed at that. ‘Well, now, it’s true that there are some. . . um. . .regrettableparallels in the skillsets required of both burglars and travelling magistrates, but if you knew the law at all, you’d have realised that fellow lied to us. All that nonsense about him having the ability to have us arrested and executed on his own remand? That’s a crime, you know– “abuse of delegated authority” is the legal term in Pertine. Now, Icouldhave taken him to court for it, proved my case, got a judgement against him for damages due to “infliction of undue distress or discomfort”, but the lower courts are so backed up these days, I thought I’d just handle the matter myself.’

‘By pickpocketing him?’

‘Call it a fine. I believe a nice breakfast will remove all traces ofmy undue distress.’

As we passed beneath an arched passageway to the high-ceilinged foyer and the double doors that would lead out of the palace, I asked, ‘What about the keys? Those looked like they were for the fellow’s house and gate. How do they figure into your “undue distress”?’

‘Ah, those. Well, if for any reason that fine gentleman should choose to use his authority to have my grandson arrested, detained or so much as jostled in the street, I’d beextremelydistressed. I might even have to resort to using those same keys to pay him a visit and mete out a great deal of discomfort.’

I stopped and took a moment to identify the source of the unexpected lightness in my chest. ‘You really are an excellent grandfather, you know that?’

The old man gave a little cough to mask the break in his voice as he adjusted his coat. ‘I do have a certain patriarchal flair, don’t I? Even when my fool of a grandson neglects to ask for my help.’

I grinned. ‘Especially then, thank every saint dead and living.’ I stood there, marvelling that after being condemned by a duke, I was about to walk out of the front gates a free man. ‘I still can’t believe you bluffed Monsegino into letting me go.’

My grandfather’s smile was unusually sheepish. ‘Well, my boy, truth be told, I did have a little help.’ He walked on a few feet, then paused to balance the hook of his stick on his right wrist before shoving the ornately carved oak double doors until they swung open.

Outside, more than two dozen grim, determined faces were staring at us: ragtag players and beaten-down crew, every one of them bearing the marks of their ordeal during the fatal attack on the Belleza two nights ago. Despite the cuts, bruises, burns and broken limbs, each stood firm as stone, defiantly facing off the far more heavily armed guardsmen who were watching them warily.

Shoville was right all along,I thought.They really are Knights of the Curtain.

The dignity of the moment was shattered by the boisterous shouting of a certain red-bearded lunatic who pushed past our comrades, batting aside the pair of crossed spears barring his way as he raced up the stone steps.

A second later the breath was being squeezed out of me.

‘Brother!’ Beretto cheered, hugging me relentlessly. ‘You’re free– the doors of your prison thrown open, the shackles binding you unleashed—’

‘Yes,’ I wheezed, trying to escape from the iron grip long enough to take in a lungful of air. ‘Though it doesn’t feel that way at this precise moment.’

Rhyleis came up behind Beretto, a guitar slung across her back, looking mildly disappointed to find me free already.

Beretto finally put me down, only to start prodding at my chest in search of newly inflicted wounds to go with those already there. ‘You don’t look tortured. Did they torture you?’

‘Not as much as you’re apparently intent on doing.’

I looked out at the others: Ornella, her silver hair now tied in a warrior’s topknot, a quarterstaff in hand; Abastrini, looking faintly drunk, keeping one hand on the hilt of his broadsword as he stared menacingly at the duke’s guards, apparently oblivious to the dirty, bloodstained sling supporting his injured left arm; Colm and Cileila, the carpenters, holding their largest hammers at the ready; Bida and Dalca, who used to spend all their time bickering over which of them should understudy for Roslyn’s parts, now standing shoulder to shoulder with daggers drawn. Even tall, gangly Teo, perpetually sullen, loomed there, prepared to do battle alongside his comrades to help free me. Every one of them bore twin charcoal stripes down their cheeks.

---