“He is.” Royce bobbed his head toward Hadrian.

“My brother isn’t so you should be able to subdue him easily. Be certain not to hurt him.”

“This is likely a really stupid question for me to ask,” Royce said, “but what makes you think we won’t just kill your brother, leave his body in the sewer to rot, and then just disappear?”

“Nothing,” she replied. “Like you, I simply don’t have a choice.”

The monks posed little problem and once dressed in their frocks, with hoods carefully drawn, they slipped out of their cell. Hilfred stood waiting just outside and quickly escorted them as far as the entrance to the kitchens where, without a word, he left them alone. Royce, who had always had better night vision, led the way through the dark labyrinth of massive pots and piled plates. Dressed as they were with loose sleeves and long, disabling robes, they navigated this sea of potential disaster where one wrong move could topple a ceramic stack and cause alarm.

So far, Arista’s plan was a success. The kitchen was empty. They shed their clerical garb in favor of their own clothes and gear. They located the central basin under which was a massive iron grating. Although it was heavy, they were able to move it out of position without creating too much noise. They were pleasantly surprised to find some iron rungs leading into the void. In the depths below, they could hear the trickle of water. Hadrian looked around and found a pantry filled with vegetables. He felt around until he located a burlap sack filled with potatoes. He quietly dumped out the spuds, shook it as clean as he could, and then rooted around for twine.

They were still a long way from free, but the future was looking considerably better than it had only minutes before. Although Royce had not said a word, the fact that he was responsible bothered Hadrian. Waiting there together, the guilt and silence became overpowering.

“Aren’t you going to say ‘I told you so’?” Hadrian whispered.

“What would be the point in that?”

“Oh, so you’re saying that you’re going to hang on to this and throw it at me at some future, more personally beneficial moment?”

“I don’t see the point in wasting it now, do you?”

They left the door to the kitchen slightly ajar, and before long, the distant glow of a torch appeared and Hadrian could hear approaching voices. At this signal, they took their positions. Royce took a seat at the table with his back to the entryway. He put the hood of his cloak up and pretended to hunch over a plate of food. Hadrian stood to one side of the door, his short sword raised above his head.

“For Maribor’s sake, why here?”

“Because I’m offering the old man a plate of food and a place to wash.”

Hadrian recognized the voices of Alric and Arista and surmised they were now just outside the kitchen door.

“I don’t see why we had to leave the guards, Arista. There may still be danger. Other assassins could be loose and plotting to kill me, or even you. Have you thought of that?”

“That’s why you need to talk to this man. He says he knows who hired the men who killed father, and he refuses to talk to a woman. I get the impression there may be a conspiracy at work here, and I’m not sure who to trust. He said he will only deal with you, and only if you are alone. Don’t worry, he’s an old man and you’re a skilled swordsman. We have to find out what he has to say. Don’t you want to know?”

“Of course, but what makes you think he knows?”

“I don’t. I don’t know anything for certain. But he says he knows. He’s not asking for money, just a fresh start. That reminds me, here are some clothes to give him.” There was a brief pause. “Look, he seems trustworthy to me. I think if he were lying, he would request gold or land. I’m reserving judgment until I know what he knows, and as I said, he won’t tell me anything.”

“It’s just so—strange. Hilfred is not even with you. It’s as if you’re walking around without a shadow. It’s unnerving is what it is. Just coming down here with you it’s…well, you and I, we…you know. We’re brother and sister, yet, we hardly see each other. In the last few years, I think I’ve only spoken to you a dozen times, and then only when we visit Drondil Fields on holiday. You always lock yourself up in that tower doing who knows what, but now—”

“I know, it’s strange,” Arista replied. “I agree. It’s like the night of the fire all over again. I still have nightmares about that evening. I wonder if I’ll have nightmares about tonight.”

Alric’s voice softened. “That’s not really my point. It’s just that we’ve never gotten along, not really. But now, well, you’re the only family I have left. It seems strange to be saying it, but I suddenly find that matters to me.”

“Are you saying you want to be friends?”

“Let’s just say I want to stop being enemies.”

“I didn’t know we were.”

“You’ve been jealous of me ever since mother told you elder daughters don’t get to be queen as long as little brothers are around to be king.”

“I have not!”

“I don’t want to fight. Maybe I do want to be friends. I’m the king now, and I’ll need your help. You’re smarter than most of the ministers anyway, Father always said so. And you’ve had university training; that’s more than I’ve had.”

“Trust me, Alric I’m more than your friend. I’m your big sister, and I’ll look out for you. Now go in there and see what this man has to say.”

As Alric entered the door, Hadrian brought the hilt of his sword down on the back of his head. The prince collapsed to the floor with a dull thud. Arista rushed in.

“I said not to hurt him!” she scolded.

“He would be screaming for the guard right now otherwise,” Hadrian explained. He tied a gag around the prince’s mouth and placed the sack over his head. Royce was already up from his seat and securing Alric’s ankles with twine.

“He’s all right though?”

“He’ll live,” Hadrian told her as he secured the hands and arms of the unconscious prince.

“Which is a whole lot more than he had in store for us,” Royce added, pulling tight the noose around the prince’s ankles.

“Keep in mind he was certain you killed his father,” the princess said. “How would you react?”

“I never knew my father,” Royce replied indifferently.

“Your mother then.”

“Royce is an orphan,” Hadrian explained as they continued to wrap the prince in twine. “He never knew either of his parents.”

“I suppose that explains a lot. Well then, imagine how you will treat the person who sent you to the chapel tonight, once you find him. I doubt you will be very charitable when coming face to face with him. In any case, you gave your word. Please do as I ask, and take good care of my brother. Don’t forget I spared your lives tonight. I’m hoping that fact will keep you to your word.”

She held out the bundle dropped by her brother. “Here is a set of clothes that should fit him. They used to belong to the steward’s son, and I always thought he looked about the same size as Alric. Oh, and remove his ring but keep it safe. It bears the royal seal of Melengar and is proof of his identity. Without it, unless you encounter someone who knows his face, Alric is just another peasant. Return it to him when you reach the prison. He’ll need it to get in.”

“We’ll hold up our end of the bargain,” Hadrian told her as he and Royce moved the bundled body of the prince toward the open basin. Royce pulled the opulent dark blue ring from Alric’s finger and stuffed it in his breast pocket. He then climbed to the bottom of the cistern. Using the rope tied around Alric’s ankles, Hadrian lowered him head first to Royce. Once the prince was down, Hadrian grabbed the torch and dropped it to Royce. Then he entered the hole and dragged the grating back into position. At the bottom of the ladder was a five-feet-wide, four-feet-high arched tunnel in which a shallow river of filth flowed.