Percy saluted back at her. “Assuming our new recruit doesn’t try to kill us, yes.”
“He won’t,” Seraphim promised. “Let’s get going before someone notices us loitering.”
Fixing my hair, I exited the carriage with Percy. The knights on the walls stood at attention as all eyes fell on us.
A knight called down from above. “State your business.”
“We bring orders from Lord Eusebius,” I called back. “He wishes for a prisoner to be transferred to Therapne.”
“Open the gates.”
The easiest part of the plan was done. Eleos opened the door for us to re-enter the carriage, as the heavy metal gates slowly cranked open. Grinding chains and scraping steel set my nerves on edge. The carriage door slammed as Percy took his seat beside me, and Seraphim guided the horses forward.
“The hard part is over.” Eleos encouraged. “The rest will be easy enough.”
Percy frowned. “I never tire of your sarcasm.”
“I’m not being sarcastic.”
“Oh, come now. Even the new girl’s seen through you.”
I couldn’t see his mouth beneath his helm, but I was certain our scholar was wearing his annoying half-grin.
The carriage stopped in the courtyard, and Percy and I exited once more. A knight approached us, the flowing red cape trailing behind him denoting his higher rank.
“May I see your orders?” He asked.
Percy handed him my forged document. “My apologies for not sending word. It was an abrupt decision.”
He sounded a world different from the flamboyant bard: serious and gruff, just as we’d practiced.
The knight read the papers before looking up at us. “Has the good lord gone mad?”
“Serifos was not the only city he wronged,” I said. “Many of the crimes he committed in Therapne have gone without answer.”
“We could question him in your stead. Surely—”
“You have my orders.” Percy interrupted. “Do you assent or will you send us back to Lord Eusebius to deliver your denial?”
Nodding, the knight gestured east. “Have your carriage follow the path to the eastern gate. We’ll bring him out there.”
Seraphim saluted, awaiting my word. Nodding, I turned back to the knight and followed him to the imposing front doors, into the heart of the fort. The carriage rolled down the eastern path, and I glanced back at it before the heavy doors shut behind me.
The dour dungeon I had been expecting was instead a gorgeous grand hall, with a looming archway leading into a chapel. Water trickled between the pews in decorative channels, and a statue of Haimyx rose in cracked stone from the center. He looked less like a life god and more like a death god, depicted with a bloody scythe and a funeral shroud.
Our guide led us past the grandeur to a small office, where he dropped us off with a bow. A grizzled older man who must have been the Warden sat at a positively ancient stone desk, a pile of papers and ledgers before him.
Raising his quill, the old knight waved us inside.
“Transfer orders, sir,” I said politely, handing him the forgery.
The man’s heavy brow knit tighter and tighter until I was sure it would cover his eyes completely. Unlike the guard, he did not question the order.
Rising, he grabbed a key ring from his desk and walked past us. “Use caution. Stay behind me and do not approach him.”
“Is he that dangerous?”
“He’s chthonic. If he spies a threadbare cut on you, you’re dead.” The Warden beckoned for us to follow.
