Kall hesitated. He still didn't know where his father was. The bulk of the fray seemed to be coming from the central garden; Haig was headed in the opposite direction. With a last look at white-gold hair and whirling steel, Kall retrieved his sword and ran for the sunlight, ignoring Haig's voice calling after him.
In the heart of the garden, Kall found his father. Dhairr was alive and fighting, but he bled from several wounds. He straddled one fallen hood and fought two others who pressed him back against the lip of a fountain. This central point irrigated the entire garden; the water had been left to flow freely, turning the terrain off the raised stone walkways into a muddy jungle.
Kall ran down the flooded path, not allowing himself to think as he stabbed the black-robed figure closest to his father. The foe's back arched, and the dying assassin toppled over the side of the fountain, wrenching Kall's sword from his hands. Kall scrambled to get out of the way.
Dhairr looked up in shock to see his son. His remaining opponent backed away, hoisting up a dead comrade. Dhairr spun to see another hood charging at them through the mud, but instead of engaging, this one too, grabbed a body—that of the foe Kall had killed—and started to spirit it away.
"No!" A scream of pure agony and frustration tore from Dhairr's throat. He charged the escaping assassins, but water and wounds slowed him. He could not make the edge of the fountain before his legs gave out. He still grasped his sword in a white-knuckled fist. Kall dodged it and grabbed his father around the waist, gripping and hoisting him up.
"All back! All back!" Dhairr tried to pull away, but Kall held him tightly. Spittle flew from his mouth, and he trembled wildly, slashing his sword at invisible foes. "Guards, to me! Bring one alive, damn you! Bring one alive!"
Bootfalls pounded from the direction of the main hall. Dhairr made an ugly sound in his throat. Kall turned, expecting another enemy, and saw Haig running out to them.
"Father!" Kall stayed the lord's arm as he swung his gaze and blade to the man. Recognition came slowly into Dhairr's eyes, and he lowered his weapon.
"Haig," he said hoarsely. "What happened?"
Kall spoke first. The words tumbled over each other to get out. "Isslun, Dencer . . ." he named them all, describing Aazen's wound and Haig's rescue.
Dhairr had both hands on Kall's shoulders, but he looked at Haig. "How many in total?"
"I can't be certain, my lord," Haig replied. "As it stands, I would trust none of your guard and appeal to the Esmeltaran militia for help."
Dhairr nodded, taking it all in. "Where is Kortrun?"
Boots scraped on stone, and all three of them looked up. Balram stood at the edge of the garden, near the stairs to Dhairr's office. He was watching them, a speculative look in his eyes as they fell on Haig.
"Captain," Dhairr said, relieved. "We were nearly overrun." He noticed the blood dripping from Balram's hand. "Are you all right?"
"I am," Balram said, walking slowly out to them. His sword trailed unsheathed at his side, its emerald winking in the sunlight. "Thank the gods you're both alive." The words held no inflection.
Haig's blade came up, but he stayed at Kall's side. He laid a hand on Kall's arm, as if he might draw him away from his father. "Your captain was one of those who betrayed you, Lord Morel," he said calmly. "Do not trust him."
Dhairr glanced sharply at Balram. "That can't be," he said. "Kortrun—"
"The accusation is fair," Balram replied, cutting him off and surprising a frown onto Dhairr's face. "But you should know its source before you judge." He raised his blade. Haig batted it aside with a clang that was loud in the stillness of the garden. Balram merely smiled and pointed with the sword's tip at Haig's collar. A small silver pin glinted there, barely visible from the folds of cloth. Its crescent moon surrounded a harp and tiny stars. "A piece to rival even your finest work, my lord, if you'll forgive my saying so." His smile melted into a sneer. "We have a Harper in our midst."
"Harper?"
Dhairr started at the sound of his son's voice, as if he'd forgotten Kall was present. Kall stared at Haig, his hand outstretched to the man, too many questions pressing into his throat.
Balram continued, "There are traitors in your house, my friend," he said to Dhairr. "This one, I warrant, is Alytia's work."
"Is this truth?" Dhairr asked. "Speak!" he shouted when Haig hesitated.
Haig met Kall's eyes briefly. "I was asked by the Harper Alytia Morel to see to her son's protection when she was forced to leave this house. I honored her request. . . and continued to do so after her death."
"No," Kall shook his head in denial even as the words sank into him like a cold kiss, through the heat, the buzzing of insects, and the tension of raised blades all around him. His chest seized up. His mother... a Harper? Sent away? That was impossible. His mother died giving birth to him. His father told him the story long ago. Haig was confused, he was lying…
Beside him, Dhairr stood in a similar state of shock, but Haig's words did not have the same paralytic effect.
His gaze still on Kall, Haig never saw the attack coming.
Dhairr hit the Harper from the side, driving him to the ground. Haig's skull struck the fountain's edge, and Kall could see the whites of his eyes as he went limp. Dhairr hauled him over and plunged him up to his neck in the fountain, jolting the man back to semi-consciousness.
"Not yet, not yet," Dhairr growled. The sudden outpouring of rage transformed htm into a creature Kall did not recognize. Stunned, he fell back a pace.
"Before you die, you will tell me who hunts me!" Dhairr screamed. "Do you hear?" He shook the senseless Harper, plunging him beneath the water again. Haig's hands came up, spasming weakly. "Did Alytia send you to kill me? Is this her revenge?"
"Father, stop!" Kall grabbed Dhairr's shoulder, trying to wrench him off Haig. He pulled, gasping, pounding with his fists, but the lord's muscles were clenched balls of heat and strength. A boy couldn't hope to overpower him.
Kall felt a hand close over his throat, yanking him back. He glared hatefully up into Balram's eyes. "Liar," he gasped. Balram shook him.
"Now, now," he said soothingly, stroking a thumb across Kall's windpipe. "Leave them alone. You and I can entertain ourselves." He raised Kall to his toes. "You say Aazen was injured?" His jaw tightened. "How careless of them. It was supposed to be you. And where is Aazen now, Kall ?" Balram asked, his voice rising. "Alone . . . wounded? Did you leave him to die?" He pressed down. Spots clouded Kall's vision. Disgusted, Balram dropped him into the mud.
"He ... alive," Kall choked. His tongue felt swollen in his mouth. Using one arm for leverage, he dragged himself through the ferns as Balram stalked unhurriedly after him. "Haig!" he sobbed, watching the Harper's body twitch as his father held him under the water for the space of a breath, two, three—too long.
"Father!" Kall screamed as he clumsily dodged a swipe from Balram's foot. "Stop! Help me!"
Balram kicked him in the ribs, knocking the air from Kall's lungs. He tried to curl into a ball, but Balram kicked him again. Kall's arm went numb. He lurched back, reaching desperately, but his father didn't seem to hear anything going on around him.
"If you do not resist, I will tell your father you died defending him," Balram promised, and the reassurance, the sincerity in his voice sent a horrible chill through Kall. He scooped up a handful of mud and hurled it into Balram's face.
The guard captain staggered back, and Kall ran—out of the garden, through the main hall and the double entry doors. He stopped when he saw Haig's horse standing on the track leading from the estate. His ribs burned—hard breathing sent a fire raging over them.
He stumbled to the horse and crawled up the animal's back. It neighed and balked, but eventually settled as Kall draped himself over its back and kicked its flanks. The horse sprang to life, but Kall didn't even glance at the direction it chose. He half-expected a hailstorm of arrows to follow him out the front gates. He buried his face in the horse's dark mane and waited, but he felt only the fire in his ribs and an awful, searing pain in his heart.
CHAPTER FOUR
Esmeltaran, Amn
12 Eleasias, the Year of the Sword (1365 DR)
Balram spat mud. The boy wouldn't get far. He raised his sword to the east tower, signaling Meraik. The man saluted and disappeared from view.
"Captain." Dencer hurried to him. He cast a wary glance at Morel, who crouched beside the fountain next to Haig's body floating in the water.
"Speak," Balram said, and added pointedly, "Kall yet lives."
"Forgive me, Captain," Dencer said, and lowered his voice. "Haig interfered. My arrow missed the boy."
"And found its way into my son," Balram said grimly.
"Forgive me," Dencer pleaded.
Balram regarded the man for a long time. "Bring my son home to me, Dencer," he said finally.