In The Prince's Secret Service - 11. Kidnapped

The companions’ reception in Sophie was less friendly and more cautious than at previous towns. The city’s gates were closed. Guards stood on the parapet and issued their challenge. Alan replied, “I am Alan, son of Sir Aaron, Lord Silvanus, Privy Counselor to Prince Auric. I am traveling to Agium to hunt in the mountains; my friends travel with me.”

 

The Sembler who stood beside the guard squinted as Alan spoke. “There’s truth there…but there’s more, as well.”

 

“We may do some trading,” Alan added. “Although trade is becoming dangerous, from what we hear. Caravans raided, people killed…”

 

The guard scoffed. “Overblown rumors. We’ve had no trouble here. And aren’t likely to.” Distracted from further questions by his own words, the guard waved the group through the postern gate.

 

James had prepared himself and saw the guard’s lie. He’s worried…but not, apparently, about us.

 

“Should we tell the clerics, here, about the attack on the monastery north of Nut Grove, and the missing cleric from that village?” James posed the question to Patrick and Alan. The companions had waited for the crowd to clear the inn’s public bath, and were relaxing in the hot soak.

 

Patrick pondered the question. “You could not do so without revealing yourselves to be clerics. Would they think it odd for clerics to be traveling with a hunting party? Would that create questions we’d rather not answer, or bring thoughts to mind that we’d rather people not have?”

 

It was Kenneth who found the answer to Patrick’s questions. “Alan’s father is a member of the Privy Council, as well as Lord Silvanus and a knight. It would not be unusual for his son to travel with his own healer and tutor, especially one who was also a swordsman and could double as a bodyguard.”

 

James was stunned. “Are you saying that a cleric would hire himself out in the manner of a mercenary?” he asked. “That’s what it sounds like. Maybe a spoiled child of a noble family would be chaperoned by a Cleric-Tutor, but a tween?”

 

Kenneth blushed. “Um, my brothers and I always had one, at home. And a bodyguard.”

 

Thom sniffed, “Spoiled, huh? So that’s what I’m smelling…”

 

“Oh!” James said. “Kenneth, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you…” Kenneth’s grin showed that he’d not taken offense at what Thom and James had said.

 

“I thought,” James continued, “that the Arcadian meritocracy demanded that all children had an equitable opportunity to learn, whether it be a trade or a skill. Hiring a cleric to tutor a child seems to fly in the face of that.”

 

“Um, Kenneth’s right, though” Alan interjected. “I did have tutors—and guards.”

 

“I had similar questions when I first came to Arcadia,” Patrick said. “I did not find it unusual that I would be apprenticed to the best healer in Arcadia, because the apprenticeship was arranged by a powerful, prominent man in Elvenhold. That seemed natural. It wasn’t long, however, before I found that one of Master William’s journeymen—who was my superior in both knowledge and Guild rank—was the son of a stableman. Two of my fellow apprentices were both from farm families. It took a while for me to realize that Master William had accepted me for the same reason he’d accepted them: because we all had talent, and had shown that we wanted to learn to use that talent—that we were willing to work to learn. Master William hadn’t accepted me as a student because he was asked by a powerful Elf; he accepted me because he had been assured that it would be worth his time to train me.

 

“That’s only part of the answer, however. The other part is this: not every boy can receive the best available training. There are simply not enough of the best teachers to train every boy. Somehow, decisions must be made: who will be trained, and who will remain a farmer’s son. If there are flaws in the Arcadian Meritocracy, that is one. Another is that successful people may be able to provide their children more opportunities than people who are less successful and who have fewer resources.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Alan said. “It’s no different from a farmer giving the pick of the litter better food, and perhaps even killing the runts. Except we don’t kill people.”

 

“That is how a farmer improves his flocks and herds,” James said. “The horse breeders we lived among kept bloodline records going back hundreds of generations.”

 

“And, besides, Prince Auric and his father before him always tried to find smart boys from wherever…they foster at least a hundred boys at court, and make maybe ten new pages each year. And they’re not from noble families. Well, most of them aren’t. But they’re all smart,” Alan said.

 

“I wasn’t smart, though,” Alan added.

 

“You are too, smart!” Thom asserted, seeing the pensive look on Alan’s face.

 

“Thom’s right,” Patrick said. “You have a unique way of looking at thing, and your love of riddles and puzzles shows it.”

 

*****

 

The companions spent the next two days canvassing Sophie for trade opportunities. The merchants were guarded in their conversations, and did not seem anxious to discuss trade with the capital city.

 

“We can’t stay here much longer,” Alan said after the second fruitless days. “We announced that we were on a hunting trip, and although we might be interested in trade, it’s pretty obvious that we’re not getting anywhere. If we stay much longer, we may raise suspicions.”

 

“Alan’s right,” Kenneth said. “Twice when city guards passed us it felt as if they were looking for us, watching us.”

 

“James, Thom, any thoughts?” Patrick asked the other two members of the team.

 

“I’m ready to leave,” Thom said. “I don’t have any magic like you and James and Kenneth do, but this place is creepy.”

 

“Very well. Tomorrow, we leave. We’ll stop here on the way back from Agium. Perhaps we’ll have better luck, then,” Patrick concluded.

 

The next morning Thom went to the stable to prepare the horses for the trip. Kenneth and Alan both offered to help him, but he declined. They did not press the issue. Thom seemed to enjoy, even need, his time alone with the horses. The others went to breakfast, expecting Thom to join them, but he had not appeared by the time the others finished their meal. Alan got up from the table. “I’ll go help Thom,” he said. “We can leave after he gets some breakfast.” Patrick nodded. He and Kenneth went back to the room to gather everyone’s packs, while James settled their account with the publican.

 

James had just returned to the room when they heard heavy feet pounding up the stairs. Looking out the door, Patrick saw Alan rushing down the hall with Thom cradled in his arms. “He’s been hurt!” Alan said, gently placing the boy on one of the beds. “There was some kind of fight in the stable. The horses and our tack and gear are all right, but Thom was hurt.”

 

James and Patrick immediately moved in. James looked at Patrick, who nodded to say, Your patient, healer. “Let me know where I can help,” the Elf added verbally.

 

James placed his hands on Thom’s blood soaked hair and looked at the boy. “Pulse and respiration are good. Heavy blow to the head. Nothing broken. Some swelling already starting. Patrick, would you deal with that while I examine the rest of him?”

 

Wordlessly Patrick touched Thom’s head, and began directing the blood and lymph vessels to constrict, reducing pressure on the brain. He then directed power to the affected area of the brain, giving it the energy it needed to begin healing itself. Some hematoma, he thought, as he gently prodded the engorged blood vessels. Now for that gash on his scalp.

 

Meanwhile, James had determined that apart from some serious bruises, Thom was not injured. “Where’s his dagger?” he asked Alan.

 

“Not with him,” Alan said. “Whoever hurt him likely took it.”

 

As Thom began to regain consciousness, the sound of shouting voices raised in hubbub became audible.

 

“There’s something going on in the common room,” Patrick said. He closed his eyes and sat quietly for a moment. He was not idle, however. Carefully gathering magic, he sent out a series of gentle pulses and examined their echoes. Anger, worry, and grief in the common room are not directed at us. Nothing else is unusual. We’re safe, for the moment.

 

“Alan, please find out what that noise is about. James, as soon as he’s stable, ask Thom what happened. Kenneth, gather all our things together in one place…on that bed, please. Be ready to leave quickly.”

 

The companions rushed to their tasks. Thom was sitting up, but still groggy, when Alan returned. “Publican’s son, a boy, and the boy’s cousin, a child, are missing. They were supposed to be tending the stable.”

 

Walking over to Thom, and looking at James for approval, Alan sat beside the boy. Putting his arm around Thom, Alan asked, “How do you feel? Are you okay?”

 

“Head still hurts,” Thom said, reaching up to touch his head. James gently brushed the boy’s hand away.

 

“It is healing,” he said, “but still, I want to bandage it.”

 

“Did something happen in the stable?” Alan asked.

 

“Four men…came to get their horses. I was kneeling in a stall, closing my saddlebags, so they didn’t see me. I heard them talking to the boys. One of them…one of the men said they should take the boys to the slave market! I couldn’t let that happen,” Thom’s voice broke. “I just couldn’t!”

 

Patrick took the news downstairs, explaining to the publican that it appeared that the two missing boys had been kidnapped. “Our companion, who was injured in their defense, says that there were four men, three Human and an Elf. Were they guests?” he asked.

 

“Four men—three Humans and an Elf,” the distraught man replied. “Yes. They came in late, after you’d had your supper…”

 

“Where were they bound? Where were they from?” Patrick continued, his senses attuned to the publican’s aura, looking for—not lies, but uncertainties.

 

“South, they said. They were going south,” the publican replied. His initial shock had worn off, and a deep apathy born of despair was setting in.

 

Patrick lowered his voice. “Please…if we are to help, we must be certain. Are you sure they were going south?”

 

The publican’s attitude brightened slightly. “Yes, I heard them asking a carter about the road to Agium. That was last night.”

 

“Three Humans and an Elf left the inn just before we came to breakfast. The publican thinks they were going toward Agium,” Patrick relayed to his companions. “They harmed Thom, and likely have kidnapped two boys. What are your thoughts?”

 

“Thom, did they say where the slave market was?” Patrick asked. Slavery was forbidden in Arcadia, but that did not mean that it did not exist.

 

Thom looked at his feet and clasped his hands together. “I don’t remember. I think they said a town, but I just don’t remember. I’m sorry,” the boy said.

 

It was quickly agreed that the companions would pursue the kidnappers. “It’s not part of our mission, except that at the heart of our mission is the fight against Evil, and these men are certainly Evil,” James summed up the discussion.

 

“Our best chance, now, is to assume the kidnappers went south, I think.” James said. He looked at the other two.

 

Patrick nodded. “We should ask at the gate, though.”

 

James blushed. Once again, he’d jumped to conclusions. “The publican’s wife gave me this trinket. She said the boy treasured it. Normally, it would make a good compass, but it indicates nothing. The hills and the oaks all around here cause too many…ripples, I guess. I don’t think the boy is still in the town, though.” James did not need to add that if the boy were dead, the compass would give the same indication.

 

“Let us ride, then,” Patrick said.

 

The guard at the gate was able to confirm that a party of four had left the town and turned south. He was sure they had two large bundles draped over their horses. He could not say, however, what time they left, or what might have been in the bundles.

 

“They’ll ride fast, at first,” Alan said. “But it’s unlikely that they can maintain that pace. With the extra burden of the boys, they’ll slow fairly soon. Let Dasher set the pace, and we’ll catch up with them by mid-day or a little later.” At Patrick’s nod, Alan took the lead, giving the big Clydesdale his head. Patrick followed; James, Kenneth, and Thom—with fire in his eyes—took the rear guard position.

 

*****

 

“Why are we stopping?” Thom asked.

 

“The horses need water,” Alan replied. “There’s a stream, there. Wait a moment, and then follow.” He jumped from his horse, and led the animal to the stream, scanning the ground as he did so.

 

“Okay, come on,” he said to the others as Dasher drank. “Those we seek stopped here, as well. Four sets of hooves; four different pair of boots. Doesn’t look like they let the boys down to drink.”

 

The road rose with the hills. At noon, Alan, still in the lead, reached the crest, and signaled a halt. “Patrick…come look,” he said.

 

Patrick looked toward the south.

 

“See, where the road turns back on itself like a snake,” Alan said. “How many riders?”

 

“Four, moving slowly,” Patrick said.

 

“It’s they,” James said. He had suspended the missing boy’s amulet on a cord that he held in front of himself. “See? The compass swings toward them. At least the older boy is with them—and alive.”

 

“We need a plan,” Patrick said to Alan. “If they know we’re close, they may harm the boys. But we can’t let them get too far away.”

 

“I would not like to wait until after dark,” Alan said for Patrick’s ears alone. “I’d not want these boys put through what those men may have in mind.” He stopped speaking; there was no need to continue.

 

“Patrick,” James asked, “is there a spell? There must be something…”

 

“At this distance?” Patrick mused. “There’s no offensive spell I can cast on any of the men that mightn’t endanger the boys. And, I could only attack one at a time; that would certainly warn the others…”

 

“What about a sleep spell?” James asked.

 

“Wouldn’t act fast enough,” Patrick said. “And the target would almost certainly have time to warn the others…”

 

“What about a horse?” Alan asked.

 

“Huh?” James said.

 

“Put one of them to sleep. They can’t talk, and the men might simply think the horse was exhausted…” Alan continued.

 

Patrick didn’t take time to acknowledge Alan’s suggestion, but immediately began drawing power from the matrix. Focusing on the rear horse, he gestured. Energy, shaped by his hands, the words he whispered, and the images in his mind, sped toward the horse. Patrick and Kenneth, with Elven eyesight, saw the horse stumble. Squeezing his fist, Patrick sent another surge of energy. The horse stumbled again, and then fell to its knees.

 

“Down!” Alan urged. “Don’t let them see us!”

 

The companions ducked behind trees. Patrick peered carefully out. “They’ve stopped. Now what?”

 

“Tie the horses behind those trees. We proceed on foot. Quickly!” Alan said.

 

Alan led, not down the road, but cross-country. His years of hunting trips and the instincts he’d developed served the companions well. Within minutes, they were concealed in brush beside the road, less than 30 yards from the men.

 

The tenor of the men’s voices, but not the words, was clear. There was anger, defiance, and more anger. As the companions crept closer, the words became clear.”

 

“The horses can’t keep up this pace, especially with the extra weight. Dump the boys!” argued one man.

 

“No, keep them. They’ll fetch a good price in Hagen…” began a second voice, to be interrupted by a third.

 

“Kill them, or they’ll identify us…” the third got out before a fourth voice cut in icily.

 

“Quiet, all of you. Your yelling will draw pursuit, if it hasn’t already. Our lead is short. We will keep the boys…and walk the horses until we find water. You two,” the voice said, “will wait here in ambush against pursuit until mid afternoon, and then catch up with us. Do it. Now.”

 

From his hiding place, Alan gestured to Patrick, holding up two fingers, and then pointing to Patrick and James. He pointed to himself, Kenneth, and Thom and then to the south. You two deal with these two, was the message. I’ll take the boys and deal with the other two.

 

Patrick and James nodded. Alan, Thom, and Kenneth slipped into shadow and vanished.

 

“One behind that rock, there,” Patrick whispered. “One by the tree, there. They wouldn’t be seen from the road. They’re easy targets from here.”

 

Alan had left his crossbow with James; Patrick held a long bow. The weapons were cocked and strung, respectively. At Patrick’s signal, the two boys stepped from their concealment. “Looking for us?” James called.

 

The two men started, and stared at the boys who had materialized from behind trees not 20 yards away. The men raised their weapons, but it was too late. James’ crossbow bolt caught one in the center of the chest, bowling him over. The arrow from Patrick’s bow pierced the other man’s throat. His yell turned into a gargle as blood fountained from his mouth. He dropped his own bow, and fell to his knees, jerking on the arrow. His body quivered for a moment, and then was still.

 

“They’re both dead,” Patrick said, after examining the bodies. “Their swords are poor quality. The one had a nice dagger, and there was a little copper and silver in their purses, but nothing else. No sign of Thom’s dagger.”

 

The men’s bodies were unceremoniously rolled into brush. “Wild animals and vultures will find them and return their elements to the soil,” Patrick said. “A fitting end.”

 

James nodded, but paused to invoke a blessing. “May they find the Light in their next lives,” he concluded before turning his back on the bodies and following Patrick down the road, leading the dead men’s horses.

 

“That sounds more like a loon than a lark,” James said as Patrick whistled a recognition signal. “Try it like this…” The boys had walked cautiously but quickly through the trees toward their companions.

 

James’ whistle was answered by Alan’s shout, “Down here…we’re all right!”

 

Alan was stripping the bodies of the two remaining brigands. Thom held the leads of the horses. Kenneth finished his examination of the two boys.

 

“They’re dazed, thirsty, and a bit frightened,” he murmured to James, “but other than a few bruises, they’re uninjured.”

 

“Thom!” Alan called. “Here’s your dagger!”

 

“We found little on the bodies of the other two,” Patrick told Alan.

 

“These had only a little silver,” he replied. “They were likely living on the edge. The horses are below average, and they’ve little other than their clothes and weapons. Desperation as much as greed may have driven them to this.”

 

Alan took the older boy on Dasher, while James put the younger on the front of his saddle. Thom and Kenneth each took the leads of two of the kidnappers’ horses, and the companions retraced their steps back to Sophie.

 

It was late evening by the time they reached the town. The gates were shut, but Alan’s shout brought guards to the parapet. “We’ve found the boys who were kidnapped. Let us in!”

 

After a pause, the postern gate was opened, and the companions led their horses into the town. The delay had given time for news to reach the inn, and the publican and his family were there to greet the boys.

 

*****

 

The matins bell had rung hours ago, yet the common room of the inn was full of people. The presence of the town’s reeve ensured that no one would be held to task for violating curfew. The two rescued boys had been sent to bed. Alan watched Thom and Kenneth closely, ensuring that the wine the publican pressed on them was well watered. Patrick and the publican’s brother sat in a corner—an oasis of quiet amid the hubbub. Nathan—the father of the younger of the two rescued boys—had sought out Patrick after the boys had been put to bed.

 

“In less than one day, we have seen both the depths of depravity and the height of kindness,” he began. “You cannot know how grateful we are for what you did.” He paused. Patrick could see that he had not finished speaking. At last, Nathan continued. “Although we are on the Royal Road, we are—by choice—somewhat isolated. I know that my fellow townspeople have not been…eager to talk to you. Please understand that our reluctance is borne of parochialism, and not of…well, any fault of your own.”

 

As the man passed his hand across his forehead, Patrick saw the ink stain between his index and second finger. “You’re an amanuensis, are you not?” he asked.

 

The man examined his fingers and smiled wryly. “Yes,” he replied. “The only cleric remaining here is kept busy healing; I’ve become the Keeper of Records.”

 

Patrick nodded. His “Um, hmm” was enough to encourage the man to continue talking.

 

“I trained at the Temple in Fortmain when I was a boy,” he said. “When news came that my father had died, I had to return to help run the inn, here.” He waved his hand. Patrick glanced around the common room, where knots of men and a few women still lingered.

 

“John, who’s my oldest brother inherited, of course, but he has no head for business. Oh, he’s a good publican—very friendly fellow and a fine brewmaster. Anyway, none of our other brothers were interested. Two have joined the army; four are farmers at our sister’s home a few miles north of town. When John and I met twin sisters, we agreed that we’d share in the operation and gain from the inn. It’s worked pretty well,” he continued. “Sorry. I hope I haven’t bored you—”

 

“Not at all,” Patrick replied. The relief at the return of his son, plus the lateness of the hour; both are reasons enough to babble. On the other hand, perhaps there’s something to be gained.

 

Aloud, he said, “Given the lateness of the hour, we will stay here another night, and not leave until the second dawn. Although it is late, now, and I have two boys to get to bed, I would like to continue our converse.” The two agreed to meet at sext.

 

*****

 

“You said, last night, that the town had witnessed depravity,” Patrick said, watching Nathan to gauge his reaction.

 

“Yes,” Nathan replied. “We know of the brigand raids, mostly to the south of us. We’ve heard stories—” he paused before continuing. Patrick waited patiently.

 

“We know that there is Evil about; we thought that by isolating ourselves, we could escape it. We found that we couldn’t completely isolate ourselves: the town depends too much on trade and travelers. After what happened to the boys…well, I’m afraid we’ll simply pull a little bit farther into our shell.”

 

“That would be unfortunate,” Patrick said. “And not only for the town, but for all those who follow the Light.”

 

Nathan was clearly puzzled by what Patrick said, but bode his time.

 

“You know that my companions and I follow the Light?” Patrick asked.

 

“Yes,” Nathan said. “You do not recognize me, but I was the Sembler at the gate when you first arrived. It’s another duty I’ve been pressed to assume because of my time at the Temple. I saw not only the truth of what you said, but also a bit of your auras.”

 

“I am pleased,” Patrick said, “for it makes what I am about to say much easier. First, will you swear on the Light not to reveal what I will now tell you?”

 

Nathan agreed, and Patrick began a carefully prepared speech. Nathan needed little time to think before agreeing to become an agent of the Royal Intelligence Service.

 

Because Nathan had no way to encrypt messages or to provide magical protection, his letters would go to one of Cadfael’s open associates, a warehouseman in Arcadia. That man would see that the information was forwarded to Cadfael. In addition, Nathan had agreed to send Patrick’s letter—addressed to the same man—at the next opportunity. Patrick was challenged to put all the necessary information in the letter, while not revealing too much.

 

Markham whose warehouse is on Threadneedle Street, Arcadia from Patrick:

 

We spent a bit more time in Sophie than we had initially intended. A party of brigands—perhaps ordinary men driven to desperation by privation or greed—kidnapped two boys. We were in a position to effect a rescue; the people of the town were ill-equipped to do so. The boys were retrieved from their kidnappers; the kidnappers did not live long enough to be interrogated. We overheard one say that there was a slave market in Hagen, a town in Eblis, south of Agium. It may be that Hagen was their destination. As to their origin, no one in the town admitted having seen them before their brief visit, here.

 

Although we were not successful at finding trade opportunities, our service may have made the townspeople a little more open to future discussions, and we plan to stop here on our return trip.

 

Nathan, co-operator of the inn in Sophie, and father of one of the two kidnapped boys, has agreed to provide information about trade and related activities. He is an amanuensis, who trained at the Temple in Fortmain; he is a Good man.

 

The incident with the kidnappers only serves to reinforce our mutual concerns regarding trade. The farther south we go, the less comfortable I am.

 

“There,” Patrick said after showing the letter to James and Alan. “I hope he understands that the last sentence means that both Evil and danger are increasing.”

 

Alan looked at the two boys, already asleep. “I hope he does, too. And I hope we can protect the boys from what awaits us.”