Chapter 58. A Promise I Didn’t Know How to Keep, Said So Calmly I Almost Believed It

Chapter 58: 58. A Promise I Didn’t Know How to Keep, Said So Calmly I Almost Believed It

For a moment, I thought he might not react.

Then he let out a dry, humorless laugh... the kind that sounds like a cough.

"Then they never planned for me to reach the Tribunal," he said.

"No."

"You’re riding into a trap, boy."

"I know."

"And you’re still going...? Even after you know that it was just a trap?"

"We have a few ideas," I said. "But... yes."

He looked at me for a long time, with the crayon drawing tucked into his shirt and his scarred hands lying heavy in his lap.

"I can’t offer you anything," he said. "I’ve got no army, no allies, and no power."

"I’m just a prisoner."

"I’m not asking for anything... I’m only promising one thing." I got to my feet, slowly, with a hand on the wall. "You’ll be escorted to the capital alive."

"I don’t care who’s waiting at the ford... That wagon is going to get to the Tribunal with you in it."

"You can tell your story to the judges yourself... and they’ll have to listen."

"You can’t promise that..."

"I just did."

He studied my face as though he were trying to find the lie. I hoped he wouldn’t.

I’d just made a promise I didn’t know how to keep, and I’d said it so calmly that I almost believed it myself.

"You’re... a fool," Garrick said.

"I’ve been told that a lot."

"But I do hope... you’re a lucky one."

"So do I."

I went back up the spiral stairs into the sunlight, and the whole way up, I could feel the weight of what I’d said sitting on my shoulders like a stone.

It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling... more like it was heavy, but it was the kind of heavy that comes from having a direction.

...

The next morning, the sun hadn’t quite cleared the garrison walls when we gathered in the main yard.

It was a cold, gray dawn, with mist hanging low across the cobblestones and a fine dew that made every surface look freshly varnished.

The wagon stood in the center of the yard, a heavy, iron-banded prison cart drawn by four stout horses, with Garrick already inside, wrapped in a gray blanket and watching us through the bars.

Around it, the escort was assembling in a ragged half circle, adjusting saddles and tugging at straps.

I was standing by my horse, a calm brown mare named Biscuit that I’d been assigned with a sympathetic look, when a stranger in a long black robe entered the yard through the main gate.

He was a young man, probably about my age, thin and pale, with hair so carefully combed that it looked ironed.

His robe had the Council’s crest embroidered on the chest, a golden crown over a tower, and he carried a leather folder under one arm and a quill behind his ear.

Two aides trailed behind him, a stout older man and a younger one with a long coat and a nervous expression.

"Royal Knights Ravenshield and Ainzfield?" he said, in a crisp, thin voice. "Orrin Vale, clerk of the Council’s secretariat."

"I’m here to witness the departure and record the composition of the escort."

"I’m Ravenshield," I said. "This is Ainzfield."

"Good... I’ll need a complete roster." He nodded.

"Names, ranks, and any additional personnel." He looked at his folder. "I have, as of the notice, two knights and a prisoner."

"You have more than that," said Sharon.

She’d been standing in the shadow of the wall, with her giant sword on her shoulder and her orange hair tied back.

She stepped forward, and the sound of her boots on the cobbles made the whole yard go quiet.

"Sharon Sanford," she said, loud enough to be heard at the gate. "Senior instructor of the Royal Knight Order."

"I sponsored Royal Knights Ravenshield and Ainzfield at their ceremony, and this is their first assignment outside Elarion."

"In accordance with the ancient custom of the Order, I hereby invoke the right of Sponsor’s Accompaniment, and I will serve as ceremonial escort commander for the duration of this journey."

She said the last five words as though she were reading them off a gravestone.

Orrin Vale went the color of paper.

"I..." he said. "That’s... I’m not sure that’s..."

"It’s in the Order’s founding charter," said Sharon. "Article eleven..."

"I can fetch you a copy, if you like... I have it memorized right here." She said that while tapping her forehead with that terrifying smile.

"There’s no... mention of it in the appendix."

"There wouldn’t be... It’s a custom, not a command!"

"The Council doesn’t have to authorize it, and it can’t forbid it either, unless it wants to explain to the entire Royal Knight Order why it’s tearing up article eleven!"

The clerk opened his folder with trembling hands. He flipped through a few pages, checked something, flipped back, and then went through the entire folder again from the beginning.

I watched his lips move as he searched for a clause, a technicality, or a loophole.

I’ll admit that I enjoyed it a bit.

"Also," said Laura, stepping forward, "Knight Laura Lapisfield."

"I’m accompanying the prisoner as an examining officer under royal investigation writ number four-one-seven in the matter of the crystal thefts."

"The prisoner is a material witness, and the writ is current."

"If the secretariat disagrees... I’d be happy to hear the objection in person, at a hearing of three senior officers, as the rules require."

Orrin Vale swallowed. And then he swallowed again... slowly this time with sweat rolling at his cheeks.

"And my aide," Sharon added, and nodded at Eveline, who was standing very straight at her elbow, clutching her shoulder bag. "Knight Eveline Whitehare of House Whitehare."

"She’s recording the journey for the Order’s archives."

"Yes~! "I’m recording!" said Eveline brightly and held up her notebook.

"Yes... Of course," said Orrin Vale faintly.

At last he found the page he was looking for, apparently, because he went still. I couldn’t see what it said, but I saw the way his shoulders sagged. H

I’d found the article, and it said exactly what Sharon had claimed, and there was no way around it.

He lifted his quill and wrote, with a hand that wobbled on every line.

I should have been watching him. But instead, I happened to glance at one of his aides.

It was the younger one, the nervous fellow in the long coat. While everyone else was staring at Sharon, he’d drifted a few steps toward the edge of the yard, and he was fiddling with his sleeve.

I wouldn’t have noticed anything if I hadn’t spent the last two weeks learning to watch people’s hands. But Laura had taught me that.

’When everyone is looking at the same thing,’ she’d said, ’watch the one who isn’t.’

A small gray bird slid out of his cuff.

It was a pigeon, plump and smooth-feathered, with a tiny brass ring around one leg. The aide lifted his arm as casually as if he were stretching, and the bird opened its wings and shot straight up over the wall, out of sight, in a flurry of gray feathers.

No one else had seen.

I was nearly sure of that. Sharon was still glaring at Orrin Vale, Laura was watching the clerk, and Alicia was checking a saddle.

But someone gasped... very softly, at my shoulder.

I turned.

Eveline had drifted over beside me, and she was staring at the sky with her ears upright and her amber eyes narrowed to slits. And good... She’d seen it too.

"The bird," she whispered. "The one in his sleeve..."

"I saw it."

"Is that normal...? For clerks?"

"I don’t know... Some offices send messages by bird, and it might be routine."

"It might also be a person telling somebody that we’re leaving."

"True. It might."

She chewed her lip, and her ear twitched. "I’m going to write it down."

"Good idea."