“There was at first. But Angrääl crushed it. I know you won’t want to hear this, Millet, but it was Jacob Nal’Thain who helped them rout out the resistance. This I saw with my own eyes.”
Millet shook his head, rubbing his temples. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, finally. “I was sent to retrieve my lord’s family, and I will do as he has commanded me.”
Markus sighed. “Very well. Tonight you and your friends will sleep in the basement. I will leave in the morning. But I cannot promise that I will succeed.”
“I thank you for your help, old friend,” said Millet. “I know how much you’re risking by aiding us. You can come with us if you wish. We can offer you sanctuary.”
“My place is here with my men. I cannot abandon them.”
“I understand,” said Millet.
After their meal, Millet retrieved their packs from the horses which were then put in a small stable behind the house. Markus gave each of them extra bedding and led them into the basement. “Please keep as quiet as possible,” he said. “The soldiers rarely check my house, but a little extra caution won’t hurt.” He walked up the stairs and closed the door. The clank of the latch echoed through the basement.
“I don’t like being trapped,” said Malstisos. “If we are discovered, there is only one way out.”
“I don’t like it either,” agreed Maybell.
“What choice is there?” said Millet. “We are asking Markus to take a huge risk. If he says we should stay here, I must trust him.”
“I hope your trust is justified,” remarked Malstisos. “Hardship can do strange things to a person’s loyalty.”
“I don’t like what you’re implying,” said Millet. “I’ve known Markus for more than forty years. He is as solid and honest a man as I’ve ever known.”
“We shall see,” said Malstisos.
They set up their bedding and went to sleep. Bad dreams troubled Millet and he woke up several times. Eventually he decided to forgo sleep and spent the rest of the night huddled in a corner. After a few hours, he heard the door slowly creak open. Malstisos woke immediately and drew his knife. Maybell stood up and moved behind him.
“What?” Millet asked in dismay.
“There are a dozen soldiers upstairs,” Marcus announced as he descended the steps. “If you don’t disarm they’ll burn you alive down here.”
“Traitor,” shouted Millet. His hand shot out and his fist landed solidly on Markus’ jaw. Markus stumbled back and fell to the ground.
“It’s not my fault,” said Markus, rubbing his jaw. “You were seen coming here by one of their spies. Please understand, if I didn’t do this they would have killed me along with half my men.”
Malstisos glared furiously at the door. “I say we fight our way out.”
“No,” said Millet. “Let me speak to them first.” He looked down at Markus. “Lead me upstairs.”
Without a word, Markus got up and led Millet up the stairs and through the door. He entered the main part of the house and immediately saw twelve soldiers in full armor, swords drawn.
With them was a man in a dark blue velvet suit, carrying a white ash walking stick. He had long, dark blond hair and fair skin. He smiled as Millet entered.
“You must be Millet,” he said. “My name is Brandis. I am here to escort you and your companions to Hazrah if you wish.”
“We will not be used as hostages,” said Millet. “If that is your intent you might as well kill us now.”
Brandis laughed. “No, no, no, you are not my captives, you’re my guests.”
“And if I decide not to accept your hospitality,” said Millet. “What then?”
“Leave if you wish,” he said. “But I believe you are here at the direction of the former Lord Nal’Thain. Is this not so?”
Millet remained expressionless and silent.
“No need to answer,” said Brandis. “I already know. Markus was kind enough to fill me in. It’s a good thing he did. Otherwise, you may have been foolish and tried to sneak into the city. Naturally, you would have been caught. Heaven knows what may have happened before I could get to you.”
“What do you want with us?” Millet demanded.
“To help. You’re here to retrieve the Nal’Thain family, and I’m here to see that you accomplish your task.”
Millet looked warily at Brandis. “So we can simply take them and leave?”
“Certainly,” he said. “Jacob Nal’Thain is a troublemaker we would be happy to be rid of. As for Lady