Oberon's Dreams - By Aaron Pogue Page 0,44
friends. Our only goal is to protect the king. Lord Ephitel has made himself a threat.”
“These are courageous accusations,” Kellen said. “Ephitel is powerful, and he is trusted by the king.”
“Perhaps, but the lord protector keeps his secrets. Do you know that he is hoarding writs of provender?”
Kellen frowned. “Why would he do this?”
“To field an army. To defy the king. The druids have recognized the threat he poses, and now the lord protector turns his malevolence against them.”
“How does that concern you? You are not a druid.”
“They have asked me to carry a warning to your king.”
Kellen frowned. “You show great foolishness, sharing your intelligence with a soldier in the Royal Guard.”
“I count it little risk,” Corin said, “for you are loyal to the king, and Ephitel has shown how poorly he esteems you. We would show you more respect—”
Avery interrupted. “Speak for yourself, manling. Some of us know the Kellen name.”
Kellen’s eyes flashed fury.
Corin stopped himself from kicking Avery’s shin, but just barely. He kept his attention fixed on the yeoman. “If you but help us—”
“Help you?” Kellen demanded. “Assist the lord protector’s enemies? I would have to be a brave man indeed to take that risk. I prefer the company of honorable men.”
“There was no honor in your lord protector’s accusations. How can you serve such a man?”
“There are words,” Kellen said, “and then there are actions. I bear the mark of the respect you offered me.”
Corin shook his head, frantic. “We could not have known you were loyal, while you stood with Ephitel in opposition to our efforts for the king.”
Kellen raised his chin. “You argue well, but I have never known a criminal without a smooth tongue. You will have a chance to make your case, but it will not be here before me. Keep your silence.”
Avery sighed. “What else could we expect? I’d leave another mark upon him if I could.”
Corin turned to him. “It does not help our cause to gain this man’s enmity.”
“Trouble yourself not,” Avery said. “It would not help our cause to gain his favor, either. No, we will have to find our freedom by another means.”
Kellen shook his head. “You will be lucky to find freedom at all. No one leaves the lord protector’s dungeons.”
Corin tried to apologize, but Kellen silenced him with a firm shake of his head. “I will hear no more from either of you!”
Silence fell again, and Corin brooded. Avery had shown some talent. There was one small mercy. But his arrogance now made an enemy of a man who might otherwise have been a useful friend. An ally in the Guard would have served them well.
But Corin only sighed. Such was his fortune in this place. He’d found no more aid from friends than he’d received from his own crew within the cave. The druids had recruited him, then sent him off all on his own. True, they’d shown up for his jailbreak, but only…
No, he realized. They had not shown up for him. They could not have known what Corin planned. The riot had been a project of their own, with no other aim than to rescue Aemilia. When Corin appeared, they had let him break into the jailers’ carriage for them, then left him high and dry, at Ephitel’s mercy.
So why had he fought so hard to guard their secret? Why had he lied to Ephitel to protect those who had betrayed him? He chewed his lip, considering, and it was not until he raised his eyes to Maurelle that he found his answer. She huddled in the corner, silent through all the argument between her brother and her captor, but her eyes burned on Corin with a feverish hope—a desperate need to make things right.
And there was his answer. In all this wretched city, they alone dared to defy Ephitel. She saw it in Corin, and he saw it in the druids. Corin had no hope that he might be the man who killed a god, but whatever he could do to serve the druids, if it hobbled Ephitel, he would gladly make the sacrifice.
But what was he to do? He’d hoped a plea might be enough to gain him a royal audience, even if it were a trial. With that avenue cut off, he’d have to manage an escape. The raucous clatter of hoofbeats outside the coach’s walls proved Ephitel had kept his word. The prisoner transport traveled with a healthy escort. Easier then to wait until they’d been forgotten