Sir Roland Brightshield's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

Roland climbed past the third landing while the drum started below. Theodora's steps rang loud on the boards. He heard a guard laugh, then another, and boots moving toward the rail. Lucien's small voice picked up at the east door, polite and slow, buying seconds. Roland took the ladder two rungs at a time and did not look down. The fifth landing was quieter. Two doors on the west side. One was banded oak with a fresh iron plate. The other was a barred cell of heavy stone, the door pitted, the lock old. Roland put his eye to the bars. A thin man sat on the straw with a book on his knee. He looked up without surprise. "She sent me," Roland said. The man's mouth moved once, dry. "Then hurry. The key hangs on the warden's belt at the stair. He sleeps after the hour bell." Roland drew his sword and looked at the lock. The plate was thick. A blade would ring the whole landing before it broke. He sheathed the sword. If he left now for the key, Theodora would hear no cell door open and walk out with the crowd, and the scholar would stay, and she would never forgive that, and neither would he. He went for the stair. The warden was slumped on a stool at the half-landing, chin on chest. A rusted iron key hung from a loop at his hip. Roland cut the loop with his belt knife and caught the key before it struck wood. He was back at the cell in a count of twenty. The key fought the lock, then turned. The door swung. The scholar stood, steady enough. "The child is behind the oak door," he said. "They locked it from outside. The bolt is simple." Roland drew the bolt. Inside, a small boy sat on a folded cloak with a crown crooked on his blonde hair. He had been crying and had stopped. He looked at Roland with careful blue eyes. "You has my bear?" he asked. "No," Roland said. "Not yet. I will look after. Come." The boy stood and took his hand. "I Alaric," he said. "I tired." "I know," Roland said. They went down together, the scholar behind, and met Theodora and Lucien at the drum stand, and walked out through the gate as a priest, an acolyte, an entertainer, a scribe, and a small prince in a borrowed hood. By dusk they stood in the great hall of the king's seat above the branches. The king came down the steps himself and lifted the boy and held him a long time without speaking. Then he pressed a heavy pouch of gold into Roland's hand and told him to name any further reward. Roland shook his head. "He wants his bear," he said. "It is lost somewhere in your hall. Let me find it before I sleep."