Chapter 29

Tristan awoke sluggishly and the small form at his side was snuffling softly into her pillow, her arm dangling over the side of the bed as she lay on her stomach. The noise was simultaneously irritating and amusing. He rolled onto his back and stared at her. What drew his gaze was the wound that curved round the back of her head in an ugly red crescent.

When she felt his weight shift, she jerked awake and sat up in one swift, violent movement. "Ugh…" she put a hand to her forehead, her eyes closed in discomfort. "Please tell me yesterday was some hideous aberration of the mind…"

"If that was the case, you would still have all your hair and the most shocking incident of yesterday would have been that everyone else, including Arthur and the prisoner, suffered the same waking nightmare last night." He said dryly.

She sighed in disappointment and glared at him through her fingers. "I have to tell Arthur what happened, don't I?" she mumbled.

"Yes."

"Hmm… I'd rather spend the day trying to unravel the mystery of who sent the spy into the fort." She said, and stretched. "Can I go see the prisoner first?"

"Only if we go now."

That goaded her into action. Throwing off the blankets, she nearly fell over in her haste to get to her clothes. Tristan denied himself the smile that threatened to break across his face at her rushed clumsiness. The livid injury on her head was more than a little sobering and declared to all his utter failure to protect one girl. What good was he, if he couldn't do that?

Kation was selecting a bunch of clothes and dashed out, doubtlessly hurrying to fetch some water.

For someone who had been attacked twice the previous evening, she seemed to be frightfully energetic. But at that moment Tristan didn't have the inclination to delve into her past or her sinister personality, wisely assuming that whatever it was would be ultimately useless and disturbing.

He swung his legs out of bed and wandered into Kahedin's room.

"We're going to the prison." He informed his yawning friend, poking his head around the door. "You're welcome to tag along."

Kahedin's reaction was just as hasty and amusing as Kation's. The knight shot to his feet, grabbed his boots and charged for the door, nearly crashing into Kation who was returning to their room. Water slopped from the bucket and onto the floor as they both recoiled; Kahedin made another attempt to get past, making a garbled explanation as he disappeared round the corner. Kation turned a puzzled look onto Tristan, who shrugged and returned to their room to dress.

Later at breakfast, when Vanora caught sight of Kation's latest fashion accessory (the stitches) and the accompanying new hairstyle, she had immediately dealt a mighty blow to Tristan's arm and glared at Kahedin. They had only stopped by the tavern for a quick breakfast, but Bors' lover waylaid them with inescapable verbal torment. She had then produced a wool hat which she had made for Bors, and insisted that Kation cover up the 'dreadful wound'. Despite being no follower of any recognisable human fashion, even Tristan could confidently say that the thing was extremely ugly. Clearly the woman's talents lay elsewhere.

Kation waved it off, with murmurs of healer's orders to allow air to get to the wound. Vanora was doubtful, but wouldn't contradict an expert's instructions.

"At least don't go visit the monster that did it," she begged, looking extremely worried.

Kation smiled slightly and flicked her grey eyes to Tristan for a single moment, but did not reveal it was her ally who had torn her head open. "No, I must. I have to report what happened to Arthur." She shrugged unhelpfully and snatched up a lump of bread and an apple before making to flee. Vanora was too quick on her feet, and despite her advanced state of pregnancy, she grabbed Kation's arm and pulled her back into a strong embrace.

"I am glad that you are going to be alright." She said, and her eyes glistened. Pregnancy made women's emotions terrifyingly changeable.

After a moment, Kation extricated herself. "So am I," she said, with a very serious look on her face.

They ate on the go while taking the quickest route to the prison. As she nibbled on the honeyed slice of bread, Kation's face was pensive.

"Would you wait outside while I talk to him?" she asked quietly.

"I suppose…" Tristan grumbled. "But we will be listening through the door."

Kation pulled a face, but couldn't forbid it. She knew her words would fall on deaf ears.

"After a brief review of a few papers, I might be able to shed better light upon the matter." She threw a concerned look at them both. "Would Arthur permit me to join the… investigation?"

"You are better acquainted with that archive than the rest of us; I think your involvement will be essential." Kahedin said seriously. His hair was particularly wild, still neglected and untamed from sleep, and he kept throwing oddly loaded glances at Kation.

Tristan resolved to have a few quiet words with Kahedin while the girl had her conversation with the prisoner.

~oOo~

We were immediately waved through the doors and into the prison. Tristan escorted me to the cell and then landed a heavy kick on the bars, startling the man chained to the wall into wakefulness.

He had bandages on his face, but was otherwise unharmed. I felt no sympathy for him – he had murdered me in cold blood and I was tempted to have a little fun before getting some straight answers from him.

The man jerked, and looked at us, tension in every line of his body and face. At the sight of me, he let out a scream of pure terror. I allowed myself a faint, close-lipped smile and clasped my hands behind my back innocently. Tristan threw me an alarmed look as he glanced between the panicking prisoner and my calm demeanour.

"What a wonderful start." I remarked evenly over the din, and threw an amused look at Tristan, who was now staring at me with great suspicion and a little uncertainty. "I will be perfectly fine. Now go have that talk with Kahedin."

His expression canvassed his surprise that I knew about that unspoken decision of his, but to any woman it would have been painfully obvious that Tristan had been extremely doubtful of Kahedin's conduct in the baths. With a final loaded look he left, hands clenched at his sides.

I turned back to the prisoner and crouched down in front of the bars. He had finally stopped screaming, but had dissolved into unceasing whimpers.

"See here," I began – the man flinched and tried to fold himself into a smaller space in the corner of the cell. This would take forever. "What do you think happened yesterday?"

"Demon!" the man howled, pointing a trembling finger at me. Any onlooker would be fully justified in believing the man to be mad. Only I knew it to be a rather dramatic and superstitious manifestation of dread.

"Perhaps," I conceded, inspecting my fingers as if this whole thing was very boring, which it was. "And if you don't want to meet my great and terrible master in the afterlife, then you must answer my questions."

"N-no… no…" the man sobbed, his eyes never leaving mine.

I sighed. "You have not gone mad. I am from hell, sent to serve the pagan knights and the holy warrior Artorius Castus, son of the slain Pendragon." I said, with as much gravitas as I could muster. I then pulled a piece of twisted metal from my pocket and began to pick the lock. Once open, I ignored the man's renewed wailing and stepped inside.

"Be silent!" I barked, for once having to raise my voice to be heard as I stood over him. "I will not harm you, mortal, if you talk to me."

The man stopped wailing, but it was clear from his incessant trembling and moaning that he was not going to calm down further.

"Who owns the knife you used to cut my throat?" I asked slowly, tilting my head back and tugging my scarf down to reveal a completely unblemished neck.

The man cringed, hesitating. I sighed and crouched down, just out of his reach.

"You're a dead man, either way. If you tell me what I want to know, then I will see to it you have a quick end. You don't have to be tortured, because I can tell you are not in charge. Perhaps you could tell me who asked you to spy on Arthur?"

The man looked thoroughly spooked, but I could be patient. I waited in silence for him to answer.

"It… it was a servant of Baron Donatus…" he whispered as softly as possible.

I blinked, but otherwise steadied myself enough not to openly react. Paulus Donatus was one of the most powerful land-owners along the eastern region of the northern territories. He was rich in agricultural profit, and had significant influence over local politics.

To think that he was now controlling a network of spies and was poking about in Arthur's business was a chilling thought. For a start, he had almost limitless sources of wealth to tap into, and a list of his friends and business associates read like an ancient Who's Who.

We were more than a little screwed.

I leaned forward, glaring fiercely. "If you're lying—"

"I'm not! I'm not! It was him!" the man cried, covering his face with his hands. "It was the servant Iustus! He handles all his masters' affairs. He paid me to report all the meetings held by Arthur and his knights." He was babbling now, and I nodded encouragingly.

"And the knife? Why did you cut my throat, when all you had to do was hit me round the head?"

"I was told to get rid of anyone who might witness me… if they would not be missed."

I sincerely hoped he would repeat that in Tristan or Gawain's hearing.

I stood, brushing off my knees and tried my best to loom over him. "Arthur will question you later today. It would be better if you would be even more forthcoming about all this with them, mostly because it is in your interest to do so." I said emphatically. "If you are not, I will know. I will be listening, even if you can't see me." Because lying on the roof of the prison building wasn't a crime. "And if you do not tell all this and more to Arthur, then I will make sure that you are tortured to death."

And with that final extremely brutal promise, I exited the cell, shut the door behind me and left. The sound of the man's sobs reverberated off the walls as I knocked on the prison door. Kahedin opened it and ushered me outside, looking concerned.

"More screaming then," he said a trifle wearily. "How did you get any sense out of him?"

"Never mind that, what have you done with Tristan?" I snapped, looking around in concern.

"What makes you think I did anything to him?"

I rolled my eyes. "I knew Tristan was going to have a talk with you about what happened in the baths. So… what was said? Does it have anything to do with why he isn't here?"

"You are quite the little interrogator, Washboard." He said with a grin, as if this situation was somehow cute.

"This is no time for joking. He gave me some clues that I need to go and investigate immediately." I snapped. Tristan and Arthur would have to wait. "I'm going to the records room."

"Wait! They want to talk to you!" Kahedin said, chasing after me.

"Then they know where to find me." I said, my voice steady, despite my rising ire. This was not good. "Has Arthur reported the capture of a spy? How many people know about this?"

"Um… the infirmary knows, since someone had to check him over and make sure he didn't die before we could question him…" Kahedin said, uncertainty creeping into his voice.

I suppressed a snarl of frustration and walked faster. The orderlies were some of the worst gossips the fort had. "Who else?"

"Vanora knows, but I think Bors told her to keep quiet about it."

"Let's make sure."