44 Chapter 44

As it started to rain, Tristan ran—yes, ran—back into the fort with Mato on his heels, being very careful to not think about what he was returning to. The most dangerous and cunning people he knew had disappeared. If they were playing an elaborate hunting game around the fort then he was going to tear them limb from limb. Now was not the time to mess around.

But if they really were missing… if they had been taken against their will…

He would not rest until they were retrieved, alive or dead.

Arthur had met him in his offices and reacted to the news with the sort of blind panic that masked itself as decisiveness. "Right, I want you to go and see if you can find any signs of who did this," he paused and then added. "Don't tell anyone. We'll say they are out on an errand for me. If news spreads that they are missing then doubtless the others will react poorly."

Understatement. Of. The. Year.

And so Tristan had indeed gone out and scoured the neighbouring village. He found signs of a skirmish on the road and followed the tracks of a small wagon until it hit the paved road that ran parallel to the Wall. He couldn't pursue the trail further, and returned to Arthur with a most unhelpful account of what had happened.

"So they have been abducted?"

"It would seem so."

"By whom?"

"I can think of two names," Tristan said grimly.

"No obvious clue then?"

"No."

"And you have no idea what Kahedin wanted to say to you so urgently?"

"No."

"Alright, you're dismissed."

Sometimes that man could be so sanctimonious.

He wandered over to the tavern in a black mood, only to be greeted by a pack of drinking knights.

"Tristan!" Dinadan roared, happy to see him. "Join us, man!"

He sidled over, feeling the weight of responsibility weighing on him. He had sworn to keep her safe, to repay the debt in full. And instead she had been kidnapped. "How is Vanora?" he asked, diverting possible questions about Kahedin for the moment.

"Still going," Galahad said miserably, rubbing his lower lip with one hand. "Where've you been?"

"Out," he replied tersely, not feeling up to being interrogated by the boy.

"Hey," Cador said suddenly. "Haven't seen that juicy little slave of yours recently? Is he hiding from you again?" Tristan refused to rise to the bait, and sipped at his too-watery wine.

"I bet he's sleeping in the hayloft again," Lancelot joked, joining the conversation. It was one of Kation's worse habits, sneaking off to some quiet location to nap like a cat until someone disturbed her.

"No, he and Kahedin are on an errand for Arthur." Tristan replied simply. He didn't like lying to his comrades, but unable to do otherwise. He had, after all, been lying to them for months already.

"Oh… funny hour to go out," Galahad murmured.

"I believe they will be gone for some time," Tristan explained. "Naturally, Arthur had to ask me for the loan of Kation's time and skills."

"I hope you're extracting proper compensation."

"Quite."

There was an awkward silence as Tristan remained stubbornly unforthcoming. Then Verica appeared, all business, having fetched more water from the well.

"What news?" Gawain asked from the other end of the table.

"As well as can be expected—the babe should be in the world by tomorrow morning. Saint Lucia's feast day," she added with a smile.

There was a long silence as they all stared at her.

"Oh, how nice." Lancelot finally said with forced cheer, rescuing what would have been a very awkward moment. Verica nodded and hurried away with a bright smile for them all, leaving the Sarmatians to return to their wine and previous conversation. But Tristan couldn't take it any longer and got to his feet abruptly.

"In that case, I am going to bed," he said quietly and nodded to them all before making his way to his room. The sense of loss really hit him when he looked at the yawning expanse of his bed, as welcoming as a grave, the heavy blankets his shroud. It was cold as Tristan tried not to think about what might be happening to the girl. He had always thought sentimental nonsense was for the likes of Gawain and Galahad. Lancelot would have once been included in that category, but he had recently adopted an air of wry cynicism which stole the heart from all but his most emotional outbursts. Usually at Arthur, never at a woman. There might have been something in that, but Tristan didn't care to look deeper—such things were not of his concern.

~oOo~

To allay suspicion Kahedin and the girl had 'tied' themselves back up, but so loosely that they could slip free at a moment's notice. The girl was unimpressed with their living arrangements and remarked that the place would be vastly improved by a pretty mosaic or perhaps some scarlet drapes. The wisecrack was so inappropriate that Kahedin had to snicker into his shoulder. Their guard brought a jug of water and a chamber pot, but otherwise left them alone. Kahedin, emboldened by Kation's insouciance, yelled after him: "And two plates of whatever's on the spit with some wine!" the man had wheeled around and screamed at them to shut up or die, but Kation didn't even blink as she retorted with a cheerful, polite request for an apple as well.

The guard, flabbergasted by this cool insult, roared wordlessly and stormed out. Kation smirked and threw Kahedin a wicked glance. "He's been ordered not to hurt us too badly," she said calmly. "Otherwise I'd have been kicked half to death by now."

So the girl had risked a severe, potentially fatal assault to ascertain what their captors intended to do with them. Clearly she was mad and fearless.

But the weather was another matter.

"It's freezing," Kation hissed sometime later, she was shivering badly and her lips were turning blue. Kahedin scooted over to her and let her snuggle against his uninjured side, tucking her head against his collarbone. She sighed, burrowing deep and something lurched in Kahedin's chest. He felt immensely sorry to have got the chit into such a tangle. It wasn't fair on her, and no matter how tough she talked, she was still only a girl. She was small and thin (too thin) and helpless. She had been lucky with that knife throw at the baron's villa, but she wouldn't be so fortunate again.

"Sorry," he whispered into the top of her head.

"What on earth for?" She sounded amused.

"This, all of this."

"Stop it Kahedin, we both know that this is in no way your fault."

"So when do we escape?"

"As soon as they try to move us out of this room. When we hear them coming, I will hide behind the door with my tent-peg and we subdue all who stand in our path as we fight our way out."

"You seem to have forgotten my injuries, kitten."

She chuckled, a small breathy sound around chattering teeth. "I stopped being serious after the first sentence. I know you're not able to fight properly—so I'll get us out and you can follow."

So optimistic… "Great, we'll be dead before the end of the week."

This seemed to annoy her, but she only sighed and closed her eyes.