The noise of the falls was a constant roar as the knights crossed the deeps bridge. The bridge was old, built when Klinberg was nothing but a small fort, but it was the work of Engineers and so time had been unable to ravage it. It still reached soundly across the spaces between the rock columns as it had done for centuries, while the Siceria's waters fell and boiled in the cauldrons of the deeps below. The bridge constantly switched direction, climbing and falling as the geology of the rocks dictated, and it was only when Sir Kralaford reached the apex of its final span that he saw the scout waiting for him beside the overgrown stones of the Sanctuary road.
He urged Hakansa forward and his two knights followed. The echoing roar from the deeps' sheer sided gorge was soon behind him, and his steed's claws touched the welcome grassland again. The scout had swung immediately back into her saddle when she saw him approaching, and saluted briskly when he came within hearing.
"I have a sighting, sir."
"Where?"
"A brewing house to the east of here. The overseer reported seeing four riders passing through its fields just after dawn."
"Which way did they go?"
"North and east, away from the Sanctuary road. I have sent my people to track them."
"They are definitely heading for Solridge then," said Sir Hogan.
"But they are not so far ahead of us," said Sir Beddingvale. "We may still apprehend them before they cross its borders."
"What could the Overseer tell you about the riders?" asked Sir Kralaford.
"He confirmed that they rode hydrayet. Two of them had Clan-marks, the other was older and undistinguished."
"And the fourth?"
"Was a woman. She was cloaked, but he saw that she had blond hair. She was carrying something bundled up on her lap."
Sir Kralaford's fist tightened on his rail-shield.
"Kamantha," he murmured, before turning to one of the remaining messengers who had drawn up behind him. "You stay here. Wait for my other scouts and send them straight on to us."
The man saluted, and Sir Kralaford turned back to his senior scout.
"Lead the way," he said, and the small party headed on, following the old road down from the hills and into a wide valley where flower-grass was growing in neat fields. They passed swiftly through the yard of the brewing house where his son's captors had last been seen, and turned to the north.
The brew-house's overseer and his staff watched them until they were out of sight beyond the lip of a bright hill and then, with the morning's excitement over, they returned to their labours. They still had a good deal of work to do before noon, and the sun was already climbing rapidly through the sky.
* * * * *
Grifford crouched beside Tahlia, in the mouth of a high doorway, shadowed by a lintel of pipes. A short corridor lay beyond, leading through to the tower's insides.
He looked over his shoulder at Dak, who was standing uncertainly on the open platform behind him.
"Stay behind me," he said to her.
Together, the three of them crept inside the tower, and at the corridor's end found a stair leading down to the churn and stink of foul water. Two further doorways lead to left and right.
"Stay here!" whispered Tahlia, and crept off through the right hand doorway.
Grifford scowled and followed after.
The short passageway soon opened out onto a wide crescent platform within the tower, and looking up, Grifford saw that the tower itself was one vast pipe, its empty insides reaching up into darkness. As he crouched in the doorway he felt the movement of air on his skin, a faint breeze moving gently upwards, carrying a sick stench. He looked down and found that the platform was made only of metal grillwork, which he could see through to the rolling mass of foul water below. Tahlia had disappeared while he had been gazing upwards, but he could see a dim shape by the platform's far edge, so he got down on his hands and knees and crawled towards it.
There were no lights in the hollow tower above, and all he could see was lit by some blue light strips hanging below the platform, which cast their feeble light on the scene beneath him. The tower ended abruptly three meters below, its open end supported above the waste reservoir on six heavy columns standing in its filthy churning waters. A narrow walkway ran around the inner edge of the tower, and it was linked by four other walkways to a round platform in its centre. The platform was suspended by thick chains from the one on which he crawled, and from a similar platform opposite. He lay down beside his sister and looked down.
There were two figures on the round platform below, and though the boiling waste reservoir filled the inside of the tower with an undertone of noise, the loud, angry voice of Vlambra was still clear.
"Where in the seven forges has Cravit got to!"
The man with the sword gave a reply, but his voice was too low to hear.
"I swear on my mother's rotting carcass, if that pipe of his is not killing him, then I will be."
Grifford exchanged a glance with Tahlia. Vlambra's words meant there were now more than two people for them to deal with, and Grifford considered the significance of that information with new concern.
He would be hard pushed to win against three grown men. Still, this Cravit, whoever he was, was not currently present. Maybe if he could somehow divide the attention of Vlambra and this other man, than his chances would be improved.
Suddenly, the tower was filled by a shrill keening. The sound cut through the noise of the waste waters below and echoed into the darkness above, and despite its piercing shriek its familiarity gave him an odd comfort.
"Can't that woman be keeping that brat quiet for five minutes!" growled Vlambra, and stamped over to one of the far walkways, making the whole platform below, and the one on which Tahlia and Grifford lay hidden, vibrate alarmingly. He crossed the walkway towards a door in the tower's inner wall.
Grifford felt his jaw tighten. The picture of his brother's face, red with scrunched eyes, his mouth round and open showing toothless gums, sprang to his mind. He could almost imagine Kralmir's balled fists shaking in frustration, and his small feet kicking at the air, and as he watched the looming shape of the Engineer disappear into the dark doorway he could feel his own anger growing. It was the thought of his little brother, defenceless, down here in this stinking unfamiliar place with only these brutish men for company that did it. Before he could think, he was on his feet and taking a few steps back from the platform's edge.
"Grifford!" hissed Tahlia, but he hardly heard.
Vlambra had made such a disturbance crossing the platform below, the whole thing was still swaying, its supporting chains clanking, and the remaining man did not seem to notice the sudden movement above, or hear Tahlia as she hissed again.
"Grifford, what are you..?"
But he did not stay to listen. Taking two quick running steps, he threw himself out over the void of churning water. The drop to the platform was over two metres, and the open gap between it and the upper platform was not much less. The swiftness of his action gave fear no time to stop him. As his bare feet hit the metal grillwork of the platform, his anger was boiling, and he barely felt the checkerboard of pain shoot across his heals as his knees bent and he rolled to his shoulder. He finished the roll and jumped to his feet, pulling his blunt sword from his scabbard as he rose.
The man on the platform spun around, his hand going to his own sword.
"Who, by Fortak's balls, are you!" he hissed, but then stopped, a smile spreading across his face. "A child."
"Draw your weapon!" cried Grifford. Even through his anger he still remembered the codes.
"Against a child with a toy sword? What would be the point? Now tell me what manner of urchin filth are you?"
Grifford bridled, but then thought on his appearance. That morning, when Lance-master Tzarren had awoken him, he had pulled on his nearest clothes, and they had not been his finest. Since then he had been rolling in grass, climbing up trees and over rooftops, and pushing himself through slimy nests among the waste pipes of the fortress. Standing there, his feet bare, he must have looked as ragged and dirty as his sister normally did.
"If you will not draw your sword, then yield," he said.
Though his voice sounded confident in his ears, the man put his head back, and the sound of his laughter echoed in the space of the tower. When he stopped and looked at Grifford, there was quiet again, apart from the waste reservoir's fetid churning below.
Kralmir's cries had also stopped.
"Who do you think you are boy?"
"I am Grifford Layne of the Order of the Plains."
"Who?" said the man scornfully.
"He is Sir Kralaford's brat, Sabstan" said a hard voice from behind him, dripping with disdain.
Grifford looked away from the man, over his shoulder to where the looming figure of Vlambra stood in the doorway at the end of the platform's walkway.
The smile on Sabstan's face did not move.
"A squire, is it?" he said, his tone still mocking. "I had better take out my sword after all."
His hand went to his sword.
* * *
"If you take out your sword, then I shall take out your eye," said Tahlia.
The man looked up to where she stood at the platform's edge, her bow drawn and an arrow pulled back to her cheek. His brow creased in mock concern.
"We are in trouble, Vlambra," he said, though his smile remained. "We are facing a child's sword and a child's bow.
"I am shaking in my boots," said Vlambra. His voice was condescending, but he made no move to cross the walkway.
"I have been practising with a bow since my seventh summer," said Tahlia. "And I can take your man's eye as easily as you can pick your nose."
Vlambra's smile vanished.
"Dres should have killed you when he had the chance," he growled, but then, looking over Tahlia's shoulder, he smiled again. "Tell us what you want, children."
"We want our brother," said Grifford on the platform below, his sword still raised, pointing at the man, Sabstan.
"That is not happening," said Vlambra.
"Drop your weapons and stand together where I can see you," said Tahlia.
"That is not happening," said Vlambra again. "What is going to happen is that you will both put down your weapons and come to me."
"We have you," said Grifford. "You will yield."
"I do not think so," said Vlambra, and his smile grew even wider.
Tahlia heard a surprised gasp from behind her.
"You will do as he says or I will slit your friend's throat."
Tahlia spun quickly around.
Dak was standing behind her, her head pulled back by her tied hair, a knife held at her throat by a tall man with a look of utmost evil on his face.
"You had better do as he says quickly, girl," said Vlambra from below. "My friend Cravit has a taste for blood, and babysitting your brother all night has left him bored."
Tahlia spat an unladylike curse, but saw the fear in Dak's wide eyes. She lowered her bow.
"Lay down your sword, brother," she called down.
"Why?" said Grifford. "What is happening?"
"They have Dak."
"Not again!" spat Grifford. "I told you she was a useless lump of borak meat!"
He seemed to hesitate, but then he threw his sword onto the platform, where it clanged and skidded to stop at Sabstan's feet.
"We won't be needing this toy," the man said, and kicked the sword, making it clatter away towards the platform's edge. Its hilt caught the metal lip of the grillwork, causing it to spin perilously, first its blade and then its hilt arcing out over the dark water below. It continued to spin slowly before coming to rest, its blunt blade pointing back towards the platform's centre.
"A lucky blade," Sabstan sneered.
"You too, girl!" shouted Vlambra. "Throw your bow and quiver down here, and that vicious little knife I know you have somewhere on you."
Tahlia grimaced and threw down her bow. Then, first making sure its draw string was pulled tight, threw down her quiver with it, then she took her mother's knife from her pouch.
"Easy now, girl," said Cravit from behind her.
She threw it down, and it clattered on the platform below.
"Now come down here," said Vlambra. Tahlia noticed the note of relief in his voice, and she wondered how much faith the Engineer really had in his two companions.
"That way, down the stairs," said Cravit, twitching with his head at the doorway through which they had come. As she descended, her mind whirled with thoughts of escape, but she could do nothing while Dak had a knife at her throat.
When she reached the lower level and crossed the walkway to the platform, she found that the man, Sabstan, had picked up her bow.
"Throw it over the side," growled Vlambra, who had crossed the walkway to stand at the platform's edge. "And the knife with it."
"It's a good bow this," said Sabstan. "It could fetch a few coins."
"Isn't Dres paying you enough already? Throw it over the side, I say. And you!" he said, pointing a thick finger at Tahlia. "Go and stand with your brother."
Tahlia went to stand beside Grifford, who was still glowering at Sabstan.
"He's scared of something!" she whispered in his ear.
At first her brother did not reply, and she wondered if he had heard her over the noise of the waste reservoir below, but then he said, not bothering to whisper.
"Good."
"Quiet, you two," snarled Vlambra, and then to Sabstan. "I said throw it!"
Sabstan frowned at Vlambra, but then, with a look of regret at the bow, went to the platform's edge.
"I don't like to throw away good merchandise."
"Even if it is implicating you in the murder of the children of a Pride-commander of Klinberg?"
Sabstan looked back at Vlambra.
"So we will kill them?"
"They are an inconvenience that I am not wanting."
Tahlia felt her heart thumping in her throat. Her eyes and her brain cast about for some means of escape, but nothing immediately presented itself.
"Let me cut their throats," said Cravit, who had followed Tahlia down the stairs.
He no longer had his knife pressed to Dak's throat, but it was still in one hand, his other gripping Dak's arm firmly.
"The girl first," said Vlambra. He unhooked a heavy cudgel that hung from his belt, and moved towards Tahlia and Grifford. "I take it that as you are here on your own, you have not been telling anyone about the things you were overhearing in my employer's tent yesterday."
Tahlia remained belligerently silent.
Vlambra smiled.
"I thought not. That is good, because it means that no one knows where you are, so no one will be coming here looking for you."
His grin widened, and for the first time in her life, Tahlia Layne began to suspect that she had made a serious mistake.