CarlysleCoupToTheCardinalsPalaceEdgar blurted out, "You're going to send someone to help them, aren't you? You aren't just going to leave them to the mercy of those... soldiers?..." Just then the tall, slim figure of David Lytham appeared at the kitchen entrance to the ballroom, where he stood looking around for a few moments before focusing on Edgar and Gabriella. Edgar saw Lytham and wondered what he was doing in the ballroom and what they had done with the would-be assassin tied up in the stables. He waved at him to join them. The young actor hesitated for a moment, then trotted up to the group. "What is it, Edgar? I can't stay..." "And what about the other assassins? The man in the stable said there were six of them... And..." Should he have said that? It was seeing Lytham that had made Edgar blurt that out. Ofelia turned towards Edgar and gave him a glare that was famous through House Acciaio and beyond. "What did you say? What man in the stable?" she asked. Edgar blanched and looked to Lytham and Gabriella for help. "The one I was helping 'Uncle' Tal with..." "We're finished with him now, my lady," Lytham said to Ofelia, "if you want to send some guards to take him into custody. He's still tied up in the tack room," he explained. "Finished with him?" Ofelia leaned in a little closer. Her expression had not changed. "And, pray tell, what was 'Uncle Tal' doing, that he needed help?" Edgar swallowed and wished he were anywhere but there. He felt his mouth grow dry and try as he might, he couldn't make a word come out in answer to Ofelia's question. "Uhh... Uhh...." "Psyching the fellow out," Lytham answered cheerfully. "Mostly. Look, Edgar, I've got to run. You coming, or staying here?" Gabriella looked anywhere but at Ofelia and the other men. She definitely did not wish to say what part she had in 'psyching the fellow out'. "Coming!" Edgar practically yelled. "Of course..." He glanced around looking for Miles. "Aunt Rosalor could you look out for Miles? He was with Warden... The mechanic I met at the space port. Really nice guy... Remember him, Slim?" Edgar asked using the nickname he'd picked up for Lytham as he edged his way toward the actor, and hopefully escape from Ofelia's evil eye. "Of course," said Lytham. "We're in the same boardinghouse now. I was the one who got him the job here at the Reception. Stage technician," he explained. Remembering his manners, belatedly, Edgar bowed. "Ladies..." It was Rosalor's gimlet eye fixing on him this time. "Where are you off to now?" Edgar said something quickly about Talaren needing to see the Cardinal... And almost at a run, he pulled Lytham's arm, as he hastily made good his escape back into the night. Lytham allowed himself to be dragged out of range of the authorities before pulling back. "Whoa, whoa! I still need to get my knives," he told Edgar. "Do you want to grab something before we head out to the stables? You know, like, a weapon?" Edgar laughed. "Like what, knives? I'd probably cut myself with them. Now if they had a blaster, or laser-rifle. Crap, even a cross-bow! Now those I could handle." But he looked around the room vaguely for some form of a weapon, and then shrugged. The young actor looked at Edgar askance as they headed for the green room where the entertainers had been accommodated while not performing. "Are you sure you want to go with your uncle and me? How are you with your fists?" "I have a brother...." Edgar grinned, and then sobered. "I know this isn't a game, Slim. Don't worry, I'm not rushing in where angels fear to tread. And I may not know how to use a sword like Lord Decuma did back there, or a whip like Lord Giulian, but I know how to defend myself if I have to." Lytham nodded. "Good enough, then." In the green room, a brief rummage through a leather satchel produced something akin to a bandolier of small, sheathed knives, which Lytham slung across his body while heading back in the direction of the stables. "Your uncle should have the horses saddled by now," he commented to Edgar. "Horses? Not a coach?" Edgar muttered, blanching, yet gamely followed the actor. Well, this would definitely be another chapter in his thesis. Lytham shrugged. "Riding's faster, unless you have a set-out like Lord Giulian's -- and even then you have to stick to the roads." As they exited the inn, Edgar did indeed see Talaren waiting with three horses -- and not a coach. Should he admit that he didn't know the first thing about riding a horse? He swallowed. Talaren had, it seemed, chosen carefully. All three were riding horses and not carriage horses. His own stallion was one; a neat looking bay gelding was ready for Lytham and, for Edgar, a rather showy chestnut -- that nonetheless seemed to have an amiable temperament. Lytham's Badlands garb was, fortunately, well suited for riding. He was about to swing into the saddle -- then apparently thought better of it and glanced over his shoulder at Edgar. "Need any help?" Talaren had already mounted, but now looked over his shoulder with a slight frown. "You've ridden holo-ponies, haven't you, Edgar? You understand the principles?" Unable to admit that what he knew was strictly 'from a book' Edgar bravely, and perhaps foolishly, nodded. He had observed others mounting, so sticking his foot into the... loop thing... hanging down on the side, he hopped and swung his other leg over the back of the horse. Feeling himself sliding off on the other side he grabbed for the pommel with his right hand and still slipping, reached for the cantle with his left. Now he hung from his left knee, which had thankfully crooked and saved him from going completely over the horse. He pulled himself upright with an apologetic grin and faced front. He looked down at the reins which had now fallen to the ground: one on either side. He needed those... Didn't he? Lytham gave Edgar a rather dubious look, before stepping over to pick up the trailing reins. "Do you want these, or do you want one of us leading your mount?" he asked. "Lead him," said Talaren. "We need to move as fast as we can ... and I want to be unencumbered if we need to fight." "Right," Lytham acknowledged. He passed Edgar's reins to Talaren for the few moments it required for him to swing lithely into the bay gelding's saddle, then took them back. "All set," he told Talaren. Edgar glared first at his second cousin and then at Lytham. Treating him like a child, they were! Though a small voice inside had to admit that this might be the wiser course of action. "Fine, all right, let's get going before anyone sees, all right?" he grumbled, glancing toward the Inn fearing that one of the lovely young ladies might see him being led like a child on a pony ride. Talaren nodded and led the way out of the inn and into the street beyond. It was very dark and quiet, eerily quiet. Their horses' hooves sounded loud on the cobbled stones, the echoes bouncing off the stone fronts of the prosperous merchant houses that lined the streets. Talaren kept them to a walk initially -- perhaps for caution, perhaps to allow Edgar to gain in confidence. "Ready to trot now?" he asked as they reached the end of the street. "We should start to press on." Lytham glanced over to see how Edgar was doing. Walking was easy, and the chestnut he rode had a comfortable gait. Edgar saw Lytham's evaluating look and felt foolish. "At your leave," Edgar answered Talaren. As the horses began to trot Edgar bounced all over the saddle. Gritting his teeth he hung on to the pommel with both hands. He ruefully noted that both Lytham and Talaren weren't bouncing around, but were rising and falling in what appeared to be a more comfortable rhythm. How in the world were they doing that? Trying to mimic Lytham, Edgar raised himself out of the saddle, almost standing, but with his body bent forward as he refused to let go of the front of the saddle. Yes, that was much better, but his legs and back would tire very quickly. "Nearly there," said Talaren encouragingly and, indeed, on the brow of a low hill some half mile ahead, the bulk of a large house could be seen, with a sizeable chapel to one side. So late at night it was perhaps worrying to see lights swinging to and fro as though people were running in panic. Talaren swore under his breath. "Come on!" he shouted and kicked his horse to a canter -- and then a gallop. Lytham bent over his horse's neck, slackened his own reins and tightened his grip on Edgar's as he followed suit. Edgar didn't really have time to appreciate the fact that they were quickly approaching the beehive of a monastery, or some such building, as his horse gaily followed the two horses into a full gallop. He did appreciate that while they were indeed moving more quickly, the horse's gait again seemed much more comfortable and he was able to sit back into the saddle, was in fact forced back into the saddle by the momentum. With the wind whipping at his long hair, he could almost say he was enjoying the thrilling ride, as they covered the ground before them quickly. But he could not forget the mission they were on, and his chest tightened as the buildings loomed before them, and he could make out people scurrying about. Were they too late? And then, as they rode closer, they all three saw a shadowy figure slide over the top of the wall that surrounded the Cardinal's palace, and come to land in the road below. "Edgar! Stay back!" shouted Talaren. Lytham pulled both his and Edgar's horses to an abrupt halt. Damn, he thought as he prepared to follow Talaren. Should have brought the rope. Edgar would have been happy to oblige his father's cousin. His horse did stop behind Lytham's, and though he had the reins in hand, and though he kept telling the horse to stop, when Lytham kicked his horse up to follow Talaren's, Edgar's just followed. Suddenly he was racing behind them, bouncing along, begging his horse, "Stop, halt, don't go..." Then he suddenly remembered, Lytham pulled on the reins and said... "Whoa!" The horse stopped, but Edgar didn't, and he was flung forward. The horse obliged and lowered his head to help Edgar off -- over the horse's head. With a landing to make an acrobat proud, Edgar somersaulted in the air, and found himself stumbling forward, on his feet, and only a few yards in front of the man who would have been fleeing, if he hadn't been so startled by the acrobatics of the young man. Lytham blinked at this rather spectacular, if inadvertent, maneuver, even as he once again reined his horse to a halt. He could almost hear old Torrendo bellowing, Sign that boy up! But, in fact, the man didn't seem intent on fleeing at all. Instead, the shadowy figure began to wave frantically at the riders. Even in the darkness, his priest's robes became quickly apparent. He sounded out of breath, gasping for air. "Did... did he come this way?!" he yelled, frantically looking up and down the street. Talaren reined in his horse, grabbed the reins of Edgar's, and glowered down at the priest, all with what seemed to be a single, easy movement. "Who?" he said. "Who did you think came this way?" Lytham regarded the man narrowly. It would be easy enough to don a priest's robes; less easy to move naturally in them if one wasn't used to them. The young priest tried to get his breath. "He must have, good sir," he said. "I saw him crouched over the old priest and when I announced myself he ran off. I think. I think the old man was dead, sir. May the Lord watch over and protect him." He regarded Edgar desperately. "I tried to follow him. But he must have gotten away. Please, sirs. With your horses, you may be able to catch him still." Talaren looked at the other two. "All right," he said. "I'll check the streets. You two go back with him and find out what's happening. Because I wouldn't describe Micahle Fiore as an old man, not by any means." Lytham nodded, then cast a glance at Edgar to see if he was willing to go along with this. Edgar nodded, and took back his horse's reins from Talaren. He could lead a horse, that much was certain. "What does Fiore look like?" Lytham asked Talaren as he dismounted. "I was in the back of the Cathedral when he celebrated Mass that one time -- I wanted to hear him preach -- but I've never seen him close to." "Thank you sir," the young priest said. "I thought he might be a thief at first. But. There appears to be a loud altercation in the chapel. Please, allow me to lead you to the front." He glanced down the street again. "I was in the garden. And I heard someone call my name. And then. I saw them." A weak sigh escaped his lips, his body compressed with guilt. "If only I had been faster." As they came around the wall, the young man tried to manage a smile. "I shall take your horses and make certain they are cared for. The Cardinal will no doubt wish to speak with you personally." "The Cardinal is uninjured?" Edgar asked, with relief in his voice. "Where is the old man who was attacked?" He did not notice a body in the courtyard or in his line of sight that might have been the person attacked. Edgar exchanged a look with Lytham to see if he should entrust the horse to this priest. Lytham shrugged. It wasn't his horse. "Injured, sir?" the priest asked with genuine surprise. He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sorry. It appears you may know more than I in this instance. As I said, I was in the gardens, praying. I find the fountain helps me focus, sirs. I know I should have been inside..." He let out another guilty sigh. "I'm from the country, sirs. And outdoors, I feel closer to the Lord God." "From the country? So am I," said Lytham, giving the man a friendly smile while mentally trying to place his accent and continuing to watch his body language. "Which contrade? Not a Badlander, are you?" "I was, yes, sir," the young man said; the hint of his accent coming out. "My family were ranchers outside of Pineshoe. But. I don't mention it much here. Badlanders ain't usually priests, sir." He glanced away at the horses, as if they gave him comfort. The priest took the reins of the two horses, his manner with them speaking of some experience with animals. "I will settle your mounts and then go to the garden. That is where the old priest was struck down. Shall I wait for you there?" "Is that where the Legate will be?" was Lytham's counter-question. "It's him we really came to see." "OH! Sorry, sir," the young man said. "Yes. He'd be in the chapel, I'm sure. You can find him there." He gestured toward one of the buildings. "Right that way, sir. They'll let you in right quick, being nobles and all. Just tell them Oswain sent you." "Oswain," Lytham repeated. "Well, thank you, then, Father Oswain. We should hurry." "Thank you, sirs," Oswain said. "For stopping like you did. The good Lord must have guided you to me, that's fer shore." He shifted nervously. "If you don't mind, sir. I'd like to go and see if they need my help in the garden. I'm right worried something terrible happened." "Understood. Go right along," said Lytham. He glanced over at Edgar before heading toward the chapel Oswain had indicated. Oswain bowed his head and led the horses off toward the modest stables. (Continued in Carlysle Coup: Finding the Cardinal) |
