Against The World

I told the guards my name, and they immediately fled.

I guess they know who I am.

We moved from the courtyard toward what looked like the inner sanctum.

We followed the path towards a flight of stairs and we ascended.

The stairs ended beneath a locked iron door.

I stared at it.

Melody stared at it.

Then she looked at me.

“Do you want me to open it?”

“How?”

She placed one hand on the hilt of her sword.

“That is not opening it.”

“It will be open afterward.”

Mary adjusted the document case beneath her arm.

“We are attempting diplomacy.”

“I know.”

“Diplomacy generally works better when we do not begin by destroying someone’s door.”

Melody considered that.

“What if it is a small amount of destruction?”

“No.”

I stepped closer to the door.

Unlike the gate below, it had not survived the years untouched. Rust covered the hinges. The wood behind the iron bands had swollen with moisture, and someone had driven three newer bolts through the frame.

Harwick had not merely locked the old transit passage.

He had buried it.

The golden Crown on my palm warmed.

Stone shifted beside the doorway.

Dust spilled from a narrow recess, revealing a bronze plate beneath layers of plaster. Faded letters appeared across its surface.

WESTMERE HOLD

NORTHERN TRANSIT ACCESS

AUTHORIZED CITIZENS MAY REQUEST ENTRY

I touched the plate.

“Request entry.”

Something clicked inside the wall.

The three bolts withdrew.

Melody looked disappointed.

“That was less interesting.”

“It preserved the door,” Mary said.

“Exactly,” I added. “A successful diplomatic beginning.”

Evelyn folded her arms.

“You have entered Lord Harwick’s citadel through a secret passage.”

“An official transit passage.”

“Then walked through the courtyard and scared his soldiers away.”

“that's the story so far.”

Alistair stepped beside me and drew his sword.

I looked at him.

“You expect trouble?”

“I expected trouble before we left Greykeep.”

“That is fair.”

I pushed the door open.

It moved several inches, struck something, and stopped.

Melody brightened.

“My turn?”

We squeezed through the gap one at a time.

A stack of wooden crates blocked the other side. Old furniture had been piled behind them, along with broken shields, empty barrels, and a stone statue missing its head.

Harwick had apparently used the entrance as a storeroom.

That seemed disrespectful.

Then again, the headless statue might have been an old king. Perhaps Harwick had considered it appropriate.

We moved the crates carefully enough to create a path.

The storeroom beyond was dark. No windows broke the walls, and the only light came from the golden glow still fading around the transit door.

I raised one hand.

A small flame appeared above my palm.

Evelyn studied it.

“Does that cost you anything?”

“Concentration.”

“How much?”

“Less than lifting five hundred soldiers.”

“That is not a useful measurement.”

“It is the one I have.”

Shelves lined the chamber. Most held spoiled cloth, cracked pottery, or rusted tools. Several wooden panels had been removed from the walls, exposing carved stone beneath.

Crowns had once decorated every arch.

Someone had chiseled through them.

Not with care.

Not to reshape the stone.

Just to damage the symbol.

Alistair ran his fingers across one of the scars.

“Harwick did this.”

“We know he does not like the Crown,” Melody said.

“This carving survived the fall of Greykeep,” Alistair replied. “It survived the breaking of the northern road and the abandonment of the transit gates.”

His voice hardened.

“Harwick could not bear to let it survive him.”

I understood anger.

I understood seeing something that represented pain and wanting to break it.

But these Crowns had not belonged to Harwick.

He had destroyed them because they reminded other people of who they were.

That was different.

Mary placed a hand on Alistair’s arm.

“We will restore them.”

The old captain looked at her.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “We will.”

Footsteps sounded beyond the storeroom.

We went still.

The approaching person hummed badly.

A key entered the outer lock.

The door opened.

A man carrying a lantern stepped inside, took two steps, and froze.

He wore a brown servant’s coat and carried a ring of keys large enough to anchor a small boat.

His eyes moved from Alistair’s drawn sword to Melody’s hand on hers.

Then he saw me.

More specifically, he saw my palm.

The Crown appeared in golden light.

His lantern slipped from his hand.

I caught it with a current of air before it reached the floor.

The man stared.

I lowered the lantern gently.

“Sorry,” I said. “We did not mean to frighten you.”

His palm began to glow.

A golden Crown emerged on his skin.

The man covered it with his other hand.

Fear changed his expression immediately.

He looked toward the corridor.

“Put that out,” he whispered.

My flame vanished.

Alistair sheathed his sword.

“What is your name?”

The servant hesitated.

“Thomas.”

“I am Alistair Rowan.”

Recognition flickered in the man’s eyes.

“The royal guard?”

“The last of its captains.”

Thomas looked at me again.

“And you are…”

“Uriah.”

Melody frowned.

“You should say the rest.”

“I am fairly certain he knows.”

“You are the king,” Thomas whispered.

I glanced at the corridor.

“Not so loudly.”

He almost laughed.

It came out sounding closer to a cough.

Mary stepped forward.

“Thomas, Lord Harwick arrested twenty-three people for displaying the Crown. Are they still alive?”

His fear deepened.

“Yes.”

“Where are they?”

“The lower cells.”

“We need you to take us to them.”

Thomas shook his head at once.

“I cannot.”

“He will execute them,” Alistair said.

“I know.”

“Then help us.”

“You do not understand. Harwick has guards everywhere. He doubled the watch after the army left. No one enters the lower cells without a signed order.”

Melody pointed toward the keys.

“You have keys.”

“I clean the passage.”

“So you can take us close.”

Thomas backed toward the door.

“If he learns I helped you, my wife will lose our rooms. My sons will be dismissed from the kitchens. We will have nothing.”

I raised a hand before Melody could answer.

Thomas was not a soldier.

He had not sworn to fight Harwick.

He was a frightened man with a family who depended on him.

Asking him to risk everything because I had appeared through a wall did not become reasonable simply because I needed his help.

“You do not have to guide us,” I said.

Mary looked at me.

Thomas did too.

“Tell us how to reach the cells,” I continued. “Then return to whatever you were doing. If anyone asks, you found the storeroom empty.”

“They will know someone moved the crates.”

“Then say you heard something behind them and went to fetch help.”

Evelyn nodded slightly.

Thomas studied my face.

“You would trust me?”

“No.”

That surprised him.

“I met you less than a minute ago,” I said. “Trust would be premature.”

Melody nodded.

“Very premature.”

“But I am not going to threaten your family to obtain your cooperation. Harwick may do that. I will not.”

Thomas looked down at the Crown on his palm.

“He says you are a conqueror.”

“So I have heard.”

“He says you will take every farm between here and Greykeep.”

“The farms do not belong to Harwick.”

His head lifted.

“They belong to the people who work them,” I said. “Harwick’s stewardship can be revoked. Mary brought the records proving it.”

Mary held up the case.

Thomas stared at it as if she carried a weapon.

In a way, she did.

He closed the storeroom door behind him.

“The west stair,” he whispered. “Go down two levels. Turn left at the old chapel. There will be six guards outside the cells.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“That is not enough.”

He removed three keys from his ring.

“These open the servants’ passages. The narrow corridors will take you behind the guard station.”

He pressed them into my hand.

I looked at him.

“You do not have to do this.”

“My grandmother told me Greykeep would return.”

Thomas covered the Crown on his palm again.

“I would like to learn whether she was right.”

Then he slipped out of the storeroom.

Melody smiled.

“I like him.”

“You like everyone who gives us keys,” Mary said.

“That is not true.”

Melody paused.

“I also like people who give us food.”

We waited several moments before entering the corridor.

Westmere Hold was larger than I had expected.

The citadel had been built into the hillside, with its lower floors carved directly from the stone. Narrow windows overlooked the valley, and the central corridors were decorated with old banners bearing Harwick’s black tower.

Between them, I saw pale rectangles on the walls.

Something else had hung there once.

Harwick had removed every piece of Greykeep’s history he could find.

He had not managed to remove the building itself.

The west stair carried us downward.

Voices drifted from adjoining halls. Servants hurried between kitchens and storerooms. Soldiers moved in pairs, but their attention was focused on the upper courtyard.

We heard the reason when two guards passed nearby.

“The eastern rider returned,” one said.

“And?”

“No sign of Lord Berrin’s men.”

“He sent the message yesterday.”

“Perhaps Berrin refused.”

“He cannot refuse.”

The second guard laughed without humor.

“He can if he thinks Harwick is finished.”

They disappeared around a corner.

Evelyn waited before speaking.

“Berrin controls three hundred soldiers southeast of here.”

“Would he support Harwick?” I asked.

“He supports whoever appears most likely to win.”

“So we can depend on him to remain completely undependable.”

“Precisely.”

We reached the old chapel.

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