Kation had changed. Something that Kahedin had only seen in tiny flashes before had now fully emerged, like a viper from its egg. Her eyes were as hard and cold as quartz. Her murder of their jailer was a far cry from fair play, but he couldn't find fault with the effectiveness of the manoeuvre. But he did take exception to its brutality—especially since Kation was supposed to be a bookish little woman with undeniable skill in horsemanship and climbing. She wasn't supposed to kill with the ease and calm of a seasoned knife-man.
Her face was a mask, her eyes pale and cold. She moved with a silent, fluid grace that was slightly scary to behold. Before, she had been awkward and gawky with hunched shoulders and an unbalanced posture. Now she was loose-limbed and supple, every inch of her radiating confidence and intent.
Had he made a mistake in allowing this? Would Tristan ever forgive him for letting his little girl take point as they fought their way to freedom?
A second man rounded the corner and started to shout when Kation's knife flashed from her hand and sank into his chest, just above the collarbone. Kation hissed in irritation and darted forward, drawing her beastly tent peg and leapt at the man, bearing him to the ground. Her raised knees drove the breath from his body and Kahedin heard the crunch of ribs as she stabbed the wickedly sharp metal spike into the man's throat—once, twice. She yanked her knife free and frisked the dying man for…
Two long daggers were casually tossed over her shoulder at Kahedin who had to leap aside to avoid having a toe impaled.
"Steady on!" he rebuked, trying to keep his voice down.
"Do you need a belt for them?" Kation asked, not turning around as she stepped off the body and moved to the bend in the corridor, poking her head round the corner to check for further opponents. Her lack of reaction suggested it was all clear.
"Um… sure." Kahedin said, watching as Kation turned and relieved the man of his belt before slipping the knives' sheath straps onto it and buckling it round Kahedin's own waist.
"Can you use these?" she asked, looking up at him.
"I think I can throw them." He said reproachfully.
"With your off-hand?" Kation raised an eyebrow doubtfully.
"I'll try not to hit you," he snapped back sarcastically. Kation smirked mirthlessly and turned away to proceed.
As he trailed after her, Kahedin suspected that he couldn't have stopped her even if he hadn't been so injured. The first twinges of true uncertainty began to infect his mind. How could they have been so blind to this?
They walked in complete silence for several long moments, Kation slipping through the shadows and then hurrying back, when suddenly they came to a set of stairs. At the top was a heavy wooden door with big studs in it.
Kation didn't say a word, but raced up the steps and paused before cautiously testing the door.
"Is it barred?" Kahedin whispered, taking the steps a little slower so as not to aggravate his ribs.
"No, but I hear voices beyond. We'll wait here until they go away."
He couldn't fault the logic, even if part of him bristled at the idea of a slave—even a false one—dispensing tactics. Kation listened at the door, eyes on his face but not really seeing him. When he joined her a moment later, he also listened to the voices beyond.
"… stupid! Arthur won't rest until the knight has been found. And as for that sweetie-boy, there's no telling how he is involved." Said one.
"I thought he was just an attendant." Another voice, the accent was foreign. Perhaps it was the Germanic from before.
"No, there was a theory that he was Arthur's secretary—if that is the case then he could be extremely useful. Perhaps even more so than the knight." This voice was different, more cultured. And clearly the guy was cleverer than the others, perhaps even of higher rank.
"The fact he's as fuckable as Ganymede is a bonus," there was a round of laughter at that, and Kahedin winced, expecting Kation to explode out and try to slaughter them all. But she only sighed, looking weary.
"Well no one gets a go until we're sure they are the only ones who know about the plans." The cultured voice again—clearly he was in charge, since the others all grumbled their assent.
"But what about the other scout—the quiet one. Wasn't our 'guest' seen talking to him before we picked him up?"
"They will be on alert," said the Germanic. "They will suspect all but their own."
"Well never mind that, we've got one and that's a start." There was a slight pause and then a chuckle. "Hey, did you hear that they asked Gaius for wine and meat? Cheeky little buggers."
"Asking for a kick in the teeth if you ask me," said another.
"Well they aren't getting anything tonight, let's drink to the leader's good health and wait for Gaius to return with more tales of that cheeky little sex toy."
There was murmured assent from all and they heard the dull thunk of a pitcher and the clink of cups. Kation slanted a keen glance at Kahedin and leaned over to whisper in his ear: "Unless they come looking for Gaius, we wait until they are asleep."
"What if the door's opening wakes them?"
"Oh that's alright, I was going to kill them anyway. That Germanic was too professional for my liking." Her matter-of-fact tone chilled Kahedin's blood even as the whisper of her breath tickled the sensitive skin of his neck, raising goosebumps on his spine. He suppressed a shudder as she drew back to listen at the door again.
"And what if they do come looking for our gaoler?"
Kation shrugged. "Then we kill them in a different manner."
She was being scarily single-minded about this.
"Is that really all you can think about? Killing them?"
Kation's icy gaze slid back to him in the gloom. For a moment something eldritch flashed across her face before disappearing behind the mask of calm indifference once more. Apparently she wouldn't waste anymore words on him for the moment.
After a little consideration, Kahedin came to the conclusion that of course she had to think about killing their captors. It was the only viable way they would get out alive. It was just a little distressing that she didn't seem interested in trying to persuade the men to let them go, or attempting to bribe them. It was as if she genuinely didn't give a thought to killing. Even if they had elected to rape Kation later, surely that was just their prerogative? Not that Kahedin would let it happen—ever!—but was that truly what had upset her? Perhaps he ought to reassure her. He reached out gingerly, minding the constant ache in his ribs, and lightly touched her bloody fingers.
"I won't let them touch you," he whispered.
"I know," she replied. Her eyes gleamed with an icy hunger, an unmistakeable anticipation for combat. The girl was unnatural.
The men were chatting about more banal things now, but one suddenly declared: "Hey, where is Gaius?"
There followed a brief series of increasingly ridiculous theories, before one of the voices grumbled. "Alright, alright, I'll go see where he's got to. I think Brutus also went down there."
"Maybe they're enjoying the boy," mumbled another, sounding resentful.
Kation leaned over and whispered quickly: "Go back down the stairs and hide in that alcove. As soon as the alarm has been raised, one will run to alert the others above. The rest will run down to see where we have gone since this is the only exit. I will follow them and lock them in our cell before returning. You must deal with the messenger, can you do it?"
He gave her his best scornful look and she smiled ruefully, eyes wide in the gloom. Turning, Kahedin went down the stairs again and hid in the small alcove, readying a dead man's knives. The weighting and balance of the blades were poor, but he had dealt with worse and sank into the shadows to wait. All too soon the first man passed him, grumbling under his breath; once out of sight, Kahedin looked around the corner and saw Kation hiding behind the door. She glared at him and he ducked back in again just as the man came charging back down the corridor, eyes wide.
"They've escaped! They've escaped!" he bellowed, not pausing for breath as he bounded up the stairs. Chairs scraped back and shouts began one declaring he'd run to alert the others while the rest, as Kation had predicted, opted to search for the fugitives since they had certainly not escaped through the sole exit. Then four men ran back down the stairs, bearing cudgels, knives and a torch. They didn't see Kahedin and the moment they were gone he ran up the stairs, passing Kation who darted past him, light and silent as a fox.
He looked about the room he entered and saw the door, heard the disappearing footfalls and followed at a run, fetching out both knives as he went. His lungs heaved as he ran down a long, winding corridor, his ribs on fire. When he burst out into an orderly domestic courtyard to see the man still running to the opposite corner. Acting instinctively, he yelled out: "Hey!" the man stopped and whirled. The man, upon seeing his captive, ran back in the hope of recapturing the Sarmatian. Kahedin weighed up one of the knives, gripping the tip of the blade as he quickly calculated.
Twelve paces, he couldn't miss. "Let him have it!" a horribly familiar voice shouted behind him. He hurled the knife and caught the man in his shoulder. The wretch cried out and stumbled back as Kation moved past him to deliver the final blow. She remained crouched over the body for a minute longer and then straightened, tucking something into her tunic with bloodied hands as she turned to face him. Kahedin saw that she had a fair amount of blood on her hands and more was splattered across her front. Not needing to speak, they grabbed the dead man and dragged him back into the room he and his comrades had been drinking in. They then threw his body down the stairs to the converted cellar and shut it tightly.
As they walked back out, Kation was already detailing the next stage of the plan. "Let's get to the stables and see if we can't borrow some of our good host's horses," she said as she slid the man's sheathed knife onto a stolen belt before looping it across her chest and tightening it once more. She had acquired quite the armoury, strapped about her torso via a number of belts and straps, all ugly and brutish but very effective.
"You're covered in blood," Kahedin said. "We will arouse plenty of suspicion if we wander around looking like this."
Kation glanced down at herself and nodded. "Good call, we must escape by subterfuge, then. I think we should disguise ourselves first." She said promptly, eyeing the three doors they had not yet entered. "We need to find the laundry room."
They turned away from each other and inspected each door. Then a domestic slave appeared in the courtyard and started in surprise at the sight of Kahedin. Kation, still hidden in another doorway, remained in the shadows, letting Kahedin do the talking. After all, he looked far less frightening.
"Hey there," Kahedin said, with every air of authority. "Where's the laundry room?"
"Go by the west door, down the passage way and then take the first right, sir." The slave stammered, pointing to the relevant aperture. She was a nervous looking woman who could barely look Kahedin in the face.
"Thank you," he paused and chanced his luck, "tell me, is your master here?"
"No sir, he is still in Eboracum but will return by next Sabbath."
"I see, thank you." Kahedin nodded and dismissed the slave with a flick of his hand before striding away towards the west door. As soon as the slave had disappeared again, Kation was at his side.
"Great, we'll need fresh clothes and a bag to put our own in. We'll say we need to depart at once and can take it with us. Think they'll give us one?"
"Maybe we can add to our little act by getting some food from the kitchens as well." Kahedin joked. Kation laughed softly and nodded.
"Worth a try."
They soon found the laundry room, a middle-aged woman was soaking some bedclothes while another younger woman was wringing out some tunics. Once more, Kation hid in the shadows and let Kahedin do the talking. He asked for a bag, a change of clothes for himself as well as a shaving kit, and a winter travelling outfit for a young lady whom he was obliged to escort to Eboracum.
Hardly appropriate, but he knew how much it would annoy Kation and he was curious to see what she might look like in such an outfit. Moreover, he was certain that the Prefect kept any number of spare dresses and trinkets for the various mistresses he took up at his leisure. The women looked at him wonderingly, but he repeated his request in a snapping tone, saying that the Prefect expected the young lady in Eboracum before the next day. His harsh accents galvanised them into action, but not before they paused to ask what the lady looked like.
"She's tall, thin with white skin, grey eyes and dark hair. She has come out of a slight illness, so her hair is very short. Do you have a decoration for her hair to make it more appealing?" he asked, sure that any second now Kation would hurl a knife at his back.
Nothing happened from that quarter, but the ladies nodded and the younger one scurried off to fetch the items.
The middle-aged woman eyed him cautiously. "You from elsewhere then?" she asked. "Never seen you before."
"I am usually in Eboracum—our Germanic friend recommended my services to your lord."
"Ah," she said, acknowledging the explanation with complacent acceptance. "And how did you get those marks on your face?"
"In preservation of our master's interests," Kahedin replied cryptically.
"Well it can't have been pleasant. Why don't you wash your face in the tub? It's fresh in."
Kahedin gratefully stepped forward and scrubbed at his grimy face and hands in the vat of hot soapy water, trying to ignore the pain he felt in his broken fingers as he did so. After he had finished and the washerwoman declared him much improved, they stood in quiet silence waiting for the girl to return. When she did, she had also brought a small beauty kit.
"Does the lady need assistance with the dress?" She asked hopefully. "I added a head-scarf to hide her shorn hair."
"Oh don't listen to Caria, she wants to be a ladies' maid and needs the practise," the older woman said affectionately, gesturing for the girl to hand the bundle over. She did, grudgingly, and went back to her work. Kahedin nodded his thanks, tucked the bundle under his arm and strolled out. A narrow black shadow slipped into step beside him, radiating silent displeasure. They made their way silently to an uninhabited little room filled with all manner of ceramics and kitchen equipment.
Kahedin sorted through the bundle as Kation slowly stripped off all her weapons.
"I presume you ordered the dress because they will be looking for two men, not a man and a woman?" she asked sourly.
"Indeed," Kahedin said calmly, handing her the underskirts of soft linen. It was a plain, undyed shift with long, tight sleeves and a low-cut neckline. The dress itself was a dull forest green of finely woven, thick lambs' wool with a small plain cord that tied under the bust. The sleeves were also long and narrow, ending in a slight point.
Kation laid all the weapons close to hand and unbuckled her kidney belt, unwinding the sash underneath and wriggled out of her tunic. The skin underneath was grimy with dirt and blood. She grimaced and shook her head. "I'll need to clean up or we'll still look suspicious," she said absently as she began to peel off her undershirt.
Not wanting a repeat of the baths, Kahedin quickly turned his back to change his own clothes, only to find that broken ribs made this impossible. "Um…" he gulped and didn't know how to say this next. "I can't undress."
He heard a small sigh and the rustle of fabric. "I'll help as soon as I'm dressed. Guard the door." Kahedin edged along the wall and stood facing the door, listening for footsteps or voices rather than to the rustling of fabric. Eventually, he heard the jingle of buckles and turned around to see Kation had reattached the sash and kidney belt high on her waist instead of the delicate tie. She reached for her belts of knives and attached one across her front and the other over her kidney belt.
"That is not very subtle," he said reproachfully, watching as she wound the headscarf around her head in such a way that suggested she had bound up her hair in its length. She left the end loose, presumably to cover her face and hide her identity if necessary. Then she reached for the ankle length cloak.
"That's what this is for," she returned curtly, wrapping it around her shoulders and fastening it at her right shoulder. When it closed, he saw that her chest was, indeed, flat as a board. It was too sad. Poor Tristan.
She shook out her skirts, brushed them smooth and stepped forward with that easy, graceful step which denoted either a talented dancer or—as the truth might be—a natural-born killer. She flicked back the cloak and began to help him get his tunic off. It was a long and painful process for him, but when Kahedin worried that they would be found if they delayed, Kation shook her head with a small smile. "No, no," she murmured as she tore Kahedin's ruined tunic into strips to bind his ribs. "If word of our escape has become generally known, they will be searching the roads and woods around us, they are unlikely to think that we have lingered in the enemy fortress." She wrapped her arms around Kahedin to bind the bandages tightly, and once it had been finished, she helped him into the new tunic and trousers with the cool detachment of an orderly.
"So… to the stables?"
"Indeed. Pull the hood of your cloak up to hide your face, it is cold enough to merit it," she scrubbed at her face and sighed. "I really need to wash," she moaned, turning back to neatly fold and pack away her clothes. Kahedin noticed that she also had a small bloodied bundle which she hastily stuffed into the patchwork bag with her clothes before taking Kahedin's clothes and packing them away too. "You'll have to carry it in your good hand, it won't make sense for me to do so. If we hit trouble, just leave it to me, okay?" she said, pressing the bundle into his good hand.
"Fine," he said, dragging the hood over his head and following the girl out of the room. They made their way out of the sprawling villa without incident and crossed the courtyard to the stables. Once there, Kation took charge.
"I need two horses immediately!" she exclaimed in her customary cultured tones, sounding like a privileged little lord's daughter, used to commanding those around her. The two grooms loitering on a bench to leap to their feet and dashed over to her with unseemly haste.
"Why, little madam, what do you need two horses for?" said the elder of the two, tugging his forelock respectfully.
"Riding out, you simpleton!" she snapped, throwing him a contemptuous glance. "I must go to Eboracum immediately, his lordship is expecting me."
"And who might you be? We haven't seen you before," the man challenged, crossing his arms defiantly.
"This is not the time to be asking me stupid questions!" Kation stamped her foot. "If you must know, I have been staying with friends in the area and upon receiving the governor's letter I was advised to walk over here to appropriate horses. A cart dropped me off at the gate and I walked here straight away."
"The governor wrote to you?" the younger man said doubtfully.
"Of course he did! I am his cousin's daughter and his ward—why, therefore, should he not write to me?" Kation's imperious tone and frank gaze had the desired effect. Especially when Kahedin stepped up behind her and (carefully) crossed his arms.
"And who's this bruiser?" the elder asked, jerking his chin at Kahedin who glared back.
"This is my escort and bodyguard, a trusted freedman." Kation said. "Now, where are those horses?" The grooms looked at them both for a moment longer before nodding and setting to work.
"The governor's ward?" Kahedin whispered at her.
"Would you prefer I killed them and have to tack up the horses myself?" she replied coolly, not turning her head to look at him.
"Even your mercy is for a good reason," Kahedin said, shaking his head. He was becoming increasingly unsettled by her methods.
"That means it is not mercy," she replied, and he could have sworn there was a tinge of regret colouring her tone. The younger groom dashed back to them and beckoned them over.
"Please take your pick, little lady—I am sure that my lord will not mind which horse you take. Can you ride well?"
"My parents and tutors had the goodness to throw me into the saddle before I was out of the nursery," Kation replied promptly. "We shall deliver two of his finest horses to my guardian—who I am sure will be suitably impressed by his lordship's generosity."
"Very good, milady," the man bobbed his head and turned away, shouting at his senior for 'the big grey' and 'the hot chestnut'.
"Hot chestnut…" Kation murmured. "Why do I always get the crazy redheads?" she sighed, shaking her head at the rhetorical question. Clearly there was some unspoken internal joke here, but Kahedin couldn't ask her about it yet. Instead, he gestured for her to lead on, which she did, picking up her skirts to skip daintily over the cobbles.
Kation paused to wash her face and hands in a trough before joining the men by the mounting block. Cheeks pink from the cold, she tugged her hood up and demanded that they attach the bag to the grey's saddle before climbing the mounting block and standing waiting for the groom to bring her the horse. A chestnut with flashing eyes and a dancing step was led over to her and she mounted in one swift spring. Her wide skirts meant that she could sit astride without losing an ounce of modesty, and she took the reins from the groom with a small smile and a curt 'thank you'. As Kahedin got onto his horse more cautiously, he heard her ask if the quickest road to Eboracum would be the main north-to-south track, or the back-roads. The groom said that the main road would be safer for a lady travelling with a single attendant if they moved quickly. They were to turn left at the gate and ride down it until they hit the main road. From there they ought to take the right and travel north. They could also get rest at a good inn in the nearby towns that the road passed through.
"There's some water skins and a little bread in the saddlebags, lady," he added, looking hopeful. There was another round of thanks and a coin was pressed into the man's hand.
Wait… where had she got money from?!
"Ready for a leisurely canter?" she asked Kahedin in her 'empress of the world' tone. He grimaced but nodded. Kation tugged her hood lower over her head and set off at once. Kahedin copied her action and urged the grey charger into a swift canter, standing up in the stirrups to keep from jostling his ribs and holding the reins with his good left hand. As soon as they had disappeared into the avenue of trees lining the track, Kation slowed the horse enough to talk with Kahedin. "We've got to keep going! Are you really alright to move at this pace?" she yelled over the pounding of hooves.
"No, but as you say, we have to!" he called back. She looked worried but nodded. "And where on earth did you get that money from?" he added. He hoped she hadn't been selling favours behind their backs…
"Emergency funds—I always stash a few coins away just in case." She replied with a wicked grin. "Tristan doesn't mind."
"Because he doesn't know, you washboard vixen!" he exclaimed with a shout of laughter, his ribs burning, but his heart lightening with each stride of the horse. They had done it!