The Promised Lie by Christopher Nuttall

Author:Christopher Nuttall [Nuttall, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC009020 FICTION / Fantasy / Epic, FIC009100 FICTION / Fantasy / Action & Adventure, FIC002000 FICTION / Action & Adventure, FM Fantasy, FJM War & combat fiction
ISBN: 9781911409311
Publisher: Elsewhen Press
Published: 2018-01-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Tell me,” Lord Robin said. “What do you make of it?”

Isabella shrugged. The castle was big, but she’d seen bigger. Cleaner, too. The castle staff were slowly returning to work, but half of them had apparently fled or been drafted into the army that had marched to Alcidine. Most of the servants were constantly glancing around, as if they expected to be jumped at any moment. Lord Robin had already had to speak sharply to Big Richard for harassing a maid while she performed her duties.

“There definitely aren’t any protective wards,” she said. Either the Court Wizard had been an imbecile – which was possible, this far from the Golden City – or someone had undone his work in his absence. And yet, she couldn’t even pick up any traces of magic. His quarters hadn’t even been protected. She’d expected to have to unpick a dozen protective wards, each one nastier than the last, but instead the door had opened at her touch. “I’ll have to build them myself, from scratch.”

“You can do that later,” Lord Robin said. “I have something more important for you to do.”

Isabella lifted her eyebrows. She couldn’t think of anything more important than protecting the castle. The gods alone knew how many secret passages were threaded through the stone walls. But Lord Robin was her boss ...

“I was checking the cells,” Lord Robin said. “Most of the people imprisoned were locked up for daring to suggest that the usurper should try to negotiate before the battle, rather than afterwards. But one of them was locked up for telling stories.”

“Telling stories,” Isabella repeated, as she followed him down a flight of stairs. The air grew cooler as they reached the lower levels. “What sort of stories?”

“The guards insisted that he’d been talking about odd events in the countryside,” Lord Robin said. “But they weren’t allowed to talk to him personally.”

“Odd events,” Isabella mused. Robin was right. The storyteller should be investigated. And yet, she knew there were too many other problems. “I’ll do what I can.”

Lord Robin grinned at her. “I never doubted it,” he said. He jabbed a finger at the castle. “Do you know what we found up there? A fishpond!”

“A fishpond?”

“Oh, yes,” Lord Robin said. “A fishpond, under the castle. It’s teeming with fish.”

Isabella rolled her eyes. She’d known aristocrats in the Golden City who’d bred fish for their tables, but the Golden City was nearly two hundred miles from the nearest coastline. Fresh fish was expensive, even with preservation spells. But here, anyone who wanted fish could just walk down to the Racal and start fishing. She found it hard to believe that the castle’s staff didn’t know how to fish. Maybe the fish were a special breed.

“We’d better try some,” she said. “Just out of curiosity, you understand.”

“A couple of other weird things too,” Lord Robin said. “They were throwing out dozens of swords. I think they were going to melt them down.”

Isabella frowned. “Why?”

“Buggered if I know,” Lord Robin said.

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