The corridors had fallen quiet hours ago, and he occasionally tossed and turned, seeking to ease the pain in his hip. The rank smell of the blanket was normal to him now. After his five-year imprisonment, he’d learned to be comfortable in solitude, a feeling that drove most men mad. His thoughts turned again to his wife, Jianne. Had she sent for a midwife already? How close was she to her confinement? He had not contacted her in weeks for fear of discovery. She was undoubtedly as worried about him as he was about her.
What would happen to the people he cared for so deeply?
His ears picked out the cautious tread of a boy’s shoes coming down the hall. The slow, steady cadence spoke of his fear of being discovered roaming the sanctuary at night.
As Alensson crept away from his pallet, he heard one of his cell mates grunt and then emit a loud snore. The disruption made him freeze his motion, waiting to hear the rhythm of the man’s breathing start up again. It did. There was no door covering the cell, only a stiff, tattered curtain. Alensson parted it and then slipped into the hall.
The boy was inching his way toward him, his hands patting the wall as he counted the way down. A trio of torches burned in a rack at the far end of the hall, stretching the boy’s shadow to the point where it almost touched Alensson’s boots.
The lad saw him and then came forward.
“Did you see her?” the duke whispered.
Tunmore nodded gravely. “I’m sorry it took so long.”
“Did you have any trouble?”
“Quite a bit, sir. But nothing I couldn’t manage. I don’t think anyone will send word to the deconeus. If they do, I don’t have an explanation.”
Alensson smiled. “You’re very young. Just say you were curious, and that will explain it all away.” He dropped down to one knee to put their faces at an even level. “You spoke to the Maid then? What did she say?”
Tunmore flinched and glanced back the way he’d come. Had there been a noise?
“I did speak to her and the Fountain spoke inside my heart. She knew . . . she knew my name. It was almost as if we’d always been friends. She’s very pale, very tired.” He glanced back again, looking unnerved.
Then Alensson heard it to. The soft clip of boots coming down the corridor. A swell of panic rose up inside his chest. Had someone followed the boy back to the sanctuary? Their time together was suddenly very limited. Alensson gripped the lad’s shoulders. “What does she want me to do?” he whispered urgently.
Tunmore kept glancing back at the corridor, his eyes widening with fear. His nostrils flared and he started breathing fast. “She said she didn’t want you to watch her go into the falls tomorrow. The waters won’t kill her because she is Fountain-blessed and water is of the Fountain. But she said it would disturb you to see it.”
A flush of anger shot through Alensson’s heart. “And she’s worried about me?” he growled.
The boy nodded. “She said the Fountain has its own purpose for you. You must go to the North. To North Cumbria. There is a castle there called Dundrennan. Beyond the castle, high in the mountains, you will follow the river to its source. She will meet you there in three days.”
Alensson’s mind whirled. The prospect of going even farther into his enemy’s country alarmed him. “Dun—Dundrennan? Was that the name?” he asked.
The boy Tunmore nodded. “It’s the duke’s castle. If you follow the river, it will take you there. She said to dress warmly. There will be ice.”
His heart hammered with dread as the bootfalls drew nearer. Because of the torches, there were no shadows on the floor to show how close the interloper was.
Alensson pressed his back against the wall and ducked behind the curtain of his cell. The sound of the boots grew louder and faster as the man broke into a run.
“Oy!” the man called. “You, boy! Hold fast in the name of the king.”
Alensson’s blood froze. He pressed his wrist against his mouth to stifle the noise of his rapid breathing. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. The lad’s pursuer passed Alensson’s curtain, but his bootfalls were quickly followed by another set.
“Did you find the brat?” asked the second man.
“He went down that way and disappeared. I thought I saw him talking to someone, but couldn’t see for sure in this blasted darkness.”
“Why didn’t you carry a torch?” asked the second man.
The two men met up just outside Alensson’s cell. Terrified they’d pull the curtain back and see him, he carefully tiptoed to his pallet and slunk down onto it, putting his back to the opening and pulling the covers up to his shoulders. He was shivering with dread.