Artos spoke quietly. "Sure the cloth could be seen from the palace?"
Asbjorn nodded.
"Tallest tree, near the top, branch on the palace side."
"She should be coming soon. Best just me."
"Yes." Asbjorn, Caralla, Hedin faded back into the trees, leaving Artos alone in the open space by the road. West in the faint moonlight loomed the palace wall, the greater bulk of the cliff behind. He waited.
It was almost half an hour before he saw the figure approaching. As she drew near he spoke in a low whisper. "Janel."
She started, said nothing, stopped in the road next to where he stood.
"Tosi?"
"Yes. How is he?"
"Well. Not counting the headache I'm out finding herbs for. What is it?"
"Chance to get him out if he wants. I need to talk to him."
"Message do?"
"Talk would be better. Can he get to the lower orchard? Bit of wall there—guard posts don't cover the bottom. We can settle what we're going to do, messages later on when and where."
"I can get him there. He might be alone, might not."
"Tomorrow evening, a little after dark. Outside the arrow slit by the big tree. Tell him to whistle 'cherry tree' if he's there, it's safe. If he wants me to run for it, drop something that makes a loud noise, curse."
"Yes. 'Cherry tree' to talk, drop and curse to run."
They were both silent a moment. He reached out, gave her a brief hug.
"Find your herbs. Luck."
A rattle of stones, loud voices. The Prince looked up from his book. The guard by the gate was staring up at the cliff behind the palace. A moment later a second guard appeared, spoke to him quickly. The first guard turned.
"Someone on the rocks behind the palace; up to something. Your Highness should stay here, other side of things, safe enough." He went out the gate; Iskander heard the bolt slide, got up. After a few minutes wandering about restlessly in the fading light he picked up his chair, carried it over to the outer wall, set it down where he could rest his back against the gnarled trunk of an old apple tree, returned to his book. In a little while he began to whistle softly.
From the wall two sharp clicks, one, two more. He stopped whistling, looked around. The gate was still closed, the orchard empty.
"Yes?"
"Your boy's back. Fellow he was staying with sent some friends. We think we can get you out if you want to go."
"Maybe. How goes it in the city?"
"A couple of men followed me from the Boar. Safer west of the pass with people we trust. He's moving, twelve legions, cross the bridge, south for Eston. Gives us time. In a few weeks we can have more at this end of things than he does. Work from there."
"What's our friend want in exchange?"
"Nothing. Fight on his hands, maybe he figures this helps a little. Doesn't cost him much. Your boy likes him, trusts him—might be a reason to favor you."
"Everyone does—one reason he keeps beating us. Can he do it again?"
"Twelve legions, cavalry, lights. Early harvest is in, enough supplies. Emperor commanding—won't make stupid mistakes. Anyone else, take a miracle. I would have staked my life he couldn't get an army to the Oasis. Have to bet, bet on Harald."
Iskander thought for a long minute.
"Harald wins, Emperor weak—safer out of his hands. Emperor wins, I can still bargain myself back here. Maybe. Looks like I have to bet. Do it. Let me . . ."
At the sound of the gate opening—he must have missed the bolt—Iskander stood up. The book fell with a thud onto the stone paving.
"Damn. Lost my place. Can you help with the chair? It's getting cold out."
"Beautiful things. Surely some of the highborn ladies would want . . ."
"Not this late, miss. Gate closed, two of us to keep it that way."
"It isn't really dark yet. Perhaps one of the highborn could come down and see?"
"They don't buy from peddlers at the front door, miss, not like your ma or mine. Real highborn ladies in golden chairs with maids to fan them, musicians."
He raised the lantern. Not young but not bad looking if you liked them tall. He thought a moment.
"I can't get you in tonight, but come back in the morning, some of the serving ladies might buy. I could tell them, maybe get you in then if any of the highborn say so. What sort of pretties do you have?" The other guard caught the glance, stepped back to the inside of the gate.
Two steps brought them out of his line of sight, into shadow. The guard cupped her cheek with one hand; she closed her eyes, leaned back for the kiss. Something struck him hard on the back of the head; Caralla caught him as he fell.
A few minutes later the second guard saw his comrade come back into sight, still talking quietly with the woman, one arm around her. A familiar voice from the shadow of the tree in the inner court.
"His Highness is still sick; they asked me to try to find some herb the physician wants. Can you help with a lantern?"
The guard let go of the woman, picked up his lantern, stepped back through the gate. Its light showed a figure wrapped in a cloak. He nodded, escorted her through the gate, handed her the lantern, turned back to the woman still standing by the wall.
It was half an hour before it occurred to the second guard that there might be something wrong, other than someone else having all the luck.
A mile east, where the road from the gate crossed the main road running north to the low pass, south to the ford, a brief conference.
The Prince had dropped the borrowed cloak, was pulling off the robe while he spoke.
"Do you know if Janel got out all right?"
Kiron handed his father a spare tunic.
" 'Bjorn was supposed to meet her outside the back gate; they should be here soon."
"The Commander?"
"Should be back with Cara any minute."
"The Lady the Commander was pretending to be distracted by?"
Artos stepped into the light of the lantern, the Lady behind him.
"Had jobs I liked less."
"Father, this is the Lady Caralla. Harald's daughter."
She stopped glaring at Artos, turned to the Prince.
"Luck, half an hour. Might be less. Spare horses for you, yours. Commander says north. We're going south."
She turned to Kiron. "Be careful. All over, come visit."