There were windows on three sides of the iron box, which allowed moonlight, and cold, in.
"They took Alaire in another wagon," Lyam said dismally. "The Swords have him now. I think my son got away before the troops moved in. I can only hope."
Lyam looked directly at the Dark Elf, his face full of apology. "I'm sorry I got you into this. I had no ide Jehan was this clever."
"Nor I," Naitachal said. "I admit, we are running out of options. But as long as I still breathe, all is not lost."
Lyam's look was of disbelief. "No?" he said wearily, running a hand through grimy, tousled hair. His own shackles clanked loudly against his chest. "What options have we left?"
Naitachal glanced out the back of the wagon. A hundred or so Royal Guardsmen were following closely behind on dieren, a shifting, moving thunder- ing shadow blanketing the road. "I don't suppose picking that lock would be very productive," he "No," Lyam admitted. "I think someone might notice."
This would be amusing, if our deaths weren't immi- nent. "It seems odd they would shackle us, and then not chain us to something else."
"They know we can't go far with these," Lyam said.
"Had no idea how heavy these were," he added, lifting the chains with some difficulty. "You were saying?
Options?"
"I'm still the Ambassador of Althea," Naitachal said stubbornly. "That must count for something."
Lyam stared at him. His expression was for a moment unreadable. Then his face broke into a smile, followed by loud, bellowing laughter. "Oh are you now?" Lyam said, when he paused long enough to speak. "You've just been taken prisoner. You're wear- ing chains. Do you think it matters what your official office is in Althea? In Suinomen, you're a prisoner.
And a non-human one, at that."
"And what bearing does being non-human have on this?"
Lyam grew serious. "These days, it means instant death, usually. Elves, fairies, dwarves, Arachnids, any- one who isn't human, simply are not taken prisoner.
They are conveniently killed 'trying to escape.' That they haven't bothered to eliminate you already is a good sign, I suppose."
Naitachal leaned back against the side of the wagon and tried to think. "So what do you think is going to happen now? Any ideas?"
"Well, for starters," Lyam said, scratching his chin thoughtfully, "Alaire's on his way to the Prison of Souls.
No doubt about that. He's been tried, convicted, and sentenced already, in his absence. And, let's see, I'll probably be executed. Hanging is the preferred method, although given the circumstances, Sir Jehan might arrange something a little more private in the dungeon. It will depend on the King's mood. A Kai, I doubt he's still alive. He's probably already been executed."
Naitachal was amazed at the offhanded wa Captain discussed his impending demise. Then again, this man was no stranger to death.
"And your son?" the elf asked.
"No one in the palace knows he's my son. To them, he's just another servant child." He turned and Naitachal a threatening look. "And if you tell them he is, or it accidentally slips out of those black lips of yours, I'll personally kill you myself."
Naitachal shrugged, deciding not to take offense at the remark. "What I meant is, how can he help us?"
"Help? Against the Royal Guard or the Swords?"
Lyam uttered a short, humorless laugh. "Not I'm afraid. He's only thirteen. The place we're going to is quite secure. But the boy has surprised me before.