“My lord Brithael! My lord—I cannot—I have no orders to admit anyone this way . . .” He was watching me as I stooped, took Felix under the armpits, and dragged him with as little noise as I could, back into the lodge and out of sight. I saw Ralf lick his lips. “Can you not ride to the main gate, my lord? The Duchess will be asleep and I have no orders—”

“Who’s that?” demanded Brithael. “Ralf, by your voice. Where’s Felix?”

“Gone up to the guard-room, sir.”

“Then get the key from him, or send him down.” The man’s voice roughened, and a fist thudded against the gate. “Do as I say, boy, or by God I’ll have the skin off your back. I have a message for the Duchess, and she won’t thank you for holding me here. Come now, hurry up!”

“The—the key’s here, my lord. A moment.” He threw a desperate look over his shoulder as he made a business of fumbling with the lock. I left the unconscious man bundled out of sight, and was back at Ralf’s shoulder, breathing into his ear:

“See if he’s alone first. Then let him in.”

He nodded, and the door opened on its chain-bolt. Under cover of the noise it made I had my sword out, and melted into the shadow behind the boy, where the opening door would screen me from Brithael. I stood back against the wall. Ralf put his eye to the gap, then drew back, with a nod at me, and began to slide the chain out of its socket. “Excuse me, my lord Brithael.” He sounded abject and confused. “I had to make sure . . . Is there trouble?”

“What else?” Brithael thrust the door open so sharply that it would have thudded into me if Ralf had not checked it. “Never mind, you did well enough.” He strode in and stopped, towering over the boy. “Has anyone else been to this gate tonight?”

“Why, no, sir.” Ralf sounded scared—as well he might—and therefore convincing. “Not while I’ve been here, and Felix said nothing . . . Why, what’s happened?”

Brithael gave a grunt, and his accoutrements jingled as he shrugged. “There was a fellow down yonder, a horseman. He attacked us. I left Jordan to deal with him. There’s been nothing here, then? No trouble at all?”

“None, my lord.”

“Then lock the gate again and let none in but Jordan. And now I must see the Duchess. I bring grave news, Ralf. The Duke is dead.”

“The Duke?” The boy began to stammer. He made no attempt to shut the gate, but left it swinging free. It hid Brithael from me still, but Ralf was just beside me, and in the dim light I saw his face go pinched and blank with shock. “The Duke—d-dead, my lord? Murdered?”