His seax hung from his belt and Torcan had given him a heavy iron mace to carry as both weapon and scepter. Svala tied his hair back with a simple strip of leather, brushing the cloak smooth across his shoulders when she was done. Padric turned and looked at her, receiving a smile and an appraising look from her blue eyes. He had ordered she stay in the keep to attend to Kederic Winetongue. The man had not spoken nor hardly moved since Acwellen’s visit, and Padric had leapt upon his infirmity to ensure Svala was well away from the ritual. Padric worried that Torcan would require her presence, but thankfully he did not raise any objections. The goblin thought his plans were finally coming to fruition, and he stood in full bronze armor, eagerly waiting to escort Padric down to the Cog Yard.

Slouch Hat also stood by. The goblins had not seen fit to offer him fresh garments, so he still wore the stained, threadbare shirt and breeches and his rumpled, filthy hat. The husk held Jerrod’s crown steadily in his hands, holding it before him with solemn respect. Padric tried to read some hint in the pits of Slouch Hat’s eyes, but there was nothing. No spark of hope nor sign of the phantom servant girl now residing within his stuffed body. Padric suppressed a shiver, grateful that Svala would be nowhere near them during whatever end was fast approaching.

Pocket awoke with a start, the sudden presence of sun and silence startling him. Remaining on his belly, he shuffled forward and peered down at the castle yard from the edge of the shattered tower. It was a good vantage point, and he had chosen it carefully. The stone stairs leading to the turret room were mostly smashed, and anyone wishing to reach his hiding place would be forced to make the difficult climb from the middle landing level with the ramparts. This castle was larger than the Roost, and he had not yet explored it all, but his first discovery was by necessity a seemingly inaccessible hideaway.

The Red Caps did not have the numbers to cover the entire fortification, and in the hours between coming to the castle and sneaking to this tower, Pocket had learned that they kept their attention directed on patrolling the curtain wall and guarding the central keep. He did not know how he managed the climb, but weary as he was he hauled himself up and collapsed at the top. Sleep came, only to be driven away by the work being done in the forges below. He fell in and out of troubled dreams, aggravated by hunger, thirst and the possibility of being discovered. At some point the hammers must have ceased, for he finally slept, unaware of the rising sun.