pass him on the second spiral, his breath burning in his throat. At the top of the third the door was open. A short hall, at the end a door. Two guards. The captain said something to them, went through. They spread out and moved to block Caralla.
Harald shot the halberd man through the throat. The other swung. Caralla glanced the blow, struck back, circled. He turned to face her. Harald put two arrows in his back and stepped past the falling body into the room, nocking a third.
A tall woman, gray haired, already on her feet, reaching down with her right hand to the chain that linked it to the floor. The captain, his sword out, swung at her. Harald drew, looking for a clear shot.
Leonora moved first. She sidestepped the rush, pulling tight a second chain that ran from ankle to floor; the captain went over it. The wrist chain, somehow freed from the ground, swung in a blurring circle. He moved once and was still.
Just to be sure, Harald shot him through the body.
"Castle ours, still fighting. Cara, the door."
Freeing a dagger from the dead captain's belt, Harald slid the blade under the iron staple that chained Leonora to the floor, driving it in with his mace. He grabbed the dagger's handle with both hands, looked up. Leaning down, she wrapped her joined hands around his. One heave and the staple came free. They joined Caralla at the door. The hallway was empty.
From the sounds up the stairway, the fighting was over. Harald led them up, not down the stairs. He was looking for something.
A considerable way north, most of a day later:
"Your Majesty. A bird just came in."
The King took the thin paper, read the message written in tiny letters. His face lit up. Twice Harald had used them against him; now it was his turn. The southern provinces were loyal, birds for Southdale and Goldfell in the tower. And . . .
He turned to Philip. "Would Harald know we have birds in South Keep?"
The old man thought a minute.
"Doubt it. Here to the Vales was his worry, the rest of it ours."
The King sent a boy running for his captain. With luck, this time . . .
And either way, at least it would be over.
A day's ride short of South Keep the royal army, swelled by hasty levies, met the first sign of an enemy. Off the road to the right, well out of arrowshot, a small cluster of mounted Ladies. Ahead, where the road ran along the woods, a