Welcoming the Guests

The gates swung slowly inward, leaving only the black portcullis between Cador and the knights. Rachel waited behind with Art. She ran her hands down her black braid. They would see it as worry for their good and valiant selves, and be wary of a deception by Cador. Maybe they think he lied to me that he would be merciful, she thought, and that the trap is closing round them. Together with three of the archers Art **** the great wheel that was bound to the portcullis to move, and it slowly lifted. When it was open the squire signaled for one of the other men to bring the stake, and jammed it into the wheel's center so that it could not budge.

"I leave the gate open for you," said Cador to the men. "In case you decide you have to flee."

Rachel rolled her eyes when she went to stand before the knights. "Sir Cador likes a joke," she said. "He knows his reputation, entirely unearned, and thinks it's funny to laugh at people fearing for their eternal souls. I won't torment you. Come inside. It's so good to have company."

John took the first step past the threshold of the castle. When his foot didn't catch fire he seemed heartened, and continued on. He drew his sword and sheath from its place at his side and offered it to Art, who was waiting with his hands open. John was a tall man, broad shouldered and golden haired as so many were in his family. Since the day of his knighting six years ago he had been the greatest fantasy of so many ladies of the realm. Had she seen him in her earlier years, thought Rachel, he might have enchanted her too. "I never thought I would walk inside the walls of Ugelor," he said as he marveled at its make. Though the castle was feared to be cursed, it was equally admired. Its first lord was its architect also, the legendary Gov the Heavy-Handed, who was as favored by the god of artistry as he was by the masters of ****.

"It hasn't changed since we brought down Saewulf," said Odo, next in line. Saewulf had briefly occupied the place when he had been excommunicated for ****. That had been more than fifty years ago, when Odo had been no more than a page, but he had proved himself in that same battle. Rachel knew Saewulf better perhaps than the knight did, or any man alive: his ghost haunted Ugelor. In life he had thought the deep gods only a legend and that the castle's penchant for evil was an exaggeration. He had learned better in ****.

After Odo came the knights of Hewes and Salle, and with them a priest in a white habit. Rachel had expected the army's confessor to be Samuel, bishop of Losk, but this man was a stranger to her. He wore a chain of office, but no jewelry, and his mitre was plain black. "Good morning, milady," sneered Graeme of Hewes as he passed her. He was a young man, brown haired and approaching handsomeness but not attaining it. His friend Wystan of Salle was taller, broader, and seeming wiser, with his head almost shaved. The remaining knights dutifully handed over their arms to Art, who then followed their adjutants outside the castle to his captivity.

"Where should we begin?" asked Rachel. "You've seen the walls. They're no great beauty. The gallery? The chapel?"

The priest in the white habit spoke, his lip curled. "And what grim spirits is that chapel devoted to, my lady? We know what masters Ugelor."

Odo's jaw tensed, unhappy with his tone. "This is Father Lefwald, my lady. He has prepared us for Sir Cador's powers. Or his alleged powers," he said in an abundance of caution.

Rachel frowned playfully and laughed. "Father, I've said you misunderstand Sir Cador, and Ugelor too. There's nothing to be afraid of here. At the altar in the chapel we have shrines to Argel and Flodis, but any god can be worshipped there." Some centuries before Fennyd the Raven had seen fit to build the chapel as an extension to the castle for the very purpose of deceiving any crusading souls that might suspect his work. This his ghost had admitted to Rachel while his children's ruined souls tormented him with blades and hooks. The true heart of Ugelor, the Deep Chapel, was far below. At all times there was a servant present in it to speak words of thanks and obedience to the low gods so that they might maintain the castle's power and turn their anger elsewhere.

"See it for yourself, my lord. Your worries will pass away," Rachel said. She offered her hand to the priest.

The priest looked to Cador, expecting threats of ****. He was an unmoving stone and acknowledged none of the knights, who cared little for Rachel's opinions. "I will follow," the priest acquiesced. His hard look said that he did not believe her any more on the ground than he had when she stood atop the walls.