Jason gritted his teeth. “Who did it?”

“No friend of ours.”

Jason scowled. “How’d you get past the crab?”

“Didn’t. I scaled the cliff with Jugard on my shoulders.”

“Climbed a cliff with a corpse in tow?” Aram challenged. “I’m not sure even I could manage that.”

“I never claimed you could,” Ned muttered.

Ned seemed tense, jittery. Then again, he had always behaved oddly. Ned had given help in the past, but Jason questioned how much to trust him. “You work for the Blind King?”

“Not when I first met you,” Ned explained. “I do now. You and Rachel left a trail. I backtracked and found my former master. I hadn’t seen him in years.” His voice had an edge that suggested he was about to burst into either hysterical cackles or uncontrollable sobs. “Who are your new companions?”

“Ferrin and Aram.”

“Are they trustworthy? Loyal to our cause?”

“I think so.”

Ned dipped his head. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Nedwin, the Blind King’s new squire. And also his former squire.” He interlocked his long fingers and rapidly twiddled his thumbs. His unsettling smile showed crooked teeth in the muted purple light.

“Did Tark make it here?” Jason asked.

“Three days ago, filthy and half starved.”

“He delivered my message?”

“That was why I was dispatched to retrieve Jugard.”

“You returned tonight?”

“Shortly before you three came blundering through the courtyard.”

“Blundering?” Ferrin repeated, mildly offended.

“Noisily and sloppily. Mostly the big one, subtle as a church bell rolling down a stairway. You didn’t appear imperial, so I allowed you to find me.”

“And your backup plan was to leap from the tower window?” Aram asked.

“Maybe,” Ned said, one eye twitching.

“He wouldn’t have fallen,” Jason said. “He can climb like a spider. Ned, do you think the Blind King was captured?”

“I hope not. Sightless or not, he’s sly. He always has an escape planned. Those who assaulted Fortaim probably paid sorely for the lives they claimed. The crooked tower was rigged to collapse, and he maintained an impressive stockpile of orantium.”

“We noticed the damage,” Aram said. “That much orantium would have been worth a fortune.”

“Irreplaceable,” Ned agreed.

“Do you know where he might be, Ned?” Jason asked.

“I prefer to be called ‘Nedwin.’ It evokes happier times.” Nedwin motioned Jason toward him. “A private word?”

Jason glanced at Ferrin and Aram. They shrugged.

Jason walked over to Nedwin, who leaned in close and whispered softly, “You’re really with these two?”

“Yeah,” Jason whispered back.

“If you’re in trouble, I can get us out of here.”

“I’m good.”

“All right. If you’re sure.” Nedwin straightened up to his full height, nearly half a head taller than Jason, though unimpressive when measured against Aram. “This room is smaller than it should be,” he announced.

“What?” Jason asked.

Nedwin turned, gesturing. “After viewing the tower from without, the observer would expect more space over here. Instead we have a premature wall.”

“Secret passage?” Ferrin asked.

Nedwin was already running his palms over the snugly mortared blocks. Behind a tapestry, he found a trigger that opened a small door constructed to blend with the masonry of the wall. “This way.”

Nedwin turned and dragged Jugard’s body into the secret space, leaving him on his back against the far wall. The others followed Nedwin into a cramped hall almost too low and narrow for Aram. Nedwin closed the hidden door and then removed the glowing seaweed from his shirt. He led the way, and Aram brought up the rear, moving in an awkward, sideways crouch. Curving around the perimeter of the round room, the claustrophobic hall became a narrow stairway that spiraled down directly below the regular stairwell.

They descended until emerging into musty tunnels in the bowels of the castle. Jason heard rats chittering and scampering beyond the violet glow of the seaweed. Nedwin navigated down several passageways, doubling back from empty rooms, dead ends, and collapsed corridors. At last they reached a cluttered storeroom.

“Ah,” Nedwin said. “Feel the draft?”

“Now that you mention it,” Aram said, licking a finger and holding it up.

Nedwin’s freckled hand glided over the surface of a bare wall. Before long he tripped a mechanism that revealed a secret closet. On the floor of the closet awaited a trapdoor. Nedwin crouched and opened it.

“Who trespasses here?” inquired a gruff voice from the darkness below.

“Nedwin and Lord Jason,” Nedwin answered. “Accompanied by two friends.”

“You may pass.” The dark hole filled with light. Jason judged that it was a twenty-foot drop. Buttressed by heavy beams, the dirt walls and floor beyond the trapdoor lacked the masonry of the finished corridors above.

Nedwin signaled for Jason to descend a rope ladder. Jason had some trouble getting started, backing hesitantly through the trapdoor, but climbed down easily once his hands and feet found purchase. Ferrin and Aram came after, and finally Nedwin, who closed the trapdoor and sped down the ladder, dropping the final eight feet.

The voice down the hole had belonged to the gatekeeper who had first admitted Jason to the ruined castle of the Blind King. Laying aside a crossbow and a halberd, he greeted Jason heartily, then turned a wary eye to Ferrin and Aram.

“Who are these two?”

“Ferrin and Aram,” Jason answered. “My friends. I wouldn’t be alive without their help.”

“I’m Vernon,” the gatekeeper said.

“We must consult with His Majesty,” Nedwin said.

“Follow me,” Vernon said, leading them along the subterranean passage.

“Is Tark here?” Aram asked.

“Yes,” Vernon said. “Would you like to see him?”

“A superb idea,” Nedwin interjected. “Vernon, see that Ferrin and Aram get to greet Tark after you deliver us to the king.”

Vernon stopped at a sturdy door built into a crudely excavated wall of natural dirt and stone. As he lifted a fist to knock, the portal opened. There stood the Blind King, his hair and beard long and gray, a dingy rag binding his eyes, a grimy robe hanging from his broad shoulders.