For a moment, they both held their postures, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Tal relented, leaning back with a frown. "Ghouls," he muttered as if deeply disturbed by this answer. "You don't say?"
Sir Nathiel seemed heartened by Tal's response and continued. "That isn't the worst of it. King Aldric was supposed to have been out there carousing with us, but he was delayed. If he'd been in the wrong place in the courtyard that night…"
"Did anyone get hurt?" Falcon asked with an air of concern.
"Not a one!" drunken Toman piped up happily. "It was a close call for me, to be true, but they were still clawing from the stone when we closed the door behind!"
"Unfortunately with you on the inside," Sir Nathiel muttered, to the laughter of those nearest him.
"You didn't see anything else unusual about the courtyard?" Tal pressed.
Sir Nathiel's smirk slipped into a frown. "What else would you notice when fell creatures from the East are rising from the pavers?"
"A sage point." Falcon nodded seriously.
The count's son turned his frown on the minstrel, eyes narrowing.
"I don't suppose you'd like to repeat your rendezvous tonight?" Tal inquired.
"Tonight?"
"Of course! Or didn't you realize it was another full blue moon?"
The young knight was on his feet in an instant. "Is this an insult, sir?" he snapped. "For if it is, I—"
Tal waved his cup lazily. "No insult, my dear Sir Nathiel. Merely a jest."
Sir Nathiel didn't sit again. "Then let me assure you that our harrowing experience was no mere jest. Though they would have posed us little trouble were we ready for battle, we had been deprived of our weapons. As such, we might have died to those foul creatures." He gestured sharply at the other young men. "Come. Let's leave these two old fools to their posturing."
Reluctantly, the other young noblemen followed their leader, Tipsy Toman lurching dangerously behind the rest.
Falcon raised an eyebrow. "We were the ones posturing?"
"To be fair, we were." Tal glanced over at him. "Just not like a cockerel in a farmyard."
"A sight that you're no doubt very familiar with."
"Stuff a rooster in it."
The bard smiled. "I assume you'll be going tonight even without our brave Sir Nathiel by your side?"
Tal sighed. "I'm afraid I must. Someone has placed glyphs there in the courtyard, and they'll keep coming every time the Sorrowful Lady is full unless they're dispelled. And unfortunately, they can only be seen — and destroyed — while they're active."
Falcon cocked his head. "A glorious stand against the Nightkin. Seems a deed worthy of a new song."
Tal held his friend's gaze. "If it is, you won't be there to sing it."
The bard hesitated before he ventured, "I have been in danger before."
"Before, yes. But you're old and slow now, and you have a daughter to save yourself for. Wren would never let me live it down if I got you killed."
Falcon seemed to waver a moment longer, then he smiled. "Very well, my friend. But only because I want to spare you from even the thought of Wren's vengeance."
Tal relaxed. He'd thought dissuading his friend would be more difficult; after all, Falcon had always insisted that, as his minstrel, he should be present for his accomplishments. Now that he had that chance, he'd thought the bard would never take no for an answer.
Perhaps he's getting old and cautious, he mused. Perhaps I should do the same. Devils know my joints would thank me.
He rose. "Even if you're not coming, you might help me with a few preparations. Some of which may verge on sacrilege."
The gold in Falcon's green eyes began to turn. "Do tell."
Garin jerked awake at the touch on his shoulder.
"It's just me," the shadowed figure said over him. "Tal. Or Bran, if you prefer."
His heart hammered like a carpenter's apprentice at a nail, but Garin forced himself to sit up slowly. "What's happening?"
"I want you to come with me and keep watch while I do something. Can you do that?"
Night had long since fallen, and Garin was warm beneath the blankets. But he knew he'd made his decision as soon as Tal had asked. "Just give me a moment to dress."
A few minutes later, Garin crept after Tal, seeing the hallways in a new way. They navigated by a tiny ball of "werelight" Tal had called into being, like the light Aelyn had used in the Ruins of Erlodan. The werelight caught on Tal's cloak, and threads of silver woven in intricate patterns gleamed across it. Like the cloak of the Seekers of Serenity, he realized. He wondered if his on-again, off-again mentor would stoop so low as to steal from a priest, and realized it was no question at all.
Several times, Tal extinguished the light and motioned for them to press against the stone while the orange glow of a guard's torch passed. Garin found himself grinning. Between the thrill of the game and the fear of getting caught, he was nearly giddy with excitement.
By some miracle, they navigated what seemed halfway across the castle without being seen. Tal stopped at a door and opened it to a chill wind. Garin clutched his cloak tighter around him and followed Tal outside onto a balcony.
As his eyes adjusted to the pale moonlight, Garin saw they stood over an enclosed courtyard. The balcony ran along three sides of it. No guards patrolled the grounds, and the only sounds were from the wind spiraling down from above and the fountain trickling below. It would have been a beautiful sight in the sunlight and was hauntingly pretty in the dark.
Tal faced him and pressed something into his hand, a smooth, wooden handle. Garin raised his hand to see he held a silver knife that looked suspiciously like the ones used at dinners to cut meat.
"In case you're wondering, that is a meat knife," his mentor said. "But it's sharp and it's silver, so it'll have to do. Besides, I don't expect you to have to use it unless all of this goes sideways."
Apprehension was quickly dampening the thrill that had claimed him before. "What do you mean?"
Tal turned and pointed down at the courtyard. "At around midnight, when the Sorrowful Lady peeks into this courtyard, ghouls should appear. I'll be down there, waiting to meet them, while you'll stay up here."
Part of him wondered if he should insist on going down with him. The smarter half of him knew better. After all, if he couldn't come close to beating Wren in a sparring match, what chance did he stand against a ghoul? The summoned creatures were far from the worst that the East sent into the Westreach, at least from the tales, but Garin doubted he'd be a match for them.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked.
"Watch. Particularly for where the ghouls appear." At seeing Garin's blank look, he continued, "Ghouls are summoned by Nightglyphs, so those are what I must destroy to stop them returning. Wherever the ghouls emerge from, there the glyphs are inscribed."
An involuntary shiver ran through him. "Right. I can do that."
Tal pressed his shoulder. "I know you can. I should mention one other thing, though: if, by some bad luck, guards happen to come out here, run for it. Best not to be caught up in this."