Alcibiade was panting heavily, struggling to keep up the pace. The old man slid between Cibele and Helena, and the queen’s guard snarled but respectfully gave him room.
“Your majesty, please! I can’t let you ride out like this--the Council can’t let you go into such a risky mission, is…”
“Diocle!” Cibele called.
Her voice didn’t echo in the large courtyard. It got lost in the distance, swallowed by the bushes of white roses, glimmering in silver thanks to the spells of the gardeners, and by the wind that made the dark cypresses lining the avenue at the far end of the courtyard bow and sway. Beyond the silver gate closing the space, the rest of Zafiria spread, silent, fertile, green with fields and forests. The work of so many indentured mages did show its results.
The courtyard was crowded with the dull uniforms of a hundred of Epidalian servants that worked by the pristine white walls; around them, the steely glimmer of their guardians. One could never be too sure. The wave of subtle magic the servants were weaving through the palace stones faded the moment the queen emerged in the open.
“Diocle, Spirits take you, where are you?” she repeated under her breath.
At the center of the courtyard, standing next to the tall statue with her own features, Cibele spotted him at last. He was surrounded by ten--no, fifteen soldiers, half of them already mounted.
She pushed Alcibiade away and ignored the crowd parting around her. The murmurs, the reverent whispers, the surprise in her subjects’ tone.
She couldn’t care less about them, with their fancy attires and jewels in their hair.
“All hail queen Cibele, first of her name!” someone called from the crowd.
And they cheered. The fools cheered.
She couldn’t even plaster a smile on her face for their sake. Not now.
“Make way, folks. Make way!” Helena snapped, holding her sword out as a barrier. Cibele suppressed a surge of gratitude for her practical sense and kept her head high as she approached the party around the statue.
“Diocle, there you are!” she said, but the man didn’t turn around. Not at once, as it was expected from a subordinate. He kept snapping orders to his knights, waving his hand back to signal Cibele to wait.
Anger set her cheeks on fire. Her lower lid twitched as she tried not to stare at him, moving her gaze to the statue instead. Forever young, the black ring on her brow engraved in marble and gold.
Mother, I hate that thing so much…
“We’re ready to go, my queen,” Diocle condescended eventually, looking at her for a second before slipping his shiny black boot in the stirrup and climbing on saddleback. “The signal is clear this time, and too powerful to be misleading. I have troops dispatched in the area already, and…”
“Where’s my horse, Diocle?” she interrupted him.
Diocle smiled. And for all her contempt for the man she’d needed to create Gaiane, the dimple on his cheek and the casual fall of greying hair on his forehead still distracted her a little.
“Ah, our beloved warrior queen… you think it’s appropriate, your majesty?” he asked in a slightly mocking tone.
Do you think I need you, Cibele? she heard.
“See, your majesty? Even the guards captain agrees with me! It’s risky, and your men are properly equipped for the task,” Alcibiade said, dabbing the sweat from the back of his neck with his sleeve. “You can’t…”
“Tell me again what I can or can’t do, Counsellor.” she growled. She turned around and stepped into Alcibiade's space, towering over him. A small man, wrinkly and pathetic. And he dared defy her? It was the last straw.
“No! I’d never dare such… I could… ma’am, forgive me and my unseemly manners. I’m just worried about your wellbeing!”
“Is it so?” she insisted, cold crawling under her skin. She wanted to slap him, to kill him for his querulous voice. She could, easily, too.
“Of course it is! My family always served the Asares, and always will!”
“So you too want us to find the princess, don’t you?”
Alcibiade's faded eyes went wide with outrage.
“Your majesty! You can’t doubt my loyalty! I’m the oldest member of the council, the…”
“Helena, find a horse for Alcibiade. He’ll come with us, and so will the rest of the Council.” she declared, and the crowd collectively held its breath.
The old counsellor paled to an insalubrious shade of grey and covered his thin mouth with his hands.
“Surely you don’t mean…”
Cibele breathed in his ear.
“I hope you’re not presuming again, old scum. Because if that’s the case, I won’t have you in my expedition, but your head will adorn the palace walls.”
Alcibiade trembled, and Cibele turned her back on him. Diocle was grinning with approval, and secretly she appreciated the look on his face.
“As I was saying before someone interrupted us, where is my horse?”
“I’ll have it ready in no time,” Diocle answered. A snap of his fingers, and a girl trotted away from the party.
“Tell me,” she said, approaching him until she was sure only him could hear her. Alcibiade was still quivering, babbling his shock at Helena, who brusquely escorted him to prepare himself.
“Less than a day from Nikaia. I had two patrols in the area, but they found no trace of Gaiane, until…”
“Until today,” she finished for him. Then it struck her. “Nikaia! But the place is abandoned!”
“Haunted, they say. According to my intel, a mere refugee camp.” He tightened the straps of his saddle and patted the horse’s neck. The two bags on the animal’s back were plump with stocks. “Old people, some useless scraps after the indenture. They’re not her allies.”
“And yet she’s there…”
“We’re not sure yet. She’s somewhere in the area, and…” Diocle pretended to fidget with one of the bags, only to move closer to Cibele's ear. “I didn’t think it would take us so much to find her, alive or otherwise. If she survived this far, she’s more resilient than I thought.”
“She’s skilled.” Cibele said, and her heart bled. Her little girl, her precious daughter, alone in a hostile world. She closed her eyes for a second, and when she looked once more at Diocle she let some of her vulnerability show. “I need to come. I must find her--me, and not some faceless soldier she doesn’t even know.”
Diocle frowned minutely, then nodded. He stopped pretending to be busy around the saddle and dropped his arm, casually brushing Cibele's hand.
“Right. I couldn’t stop you anyway. Is it wise to carry the Council along, though?”
“I need witnesses. And I like the idea of giving Alcibiade's skinny butt some saddle blisters,” she confessed. Diocle laughed briefly and bowed.
“I’ve always liked your sense of humor, Cibele--your majesty, I beg your pardon.”
She swapped back to her most somber expression and touched her head. No crown for such a quest, but she was too used to its weight to feel at ease without it.
A small commotion among the crowd called for her attention. The stable girl was back, but Cibele couldn’t see her, only the slender neck and head of her own horse. The metallic sheen of its coat, a shiny, buttery cream color, was unmistakable.
Cibele thanked the girl--Epidalian, she realized looking at her uniform, with a round face and wide set eyes--with a nod and climbed on saddleback. Now, tall and majestic over her subjects, she almost felt as imposing as her own statue.
“Ready when you are, Diocle,” she said, her voice hard.
Diocle blinked at her, and when he bowed she sensed some actual reverence in his gesture.
“Almost ready, my queen. One member is still missing from our expedition, but I’ll make sure we’re not delayed any longer.”
Chapter 20
Nikaia was not the recluse hive of people she’d thought: it buzzed with activity like a breathing, living thing lying in wait. A frenzied back and forth of peop
le carrying bundles of clothes and supplies, push carts with old folk rolling around, their drivers hushing the occupants with quick reassurances—it all contributed to make the secret base an efficiently chaotic place.
Leo was mesmerized by such a cluster of humanity, and not just from a practical point of view.
In the days since their arrival, Nikaia had looked at her with friendliness, and at Gaiane with open distrust. How could she blame them? The princess carried a bad name, and Leo tried to be sympathetic. Still, she hated the sidelong glances, the sneers, the words of open hostility the rebels often muttered behind Gaiane’s back. No acts of actual aggression had ever occurred, but such an antagonistic behavior made Gaiane wary and sad, with nothing to do to change it. Sure, the girl had tried over and over again to resort to her most gracious manners, even going as far as trying to help those in need. It had worked a little, once or twice: the old woman she’d helped with the laundry had thanked her after they’d folded armfuls of threadbare blankets together, and the children were happy enough to call for her and have their hair braided.
A good sign.
It all crashed down after Gaiane had escaped.
Leo sighed and massaged her temples at the thought. She had expected Gaiane to sulk after the scolding, but to her surprise, the princess had showed a core of steel under all her mannerism: she endured the glares with unfaltering steadiness, helping whoever accepted her without ever complaining, and even suppressing tears at the several angry remarks she received. She hadn’t cried once after she’d come back.
The dirt corridor in front of Leo’s room was a mess, and for long minutes she stood on the door, looking at the traffic and listening to the angry voices above it.
Evacuate. Now. Down the tunnels, then move East.
Leo rubbed her eyes and yawned. The scarce three hours of sleep were by no means enough to rest her, and yet she’d spent the night rolling on her bed and listening. To the endless movements outside her room, Nikaian people planning their escape, to the soft sounds coming from the other side of the wall.
Gaiane had kissed her goodnight, still damp from their brief escape, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. Leo had kissed her back, and then some more, because the push of her lips was the only really good thing to happen to her in the past years. Hearing her rustle around her place, moan as she yawned and stretched, and then snore softly as she fell asleep made the chaos shaking the city almost bearable. They both had a safe place to return to, even if only in their hearts.
And now Leo ruffled her hair and blinked in the light of the torches. Gaiane’s door was open, and she caught a glimpse of blue dress before a family flocked in front of her.
“Leo!” Gaiane called, craning her neck above the crowd. “Good morning! Did you sleep well?”
Leo sighed, but smiled nonetheless. The princess--her princess, she thought with a funny leap of her heart--could be naive, but she’d grown fond of this side of her nonetheless. She waved, standing on the tips of her toes to see her better, but couldn’t add anything.
Ampelio elbowed his way upstream and stood between them, saying something to Gaiane that Leo couldn’t understand. The princess nodded and followed him, but stopped to gesture a very clear “later” to Leo. And to blow her a kiss, like that, in public.
Leo covered her face with her hand and giggled in the secret of her palm, then returned to her most pragmatic expression and ran her fingers through her hair.
She needed a clear mind to collect the scraps of ideas she’d scattered in her head. Not a plan, just… something.
And something is better than nothing, crazy as it may be.
So she waited, but after a handful of minutes she realized that the corridor wouldn’t empty anytime soon. And since she needed to carry out her investigation in private, she might as well just mingle with the soon-to-be fugitives and hope for the best.
Her belly rumbled, but there was no time for breakfast. Hell, she didn’t even know how much time they had, if any.
Eventually she took a deep breath, slammed the door behind her and followed the stream of people. Luck assisted her, because after a few minutes zig-zagging among the corridors she spotted a sturdy figure standing on something and barking directions to a group of men. Larsa’s braids swung with every movement of her arms pointing this way or that, and Leo jumped behind a wall and ducked.
If Larsa was here, then she might have one more chance to find her goal unnoticed. When a man passed in front of her, carrying a pile of rags and sheets, she tiptoed behind him, sheltered by his large frame. She ended up jostled, her name cursed and her boots stomped on several times, but she got to emerge in the relative silence of a narrow, dark corridor.
Leo licked her lips, but her mouth was dry. She checked behind her and found nothing worth noting, just the reddish glow of lamps and torches down the main halls. In front of her, though, the darkness was almost complete, except for a sliver of pale light seeping out from a cracked door.
There you are, she thought. She squared her jaw and clenched her fists, and held her breath as she pushed the door open.
Larsa’s lightning system cast a pale golden glow on the small storage room. It had to be morning on the surface, Leo considered, and closed the door behind her. Blinking to adjust her vision to the dim light, she crouched and extended her hand.
Her fingers sunk into the thick, dry content of the nearest barrel. The smell went up her nose, and she suppressed a sneeze. Sulfur and coal, and the acrid aftertaste of saltpeter. The black powder was smooth against her skin, deceptively warm to the touch.
Leo let it slip from her fist and checked on the barrels. Five of them, each approximately containing twenty pounds of powder. Sturdy containers, oaken wood and iron bands.
What if…
The door banged open.
“You! I knew I saw you sneaking around, and I was right! I always am,” Larsa yelled, and Leo shrieked and almost toppled over in one of the barrels.
“I… can explain!”
“I bet you do! What are you doing here? It is dangerous, and we have an evacuation plan to…”
“Larsa, let me speak! I can…”
“You should be helping! Don’t know what to do? Grab a shovel and dig a tomb for an old dead lady!” Larsa punched the wall and bared her teeth. “Or you waiting for more to die?”
Leo jumped forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, leaving black fingerprints on her tunic.
“We must evacuate these people.”
“It’s what we’re trying to do, in case you…”
“... because we can stop the Asares, and it’s gonna involve all your black powder stocks and the collapsing of several buildings!”
Larsa closed her mouth halfway down another streak of curses. Her heavy-lidded eyes narrowed, a muscle twitched on her jaw.
“Speak, little one.” She kicked the door and pushed Leo against the barrels. “Quickly.”
Leo grinned, wild and light-headed. It was madness, but it was a possibility.
“The Asares must know Gaiane is here, right? Well, good. Let them come, then! And when they’re here…”
“Let them come, she says. Ah! And how?”
Leo’s eyebrows descended low over her eyes and she hissed through her teeth.
“We use her as bait,” the older woman spat out.
“Well, yes, but…”
“And you were kissing her yesterday’s night. Was it to trick her into this?”
Leo’s chest ached. She shoved Larsa away and violently shook her head.
“No! Why… why would you…”
But Larsa insisted.
“I saw you two sneak away, and I saw the way you look at each other. Can you swear, on the deepest truth in your heart, that you weren’t trying to lure her into this folly of yours?”
“What the--yes! Yeah, because I hadn’t even thought about this when we k-kissed.” Her face and neck burned, and she looked away.
A rough, gentle hand touched her chin, pullin
g her face up.
Larsa was smiling.
“I believe you, little one. But I needed to ask, even if I already knew the answer. Come on, tell me more about this.”
The plan didn’t seem that brilliant anymore. Leo rubbed her eyes and sniffed; she wanted to bury the issue and never consider it again, but done was done. Larsa knew she had a plan at all, and wouldn’t let her go until all the details were clear.
“I… I was thinking. How many accessible gates does Nikaia have?”
“One. The others collapsed after the siege.”
“Then there’s not many ways an army could come from. We have sentries down the roads, right? So we might get to know they’re coming with some advance. And…”
“Cut to the chase, girl. Black powder, a princess, and then what?”
Leo pointed at the barrels.
“We have enough powder to blow the whole city up, and if we bolster the crates with more iron, and maybe add some metal scraps to the mixture, they will do a lot of damage when they go off.” She paced back and forth in the small room, her pulse racing. “Enough to strike a blow to the Asares’ heart, maybe.”
Larsa took her wrist and stopped her in her trail. Her round face was emotionless, but her cheeks were bright. Leo tried to wrestle herself from her grip, but Larsa’s hand was too strong.
“You really think we could make it.”
“I don’t know. But it’s better than idly waiting for the end. You’re hurting me, let me…”
“We go to Ligeia. You tell her this.” She yanked her out of the room and into the corridor.
* * *
“No.”
* * *
Here it was, the expected outcome. Leo clenched his fists and stared at Ligeia’s solemn and cold face. The queen’s stubborn denial was not a surprise.
The Other Side of Magic Page 28
