“You’re wrong,” I tell him. “I didn’t see you at all, or I’d have known you were a jerk.”
His mouth falls open, like he can’t imagine why I’m royally ticked.
Naevah laughs. “Be careful what you wish for,” she tells Jumal.
He turns and stalks to his room. I stand there, not sure what to do. I’ve lost the one person I thought might help me return the diamond, without telling anybody.
I can never let myself think I’m above the law, he said. If he wouldn’t set aside the law for Tira, he won’t even hesitate for me. I get it now. A king who thinks he’s above the law is a bad king, and Jumal might someday be king. I respect that. But I can’t show him a stolen Malemese diamond and ask him to keep it secret.
“You better get some sleep,” Naevah says. “You’ll have to leave before dawn. You can sleep with me.”
I nod. I’m beyond exhausted, but the minute I lie down and close my eyes I see Jumal laughing at me. And when I push that image away, I see something so much worse I forget my humiliation. Hamza’s swollen corpse swims before me, blue and white robes billowing in the fetid water. Is that what they intend for Agatha? For me?
Jumal probably still intends to take me into hiding. It’s not against the law because I haven’t been accused of anything. But I don’t think there’s anywhere on Malem where I would be safe.
***
I stare at the High Priest standing over Agatha. As his fingers tighten around her throat he turns to me. “I am trying to save myself some trouble,” he says in a voice devoid of emotion, as if killing Agatha is an aside, something to do with his hands while talking to me. “I don’t want her to tell the Queen where you are.”
“Quack,” says a voice behind me. I don’t turn around. Even though I hear it clearly, I know there’s no one there.
Suddenly Agatha raises her head to stare at me. In a choking voice she gasps, “You know who it is. You know it in your heart.”
Her head falls back. She lies still in the High Priest’s grasp, the stiffness of death creeping over her. No! No, no, no! I back away, weeping.
The High Priest is coming for me, now. He grabs my shoulder and shakes me, crying—
“Wake up!”
I shudder and open my eyes. Naevah is leaning over me, jiggling my shoulder. “Wake up. You’re having a nightmare,” she says.
“Thanks. Thanks for waking me,” I mumble, still groggy with sleep and shaken with the terror of the dream.
I lie in bed with my eyes open, listening as Naevah’s breathing lengthens into the deep, slow rhythm of sleep. Waiting until I can get up and dress, and tiptoe out without anyone noticing. I can’t go into hiding with Jumal. Agatha’s right: I have to give the diamond back. Neither of us will be safe until I do.
I pull on my jumpsuit, which has dried and lost most of the swamp smell. My heavy woolen robe is still damp, so I take the one Naevah loaned me, after pulling the pouch out of the hem and sealing it into my jumpsuit pocket. I take some rice bread and goat cheese on my way through the kitchen, hoping I’ll be able to repay Naevah later, and leave.
Outside, I find my way by touch as much as sight, running my fingers along the hard, rough clay bricks of the buildings as I creep through their dark shadows. I’ve gone only a few blocks when my path crosses a set of guards. I hear their footsteps in time to draw back into an alley before they turn down the street I was walking on.
The second set catches me completely by surprise. I’m certain I’ve been seen, they’re no more than a hundred yards away. I crouch in the recess of a door holding my breath. They pass without stopping, so close I could have reached out and touched the nearest one.
Why are there so many guards patrolling the city? Are they all looking for me?
Well, let them look. I’m heading for the last place on Malem they’ll expect me to go. I continue even more carefully.
The third patrol on my route is easy to avoid. They’re busy talking to a Malemese citizen. I hear the woman’s voice arguing loudly before there’s any danger of being seen. I listen long enough to learn that a curfew has been placed upon the city for three days: no one may leave their homes between midnight and dawn. The woman being harried home by guards protests repeatedly that she’s only been visiting her daughter-in-law, whose baby is colicky.
I lean against the building, shivering in the night wind, after they’ve moved on. Prad Gaelig’s plan to send people to the fever hut day and night has failed. No one will be keeping a watchful eye outside the hut while Agatha sleeps. I want to turn and race to the fever hut. But what can I do? No one will be there to hear if I raise an alarm and I can’t stop trained guards. Everything depends now on my returning the diamond, and even that might not be enough.
I begin to run, measuring the distance in heartbeats, the sound of life, and willing that life into Agatha. All I can think is that I hate my father’s diamond with its trail of losses. If I can’t find its owner I’ll just drop it somewhere. Someone will find it.
Only it might be the wrong someone, and all their laws might fall down on an innocent head. I curse under my breath as I run.
I stop a block from the palace to catch my breath, approaching more carefully. The usual two guards are lounging at the wall, chatting together under the lamp above the gate, only occasionally glancing out into the street. Just as I hoped, no one expects me to come here. Keeping to the shadows, I make my way around the grounds, following the wall.
The sky is getting lighter by the time I reach the back of the palace, where the woods abuts the stone wall. I search until I find a low branch hanging over the wall, and leap to grab it. Using it as a rope I haul myself up and crouch on the stones, surveying the grounds. There are no guards in sight. They’re probably all out enforcing the curfew and searching the city for me. I laugh under my breath as I lower myself into the palace grounds. But dawn has already broken. Servants and cooks will be stirring and soon the palace will be full of people. I run lightly into the palace woods, where I will be safer than anywhere else on Malem while I try to figure out what it is I supposedly “know in my heart”.
The trees are short, only twelve to fifteen feet high, more like bushes except for their thick, squat trunks and wide branches. When I touch a tree trunk it feels uneven, covered with lumps and bumps which accentuate its mottled gray and dark purple coloration, but the bark is surprisingly smooth despite the knobs. They grow together in circles of five or six trees, their branches intertwined, with smaller shrubs all around. I crawl into the center of one of these clusters and make myself as comfortable as possible.
Dawn has dispelled the curfew, at least. Naevah will go to the fever hut, with as many people as she can convince to join her. Agatha will be safe during the day. And I am so tired...
It’s late afternoon when I awake. A light drizzle is falling, but the leaves of the trees deflect most of it. I take out the cheese I got from Naevah’s kitchen and bite into it. It crumbles in my mouth, its tangy flavor making me even hungrier. I tear off a hunk of the rice bread, looking around as I chew it. My head brushes against a low tree branch. It shivers, its broad silver leaves tipping a rivulet of cold raindrops down my neck. I pull the hood of my robe over my head. The drizzle is tapering off but even so, I’ll soon be soaked.
I hope that’s the worst thing that happens to me, I think, as I stare dismally through the leaves at the falling rain. I go over everything Agatha said about returning the diamond. There isn’t a single clue there, except for that infuriatingly smug, you know it in your heart. Why didn’t she just tell me if she knows? Or does their stupid vision show me miraculously solving the riddle? Won’t they be ticked when I don’t!
I cross my legs, ignore the water the movement shakes from the leaves, and close my eyes in a meditation pose. I imagine myself sinking down into my heart and looking around...
I jerk myself awake at the sound of footsteps and voices.
“...I’m just saying I’m glad he’s back. All these extra p
atrols through the city, the night curfew...you’d think we had a monster among us, not a saint, saving a child’s life and talking her place in the fever hut...” his voice trails off. They’re moving past me; his companion’s voice is low, I can’t make out the words. But this one’s voice is still loud with indignation: “Don’t tell me you weren’t glad, too, to see the King come back this morning. He’ll sort this business out!”
I’m still sitting stock-still when they’ve moved on. The King is in the palace? Forget all that heart and visions crap. I’ve got a plan!
Dusk on Malem is only a hyphen between daylight and night-fall. The moon rises grimly behind a gauze of clouds before the sun has even made its exit. Iterria follows the moon, glaring down intermittently through the clouds. I crawl out of the bushes, ignoring the dripping leaves. For a moment I stand there, staring at the palace. This is even more dangerous than going into the fever hut after Tira. I remember trembling the first time I met Sodum in his shop, and I want to laugh.
If this doesn’t work it’s almost certain I’ll be beheaded. I look back at the woods. I’m safe in there. I could just stay there...
Then I remember Agatha tapping her finger on the other side of the fever hut door, whispering good-bye to me... and I start walking toward the palace.
For once I appreciate the veil of clouds over Malem’s sky as I sprint across the grounds to the back of the palace. I examine the building, looking for a ground floor window into a darkened room. When I find one, I hesitate before it. I can’t see any way to open it from the outside. This will be the second window I’ve broken on Malem where glass is in short supply and precious. The first time was kept quiet because the High Priest didn’t want it known I was there, but this will be different. Even if ‘break and exit’ isn’t a crime, ‘break and enter’ surely is; especially the ‘break’ part.
I lean against the window, peering inside. The door to the room is shut. If only I had my tools with me! I’ll have to rely on the Malemese’ disregard for interior locks and hope I’m lucky. I wrap my left hand in a fold of my robe, my mouth pursed in a thin line of disgust. Only suckers trust in luck. And vidstars, but my opinion of them has plummeted now that I’ve experienced adventure first-hand. Agatha might really die. I might, too.
I take a deep breath, break the window as quietly as possible, and hoist myself inside.
It takes forever to find the back stairs. I creep around the main floor of the palace in the dark, opening doors on sitting rooms, reception chambers, even a huge banquet hall. The rooms are all large, but true to the style here, half-empty. My footsteps tiptoeing in the hall, the squeak of a hinge that needs oil, even my breathing as I peer into the cavernous rooms, all echo back at me alarmingly. At one point I duck behind heavy drapery just in time to escape the notice of a servant making his last round, turning out the lights. I peer after him in the darkness until the light he’s holding begins to rise. I’ve found the back stairs.
I wait for him to get wherever he’s going before I climb the stairway. It leads to another hallway. I look around for guards but there are none in sight. My private audience with the Queen was on this level, though, so I assume the royal suites will be on this floor. I tiptoe down the hall to the first door. There’s no lock. A ruthless off-worlder could really clean up here. If my father really was a thief he could have come home with pockets full of gems and made us rich. It’s a shame, really. After tonight the guards will probably never be so lax again.
My hands sweat so much I have to wipe them on my robe each time before I grasp a door handle, and my heart stops every time I open the door. I’m not so sure of this plan anymore. Even when I find the King, he’ll probably call his guards to shoot me before I have a chance to talk to him. But I keep opening doors. The first three are unoccupied bedrooms, the next a sitting room. I carefully open the fourth door.
And stand still with disbelief. It’s furnished as a nursery, complete with a crib, a little cot, a child-sized table and chairs. There are two wooden puzzles half-solved on the table beside a little cup and plate. A rag doll smiles from the crib and painted balls and little wooden animals all lie about the room as though waiting for a child to come and play. I sneeze, clasping my hand over my nose at the last moment and turn it into a muffled snort. Everything is heavy with dust, the only visible sign of the fifteen years that have passed since any child has played here.
I am looking at sorrow so tangible it has taken on a life of its own. CoVir, as thick as the dust in this room, weighs down every impulse toward joy in this palace. I back out of the room, silently shutting the door.
I stand there, staring at the closed door. I’m aware of the sound of my breathing, a deep, constant sound, tied to the living present. Otherwise, all is silent and still. Only the breathing...
Two sets of breathing, slowly becoming asynchronous. My neck prickles with the sense of another presence behind me.
Chapter Thirty
I stand still, holding my breath. The breathing behind me continues. My throat closes, frozen like the rest of my body. Only the other set of breathing can be heard now, louder and harsher and closer than before. A guard would not stand silently behind me. A guard would grab me and raise the alarm. Someone or something else is in the hall with me. I can feel its intensity boring in on me. I dare not turn around.
“How dare you?” The voice is low, a hoarse whisper of barely-suppressed rage. I force myself to turn.
My breath comes back to me in a gasp. The Queen stands behind me, near enough to touch in the dark hallway. Her face is as gray as the dust and twisted into a death-like grimace. She wears a white robe which accentuates her unnatural paleness, and her uncombed hair floats in a tangled black web about her head and shoulders. Her hands are curled into claws beneath the ruffled sleeves of the gown.
For a moment I can’t decide whether she’s real or a nightmarish apparition. She raises her hand. I stare at it, frozen with terror. The clawed hand trembles before me.
“Answer me,” her terrible voice rasps again.
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.
“How dare you enter that room!” The Queen’s entire body is shaking now. Her arm jerks as mounting rage overcomes her rigid self-control. I stand there shaking, my knees so weak I’m afraid I’ll fall down before she has a chance to hit me. What was I thinking, coming here? What in the universe was I thinking? I’m going to die for this.
“Sariah?” The King’s sleepy voice precedes him through the open bedroom door. He comes into the hall and sees us. “Guards!” His voice echoes in the empty hallway.
I fall on my knees. “I need to speak to you, Your Highness!”
“You may talk at your trial.” The Queen snaps.
“Now. In private.” It comes out a croak, my throat so dry I can barely push the sounds out. “Please, listen to me. The Select’s life is at your mercy!”
“She made the choice to risk CoVir. Every life is at its mercy.” The Queen glares at me, “And at the mercy of the law, which you have broken!” Her voice rises, frantic with rage. It’s that room, the princess’s room. She’ll never forgive me for seeing it.
I hear boots pounding up the stairs.
“What’s going on here?” the King asks with deliberate calm. “Do you know this person?”
“She’s a servant to the Select.” The Queen makes a dismissive gesture with her hand.
Behind me, I hear the guards running down the hall toward us. “Please, Your Highness! Please! The Select has done nothing but good for your people!” I’m sobbing, I can’t help it. Agatha’s life as well as mine is at stake, and I’ve blown it, completely blown it!
A guard’s hand drops on my shoulder, pushing me down as his other hand twists my right arm behind me. Pain shoots up my arm.
“Search her for weapons,” the King says.
I am yanked to my feet. Behind me I hear the click of a lead-arm. I stand still, trying hard not to shake while one of the guards pats me down.
&nbs
p; “No weapons, Your Highness.”
“Very well.” He looks at me. I make myself look as pathetic as possible, which isn’t hard at the moment. “Bring her into the... the breakfast room.”
I glance at the Queen. Her face is turning purple. Her mouth forms a thin line of rage as she turns to follow her husband into a room down the hallway. The guard pushes me forward, his hand still gripping my shoulder.
They stop me just inside the room. At the far end a large bay window is curtained against the night, with a broad, padded chair and foot stool on either side of it. The only other furniture is a small, square table, large enough for four to dine at, though two of the chairs have been pushed against the side wall. Three light globes, recessed into the walls, activate as we enter, casting a dim light over the room.
“Close the doors and step back,” the King says. The guard with his fist bruising my shoulder hesitates, as though he wants to object.
The king raises one eyebrow.
The hand drops from my shoulder. I hear them shuffle back to wait by the door.
I bow—or should I curtsey? It’s a little late for either—as the Queen settles on one of the chairs against the wall, the King standing near her. He looks expectantly at me, and I can’t say anything. Because now I’m certain whose diamond my father took, but I still have no idea how to return it. It has to be done carefully, in private, so no crime can be recorded. And this is definitely not the audience for it.
“You may start by telling us how you got in here this evening.”
He can’t really imagine their palace is well-guarded? “I... I broke a window—but I’ll pay for it,” I add quickly, aware of the guards listening behind me, “—at the back of the palace. I’m sorry. I had to see you.”
“We have doors for that.”
“—alone.”
“So now, because you are getting your wish, you will think your criminal act paid off.” The Queen shoots an angry look at the King.
“I believe the Select’s life is in danger.” I look at the King as I say it.
Walls of Wind and the Occasional Diamond Thief Boxed Set Page 55
