Beneath the Veil

by Megan Hart

  "I want to help, Dae."

  He took both my hands. "I know you do, love. And you need to believe that your role, to stay here in case you're needed, is just as important as anyone else's."

  I didn't bother trying to argue. "So what are you going to do?"

  Daelyn nodded toward the clothes hanging by the fire. "I'm going to get dressed in the clothes you so thoughtfully prepared. Lir and I are going to get Moravian, Penryn and Gilder, and we're going to get the rest of those women and children out of Alyria tonight, before Rosten can torture any more information out of that bastard Barnabus."

  And Galya, I thought but didn't say. I stayed silent while I helped Daelyn dress and while I watched he and Lir leave me behind. I had nothing else to say.

  Daelyn might tell me my most important role was to stay behind, but I didn't believe him. I couldn't stay here, idle, while he and the others went out and worked. I couldn't stay here knowing my sweet friend Galya was in Rosten's foul grip.

  My plan was very simple, and required little thought. I waited until Lir and Daelyn left. Then I dressed myself as I'd dressed him, and I went out into the hall. I headed for the House of the Book, and to the prison.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Galya had become more than just my friend. I couldn't leave her to Rosten's care. I made my way through snow-covered streets to the House of the Book, and I watched, hidden in a doorway from across the street as the guards paced back and forth in front of the doorway. I could fight both of them to get inside, but then I would have to kill them. I didn't want to do that.

  I searched the walls of the round building. The lowest windows were much higher than head level for even a person much taller than I. Yet there were many of them, and they circled the building's entirety. I waited until the guards had paused to light their cheroots, and I snuck down the alley along the building's side. The only doors were in the front, so I didn't worry overmuch about running into any soldiers here.

  On the side facing away from The White Palace, a tall brick and stone building loomed. At street level, it contained a sweet shop. The next two levels boasted delicate ironwork balconies and decorated windows. Apartments for wealthy lords who hadn't been invited to live inside the White Palace itself. No lights burned in any of the windows, though the hour was not terribly late.

  I took off my gloves to fit my hands into the crevices between the bricks and climbed high enough to grab the lowest balcony. The metal was so cold it burned my hand. I welcomed the pain, for it helped me to keep focus. Fortune and the Invisible Mother were with me. The long glass doors that opened onto the balcony were uncurtained, and inside I could see no fire had been lit. No rugs carpeted the floor, no chairs or sofas made places to sit. Nobody lived in this apartment.

  The snow had tapered off for a bit, but now came down as thick as feathers from a down pillow. The White Palace disappeared beneath a veil of white, and even the House of the Book, so close I could almost reach out and touch it, faded in front of my eyes. The sound of boots thudded on the street below me, and I shrank against the glass apartment door. The black cloak I'd donned to hide myself in the night was now as conspicuous as a blemish in all the white.

  "The Book Monster wants us to tramp around in this?" One voice said. "Piss on him. He's not paying us near enough."

  "Hold your tongue. We're not doing it for the money. We're doing it because it's right. What will happen if we don't? Women will overrun this country, that's what."

  A low laugh from the first solider punctuated the snowy barrier between us. "You're an idiot if you believe that. Me, I'm doing this only because it's better than being clapped in irons. Though on a night like tonight, I say I wouldn't mind being inside, even if it was in Rosten's workroom."

  The second man gave a grunt, and I realized they were directly beneath me. "I'd shut up about that, if I were you. Lord Rosten don't take kindly to those who don't follow what he thinks."

  "Piss on Rosten, and piss on the Prince Regent," said the first man conversationally. "'Tis too fucking cold to worry about either one of those bloody gits. C'mon, let's go. At least out front we're sheltered from the wind."

  They tramped back toward the front of the building. I unclenched my fists and my jaws. Rosten didn't own as many of his soldiers as he thought he did, but when the time came, would that matter overmuch? A soldier would fight for whatever side paid him.

  From my space on the balcony, I could stare directly across into the lower edge of the windows in the House of the Book. The light inside was dim and flickering, but bright enough for me to see the wide ledge into which the window had been set. It looked wide enough for a slender man – or woman, in my case, to crouch there. The problem was once I got onto the ledge, where would I go? The walls were smooth and without hand or footholds. I wouldn't be able to crawl down. The ledge was wide and deep but not high enough for me to stand, which meant I'd have a difficult time jumping back to the balcony. I had no idea if the window would even open without being broken, and if it did, how would I get down the inside?

  Daelyn and Lir were right. I was impulsive. I didn't think before I acted. I straightened my spine. They had made acting from the heart sound like a crime, and I didn't think it was. Still, I hesitated. What should I do next?

  Through the snow, which muffled most other sounds, I heard a low, yipping moan. It could have been a dog. My imagination turned it into Galya's voice. She was screaming, tortured by Rosten in his workroom. It would have been impossible for me to hear her out here, but that's what my heart believed.

  Without a second thought, I jumped. I hit the ledge and grabbed for a hold on the sides. The snow hadn't coated the entire inside, but the part I landed on was slick. I slid. I grabbed at the walls. One of my fingernails tore, and I bit my lip to keep from screaming at the sudden, intense pain, but I kept my balance.

  I teetered for a moment on the edge, then pulled my legs up and tucked myself into the recess. It wasn't as big as I had estimated. I had room to sit, but not kneel, or turn. My side pressed against the glass, and by twisting my head I could stare down into the hall I had walked with Daelyn not so long ago. Anyone inside could look up and see me, but the hall was deserted.

  I heard the noise again, fainter this time. It could not be Galya. I knew that. I didn't care. I twisted my body in a painful contortion until I could press my fingers along the edges of the glass. Was there a catch, a latch, some sort of way to open them? But not from the outside, fool, I heard Lir's voice whisper. I pushed it aside. He had no place in this mission.

  I could see a latch on the inside. I pushed against the window, praying it would not break and send me tumbling down to the hard granite floor with broken bones and shards of glass. A wind came up and whipped the hanging edges of my cloak. I pushed harder. The window gave a little, and I pushed a little more.

  The window had not been meant to open from the outside, but neither had it been designed to keep people out. The latch broke easily under the pressure, and the window opened inward with a creak that stung my ears. Heat from the oil lamp just below the window singed my frozen hands, but I didn't care. I could get inside.

  I swung my legs inside to get a more secure seat. The distance to the floor was too great to jump, if I wanted to save my ankles. I'd brought no rope. The only things I had were my cloak and my long-sleeved vest. I shrugged out of them and twisted the lengths of bulky fabric together. They didn't reach the floor, but would take me low enough to jump. I wrapped the top edge of my makeshift ladder around the metal window frame and prayed it would hold my weight. Then, before I could think about it more, I lowered myself toward the floor.

  I was still more than the height of a tall man away when my knot loosened, the cape gave way, and I fell the final distance. Again, I was blessed with the Invisible Mother's protection. If I had been closer, I might have injured myself. As it was, I was still high enough I could twist and turn my body into some semblance of the Crouching Cat. I landed on my feet and hands, which
both protested the rough treatment but remained intact. The weight of my cloak and tunic, sodden with melted snow, hit a moment later with a thud I was certain would bring the guards from outside.

  When it didn't, I wasted no time in gathering the clothes and heading toward the double doors at the end of the hall. They weren't locked. Rosten didn't fear a break-in. He had triple security, after all. I was sure he'd have more men stationed closer to his workshop, but here, in the Council chambers, only the echo of my footsteps kept me company.

  I didn't know where he locked his prisoners, only that I guessed it would be down. Below the earth, dank, cold, a place he could intimidate them easiest by denying them the simple comforts of light, warmth and air. A place where the screams he drew from them wouldn't be heard by passers-by. The cellar.

  I went through the doors on the chamber's opposite side, and stopped. Two more sets of doors greeted me, and I had no idea which to choose. It was like the old story of the Diamond and the Dagger. Two doors, behind each a treasure. The diamond of incredible value, with beauty so brilliant to see it without proper protection would cause permanent madness. The magic dagger that brought fortune and power to any who mastered it, but would fly into the heart of anyone who managed not to grab it from the air before it could find its mark. One door to be opened blind to gain the treasure, the other to be opened sighted. Behind each of these doors I was more likely to find a real dagger than any magic diamond.

  I pressed my ear to each of the doors. I heard nothing. I put my hands to the bottom edges. Only one had cold air creeping from underneath. I listened again, but still no sound. I opened it cautiously, and the sight of a short, black hall and a set of narrow, curving stairs greeted me. I went inside and closed the door behind me. After a few minutes with only the sound of my own breath to accost me, my eyes adjusted to the blackness. I reached for the wall and felt along it as my toes felt for the edge of the stairs.

  One step, then another. I waited at every turn of the twisting stairs to come out in a room filled with Rosten's soldiers, or the Book Monster himself. I reached the bottom without finding either. There was no light down here, not even a glimmer, and I reached out, blind. I found a wall. Cold, damp stone. I followed it as I had followed Daelyn's secret passage so many months ago, only this time I doubted the same sorts of pleasures awaited me at the end.

  At last the corridor opened up into a wider space. In front of me, a thick wooden door, banded with metal. On the other side, an arched doorway leading into another corridor. To my right, an opening and the first of an indeterminate number of steps.

  A sound on the other side of the doorway made my choice for me. I leaped onto the stairs, banging my elbows and shins on the stone walls. This staircase, too, was curved, and I blessed fortune for providing me a place to hide. In the next instant, the door opened. Light, normally not so bright but now blinding after my time spent in the blackness, burst forth.

  "I told you, there ain't nothing out here but the rats!"

  Two heads poked out the door. "Tell that to the Book Monster, Ternget."

  "Call him that to his face and see what happens." Ternget held the lantern up high, and I pulled back into the shadows. "Nowt out here, I'm telling you."

  "Only a mad man would come to this place, anyway. Should we check the gallery?"

  The light swung my way, and I crept up two more steps.

  "Nah. Who'd go up there unless they're looking for a view of the proceedings?"

  Laughing, the two men withdrew and closed the door behind them. I pulled my sodden cloak about me, though it gave me little in the way of warmth, and eased up two more steps.

  I turned my ankle on one of the slippery stairs, and it burst into pain but didn't break. In another minute I saw a gleam of light, a thin line. It took me a few moments to recognize I was looking at the bottom of a door with light coming out from beneath it. I pushed against the wood and the door creaked open. I paused and waited for the shouts. None. I crept through the door and lay on my belly in front of a row of tiered seats, much like those that ringed the fight field, only set up high above a circular room. I scooted along the dank floor and closed the door quickly, lest anyone look up and see it ajar. The bottom edge of the gallery stood about three feet high, and I could lay behind it without being seen. The problem was, I could see nothing below unless I rose above it and exposed myself.

  I pushed myself further along until I reached the end of the gallery. There was no other opening on this side, just a filthy stone wall. However, time or faulty construction had left a gap between the wall and the wooden edge of the gallery. I could see down.

  The two soldiers I'd heard from the door stood against the far wall, their faces blank. A curved archway directly across from me gave me a glimpse of barred cells. The room itself, Rosten's "workroom," was unsurprisingly crammed with all manner of vile-looking equipment. Every item, from the rack holding pincers, hammers and other nasty looking tools, to the various chairs and tables with their straps and cuffs, was neatly in its place. The floor was bare, without even the layer of straw and rushes one would commonly expect in a dank room like this. The stones were dark in many places, as though stained.

  Numerous and closely placed lamps made the room much brighter than I expected. I grimaced. Light for the Book Monster to work by. The bright light made it easy for me to see what he was doing, even though I would have preferred not to.

  "What have you two gobshites been doing?"

  This was a Rosten I'd never seen before. Shirtless, his bare chest shone with sweat. His muscles were rigid and defined from exertion. His hair, never coiffed or curled, hung lank with moisture past his shoulders. He swiped at his face. His fingernails were dirty. That shocked me more than anything else. Rosten might not have spent as much time on fashion and appearance as the rest of Daelyn's court, but he'd always been fastidiously clean.

  "Well?" He demanded.

  "Nothing, my lord," said the taller one. "There was nothing out there."

  Rosten didn't look convinced. He strode to the door and flung it open, then slammed it shut again. "I don't like being interrupted when I'm working."

  "We understand that, my lord."

  "Then get back out there and stand guard the way you're meant to!"

  Without a grumble, the soldiers did as he'd ordered. Rosten swiped again at his face and left dark smudges of filth on his cheeks. He grinned and focused his attention on a chair in the center of the room. Only then did I notice there was one other person in the chamber.

  Galya.

  He'd bound her, feet spread and hands cuffed to the arms of the chair. He'd tied a rope around her head to keep it held back, so she wouldn't even have the comfort of letting it drop. I could see her profile. Her eyes closed, her mouth pressed tight together. She was naked.

  Rosten turned to her. His black eyes glittered, and his mouth thinned into a sneer. He slapped her face. Fresh blood traced a path on her bruised skin. She didn't make a sound.

  "Tell me where they go."

  Her eyes fluttered. She said nothing, not even when he slapped her again. I was suddenly, fiercely proud of her.

  The door flung open and two new guards rushed in. "There's more, my lord!" cried the first one.

  "We've cornered them in one of the granaries, my lord!"

  Rosten paused, looking from Galya to the guards and back again. "Is that so?" He cupped Galya's chin. "Tell me where the others are, and I won't kill you."

  "I'm not afraid to die."

  He choked as though the sound of her voice had sickened him. "What are you afraid of, folly?"

  She didn't answer. He raised his hand as though to slap her again, but held back. He smoothed back his greasy hair, then lifted his shirt from its place on the back of a regular chair.

  "Maybe you'll think more clearly in the morning, folly. After a night in my seat, you might be happy to tell me what I wish to know. After all, I'm in no hurry. In fact, the longer it takes to break you, the better I bel
ieve I'll enjoy the task."

  He slid his shirt over his arms and buttoned it, then tugged on his jacket. He extinguished all but a few of the lamps, then paused in front of her again. "Good night, folly. I hope you find the rats pleasant company."

  He paused to pour from a bottle over her bound feet. "Honey. They like it."

  Incredibly, he bent and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. Then he put his forehead to hers, eye to eye. He stayed that way with her for what seemed a very long time. I saw a trail of silver trace its way down Galya's cheek. As though that had satisfied him at last, Rosten left her through the arched doorway. I heard him clanging on the bars of the cells and murmuring as he went away.

  I pulled myself over the gallery edge and hung down, then dropped to the floor. Galya couldn't even turn her head to look at me. When I came in front of her, her eyes widened, and her body shook.