‘When Eskarnor marched for Port Mirror-on-Sea, he left a company of men to hold the city and protect the queen,’ Sorne said. ‘They’ve closed the gates and manned the wall-walks.’
‘We’ll need a diversion while we climb the walls,’ Graelen said.
‘We don’t need to go over the walls,’ Tobazim said. ‘I can get us in through the ruined palace boat-house.’
‘Good,’ Sorne said. ‘I know where we can steal a boat.’
Graelen smiled grimly. Either of them could have led this mission, but he was in charge. They weren’t far from the lakeside town. ‘We’ll set fire to the tavern stable. The stable lads will rush to save the horses, and the commotion and the flames will distract the guards on the city wall-walk. Fires are common enough – it shouldn’t make them suspicious – but someone will need to stay behind to set the fire.’
Graelen left one of the initiates to guard the horses. The other two, he sent to set the fire. He would not go into danger with men he did not trust. Tobazim wouldn’t stab him in the back. He’d kill him in a fair fight.
Graelen signalled Sorne. ‘Lead us to the boat.’
The besieging army had cut down trees, torn up bushes and scavenged every scrap of firewood on the slope down to the lake.
Sorne led them, picking his way along the shore, until he came to a small Mieren house. No light gleamed through the cracks in the shutters.
‘Here it is,’ Sorne said.
Graelen could make out the dark shape of a boat amidst the reeds.
They climbed in and waited in silence until they heard the shouts of ‘fire.’
Then Graelen took the oars, careful to cut the water with the minimum of noise. They were in luck: the cloud cover held, and the commotion of the tavern fire at the end of the causeway distracted the city’s defenders.
TOBAZIM REMEMBERED THIS section of wall. He’d spent many a night on the wall-walk, watching the Mieren army on the lake’s shore.
It was so dark that even when he gift-enhanced his night vision, Tobazim could only just make out the arch of the ruined palace’s boat-house gate.
He nudged Graelen’s foot, and the big adept shipped the oars. The boat glided in until it came to rest against the wall. Tobazim’s gift surged, gauging the weights and stresses of the defensive wall, gauging the stresses and alliances of those in the boat with him. They were all focused on the task at hand, but their motivations were so different they were like threads threatening to unravel.
Sorne was focused on saving Queen Jaraile and saving the kingdom for Prince Cedon. Tobazim didn’t entirely understand why the queen and prince had Sorne’s loyalty, but he respected loyalty.
Iraayel was keen to prove himself worthy of a place in the brotherhood.
And Graelen was utterly determined.
Tobazim suspected Kyredeon held Valendia’s life as surety of Graelen’s cooperation. Somehow, he needed to convince Graelen to change sides and support him and Ardonyx. But Graelen would only do this if he was certain they could defeat Kyredeon.
And even Tobazim was not sure of this.
Coming to his knees, Tobazim felt along the wall until he came to the gate, then gingerly climbed onto the narrow stone ledge next to it.
He reached through the gate to the hinges and worked the pins loose. Once both pins were removed, the gate hung from the catch and lock on the other side. He wriggled through, stepped inside and opened the gate.
They guided the boat into the boat-house.
Tobazim led them out through the ruined palace to the street.
Here, Graelen took the lead and Tobazim was happy to let him. He preferred not to have the adept at his back.
No lights gleamed in the brotherhood palaces. It felt strange. This had been his home, yet if they were spotted they’d be killed.
When they left the brotherhood quarter, they were not far from the causeway gate. Tobazim could see a dozen men in the gate-house, drinking and dicing by the light of a lamp.
The gate guards were engrossed in their game and the wall-walk guards would be watching the fire across the shore. Even so, Graelen kept to the shadows as they made their way up the causeway road.
They were about level with the dome of empowerment when Iraayel signalled for him to stop. He pointed to the tallest sisterhood palace, to a light moving on a verandah. As far as they could see, the rest of the palace was in darkness.
‘That’s our palace and that’s the initiates’ verandah. That’ll be where they’re keeping the queen.’
Even as he spoke, the light disappeared and Graelen led them on. When they reached the sisterhood quarter, the adept stepped back. ‘Take the lead, Iraayel.’
It was an honour for a lad who was not yet seventeen. He led them through the sisterhood quarter to what had been the causare’s palace, and around the side into a courtyard. In the distance they heard faint music.
‘Sounds like the men-at-arms have made their home in the Malaunje chambers near the kitchen,’ Iraayel whispered, then went across the courtyard and into the palace.
He led them down several corridors, before coming to a halt. At the far end of a hall, they could hear voices and music. The smell of onions and bacon lingered on the air.
They retreated to the nearest empty chamber.
‘The bulk of the men-at-arms are a long way from where they’re keeping the queen,’ Sorne said. ‘There’ll be guards on her door, but –’
‘They’ll be able to signal the others,’ Iraayel said. ‘Each chamber has a bell-pull, which connects to the Malaunje servants’ wing. All they have to do is ring that bell and we’ll never get the queen out of the palace, let alone the city.’
‘Then we’ll have to surprise them,’ Graelen said and signalled Iraayel. ‘Take us to the queen.’
The sisterhood palace was a rabbit warren of wings, courtyards, stairs and balconies, but the lad had grown up here, and he found his way without difficulty.
At last they came to a point where several passages met. Iraayel gestured down one of them.
First Graelen, then each of them peered down the long corridor. At the far end, a lamp glowed and two men sat playing dice. It was impossible to approach without being seen.
They went a little way down the corridor.
‘Is there no other way into the initiates’ wing?’ Graelen whispered.
‘I could go across the roof and drop onto the balcony,’ Iraayel said.
‘Yes, but can we get the queen out that way?’
‘We could try.’
‘I’ll go with Iraayel,’ Sorne said. ‘You two stay here.’
Tobazim watched them go, then turned to Graelen. ‘So, are you going to kill me now, or after we get the queen out of the city?’
Chapter Twenty
SORNE HAD NO trouble following Iraayel out a high window onto the roof. He had no trouble crawling across the roof’s terracotta tiles, despite the steep pitch and the terrifying drop. It wasn’t until he realised that the roof projected well beyond the balcony and Iraayel meant to hang off the guttering, five floors above the courtyard, then swing his legs, let go and trust to luck to land on the balcony below that he baulked.
It was a long time since Sorne had swung from the branches of the maple tree back at the retreat, and the drop had not been a tenth as high.
‘Wait. You might not swing wide enough to carry you onto the balcony. Have you done this before?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘The overhang looked smaller from below.’
Sorne let his breath out slowly. They lay side by side with their heads lower than their feet. He could feel the youth’s gift like the heat of a forge on a cold day. The longer he spent in the company of adult T’En men, the more their gifts called to him, wearing down his self-control.
‘I can do it,’ Iraayel insisted. ‘I know I can.’
‘You might be able to, and there’s a chance I might. But we’ll never get Jaraile out this way. Even if she has a head for heights, she’s small for a Mier
en woman.’
Iraayel considered this. ‘She can call the guards into the chamber and I can take them out.’
Sorne nodded as the lad began to lower himelf.
Iraayel swung his legs once, twice… on the third swing, he let go and dropped to the balcony.
Sorne breathed a sigh of relief.
JARAILE HEARD A soft thump. She pushed her plate away and wondered if the men-at-arms were playing a prank on her. It sounded like something had landed on the balcony. Nothing could have dropped down from above, the roof jutted out too far. And the courtyard was five floors below.
Yet… she heard a soft tapping at the glass doors.
She came to her feet, heart racing. She did not believe in the weeping woman. It had to be a prank, but she didn’t see how…
More tapping.
Heart in her mouth, Jaraile watched the door handle turn.
Locked… thank goodness.
And a shade did not need to come through doors.
Still, every sense was on alert as she strode to the balcony doors and thrust back the curtains.
A beautiful T’En stood there. For a heartbeat, she thought it was the weeping woman; then she realised it was a youth, and he wanted her to let him in.
Fighting a dreamlike sense of unreality, she opened the balcony door.
Instead of stepping into the chamber, the warrior caught her arm and tried to draw her out onto the balcony. She resisted until she heard Sorne’s voice.
‘Jaraile, it’s all right. He’s a friend.’
She looked around, until she spotted Sorne’s head hanging over the roof above her. ‘For goodness sake, get down from there. You’ll fall to your death.’
He laughed, softly. ‘We’ve come to save you. This is Iraayel.’
She put her hands on her hips. ‘If you think I’m climbing up there –’
‘No. We wouldn’t dream of it,’ Sorne said. ‘Jaraile, the Wyrds didn’t hurt Cedon. He’s –’
‘I know. I overheard Eskarnor speaking with one of his men. You’ve seen Cedon?’
‘I held him in my arms and he asked after you.’
Her chest ached; she had to swallow before she could speak. ‘Where is he? Is he safe?’
‘As safe as any of us. I have him hidden, and you’ll see him soon. Just do as Iraayel says. I’m going back to the others.’
Then he disappeared.
‘Where are the others?’ She turned to the youth.
‘At the end of the corridor. They can’t get close to the guards without them sounding the alarm,’ he said. ‘If you call the guards in, I’ll deal with them.’
Her mind raced. Now that she was up close, she could see he was just a boy. The guards were veterans, and the hallway was so long they’d cut Iraayel to shreds before the rest of his party could come to his aid. Then the commotion would alert her captors. Somehow she had to distract the guards, and had to buy enough time for Sorne and the others to reach the chamber and overcome them…
‘I have a better idea.’
She led him into her bedchamber, opened a chest and piled armfuls of beautiful silken pants, satin vests and brocade robes on the bed, speaking all the while. ‘The men-at-arms think there’s a T’En ghost, a beautiful young woman. If they think you’re the ghost, it will give Sorne and the others time to come up behind them and kill them silently.’
For a moment she thought he would object. A True-man would consider dressing up as a woman demeaning. But Iraayel gave this some consideration, then nodded. ‘They’ll be watching the guards. They should be here in no time.’
He began stripping.
Jaraile blushed and looked away.
‘What happened to your face?’ he asked. ‘Did the Mieren hurt –’
‘No, I scratched myself to convince them I was half-crazed with fear of the ghost.’
He smiled. ‘My choice-mother would like you.’
She blushed and helped him dress, finding ways to disguise his broad shoulders. Unravelling his long silver braid, she threaded jewels through his hair. Then she painted his lips and eyes, and stood back. ‘There. I know women who would envy you.’
‘What does this ghostly woman do?’
‘She weeps and searches for the man who murdered her, the night King Charald attacked the city.’
‘SO, ARE YOU going to kill me now, or after we get the queen out of the city?’ Tobazim asked, his heart racing, gift on edge. Graelen blinked. ‘Because I think it makes more sense to combine forces and defeat Kyredeon.’
‘You can’t beat Kyredeon. His gift is more powerful than yours and yours is not a martial gift. You and Ardonyx are not shield-brothers, like –’
‘We could be. You can’t tell me you give Kyredeon your loyalty because you admire him.’ Tobazim took a step closer, feigning a confidence he did not feel.
Graelen could easily snatch his essence, drag him to the empyrean plane, wound him and leave him for the predators. But he didn’t. He listened, even as his gift readiness pounded on Tobazim’s senses.
‘Do you really want to spend the rest of your life serving Kyredeon? He’s half crazed with fear now. It’s only a matter of time before his gift corrupts.’ He saw Graelen’s eyes widen and knew he’d hit a nerve. ‘The brotherhood will rise up against him. They’ll kill all of his supporters. They’ll kill Valendia.’
‘Leave her out of this.’
‘I will. But Kyredeon won’t. He’s holding her life as surety of your cooperation, isn’t he?’
‘Yes. But you can’t win a challenge.’
‘We won’t know unless I challenge. When I get back –’
‘If you get back.’
‘I will have to challenge Kyredeon, because you will either be dead, which means that I know he sent you to kill me, or you’ll be by my side, which means he’ll know you’ve sworn to support our faction.’
‘There’s a third alternative. I go back without you and everything returns to normal.’
A cry for help made them turn.
Sorne came running down the corridor towards them. He skidded to the corner, glanced up the passage and swore. ‘Quick. Iraayel needs help.’
JARAILE PUT THE lamp on the floor behind the table and positioned Iraayel so that the light illuminated him from below, glinting on the jewels in his hair.
‘You ready?’ she whispered.
He nodded.
She ran to the door, thumping on the panels. ‘She’s here! She’s come for me! Let me out!’
The guards opened the door and she tried to get past them, but they blocked the doorway, standing slack-jawed in awe.
She glanced over her shoulder. A glowing radiance clung to Iraayel’s skin. He lifted his hands beseechingly, eyes shimmering with tears. He really was very good.
Jaraile peered down the hall, but didn’t see the others coming. They were supposed to be watching. She raised her voice. ‘Help!’
The unlucky guard’s eyes narrowed and he drew his sword. ‘Let’s see if she’ll bleed.’
Iraayel grinned as he drew his knife.
The other guard swore and charged. Jaraile snatched a statuette and swung it with all her strength as he went past. But he turned at the last moment and the statuette only caught him a glancing blow on the shoulder.
Cursing, he back-handed her. She went flying into the wall and the air was knocked out of her. She could only stare, gasping for breath as both guards attacked Iraayel. He blocked and backed away.
Two adult T’En warriors ran into the room, followed by Sorne. The first one one caught the unlucky guard from behind and snapped his neck. It happened so fast she barely had time to blink. As the second one reached for the other guard, Sorne appeared in front of her.
‘Jaraile, are you all right?’ He helped her to her feet.
She heard a scuffle, then nothing.
‘Don’t look.’ He led her into the bedchamber. ‘Grab some clothes suitable for travel.’
While she did this, he fetched a washcloth and
wiped the blood from her face. He was just finishing when Iraayel came in. He stripped, dressed and bound his hair, while she rolled up her few things in a blanket. Sorne took her bundle. ‘Come, Jaraile.’
When they entered the main chamber, she glanced over at the dead guards. There was no sign of blood. ‘Throw them off the balcony.’
‘Why?’
‘The fall will disguise their injuries. Captain Pataxo’s men think a vengeful female shade haunts this palace. If I disappear from a locked room and it looks like the guards jumped off the balcony –’
‘It will confuse them, even if they don’t believe in the ghost,’ Sorne said.
GRAELEN WAS PLEASED with the way the rescue had gone – none of his people had been hurt, and they’d confounded the Mieren.
They made it out of the palace and down through the free quarter without any trouble. But as they stepped into the brotherhood quarter, they came face to face with a man holding a hooded lantern. He was accompanied by seven or eight Mieren, laden with chests and sacks. It was clear they had been looting the palaces.
Graelen’s gift surged. The Mieren stared in shock.
‘Tobazim, get the queen to the boat,’ Graelen ordered.
Stepping forward, he slammed the heads of two Mieren together and kicked the legs out from under another. As Iraayel took down a man, Graelen was aware of Tobazim running towards the ruined palace, with Sorne and the queen.
The fight was strangely quiet. The stunned Mieren hadn’t had time to react, and already several of their number were down. Graelen caught a man by the shoulders and used him as a shield, feeling the man jerk as his companion’s knife drove up under his ribs.
The others made no outcry. The penalty for looting must be steep.
A man grunted in pain as Iraayel elbowed him in the stomach. Someone collided with Graelen and he tripped, falling to his knees. A boot caught him in the head.
As Iraayel struggled with several assailants, the first two Mieren recovered and scrambled to their feet.
‘Grab the big Wyrd. Don’t let him get up,’ one of them said. Two men pinned Graelen, one on each arm. A third came in, knife drawn. He wasn’t going to get out of this.
Then one of the men holding Iraayel dropped. As he fell aside, Tobazim caught the other and spun him around, driving him head first into the wall and cracking his skull.
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