by Kate Elliott
Kellas had to hurry to keep up with the king’s brisk stride as he approached the prison gate.
“Your Highness!” A priest hurried forward, his white robes shimmering in the lamplight and his lower lip smeared with what looked like red bean paste from a pastry. He was not high ranking enough to veil his face. “I am the holy sentinel in charge of the prison. My name is—”
“Open the gates. I am inspecting the prison.”
“Your Highness, you cannot wish to endure the stink and misery of—”
“I require a clerk to show me which men have been properly adjudicated at the assizes and so can be marched out tomorrow at dawn, and which must be held back for a proper hearing.”
“Your Highness, the priests have already ruled the men are criminals according to holy statutes.”
“Do not argue with me, Your Holiness. Fetch me a clerk to show me around.”
The priest bowed. “Please allow me to take on that honor myself, Your Highness.”
Jehosh’s tight shoulders dropped a little in response to the priest’s respectful manner. “Very well. Lead on, Your Holiness.”
In Kellas’s youth the large compound had been the main city temple dedicated to Kotaru the Thunderer. At the outset of Jehosh’s reign it had been converted into a barracks and stables for the army, and indeed its wide inner courtyard was lined with empty water troughs and hitching rails. However, within the last five years the priests had taken it over for a holding prison. Now guards stood at every closed gate that led into the interior buildings. Lamps burned on all sides, illuminating the king’s confident stride as he crossed the dusty yard. Out of the shadows a man approached.
“Your Highness! A word, if you will.”
Jehosh halted, and Kellas stepped in front of him, then relaxed, seeing General Shevad emerge from the gloom with a belligerent stride but a desperate expression.
“What do you want?” Jehosh said curtly, measuring the man with hostility.
The general knelt with unexpected humility. “Your Highness, I have served you faithfully, have I not?”
“You have served honorably in Ithik Eldim, it’s true.” Jehosh’s tone was grudging. “Even if your father served me very ill by murdering my beloved father.”
“My brother Yofar died in your service, Your Highness, with never a disloyal word.”
“I remember him,” remarked Jehosh with less rancor. “He was a good soldier.”
“My thanks, Your Highness. I come to you with a plea for help. My brother Gilaras has been arrested by Supreme Captain Ulyar for a murder he did not commit. He has been condemned to the work gangs. They mean to march him out tomorrow without even the courtesy of a hearing at the assizes. His hair has already been shorn and his face scarred with a criminal’s marking!”
“Gilaras … Ah, the one who married the Ri Amarah woman.”
Shevad reared back, eyes narrowing. “Yes. You know of the match?”
“Everyone has heard of the alliance, General Shevad. How your impoverished and disgraced clan managed to convince the Ri Amarah to part with one of their mysterious women no one knows. But she is very rich, and very clever.”
“You have met her?”
Jehosh tilted his head to one side, touching a thoughtful finger to his lips.
At the sight General Shevad lost his temper. “Are you behind his arrest? Do you want her for yourself?”
Kellas again stepped between the two men, gesturing to the priest and guards to move away.
The king gripped his sword hilt, knuckles white. “Do not threaten me, General. I have been patient for years with you and your foul clan.”
Shevad had the look of a soldier who has survived too many battles to be easily intimidated. “Do you not find it suspicious that Prince Kasad’s best companions are disgraced and removed from the court at the same time Prince Tavahosh is elevated to the office of chief marshal, under the oversight of the priests?”
Jehosh’s hesitation was so marked that Kellas glanced between the two men, then scanned the courtyard, but they were alone, the priest and guards now standing at a distance.
“Gilaras has been a loyal friend to my son,” murmured Jehosh.
Seeing the king soften, Shevad went on. “I just received orders from Supreme Captain Ulyar to travel north to Ithik Eldim, to take command of the garrison at Gyre Port.”
“I have not ordered a change of command in Ithik Eldim!” cried Jehosh, anger boiling back up. “By what right does Ulyar do so, unless to show he can countermand my arrangements?”
Kellas raised a hand. “If I may, Your Highness, I think we speak at cross purposes here. King Jehosh, did you order General Shevad to Eldim?”
“As I just said, I did not.”
“General Shevad, I was with the king in the upper palace this morning. I can assure you he knew nothing of this scheme. Who actually arrested your brother?”
“Supreme Captain Ulyar, as I said! He gave me my new orders himself. I assumed you had a hand in it, Your Highness.”
Jehosh took a step back, turned to one side and then the other as if looking for a way to pace out his fury. “General Shevad, I will personally see your brother released at once.”
“Wait,” said Kellas, the hand still raised and his tone peremptory. Age gave him an authority he was happy to abuse. “Give me a moment to think.”
Both men stared at him, but they did not speak.
Opportunity must be seized, just as a person in the midst of a fight senses an opening before his eye quite registers it. He kept his arms extended as if keeping the two men apart before they came to blows, while he spoke in a low voice.
“Let me be blunt. Lord Gilaras is a restless and bored young man left to stew too long in his own juices. Meanwhile I have questions about the recent expansion of work gangs. I suggest we recruit young Gilaras to your service, Your Highness. Let him spy in a work gang.”
“But he could die!” objected Shevad.
Kellas shook his head, tipping his hand to indicate that the priest waited just out of hearing. “If Ulyar has had him arrested, it means the queen wants him out of the way.”
“That’s exactly how it is!” broke in Shevad with a lack of control that betrayed anguish. “As soon as I heard the news I went to Lady Sarai’s uncle, a man named Abrisho. The cursed Silver scolded me as if I were a hapless lad! He said the queen has already taken Lady Sarai into her court.”
“She wants their coin,” muttered Jehosh. “She has outwitted me again.”
“Has she, Your Highness?” interposed Kellas in his calmest voice as he saw the advantage unfold. “For it seems to me Queen Chorannah has signaled her next move too soon. General Shevad, if the king releases your brother, he will be in greater danger, don’t you see?”
“You think Chorannah will have him killed,” said Shevad.
“People kill for far less than a treasure chest of coin.”
“He can leave the city. Go to his kinsfolk in Nessumara.”
“Ulyar has control of the Spears and their spies and assassins. You may recall that I was once such a man, sent out to rid the king of his enemies. I have seen too many dead in my time, General Shevad, and you have as well. If your brother will serve the king as a spy, then afterward, should he survive, he will be pardoned.”
“Yes,” murmured Jehosh, “it is a neat and plausible solution she will never suspect.”
Kellas nodded, relieved that the two men were both smart enough to acquiesce without argument. “If you agree, Your Highness, I wish you to castigate General Shevad as an untrustworthy soldier in a loud voice that everyone can hear. Make sure to mention that his brother is a murdering criminal who deserves the sentence he has received. Once we leave, General, you will make a final visit to your brother and recruit him. Lord Gilaras may consider me his commanding officer.”
“I like this plan.” Jehosh smiled.
“You are a heartless man, Captain Kellas,” said the general. He pressed a palm against his forehe
ad, then dropped it as if the hand, like hope, was too heavy to hold up.
Kellas nodded. He had lived too long and seen too much to toss around pointless reassurances. “Yes. It is my duty to be heartless.”
34
Wearied by fear and anxiety as the afternoon dragged on, Sarai tried to rest on the cushions, but that only reminded her of the way Gil would entertain her with light prattle while she wrote up her account of each day. He liked to sit on a cushion embroidered with virile roosters because, he had said with the laugh that delighted her, the strutting cocks reminded him of his duty. Her mind lurched through a mental accounting of the events that had landed her here. The queen had caught them out so thoroughly it had not occurred to Gil or any member of his family to beware. If she could think it through with a cool head she would find a means to action.
At length, unable to sit still any longer, she drifted out to the balcony with its lattice screen, yet another barrier fencing her in. Twisting her shawl in her hands, she studied the king’s garden as shadows lengthened over its paths and flower beds. From this balcony she could not see the Assizes Tower. However, she could still see the pavilion in the center of the garden and, beyond it, the portico out of which the king had emerged when she and Gil had stood on a different balcony earlier in the day.
Oh, Gil. On a tiny balcony very like this one in their apartments, she and Gil had met for the first time because he had climbed the vines and sneaked in through the lattice…
She glanced back into the chamber. With dusk settling over the world the balcony lay in shadows, and it would therefore be difficult for someone spying on her through a hole in the wall to see what she was doing.
She traced the lattice from top to bottom and side to side, as Gil had shown her. Just as she was ready to give up, she found a hook nestled in the back of a carved flower. With a click it gave way, and a narrow segment of the lattice swung back. Never an agile climber like Elit, she still had clambered up enough trees with her lover to attempt these sturdy vines. The mirror pressed against her thigh as she scraped her way down, using her knees to brace herself. The little pouch of coin Gil had insisted she bring bumped at her hip. Now and again she had to ruck up the long shift as it tangled in the stems. Twice she paused, hooking her arm over a thick stem to catch her breath. Was this how her mother had fled, in desperation, with her baby girl tied to her back?
Her slippered feet brushed the ground. She scanned the king’s garden for any opening or escape. There were four portals—two lamplit gates and two lamplit doors—one on each wall. Soldiers guarded all four. Since this was the king’s garden, were these guards loyal to the king? If so, would the king turn her over to Chorannah anyway? Had he been part of the plot?
A young man strode out from one of the arched gateways and paused, face gilded by light from the bright lamps on either side of the opening. It was Prince Kasad, wearing the elaborately voluminous court jacket. He pressed a hand to his face in the manner of a man so overcome by bad news that he is stricken.
She grasped the chance, propelled herself out of the vines and onto a path that led most directly to where he stood. Guards stiffened, catching sight of her before Kasad did and seeing a potential threat, but perhaps her womanly figure puzzled them for not one left his station to intercept her. Kasad, however, ran to meet her, the skirts of his long jacket flapping.
“Lady Sarai!”
Out of breath, she staggered to a halt as soon as he was close. “Your Highness, I beg you … Lord Gilaras has been arrested—!”
“I just heard. Why are you still here, Lady Sarai?”
“Queen Chorannah commanded me to join her court.”
His expression went rigid. “Do you mean to divorce Gil and fish for a better catch?”
“I will thank you not to judge me by the palace’s standards!”
He winced.
Boldly she grabbed one of his hands. “Of course I don’t want to divorce him. I have to get him out of prison. Please help me.”
A shout rang out from the chamber she had just escaped. Light flashed behind the lattice-screened balcony as they searched for her.
Prince Kasad’s expression creased with startled revelation. He grasped her wrist and tugged recklessly. “Run! Or they’ll see you.”
But she had recovered her breath and her ability to think without panic. “We mustn’t run. It’s dark enough they can’t see my face. Let us walk as if we are companions with nothing to flee from. Then they won’t be sure it’s me.”
She began walking at a casual pace toward the gateway from which he had emerged. After a moment he followed, indicating she should head toward a lamplit portico where four soldiers stood guard. She hooked her shawl up to cover the lower half of her face. Fear made her throat ache, but she had to trust him; she had no one else.
“This would not have happened if Gil hadn’t decided to be loyal to me against all good sense,” he said in a hot, furious tone.
“Do you think Gil was arrested because of his ties to you?”
“Of course.”
She remembered her uncle’s words. “Is it possible Queen Chorannah engineered his arrest as a way to get access to my fortune?”
He murmured, “Thus felling three birds with one arrow. It fits her devious mind. Hurry.”
They climbed steps to the portico.
“Your Highness!” A captain stepped forward with a courteous bow. “We received no word you were coming.”
“I need to see my father at once.” He had lost the diffidence and stammer that made him seem foolish. Even his posture changed, shoulders back and spine stiff.
“The king has gone down into the city, Your Highness. Queen Dia left earlier—”
“I know where my mother is.” Kasad slid open the door himself rather than allow them to refuse him entry. Sarai almost trod on his heels in her haste to get out of view. The soldiers watched in disapproval but Kasad was a prince and not theirs to command.
Inside Sarai was startled to find an unremarkable chamber, furnished with a single writing desk, its implements carefully put away, and an alcove decorated with flowers, nothing luxurious and no expensive ornamentation. A steward greeted Kasad and gave her a frowning look because her face was hidden; she liked that the man could not know precisely who she was, even if he would guess later.
“When is King Jehosh expected back?” the prince said.
“My lord, I do not expect him to return to the upper palace tonight.”
Kasad gestured with a hand as if flicking off an insect that he wished was not annoying him. His grimace gave him an aura of impatience quite unlike the diffident way he engaged with Gil and Tyras. “I will make my own way out.”
“My lord, I have not been given permission by the king to allow you to enter…”
“I don’t need permission. I have a key.”
“But only the king has a key…”
He stepped past the protesting man. “Do you imagine my father leaves me unprotected in the upper palace? Come along,” he added over his shoulder to Sarai.
She hastened after him through a second door. A single lit lamp illuminated glimmering golden figures painted on the walls, their serene faces those of holy personages rapt in prayer. Only when the hinged door closed behind them did she relax a little, knowing two doors and multiple guards now separated her from her pursuers. He did not relax but strode across the dim chamber to a balcony carved into the rock.
There he turned to face her. “I can’t get Gil released from prison.”
“Can the king do so?”
“If we can find the king before the prisoners are marched out at dawn. But I fear he is unlikely to expend any effort on Gilaras Herelian, with his own authority under attack. He will say that if he publicly goes against his own laws, then rebels and outlaws will claim the same privilege.”
“What if I offer him coin?” She thought of the chest abandoned in the palace.
He laughed curtly. “My father is rich, Lady Sarai
. He doesn’t need your coin.”
“What does he need?”
“Loyal officials who won’t stab him in the back.”
She discarded that idea and considered the next. “Would Gil’s jailers, or the priests, take a bribe to release him?”
“They’ll take the coin and then arrest you for offering a bribe.”
“But if they arrested me then I would be with Gil, wouldn’t I?”
He pondered this question where he stood on the brink of a balcony. It was too dark for her to see how great the leap would be but the distant murmur of a flowing river, the gusty bouts of wind, and glimmers of tiny lights revealed how very high up they stood. A person who leaped into the gulf of air would plunge to her death, and no matter how desperate her situation Sarai was bitterly determined not to fall prey to despair. She owed her brave mother the fight for life and freedom.
“It won’t work,” he said at last. “Women go in separate work gangs.”
She dropped the scarf so he could see her expression as she raised her chin defiantly. “I can’t just give up and abandon him.”
He nodded. “Come.”
A door was hidden in the wall. Lamp in hand he led her down a tight, steep stairwell. The passage opened into a chamber carved out of the rock and aerated by slit windows. The scent of sweet incense flavored the air, tickling her nostrils. The lamplight cast shadows upon shadows, the shapes of furnishings barely seen as they crossed to the far side of the room where another hinged door stood, this one barred and chained with a lock.
He slipped a key from his clothing and, with trembling hands, took several tries to fit it to the lock. Footsteps slapped the steps, and she flattened herself against the wall, hoping the shadows would hide her, but it was only the steward come in pursuit.
The man said, “I will close up after you, Prince Kasad.”
Kasad pulled the chain and bar away and opened the door. Sarai followed him down a narrow stone corridor tunneled into the rock. The emotions that piled up in her heart threatened to crush her as she breathed the musty air. Could she hire people to cut Gil loose while he was on the road? Suddenly the rumors of escaped prisoners in the hills about her clan’s estate made sense: Maybe they, too, had been unjustly arrested, and their loved ones had done everything they could to free them. What if Uncle Makel was actually involved with outlaws?
