by John Marco
Cassandra laughed mirthlessly. “He’ll tell him I’m dying.”
“Cass, stop now.”
Cassandra could barely keep from crying. She sat up in bed, too weak to brush her own hair, too blind to see clearly. Then she heard his voice. As the king stepped into the chamber, Jancis stopped brushing and gasped.
“My lady?”
Cassandra strained to see him, blinking to focus her eyes. “Akeela. You’re all right?”
“Yes,” he replied.
As he came to hover over the bed, she finally saw him clearly. Even through her blurred vision she could see the poison in his features. His eyes were sunken and his cheeks were hollow. A twisted smile curled his lips. Cassandra’s eyes widened, hardly believing she was seeing Akeela.
“Jancis, leave us,” Akeela ordered. When she hesitated, he snapped, “Stop staring and go.”
Jancis hurried from the chamber. Akeela took her place on the bedside. He gazed at Cassandra, taking her hand.
“My love . . .” His voice was edgy. “I was so worried about you.”
“Akeela,” gasped Cassandra, “what has happened to you?”
“Happened?” Akeela frowned. “Oh, you mean in Norvor. We won, Cassandra. Haven’t you heard?”
“No.” Cassandra shook her head, which was swimming with confusion and pain. “I mean, what happened? You look different.”
“Oric told me you’re not seeing well. Don’t worry, Cassandra. I look the same as when I left.”
Cassandra didn’t believe him. Her eyes were blurry, but she wasn’t blind. He looked older, and vastly tired. Something in his expression warned her he had changed.
“It was glorious, Cassandra.” Akeela tried to smile, but his voice betrayed the truth. It shook as he spoke, and Cassandra knew he was near tears. “We won. I beat them, Cassandra. I led the army and beat them. What do you think of that?”
“Yes,” said Cassandra, not knowing what to say. “You won.”
“And Mor isn’t a threat to us any more. I killed him, Cassandra.” He held out his hands. “I killed him with these, all by myself.”
“No . . .”
“Yes I did.” Akeela’s breathing was shallow. “I killed him, just like a real solider. Just like Lukien.”
Then he began to sob. And in that instant, Cassandra knew she’d been discovered. There was nothing left to confess—her adultery was known. She was sure of it. She reached out for Akeela, putting his head against her chest.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to do this to you.”
Akeela didn’t answer. Cassandra knew he wouldn’t, for there was nothing now to say. Suddenly she remembered her warning to Lukien, how she had begged him not to come to her, sure that their tryst would ruin Akeela.
She had been horribly prophetic that day.
21
Lukien sat beneath a tree in Kadar’s garden, slowly eating a handful of dates. He had discovered the place during his first day in Jador, when Kahan Kadar had showed off his royal residence, telling his Liirian guests that the garden, like all of the palace, was theirs to enjoy. Birds with exotic plumage chirped in the trees. Jadori children wrestled on the manicured grass. A blue sky swept above him, perfectly cloudless. Lukien heard a fountain gurgling in the distance and the noise of the city beyond the palace walls, but here in the garden he could not see the pressing streets of Jador. All he could see were green trees and flowers, the vista broken only by the range of brooding mountains in the east.
Kahan Kadar’s palace was a remarkable haven from the bustle of Jador. It had the peace of the desert and the coolness of shade, and it didn’t surprise Lukien at all that Kadar never seemed to leave it. He and the others had been the kahan’s guests for three days now, enjoying his hospitality and the graciousness of his people, and while the palace seemed to be open to everyone, neither Kadar nor any of his underlings ever ventured from its confines. Lukien supposed it was because his wife was pregnant, and that Kadar wanted to be near to tend her. Kahana Jitendra was, in fact, very pregnant. To Lukien’s eye, she looked ready to drop at any moment.
He took another date from his palm and bit into it, studying the children in the yard. Since coming to Jador, he had seen a number of Kadar’s children. Many of them were young, like the wrestlers in the garden. But others were much older, easily in their teens and twenties. It was just one more puzzle about the kahan, one more tantalizing hint. Kadar himself looked too young to have fathered them, and there was no way Jitendra could have birthed them. As he ate his date, Lukien pondered Kadar’s true age. Fifty? Sixty, maybe? He didn’t look a day over thirty. Perplexed, Lukien took a sighing breath. The air was sweet with flowers.
Magic, he told himself. It’s got to be.
The notion heartened him. Now he could save Cassandra. If she was still alive. And only if he could get the amulet away from the kahan. Worse, they had not been able to locate the second amulet. They had seen Kahana Jitendra twice more since coming to the palace, and never once did she wear any jewelry like Kadar’s. Though Figgis clung to his belief in the second amulet, he could not explain why his precious texts had lied about it being in the kahana’s possession. But time was running out, and they could wait no longer. They had found one of the Eyes of God, and that would be enough to save Cassandra.
To the east, the great, unbroken mountain range ruled the horizon. Lukien studied it as he swallowed his one date and popped another into his mouth. The mountains were just one more of Jador’s riddles. Cahra hadn’t wanted to talk about them, and it seemed that no one in the palace wanted to, either. He had tried to ask Kadar about them, but the kahan had merely smiled and changed the subject, pretending not to understand. Now Cahra’s caravan was gone, probably back to the sands of the desert, and Lukien still had no answers. Lukien smiled, knowing he’d never have the chance to unravel the mountains’ secret. Tonight, if all went well, he would be on his way back to Koth.
He sat alone for a few minutes more, finishing his dates. When he had swallowed the last one, he noticed Trager making his way through the garden. Lukien wiped his hands and leaned back against the tree. The people in the garden smiled at Trager, but the lieutenant ignored them. His dark eyes darted about suspiciously as he stopped to hover over Lukien.
“Where’s Figgis?” he asked.
“He’ll be here. Sit down.”
Trager clucked at the lack of chairs, than sat down on the ground before his captain.
“Well?” Lukien asked, keeping his voice down.
“Nothing. I tried to keep close to the kahana, but she’s been in her chambers a lot, and none of her maidens seem to have the amulet, either.”
“All right,” said Lukien. The bad news wasn’t a surprise. “We tried.”
“We’ve wasted enough time. That waterhead Figgis probably read his texts wrong.”
“That waterhead just might have saved the queen,” said Lukien sharply.
“Yes,” drawled Trager. “It’s all about the queen, after all.”
Lukien glanced at him. ”What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Mean? Nothing, Captain. We’re all just worried about the queen, that’s all. I know you’re worried, aren’t you?”
“Of course,” said Lukien. He struggled not to look away. “I’m the queen’s protector, after all.”
“And you do a fine job of looking after her. Really admirable.”
“Trager, if you’ve got something to say. . . .”
Trager’s smile grew. “I think I’ve said it all, Captain.”
Their eyes locked. Lukien could feel Trager’s burning gaze. For a moment he couldn’t speak, terrified that Trager had discovered his affair. But that was impossible.
Wasn’t it?
Suddenly, Trager leaned back against his palms and sighed. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? So much nicer here than in Koth. Do you think it ever rains here? It must, I suppose; all these flowers.”
“Trager . . .”
“Don’
t worry, Captain.” Trager grinned. “We’ll be leaving soon. You’ll see Cassandra soon enough.”
Lukien groped for a response, but before he could Figgis appeared. The old man approached with a dejected expression.
“Ah, here’s our court jester now,” said Trager. “Come, old man. Sit down before you fall down.”
In the way he had of always ignoring Trager, Figgis said to Lukien, “I’m sorry, Captain. I looked all over.” He lowered himself to the grass, shaking his head. “I just don’t know where it could be.”
“In your imagination, maybe?” Trager suggested.
“I’m not wrong about the other Eye,” Figgis snapped. “The text was very clear. It says that one amulet is worn by the kahan, and the other is worn by his zirhah.”
“His what?” asked Lukien.
“Zirhah. It means wife.”
“Well, Jitendra doesn’t have the other amulet, and we don’t have time to keep looking.” Lukien glanced around, making sure no one could overhear. He whispered, “We have to take Kadar’s amulet tonight.”
Trager nodded. “Yes. Let’s stop wasting time and get home. What’s your plan, Captain?”
“Surprise. I think we’ve already earned Kadar’s trust. I’m sure he doesn’t expect any trouble from us.”
“I’m sure,” said Figgis sourly.
“That means we’ll be able break into Kadar’s chambers without much trouble.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Trager agreed. “The fool doesn’t even guard himself.”
“Because he doesn’t have to,” flared Figgis. “Because this is a peaceful place.”
Trager grinned. “It won’t be so peaceful tonight.”
“No,” said Lukien. “I don’t want anyone hurt. We’ll just slip into Kadar’s chamber, take the amulet from him, and be on our way as fast as we can. Figgis, you’ll need to get the drowa ready for us. Stay with them and wait. As soon as we reach you, be ready to ride.”
Figgis nodded glumly, but said nothing.
“And what if Kadar doesn’t want to give us his precious amulet?” Trager asked. “What do we do with him then, Captain? Ask him nicely?”
“We won’t hurt him,” Lukien insisted. “We’ll force the amulet from him if we have to, but I want no violence. Kadar’s been too good to us for that. Once he sees our weapons and knows our intent, he’ll give it to us.”
“Right. Then as soon as we’re gone he’ll scream like a maniac. Face it, Captain—we have to kill him.”
“No!” Lukien leaned forward angrily. “Now you listen to me, you idiot. Kadar is not to be harmed, not if we can help it. We’ll tie him up and gag him, but we’re not going to hurt him. And we’re certainly not going to kill him, understand?”
Trager looked away. Lukien kicked him.
“Lieutenant, I said do you understand me?”
“I understand,” said Trager through gritted teeth.
“Good. Now be ready tonight. Get the rope from our supplies and bring a dagger and a sword.”
Trager rose and glared down at Lukien. “Am I dismissed now . . . Sir?”
“Yes,” said Lukien, then watched as Trager stormed off. He watched until Trager left the garden and disappeared into the palace, and when he was gone he cursed and leaned back against the tree. “That son of a bitch,” he muttered. “I wish Akeela had kept him home.”
Figgis didn’t answer. He simply stared off into the distance, completely lost in thought.
“Hey,” said Lukien, snapping his fingers in his face. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I was just thinking,” replied Figgis. “I wish there was some other way to get the amulet.”
“I know, but there isn’t. So stop thinking about it.”
“It’s just that these people are so peaceful. They’ve never harmed anyone, and here we are, ready to steal from them—”
“Shhh, keep your voice down,” Lukien scolded. Then he softened, adding, “I don’t like it any more than you do. I’m not a thief, Figgis. But this was your idea, after all. And we can’t back out now.”
“I don’t want to back out,” said Figgis. “I just wish we didn’t have to hurt these people.”
“We’re not here to hurt these people. We’re here to save Cassandra.”
Figgis smirked. “Oh, yes. Does that make you feel better, Captain?”
“Figgis?”
“Yes?”
“Stop talking, please.”
Sometime past midnight, Lukien awoke. Trager was standing over his bed. Lukien’s eyes opened to the soft glow of candlelight on Trager’s face. The lieutenant wore his gaka, with his head dress pulled down around his chin. When he noticed Lukien awaken he said two simple words.
“It’s time.”
Lukien sat up and took a breath, letting his booted feet dangle off the silky bed. He too was already dressed. His sword belt waited nearby. He looked toward the keyhole-shaped window and saw the pale moon outside, lighting the distant mountains, and for a moment he wondered how long he had slept. Trager put the candle down on a nearby table and picked up Lukien’s sword belt.
“Here.”
“What time is it?” Lukien asked. He stood and took his weapon from Trager, lifting his gaka to belt it around his waist.
“It will be dawn in three hours,” whispered Trager. “I’ve scouted out the halls around Kadar’s quarters. They’re empty.”
Lukien noticed a bag dangling off Trager’s sash. “That the rope?”
“Yes. And a cloth to gag him.”
“Good. What about Figgis?”
“He’s already down with the drowa, waiting for us near the gate. I told him to keep to the shadows. Far as I could tell, there wasn’t anyone else around. The whole palace is asleep, Captain.”
It took a moment for the words to come clear in Lukien’s mind, but when they did he smiled grimly. Trager had done a surprisingly good job of arranging things. For the first time since leaving Koth, Lukien was glad he’d come. He went to the basin by his bed, splashed his face with rosewater, then ran his fingers through his hair. There wasn’t much time, but he was nervous and unsure. After days of planning, it had come down to a simple act of pilferage, and he was irritated that Akeela had reduced him to a thief. Behind him, he felt Trager’s impatient eyes.
“Captain?”
“I’m ready,” said Lukien. He took one final look around the chamber to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind, but he and Figgis had already packed everything they would need. This was water, mostly, for the long trip through the desert. Almost everything else had been disposed of, in hopes of making their drowa lighter and faster. Still, Lukien surveyed his chamber sadly. Kadar’s palace was comfortable, and the kahan had been very gracious. The silk sheets, the perfumed water, the fresh flowers brought in daily; it was all so different from his spartan quarters back home. When he returned to Koth, he wouldn’t be a welcomed diplomat anymore. He’d just be a soldier again.
“All right,” he sighed. “Let’s go.”
He went to the door and slowly pulled it open, peering out into the hall. Listening, he heard nothing, only Trager’s eager breathing in his ear. Moonlight came in through the hall’s many windows, lighting a pale path through the palace. The golden walls shimmered. Lukien stepped out cautiously, waiting for Trager to follow. The lieutenant lightly closed the door behind him, then pointed leftward.
Lukien knew the way. Soundlessly, he tiptoed through the marvelous hall, taking care as he passed each closed door. The quiet of the desert infused the palace—not a single servant stirred in its halls. Lukien made his way past the chambers Figgis had vacated, heading toward a rounded staircase spiraling up into the main tower. Kadar’s personal chambers were higher than the rest, but it wouldn’t take long to reach the kahan’s perch. Trager snickered when he saw the unguarded staircase.
“The fool,” he whispered. “He flaunts his amulet, and doesn’t even bother guarding himself. He deserves to lose it, I say.”
�
��Yeah, well it isn’t yours,” Lukien hissed. “It’s Cassandra’s, and don’t go forgetting that.”
He peered up the twisting stairway. Glowing sconces of scented oil lit the way. The silence encouraged him upward. Deciding not to draw his weapon yet, he kept his hands out before him as he climbed, his boots scuffing softly on the stone. Trager followed close behind, one hand on the dagger beneath his gaka. The bag of rope bounced against his knee. Together they made their way up the spiral, eyes wide, ears alert to any tiny sound. The burning sconces stretched their shadows against the wall. Lukien steadied his breathing as he climbed. His heart thundered in his temples. Slowly and with effort, he made his way toward the top of the staircase, emerging into another wide hall. Jadori artwork and vases lined the walls. At the end of the hall were a trio of archways, each one black with emptiness. As Trager reached the last stair, Lukien shrugged at him.
“Which one?” he whispered.
Trager’s eyes narrowed. “The center one.”
The choice seemed logical. The center arch was the biggest and partially curtained with beads. Lukien slunk toward it, keeping close to the walls and deftly avoiding the tall vases. Now that he was close, he let his hand slip down and retrieve his dagger. Its blade jumped in the moonlight. Prowling toward the curtained arch, Lukien held his breath. He fixed his eyes on the chamber past the beads and caught a glimpse of light streaming through a window. The room ahead was large, and probably connected to other rooms. He would have to find their bed quickly, and hope that Kadar and his wife were asleep.
“Go on,” Trager urged, his voice barely audible.
Lukien spread the beads with his dagger and poked his head into the room. His eyes scanned the darkness, picking up the outlines of soft pillows and ornate furniture, the kinds of things that adorned all the rooms. But there was no bed, and the chamber was empty. Lukien spied another beaded doorway at the far side of the room. Without a sound, he moved through the beads and bid Trager to follow, then stalked toward the next door. Dagger in hand, he repeated his actions, parting the new curtain with the blade. This time, he was rewarded.
