by Megan Derr
Raz sipped his tea, surprised he didn't burn his tongue. "I helped the old lady who owns this place out once. She always keeps this room for me and a few others should we need it. Too conspicuous to come here often, but it has its uses. I'm guessing Ivan and the others weren't at the Incoming Tide?"
"No," Ailill said. "But if the hunters were able to capture Pechal, then the others have probably been arrested."
Or they were dead, Raz thought with increasing misery. Fire and ash, he hoped they were not dead. "So what are you going to do now?" Raz asked.
"I need to return home, but there's no rush yet. You helped me get the comb, despite everything it has cost you. The very least I can do is help you in whatever way you desire."
Raz nodded. "We need to see if the others are alive then, and get them out of jail if they are."
"Very well," Ailill said. "If they were arrested, would they be here in the city or up in the palace?"
"Probably the palace since they would have been arrested by the Vessel hunters, and it's considered treason to interfere with the hunts. If they're still alive, they'll be executed soon."
Ailill nodded and stood up. "Come on, then. If it comes to it, I will simply use my position as a White Beast, but I would prefer to keep a low profile for various reasons. No doubt they will also be able to tell that I have been around you; the power radiating from you is no small thing."
Raz made a face, quickly finished his tea, and then stood up. "Let's get going. The sooner they are safe, the sooner I can figure out what I am doing." He refused to think about it, he just refused.
"Do you know how to sneak into the palace?" Ailill asked. "I cannot imagine that is easily done."
"Of course it's easily done," Raz said, unable not to smirk. "Pechal—" He broke off, his momentary levity dying, throat suddenly tight, eyes stinging. Wiping the tears away, he continued, "Um. Pechal did it once on a dare. It was how he and I met, actually. He would never tell anyone else how he did it, but he told me."
He put the stove out and rinsed their cups in a bucket, and then led the way back out of the cellar and down the street. "Curfew is soon," he murmured to Ailill when they paused at an intersection. "We need to stay away from the main streets now, and when we reached the city wall we'll have to scale it."
Ailill nodded and motioned for him to lead the way. Raz did so, slipping quietly and quickly through the streets, narrowly avoiding patrolling guards at one point, tense and afraid the entire time. Nearly everyone was probably still focused on the harbor, but it meant those who weren't would be on alert for anything out of place elsewhere.
Going to the palace was the epitome of foolish, but it was his fault Ivan and the others had been involved at all. He hoped they were all alive and well. Were Shio and Shinju all right? He knew they did not like to be away from the ocean for too long.
When they reached the main city gates, Raz avoided them and worked his way well down the wall, right into the middle of the main gates and the first guard tower where the watch was weakest. The wall loomed up well above his head, a little over twice his height. "Can you climb?" he asked Ailill.
"I can manage," Ailill said, smirking.
Raz shrugged and left him to it, eyeing what he could of the wall in the torchlight, surprised at how well he could actually see—but the same thing had happened in the forest, and probably all along, and he really preferred not to think about it. Stepping closer to the wall, he got his handholds and began to climb.
At the top of the wall, he sat on the ledge—and nearly yelped and fell off the wall when there was suddenly a gigantic white cat beside him. It licked one paw, seemed to wink at him, and then jumped smoothly down to the grass on the other side of the wall.
Raz rolled his eyes and jumped down himself, rolling as he hit the ground and rising smoothly to his feet. He wiped grass and dirt from his clothes, staring in fascination as Ailill shifted back to his normal form in a misty shimmer of light. "That's amazing."
Ailill smiled. "I do admit that I don't know what I'd do with myself if I could not shift. It seems very boring to me only having one shape."
"I'm sure only the faerie children are able to whine about it. I can't miss what I've never had," Raz replied. "Come on, we need to go before the watch comes by. Most of them don't care about anyone on this side of the wall, but some do. After what I did to the harbor, they'll probably all care." Ailill nodded and fell into step alongside him, moving quickly through the dark up the slight hill to the royal palace.
When they were close to it, he stopped moving toward it and began to circle around it, creeping along the edge of the hill upon which it rested until they came to a section of wall that jutted out of the back.
"I suppose all these gates I keep seeing are a bad idea for a not so obvious reason?" Ailill asked softly when they paused.
Raz nodded. "If you got close enough, you could probably feel the magic that keeps them shut. Only certain people can open them."
"Does not surprise me."
Turning to look at him, Raz said, "You're a duke or something, aren't you? Haven't you been to the royal palace?"
Ailill laughed. "No, not me. I have met many of the nobles of Pozhar since Pozhar and Kundou are the only nations whose citizens travel frequently, but by the time I was travelling to other countries myself it was to fulfill the duty placed upon me. I have found it is easier not to be nobility when stealing back rare artifacts."
Raz conceded that point with a slight nod. "This way, then. Pechal—uh. He said he watched the palace for days and spoke to various maids, footmen, other service people. They know the palace better than anyone else; even the Tsar and the Princess do not know the palace as well."
"That does not surprise me, really," Ailill said. "I imagine our way in is that section of wall there."
Nodding again, Raz said, "That's the execution yard, and it extends out from the prison cells in the palace basement. Well, part of the basement. The rest is the wine cellars and all of that. Are you going to shift again?"
"Probably," Ailill said. "I am nowhere near as nimble as you at climbing those walls. I am a much better climber in my cat form. Hopefully it will not draw attention we would otherwise avoid."
"No one comes to this section of the palace unless they have no choice," Raz replied. "Even the prison guards want nothing to do with the execution yard. Come on, then." He ran up to the wall and threw himself up it as high as he could, grabbing handholds and pulling himself up further, quickly scrabbling for footholds. When he reached the top, Ailill was already on the other side.
Raz made a face as he landed, though he knew Ailill probably could not see it in the dark. "You're something of a show off, your grace."
"You might be correct. What next?"
"Look out for guards."
Ailill chuckled and walked across the yard toward a flickering torch that proved to be at the top of a set of dubious looking stairs. The door at the bottom, Raz could just see, was slightly propped open. The smell of cigarette smoke explained why. Raz shook his head, amused and horrified, but mostly just glad the guards were making the job so scorching easy.
He let Ailill remain in the lead since he had no better idea where they were going and, as much as hated to say it, Ailill was probably better in a fight. Raz's preferred method of handling confrontation was to avoid it at all costs.
Trouble came almost immediately in the form of three guards clearly headed out to sneak a few cigarettes. Ailill was moving before Raz had even completely registered them, knocking out the first, lunging for the second, and Raz bolted after the third.
They hauled the unconscious guards into an empty cell, and waited for others to come investigate the noise. When none came, they slowly ventured on.
It took them nearly an hour of searching and knocking another six guards out before they found the cluster of cells where Ivan and his team had been locked up. Raz frowned as he looked around the six cells. "Where are Shio and Shinju?" he asked as he approa
ched Ivan's cell, pulling out his leather lock pick case.
The bars were hot to the touch when he grasped one, and Raz swore loudly, jerking back. He frowned, flexed his fingers and examined them. "What was that?" he asked and gingerly touched the bar again, relieved to find it did not scorch him a second time.
"Lord Krasny put a spell on the cells, but it looks like you just broke it somehow. As to those sea-bitches, they are probably looking for you so they can hand you over the same way they gave up Pechal," Ivan said.
Raz dropped his lock pick and jerked his head up to look at Ivan. "What in the flames are you talking about?"
"It's true," Luka said, and Raz whipped around to face him, all thoughts of picking locks forgotten. "Gleb and Ferapont went ahead to scout. When they didn't return, Ivan went to find them and ordered us to keep heading toward the Heart. The moment he was out of sight, those sea-bitches attacked all of us. I was the only one not knocked out, but only barely. The High Priest put me out after they'd secured Pechal. I watched those sea-bitches ride off right before he did it. They're skulking somewhere, and they're going to throw you to the flames same as they did Pechal."
"That—they promised! I don't believe you!" Raz said. Ignoring them, trembling with anger because they were wrong, they had to be. Shio and Shinju wouldn't do that to him. He retrieved his picks and set to work on all the cells.
When all five men were free, he ignored their attempts to talk to him. Raz stormed off, trying to make his way back to the place where they'd come in—but instead only wound up at a different door. In no mood to figure out where he had gotten turned around, he opened it and went up the stairs.
He froze, consumed by panic, when he realized he was in the palace itself. Fire and ash, what was he supposed to do? Back the way he came—
"You there!"
Raz looked up, saw the palace guards who had spotted him, and bolted down the hallway. He dared not go back the way he'd come on the chance it led them to the others. Running frantically, grateful it seemed most of the palace was asleep, he turned down random hallways hoping that one would eventually lead to a promising escape route.
At the end of a particularly large hallway was a set of double doors that did, indeed, look promising. Yanking one of them open, he pulled it shut behind him and turned around—
He sank to his knees when he realized he was in the Cathedral of Sacred Fires. Raz barely noticed the tears that started falling down his cheeks as he took in the place where Pechal had died only a very short time ago.
Had he been scared? Crying? Had he wished Raz had been there for him? Raz wished he had been there, a last friendly face for Pechal to see before he died.
Of course, a real friend would have kept his promise not to let Pechal go to the Fire. Raz balled his hands into fists and beat his thighs until his hands and legs throbbed.
Slowly standing up, Raz listened for anyone coming down the hall after him. If they had raised a cry to have the palace searched, however, it had not made it this far.
His footsteps echoed on the polished wooden floor as he stepped out of the shadows of the doorway and into the central aisle. He gawked at the windows which were just as beautiful as he had always heard. The one nearest him showed a man bundled in winter clothing and smiling brightly, his hand resting on the head of an enormous wolf.
The window beside that was of a woman who must have been a princess, to judge by her ornate robes, standing in a garden looking equal parts happy and sad. She looked familiar, but Raz could not say why.
Next to that was a depiction of a little boy with dark hair fast asleep beneath an apple tree heavy with golden apples. Raz's breath caught as he recalled the petrified tree in the woods and what had seemed to be a memory of a tree that bore golden apples.
He shook his head, felt suddenly dizzy and stopped, placing one hand flat against the wall to steady himself. Turning, he leaned against the wall, wondering how in the fires he was going to get out of the mess he had put himself in.
The distant, muffled sound of voices made him jump, and Raz started running again, heading at full speed for the nearest door at the back of the cathedral. Throwing it open, he pulled it shut behind him again, and kept going until he tumbled into a room that froze him in his tracks.
He could feel ... something. But what?
The question was answered when a shadowy figure came through the door at the far end of the room, candlelight revealing the unforgettable face of High Priest Dym.
Gasping, Dym dropped his candle which went out as soon as it hit the rug. Raz stepped back, prepared to turn and run, but then soft words froze him all over again. "Don't go." They sounded so much like a sad plea that, despite everything, Raz could only stand helplessly as the High Priest strode toward him.
Stopping just a pace or so away, Dym knelt in front of him. "I apologize for the pain I know I have caused you this night, Eminence."
Fresh tears stung Raz's eyes, infuriating because he did not know why seeing this man caused him so much agony. "I do not understand why seeing you hurts so much. Why does it?"
Flinching, Dym retrieved his fallen candle and rose. Raz did not see how he lighted it, save with a flick of his fingers. But of course, the High Priest could use magic better than anyone else in the country. He set the candle on a nearby table, and then returned to where he had been before just a couple of paces away from Raz. "I am sorry," he said again in that soft, sad voice.
"I still do not understand why looking at you hurts," Raz said. "Why does it?"
"Because you hate me, I would imagine," Dym said.
Raz shook his head and stared into the pale gray eyes focused so intently on him, gut twisting at the sadness that seemed to fill them. No one should look that sad—that despairing. "I want to hate you, I'm trying to hate you, I should hate you. Just a few hours ago you sacrificed my best friend. He was my only friend, really. But I don't feel hate when I look at you, just some pain I can't name."
Dym lowered his head, and Raz just barely caught the way his hands trembled before he clasped them together. "You may not feel the hate because you cannot remember it. But you have every reason to hate me, Eminence. I had a duty and I failed it. Like everyone else, I let you down. I was the one who should have held strong when all else failed, and I did not."
"You're ... " Raz. "Who are you? Why do you keep calling me that?"
"You are the final piece of Holy Zhar Ptitsa, his Eminence," Dym said. "You, more than any of the other pieces, are closest to a true reincarnation. I am only your priest, nothing more."
Raz wasn't so blind he missed the longing beneath the pain in those words. He didn't understand why it was there, but he recognized it. "I think you're a lot more than a priest—the way you speak, the things you speak of."
Dym spread his hands, "I truly am only your priest. I have never been anything else." He drew his hands together again and clasped loosely in front of him.
"I don't believe you," Raz whispered and stepped closer, covering the clasped hands with one of his own, reaching up with his free hand to lightly touch Dym's cheek. "Looking at you hurts too much for you to be only a priest. Whenever I hear your name, it aches, and I can't think of you without feeling like I lost something. But it was never that way before I saw you in the Ashes."
"Memories stay buried until something important triggers them, and most often that trigger is visual. You had no reason to recall me until you saw me."
Raz stared into Dym's eyes, fascinated by the way they were the exact color of smoke or ashes. "I should hate you, High Priest, so why don't I?"
"You do," Dym replied, and they were so close now that Raz could smell the sweet wine on his breath, the hint of cinnamon. "You just don't remember why yet."
"I think I'd remember hate," Raz said. "All I remember is hurt."
Dym's face twisted with pain, and Raz could not bear it. Dym's pain was somehow worse than his own, and he wanted nothing more in that moment than to banish it. Surrendering to an impu
lse he did not understand, Raz closed the last breath of space between them and kissed Dym softly. Beneath his hand, Dym's shook and tightened on each other. He could feel Dym's entire body shake, and the soft noise he made, as if he were trying not to cry, just broke Raz's heart further.
He kissed more firmly, tasting the wine and cinnamon on Dym's lips, in his mouth. Raz let go of Dym's hands and curled his fingers around Dym's arms as fingers danced lightly, hesitantly along his side—
The sound of shouting in the corridor made him jerk back and reminded him that he was in danger.
Dym stared at him, wide-eyed, lips wet. "You—go. Through that door, and then all the way to the back. There's a secret door in the back left corner; it'll lead to the garden. From there you can climb the wall."
Raz stared at him. "Why—"
"Just go!" Dym snarled, grabbing his arm and all but throwing him toward the indicated door. "Run!"
Raz obeyed, heart thudding in his chest so hard he swore he could hear it in his ear. He ran through the door, through a bedroom, a room full of clothes, and nearly ran into the enormous bathing pool at the end of it all.
He fell back on his ass trying to prevent it, but scrambled quickly to his feet and made for the back left corner. It took him only a moment to find the carving that marked the door. He pressed it, and the door gaped slightly open. Pulling it open wider, Raz slipped through, and pulled it shut behind him.
Turning around, he ran up the stairs and shoved open the trap door at the top, pulling himself up into what was obviously a garden. He looked up and realized he was right beneath an apple tree that was inexplicably in full bloom.
Not lingering to puzzle over it, he used a stone bench to launch himself at the wall, climbed the rest of way, dropped to the ground on the other side, and ran as quickly as he could back to the city.
