Empire of Shadows

by Miriam Forster

  “Oh yeah, the goats.” Stefan’s mouth curled up, but there was a sheen to his eyes. “Makes unwashed mercenaries smell like wildflowers. You ever wonder why it’s only the male goats that smell horrid?”

  “Meri says it’s to attract the females, but I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to smell like that for any female.”

  The smile left Stefan’s face. “Yeah, well. Not all of us have our mates handed to us,” he said, turning to pick up the scroll.

  “What?” Emil put a hand on his arm. “Hold on, Stefan.”

  Stefan tried to jerk away, but this time Emil wasn’t letting go. “Why are you so angry with me? It’s not just the leader thing, is it?”

  “Nothing,” Stefan said. His eyebrows were drawn down, and he wouldn’t meet Emil’s eyes. “I hope you and Kizzy will be very happy together.”

  Emil dropped Stefan’s sleeve and stepped back. “Kizzy? What are you— Ohhhhh.” He resisted the urge to rub his forehead, as a lot of things snapped into place. “You heard us talking. In Father’s caravan.”

  “Maybe,” Stefan said. “Maybe I did.” His voice grew hot. “You don’t deserve her.”

  “And you do,” Emil said, finally understanding.

  A dark flush spread over Stefan’s face. Emil couldn’t repress a grin. “Oh, Steffy.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Stefan,” Emil said, and his brother turned to look at him. “I’m interested in someone else. And even if I wasn’t, I’ve already told Father that I wouldn’t marry Kizzy Yanora.”

  Stefan stared at him. “Really,” he said, his eyes narrow. “You told him that.”

  “I think you missed that part of the conversation,” Emil said gently. “And you also missed that part where I told him I didn’t want to be leader. That I don’t have the heart for it.”

  Stefan was looking at Emil as if he’d suddenly declared his intention to walk on the ceiling. “But . . . you’ve always wanted to be leader.”

  “No, Father wanted me to be leader. I want to apprentice to Uncle Pali and trade.”

  Stefan swallowed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t think you’d believe me,” Emil asked. “I had a hard time believing it myself. But it’s true.” He stepped closer, willing his brother to hear what he was saying. “Stefan, I don’t want to be leader. I don’t want to marry Kizzy Yanora. And I don’t want to lose you.”

  His twin just stared at him.

  “Stefan, I need your brother to come with me for a while.” Emil’s head snapped around at the sound of Rajo’s voice.

  “Why?” Stefan gave Rajo a suspicious look. “You’re not going to—”

  “Calm down, youngster,” Rajo said, the corners of his eyes crinkling. The smile transformed his face. It radiated warmth, and suddenly Emil understood why these men might follow Rajo the Black into battle. Because when he smiled at you, you felt like you were important.

  “I’m not going to hurt your brother,” he continued. “In fact, I need his help.”

  “Oh.” Stefan’s shoulders relaxed. “Well, good.” He picked up the scroll and shuffled his feet. “I guess I should go get some dinner then.”

  Emil put out a hand. “Will I see you later?”

  Stefan looked at him, and for the first time in a long time, there was no bitterness in his smile. “Yeah,” he said. “You will.”

  Rajo patted Stefan on the shoulder as he walked past, then turned to Emil.

  “I’ve got a job for you.”

  EMIL FOLLOWED RAJO down a stone corridor to a small room full of supplies. Lifting up a chest, Rajo pulled out two coils of flax rope. The rope was stiff and dark, as if it had been soaked in something.

  “This is fire rope,” Rajo said. He wrapped the rope in some waterproofed skins and handed it to Emil. “Grab one of those packs, too.”

  Emil complied, slipping the rope inside, along with several pieces of iron and flint rocks that Rajo handed him.

  “Keep those with you at all times,” Rajo said. “You’re in charge of them now.”

  “But what are they for?” Emil asked.

  Rajo smiled. “You’ll see.”

  “Rajo.” One of the mercenaries poked his head into the supply room. “Have you seen the Imperial Guard parchment? Yatra wants to use it to run a couple of drills for her squad.”

  “I haven’t seen it,” Rajo said. “Not since we were meeting in the tar’Vey house.” He paused, glancing at Emil. “We did leave in a hurry that night, thanks to all the disturbance. If you left it behind . . .”

  “We’ll find it,” the man said hurriedly. “We’ll go look for it now.”

  “See that you do,” Rajo said, and smiled. This smile wasn’t the warm, charismatic smile of earlier; it was full of teeth and threat. “If it falls into the wrong hands . . .”

  “Going now,” the man said. “I’m going right now.” He ran off.

  Emil raised his eyebrows. “You have an . . . interesting leadership style,” he said.

  Rajo grinned. “People don’t become mercenaries because they like following rules, Emil. A little fear keeps things running smoothly.” He took a work permit out of his pocket. “Now come with me. We’ve got a job to do.”

  Emil followed Rajo out of the crypt. The big man walked with purpose, his work permit in one hand and a sack slung over his back. The sack smelled strongly of wood and lamp oil and sloshed when he walked. Just as with Karoti, the guard merely glanced at his work permit, then waved him into the Jade Circle.

  “What does that thing say?” Emil said, unable to hold his curiosity in anymore. He carried the pack Rajo had given him, along with a small bag full of stiff brushes and some dirty cloths.

  “Says we’ve been hired to repair and repitch some of the bridges of the Inner City,” Rajo said. “The permit covers our work on both the bridge to the Imperial Palace and the Jade Bridge, the one that links the Bamboo and Jade Circles. A small group of my men has been working on the Imperial Bridge for the last couple of days. It gives us a good excuse to watch the guards.”

  “That’s it?” Emil said. “We’re just going to the Jade Bridge?”

  “First I need to show you something,” Rajo said. He led Emil away from the main streets and to where the edge of the Jade Circle dipped into the canal that separated it from the Bamboo Circle. There was a low wall here, just the right height for a man to rest his arms on. Rajo followed the wall until he came to a small gate.

  “The healing novices use this door to get down to the canal,” he whispered when Emil caught up to him. He indicated a narrow set of stone steps below them. “There’s a small landing at the bottom where they can dump some of their more pungent potions and rinse out the bottles.”

  “All right,” Emil said, waiting for Rajo to explain the importance of the gate. But he didn’t.

  “Come on,” he said instead. “Look busy, but stick to side streets. The less attention we draw, the better.”

  Emil followed Rajo to the wooden Jade Bridge, where Rajo showed the permit to the soldiers.

  “Are you going to be done with this job anytime soon?” one of the soldiers asked. “The smell of that thrice-cursed pitch is giving me a headache.”

  “Very soon,” Rajo said, ducking his head. “We have to let each coat dry before the next can be applied.”

  The soldier grumbled, but waved them along. Emil followed Rajo down another set of cut stone stairs and under the bridge. In the shadows, the stone was cold under his sandals. The edge of the canal was soft clay, and the water gurgled as it flowed past.

  Rajo set down the pack and opened it. The smell came out in waves, and Emil felt a flash of sympathy for the soldiers. It did smell awful.

  “What is this?”

  “Dammar pitch mixed with lamp oil,” Rajo said. “We’ve been painting the bridge with it.”

  “Why?” Emil asked.

  Rajo pointed up. “See those iron hooks set in the bottom of the bridge? We put those there. That fire rope i
n your pack is soaked in a special mix of ashes and niter rock.” He looked at Emil. “When I give you the signal, I want you to grab your brother and take some swords from the weapons room. Then leave by that gate I just showed you and swim to this bridge. Tie the ropes to the hooks, wrap them around the near legs of the bridge, and light them.” He grinned. “The wood is so caked in pitch that it’ll go up like a torch.”

  “You’re going to burn the Jade Bridge?” Emil said. “Why?”

  Rajo took the package of brushes from Emil and unwrapped it. “Karoti told you about the riot, right?” Emil nodded, and Rajo continued.

  “Once the riot starts, the guards from the Flower Circle will be summoned to help control the crowd. As soon as they cross the Jade Bridge, you and Stefan light the fuse. That way we only have to worry about the Imperial Guard when we attack the palace.”

  “But I’m not an expert in arson,” Emil said. “I wouldn’t know what to do if something went wrong.”

  “Nothing’s going to go wrong,” Rajo said. He folded his arms. “You and I both know if your brother goes into this fight with an injured wrist, he’s going to get killed. If he’s here with you, he’s not fighting. This is your chance to keep him out of it.”

  “He won’t go,” Emil said. “He’s in charge of the retreat and the wounded, isn’t he?”

  “You leave Stefan to me,” Rajo said. “He’s been drilling the section leaders on this. Everyone knows what to do. And he’ll follow orders.”

  “All right,” Emil said. “Then I’ll do it.” He’d do worse to keep Stefan away from the fighting.

  “Good,” Rajo said. “Start painting.”

  Emil dipped his brush into the pitch mixture. The thick smell choked him, but he carefully applied the pitch to the nearest bridge leg.

  Maybe he could convince Stefan to escape the city in all the commotion. If they swam the canal and found a way up into the far side of the Bamboo Circle, they might make it out alive.

  If only there was a way Mara could come with them.

  The thought made Emil’s stomach tighten. Even if he and Stefan got out, Mara would still be in the palace, right in the way of the fighting. And she wouldn’t leave Revathi if there was danger. Even unpledged, Mara took her duties seriously. It was one of the things he loved about her.

  Emil’s hand stilled.

  Revathi was right.

  In the middle of everything, with the most horrible timing in the world, apparently he’d fallen in love.

  Oh for . . . Emil resisted the urge to bang his head against the wood. You really are in a bad story-song.

  “Hey, keep working!” Rajo called. He’d climbed up one of the legs using a series of metal spikes set deep in the wood. He was painting the bottom of the bridge with pitch. “No time to daydream.”

  Emil resumed painting. His hands and arms were getting sticky, and the fabric of his shirt was stiff with pitch. But he worked until Rajo climbed down from the leg and told him to stop.

  Then he walked back to the crypt, his nose full of the smell of pitch and his thoughts spinning.

  There was a message waiting for Rajo when they returned, a slip of parchment with a wax seal. A loose collection of mercenaries gathered around as Rajo broke the seal. He read the message, cursing under his breath.

  Stefan came up behind Emil. “What’s going on?” he asked. His nose wrinkled. “And what on earth have you been rolling in?”

  Emil punched him lightly on his good shoulder. “I still smell better than you do,” he teased.

  Stefan smiled.

  Rajo looked up, his eyes finding the man he’d spoken to earlier. “Did you find the Imperial Guard list?” he said.

  The man paled. “We went back and checked,” he said. “Searched all around the room. Still not there.”

  Rajo looked at the parchment in his hand. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “We’re going back tonight anyway. Gather the men.”

  The men dispersed, and Rajo glanced over at Emil.

  “Go wash that muck off and get a new tunic,” he said. “It looks like you boys are going to meet our employers.”

  JUST AFTER DARKFALL, Mara found out what Revathi’s plan was.

  “What are we doing again?” Mara whispered, as she and Revathi crouched in a small alley on the inside edge of the Flower Circle.

  “Waiting for the guard to pass,” Revathi said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She was wearing a dark-colored asar, wrapped so that her legs were free, and her hair was braided and wound in a crown around her head. She’d given Mara a dark cotton tunic and trousers to wear as well.

  Revathi peered around the corner, then ducked back.

  “Here he comes.”

  Sure enough, a patrolling soldier passed, the wooden haft of his spear tapping at his side. Mara could barely hear Revathi’s soft, shallow breaths beside her.

  “Come on,” Revathi whispered after the guard was gone. “This way.”

  She slipped out of the alley, staying away from the light cast by a nearby hanging lamp. Mara followed.

  Everything smelled green and sweet as they moved through the Flower Circle. Voices drifted on the fragrant air, along with the flap and flutter of swooping bats. Mara kept one hand on her dagger hilt, trying to stay alert.

  When Revathi had proposed sneaking into the Flower Circle after dark to meet Esmer, Mara had agreed, but privately she was worried. Noble girls weren’t supposed to be out after dark by themselves, and even with Mara with her, Revathi would have a lot to explain if they got caught. And it was going to be hard not to get caught.

  But now, following Revathi, Mara realized she’s been concerned for nothing. Revathi moved as if she were made of smoke, her feet as silent as Mara’s on the flat paving stones. She slipped through the darkness as if she’d grown up in its embrace. As if it was home.

  Mara and Revathi crept between houses, keeping to the shelter of the high walls. Whenever they heard footsteps, they had to press up against the nearest wall, hoping the shadows would hide them.

  Sometimes the footsteps belonged to a soldier, doing his rounds. Sometimes it was a group of nobles on their way to one party or another. Mara preferred the nobles; they held lanterns that swung wildly, and they chattered among themselves. None of them even looked in Revathi and Mara’s direction.

  Revathi finally stopped. “I think this is the house,” she whispered. “Can you call Esmer to make sure?”

  Mara reached out with her mind, finding the familiar bright presence on the other side of the wall.

  Esmer, we’re here.

  Oh, thank the Long-Tailed Cat, Esmer sent. I’ve found something. And I think the mercenaries might be back soon.

  Mara opened her eyes. “We need to hurry,” she said. She started scanning the wall, looking for footholds. “Can you climb?”

  “Probably,” Revathi said. “But I don’t have to.” She reached into her asar and pulled out a large iron key.

  “Where did you get that?”

  Even in the shadows, Mara could tell Revathi was smiling. “Remember the keys Grandmother took off that guard? Well, the Imperial Guard keeps a copy of the key to every noble house. The keys are kept in a lockbox in the armory.”

  “And one of the keys your grandmother stole unlocked that box,” Mara said. “She just gave it to you?”

  Revathi coughed. “I might have picked it up when we were in her room earlier. I did have a backup plan, but keys are easier.” She felt her way to the kitchen door and slipped the iron key in. It jammed, and Revathi cursed under her breath.

  “Lock is stuck.” She handed the key to Mara and reached into her asar again. “Looks like we need the backup plan after all.” This time she pulled out a small pouch and several narrow pieces of metal. The smell of lamp oil filled the air.

  Revathi oiled the lock and started probing it with the metal picks. After a few moments of jiggling, she pulled them out again and took the key back. This time it turned smoothly and noiselessly.
Revathi applied some oil to the hinges and pushed the now-silent door open.

  “What was that?” Mara asked as they slipped inside the dark house.

  “Something my brother taught me,” Revathi said. “Lamp oil and lock picks. I’ve got a whole set of my own. He used them to break into his tutor’s office and make sure he was getting high marks. I used them back when I was sneaking out all the time.”

  Mara shook her head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Revathi, but your family is terrifying.”

  “I told you,” Revathi said.

  There was a rustling noise. A small flame appeared, lighting up a doorway and Esmer’s worried face.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “Come into the courtyard. You’ve got to see this.”

  This was a roll of parchment covered with narrow columns of cramped writing. Esmer had it spread out on a table. Revathi peered at it while Esmer held up the small clay oil lamp she was using for light.

  “I found it on the floor while I was sniffing around,” Esmer said. “It had fallen behind a large chest in the inside dining room.”

  Revathi ran her fingers over the parchment. “You think the mercenaries left this?”

  “I know they did,” Esmer replied. “Because they came back for it.”

  Mara’s head jerked up. Esmer nodded. “I heard footsteps and so I ran into one of the bedrooms, jammed this under the mattress, and changed into cat form. I was out of sight when they came in, but I could hear them. They were grumbling about things getting left behind, and they searched right around the area where I’d found the parchment. Said Rajo would be angry if they didn’t find it.”

  “I can understand why,” Revathi said. Her voice was tight. “This is a summary of the Imperial Guard rotations. When the guards change, the patrol routes that they take through the palace, even the position of the night-lamps. Plus, there’s a list of who serves on which shifts, along with notes on experience and fighting styles. All the information you would need if you wanted to attack the palace.”

  “The mercenaries are going to attack the palace?” Mara said. “Why?”