I stood, uncertain, in the shadow of a building, my gloved hands gripping the sack. I could have one sip and put the stopper back in the bottle. A sip would be enough to calm me after all I’d been through in the Undergrunnsby.
But I couldn’t allow it. One sip might well lead to another, and another, and before long I would be drunk again. I would never do what I set out to do tonight if I let that happen. Besides, being nervous meant staying vigilant. If I numbed myself again, wasn’t I more likely to make a mistake and get caught?
I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself by regulating my breathing, but an image of the man I’d cut bloomed in my mind’s eye. The dagger opened the skin of his cheek from temple to bristly jaw. I saw the blood covering his fingers. My eyes flew open. It couldn’t be helped. I had to defend myself. I would be returning to the palace through the sewers when I was done tonight, and I might have to cut someone else, if they attacked me. I just had to harden myself.
Smoothing the silk of my mask, I started down the street, looking for the portico to a spoke of the Torc. I had to walk over a half an hour before I found one. If I ever decided to do this or something similar again, it would behoove me to find a map of the city somewhere.
I waited in the shadows near the portico. There was an Officer, and while he might not care if a jarldis walked by to go to the Perle, he’d remember her. And if he saw Raud Gríma, it would certainly make an impression. Still, he was alone. He was bound to have to relieve himself sooner or later.
Sure enough, only ten minutes passed and he exited his booth, heading back behind it. I bolted, moving as quietly as I could, grateful for the soft soles of the leather boots. With every stride I took into the spoke I expected to hear him call out behind me, but I made it by without him noticing.
After I reached the Torc, it was just a matter of finding the customs house. I did so in less than twenty minutes. It looked just as it did in the photograph I’d seen in the architecture book that morning—except, of course, that that photo lacked color. I stood in the darkness beside the building and scanned the street. Across from the customs house stood a large warehouse. All of the other buildings were closed storefronts.
Reister’s warehouse. Where he’d hidden gods-knew-what in “plain sight.” Its walls were made of old brick, the mortar crumbling in places. I stood on a bit of rubble and peered into the window, but the pane was so grubby I could see nothing. I’m sure Reister liked it that way. I looked around. This part of the Torc housed mainly storefronts, and they were all closed. The other end of it had all the nightlife. Another choice of Reister’s no doubt. The result worked in my favor, however. No Officers patrolled this street.
Hefting a large chunk of the rubble I threw it at the window. The glass shattered and despite my assessment that the street was empty I cringed at how loud it sounded. After a moment to be sure no one would suddenly appear, shouting and calling for an Officer, I knocked the rest of the glass out and with my leather-gloved hands, yanked out the bars of the frame. I hoisted myself up and through, and soon landed on the greasy wooden floor of the warehouse.
Barrels. Barrels stacked high against every wall, and almost as high in the center. From everywhere I smelled the overwhelming scent of wine.
Reister was storing contraband wine. He must be supplying the Perle and many of the other night spots I’d visited with Liut. And charging a fortune, no doubt. What had he said? “Ten times the profit”? Well. Not anymore.
The stacks were organized so an aisle ran around the central ones. I jogged to the other side of the warehouse from the window I’d broken. I took out a brandy bottle and unstopped it, stuffed a strip of sheet into it, and produced Liut’s golden lighter. My secret glee over acquiring it had made me blush—but now, it would be put to good use.
I lit the fabric and threw the bottle into the far corner of the room. The distilled alcohol exploded against the wall and floor, flames bursting everywhere.
Running, I repeated the process as quickly as I could in the next corner, and then threw another bottle in the center. The barrels didn’t catch, but the oily wooden panels of the floor did, as did the beams above.
The fire spread over the floor so fast I almost didn’t make it back to the window before my way was blocked. I climbed out and lit four more bottles, chucking each through the window into the warehouse. By now I felt the heat of the inferno, and every window was lit with orange flame.
I heard strange noises and hopped up on the rubble to look inside. It felt like my mask would soon catch if I stayed too long peering in, but I had to see. The barrels burst one by one, the source of the strange noises. As the wine poured onto the floor, it turned to steam.
Fire licked every wall, every beam—it ravaged the floors. Time to leave.
I turned away, scanning the street. Still no one, but not for long. A thick plume of smoke billowed into the air, and it would soon be visible to all in the Torc.
I allowed myself one more minute to admire the blaze. It made my heart pound and a great sense of joy and vindication coursed through me. I did this. I destroyed Reister’s pet scheme. He thought he could trick me, use me, without concern for consequences. Well, here they were. I only wished he might know that I had done it, without any danger to myself. Nothing to be done about that—and now I must flee, or face his wrath and the punishment of the Officers of Tyr.
Part 3: Myadar’s Flight
As I ran through the Undergrunnsby, I came upon the shantytown again. I knew it for the same one where the little boy had been. Did he survive that night? If only I knew which hut was his. I would have left him what remained of my food.
I wished I could do more. I wished I could somehow feed everyone in this sad place. But it was no use wishing for such things. I had accomplished what I set out to do—Reister might never conceive that it was me who destroyed his warehouse, but I’d made him pay for what he did to me anyway. It didn’t feel like enough, but it would have to suffice. Now, I had to find Bersi.
Between my illness and my plan, I had had no time to seek out directions to Froddis Illugi’s school. And I had to be careful. I still had no money to effect an escape. If I sought the school out before I was ready, Reister might find some way to stop me. Better to have a plan in place and get Bersi out at the perfect time.
As I jogged I tried to puzzle out what could be done. Perhaps my mistake was in thinking I could buy my way out of the capital in the first place. I didn’t know who to trust. Giving Liut my jewels had resulted in my losing them forever, with nothing to show for it—how could I prevent such a thing from occurring again? Instead of money, perhaps I needed to steal the transportation I’d thought to hire. I could drive our old car back in Söllund. If I appropriated some car from a courtier, I could drive it to the school, collect Bersi, and escape to the Torc. Then there was the matter of passage on a boat.
I passed the intersection with the wide tunnel leading to the outside. I cast a glance at what I could see of the night darkened city. Almost there.
Stealing a car wouldn’t do. By the time I reached the Torc news of the theft was sure to have spread. I would be stopped. If I was very unlucky Reister would have already learned of my taking Bersi out of the school, as well. What I needed was a car and access to a boat without going to the Torc. But the only boats that avoided the Torc belonged to the royals or at least the most favored of courtiers. I couldn’t steal one of their boats—they would pursue me much more forcefully and the penalty for such a theft was bound to be higher.
By the time I reached the staircase I’d used to first enter the Undergrunnsby, I still had no suitable plan. The best I could come up with was somehow making it to the Torc without being detained and stealing a fishing boat. I didn’t know how I would manage either of those acts.
How could I wait, now that I had my wits about me? How could I let Bersi suffer one more day? But I would have to, if I didn’t want to be parted from him again. The reality agonized me, but I knew I must have a better
plan.
I changed back into my dress in the same alley as before and made my way to the palace. On the way there, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I stopped short and slid into the shadows. A small group of darkly clad people slipped by. They moved as quietly as I. Who were they? Not courtiers, that was for certain. Not robots, or members of the poor who still lived above ground. These people moved with stealth and cunning. Spies? Where from? Some province?
They soon disappeared from view and I waited a few more minutes before continuing on my way to the palace. I puzzled over what I’d seen, but in the end, the spies or whoever they were did not concern me. I needed to find Bersi, and that was all that mattered.
Should I wait to get directions to the school, as well? I couldn’t bear the thought. If I could at least go and look on it, I would know where Bersi was and gain some idea of the nature of the place where they held him. In fact, I needed to reconnoiter it, didn’t I? How else would I plan for his rescue?
Dawn was moments away when I hurried through the robot’s corridors back to the Sölbói apartments. I might have stopped one of the robots right then, had I encountered one, but none walked the corridors at that hour. It would have to wait. Exhaustion from my mission weighed down my arms and legs. Best to sleep as much as I could, and pursue my plans when I was rested.
I let myself into the apartments as quietly as possible, bracing myself to encounter Reister or Mother Tora, waiting. No one was there, however. Had they heard about the fire? It was more than possible. Perhaps we had crossed paths—me below the street and they up above. I closed the door to my bedroom and hid the disguise and sack in the trunk. I would have to find a better place for them, in case someone did see me in the Torc and the disguise became a target of the arson investigation. I wished I had a panel like Reister’s. I didn’t dare replace the disguise there. I imagined that if someone found it, it might lead to the delightful possibility of Reister being accused of the arson of his own warehouse. Nevertheless, I knew I might need the costume again, for my rescue of Bersi. I mustn’t let it be found.
Locating a better hiding place would have to go on my list of things I needed to do but had no idea how to approach safely. Where in the palace could I hide anything? What corner belonged to me?
I lay down in my bed and let myself relax, my limbs and mind exhausted from the events of the night. I fell asleep remembering the flames covering the walls and rafters of the warehouse.
~~~
Sveinn woke me at two bearing a tray with a note. I opened it.
“Haven’t seen you—are you alright? Meet me, #232, I’ll be waiting,” it read.
Liut. Well, I would have to face him sooner rather than later. He was already concerned, and if I delayed he would know something had gone wrong. The old besotted Myadar would never have gone almost three days without seeing him.
Sveinn waited for a response.
“I’ve no reply to send,” I told him. He started to leave. “Sveinn?”
“Yes, Jarldis.”
“What news today? I feel I’ve missed out on everything, due to my illness. Has anything of interest occurred?”
“No indeed, Jarldis, nothing that I have heard.”
How odd—but then, the warehouse had been a secret of Reister’s, after all. He would be wise not to broadcast that its burning mattered to him. “And is Jarl Sölbói at home?” I asked.
“No, Jarldis, he is not. He went out early this morning and has not returned.”
“I see,” I said. I considered trying to ascertain when he’d left and why, but I didn’t want Sveinn to report to Mother Tora that I’d shown an unusual interest in my husband’s whereabouts. “And Jarldis Sölbói?”
“She went on an outing with Jarldis Fastulf and Jarldis Ofridr about an hour ago. She will be home for tea.”
“Thank you, Sveinn, that will be all.”
Had Reister gone out before I returned home, as I suspected? Dawn came at six. “Early” might well mean before that time. I wished I could have glimpsed his face when he saw the ruins of his illegal smuggling. How I would have cherished the rage and frustration in his eyes.
All I could do now was imagine it, and doing so made me smile. Well, best to dress and see about Liut as soon as possible. I would make some excuse to keep the visit brief.
My stomach twisted with hunger as I clad myself in a rose dress with brown heels and a headband adorned with a modest spray of brown and white feathers. Would Sveinn report my larger appetite to Mother Tora? These last weeks I’d eaten little, preferring to drink instead. Now, not only would I have to find ways to pretend to drink as much as before, but how would I manage to eat enough without giving myself away?
I ordered soup and a slice of chicken pie from Sveinn who went to the kitchen and prepared it. I sipped tea and ate buttered bread as I considered the problem. The best approach, I decided, was to try to eat when no one was there to see me—probably the best time was at night, when I could go to the kitchen without Sveinn’s presence there. I must take care not to reveal my appetite in front of Mother Tora and Reister. It was equally risky to do so at a dinner. With some luck, this charade would only have to last a few days. I would determine a way to escape with Bersi and finally be done with these people.
When I finished with lunch I would have to go directly to room 232. I would tell Liut that I feared Reister might return at any moment and find me gone—a real enough risk—so I could not stay. I would have to endure his embrace and pretend I still worshipped him as before. How odious—but he must not suspect anything was wrong.
Eating quickly, I considered the pile of invitations Sveinn brought for my inspection.
Cards from the Hólmdórrs, the Eythiófers, the Asleifers, and the Øringers. Well, it seemed my faux-pas with the konunger hadn’t hurt me so very badly after all, if I still had so many to choose from. Liut would want to go to the Øringers, no doubt. As much as I would have liked to, I couldn’t decline it to avoid him.
“Sveinn, decline these,” I told him when he returned with my tray, handing him the others. “And inform the Øringers that I will attend.”
“Very well, Jarldis.”
Despite my reluctance to meet Liut, I felt a pressing urgency to finish lunch and hurry out. I did not want Reister to return home before I left, and I also didn’t want Liut to give up and depart. It really was best to see him now and allay any fears he harbored.
I made my way swiftly through the corridors of the palace to room 232. Once there I knocked lightly on the door, using our signal knock to let Liut know it was me. The door swung open wide and Liut stood there, his arms outstretched dramatically. I wanted to strike him. Claw his face. Denounce him as a deceiver.
I fell into his arms, breathing deeply to force my body to relax. I inhaled his cologne—the aroma filled me with memories and I felt tears well under my lids. Then he kissed me, and I allowed myself to forget for a moment that he was a hateful fraud.
When he released me at last I was considerably less steady on my feet. I leaned against a little side table that stood against the wall next to a settee.
“Myadar, my dearest, it’s been days!” he exclaimed. “I thought something had happened to you. I thought Reister found out about us.”
I peered at him from under my lashes as my heart pounded and the blood rose in my ears. The liar. Reister already knew, and here he was, pretending concern. I swallowed the angry torrent of words that threatened to erupt from my throat. I shook my head, giving myself a moment to compose a response.
“Oh Liut,” I said in what I hoped would sound like my former enamored voice, “I couldn’t see you. I was ill. It was terrible. I think it was some mead I drank—the headache—and—well—more symptoms of an indelicate sort.” There. If he noticed I was drinking less, let him attribute it to a bad experience with some overly aged mead. Now, he must think I was still eager to go through with our plan. “The jewels—did you sell them?”
Liut gave me a tigh
t smile. “Not yet, my love. I will keep trying.”
“Oh,” I said, letting my eyes drop to the floor. Liut put two fingers under my chin and lifted my face to his.
“It won’t be long now, Myadar,” he said. I gazed into his golden eyes with their odd pupils—their strangeness, once a source of fascination for me, chilled me now. They looked evil.
“I don’t know how much longer I can bear it,” I said truthfully. “I have to find Bersi. Oh, Liut, I can’t even risk staying with you now—Reister has been gone all morning, and I fear what he’ll do if I’m not there when he returns.”
“Will you attend the Øringers’ party tonight?”
“Of course,” I said. I touched one of the ringlets on his forehead as I used to do. “I can’t wait. I do hope Reister doesn’t decide to come along.”
“I hope not as well.”
He drew me into a deep kiss again, and again, my body betrayed me. My limbs loosened and my heart raced again. No matter what I knew of his treachery, my body was still in love with him.
When he released me, I felt shaken. “Tonight, my love,” I said, squeezing his hand.
He pressed mine to his lips. As soon as he let go I fled.
~~~
I nearly let the tears out before I reached my room, but I held them in with the force of my will for the last few paces. Once safe, I threw myself on the bed and buried my face in the pillows, afraid to be heard. Sobs racked me, and I tried to breathe, to slow them down, but to no avail. I had to let them run their course.
Mercifully, neither Mother Tora nor Reister had yet returned. I lay weeping until the tears stopped, and I dozed for a time. When I woke, it was time to ready myself for the evening. I took a long bath, the better to ease my body’s aching from my heartbreak. I took extra care with my cosmetics and ensemble. My blue jacquard dress, a crystal beaded headdress, two strings of pearls, white satin gloves, some silver bangles, silk hose, white patent leather pumps, and a large gray feather boa completed it.
The City Darkens (Raud Grima Book 1) Page 17
