With her bow slung over her shoulder, she stomped through the door on the southern side of the enclosed courtyard, entering the guard barracks.
The guards were eating lunch, which Nadia usually ate with them, avoiding her father as much as possible. She could enjoy gourmet entrees at dinner, when her father forced her to eat in the grand dining chamber. To kill Warrick, she'd have to live with lower-quality food.
Today's fare consisted of beef sandwiches. Simple, but one of her favorites. She grabbed one and took a seat at Varek's table. The guards were digging into their food, chewing with open mouths, talking around mouthfuls of food. She wished they'd eat a little less like slobs, but they were men after all. At least Varek wasn't too bad.
"Thought you might miss lunch," he said between bites.
"No. Len made sure I'd get angry enough with him to stop shooting."
"He has a way of doing that. If you ask me, he's still got some growing up to do. Has the makings of a good guard, though."
"Talking about me behind my back?" Len said, taking a seat at their table, a sandwich in hand. He did eat like a slob—something else that bothered her about him. How could she like him while also finding him annoying? He wasn't even handsome like Ander.
She had to stop thinking like that. Romantic feelings would only get in the way.
"Nadia?"
"What?" she asked, startled.
"I wanted to talk about what you brought up last night," Varek said.
"Do you also think I'm only seeing what I want to see?"
"Actually, I don't. I've always been cautious about your dreams, but if this account you described is accurate, there is something important hidden in those ruins."
She kept her voice low. "Then you'd be willing to come with me?"
"I wouldn't go that far, but I'm open to the possibility. Maybe you could look up information on Woodsville instead of White Fire, find something that way." He cleared his throat. "Besides, I'm not the person you need to convince. If you're going to go into those ruins, you need someone who can use magic."
"So I need to convince Ander," she said. "If only he didn't seem so opposed to the idea."
"People can change their minds," Varek said. "Don't give up."
"Wait. Weren't you the one telling me to give up just yesterday?" She considered that a moment. "Well, if someone as stubborn as you can change their mind, maybe there is hope."
Varek laughed around a mouthful of food, getting some in his brown beard. "You saying I'm stubborn?"
Her face burned. "Yes, maybe a little."
"People have said worse."
After finishing lunch, Nadia went to the library to follow up on Varek's suggestion. On the way, her father stopped her. "Spending another day in the library?"
She bristled at his condescending tone. "Yes, Father."
"Well, you can't spend all day there. In case you've forgotten, we're to attend a gathering at Lord Franklin's manor this evening."
"Of course," she said. "I didn't forget."
She had forgotten, though. Compared to all her troubles, what did a silly gathering matter? Yes, it was at the home of Ander's father, who was also a member of the Order, but that didn't make it any more appealing. Most of the other nobles were staunch Warrick supporters. Warrick gave them their riches in exchange for support.
"Good," her father said, striding away. "I expect you to be ready by eight."
That gave her six hours. She entered the cavernous library, smelling the familiar and comforting scent of books. Even among the disorganized shelves, she knew where to find the books on Woodsville, most of which described the history she already knew.
Sifting through the books was tedious. After about three hours, she found a book where the author's name piqued her interest.
Cyrus Middleton. The leader of the Order throughout the Empire. He was immortal like Warrick, so he likely held extra insight on the cursed city. Suddenly eager, she flipped through the pages. Toward the end, she found a section on unconfirmed legends about the ruins in which Cyrus referenced the Imperial Guard account she'd found yesterday.
She fidgeted in her wooden chair. Cyrus believed the account spoke of White Fire. He was an ancient and respected warrior and scholar, so other people would surely believe him.
So it was that she felt in a great mood while she dressed for the gathering that evening. With her maidservant Avia's help, she forced herself into a pale blue, tight-fitting silk dress. She could barely breathe, but that was nothing unusual for a lady of high status.
And she had to admit she looked beautiful in the dress.
"Is your hair ever easy to tame?" Avia said, tugging a brush as gently as possible through the curls in Nadia's brown hair.
Nadia still winced from time to time. "I don't see why you even bother. It will be curly again before the gathering is over. Why couldn't I have gotten my mother's hair?"
"Curly hair is beautiful in its own way," Avia said.
"Why does my father insist that I go tonight? He's never made me go to one of these gatherings before. He must have some agenda."
"You are no longer a little girl. It's time for you to start living the life expected of a future high lady. To do that, you must attend gatherings like this."
"I don't want to be a high lady," Nadia said. Even as she spoke, she knew she sounded like a spoiled brat. But she had trouble voicing her true motivations. Avia would love her no matter what she said, but she would never support Nadia's mission.
Avia cared too much about Nadia.
"Whether you want it or not, it is your future." Avia set down the brush. "If I had to take a guess, I'd say your father's looking to find a suitor for you tonight.
"Tonight! I don't feel ready for marriage tonight." Nadia doubted she'd ever feel ready.
"Well, your father must think it's time."
Nadia's stomach twisted with panic. "I hope he chooses Lord Ander. I wouldn't mind being married to him. Most of the other lords are horrible people."
"Don't judge people so harshly, Nadia."
Nadia resented the recrimination in Avia's tone. "They support Warrick. That makes them horrible people."
"The world is not divided into good people and people who support Warrick. Nor is it divided into bad people and people who oppose Warrick. People are more complicated than that. You should give everyone a chance until they prove you wrong."
Unless they prove you wrong by killing you.
But Nadia didn't voice her disagreement, not with one of her few friends. "Maybe you're right. After all, there might be a lot of bad things about aging, but it does bring you wisdom."
"I'm glad to help in any way I can."
Chapter 8
After two days of hard travel, crossing small mountains, Markus and Rik arrived at Levine. They'd put Woodsville behind them, calling it a fun adventure—or at least Rik had.
A river flowed at the west side of Levine, separating the city from the dangerous Plain of Storms. The plain's fearsome storms usually lost strength when they hit the river, but some in Riverside, a city to the north, claimed to have seen tornadoes the last year or two.
In the early evening heat, Markus and Rik traveled to the docks at the river's edge, where people were busy at work, hauling boxes of cargo onto large boats.
Markus pointed at the boats. "That's quite something."
"I forget sometimes your uncle hasn't let you see much."
"Probably didn't want me to get any ideas."
Markus felt a bitter stab of hatred. His uncle had sheltered him his whole life, keeping him away from anything that might distract him from his future as an Imperial Guard. Only grudgingly had he allowed Markus to make visits to Crayden, and even then only to buy supplies or visit his friend Tomas, an apprentice blacksmith in town.
"Well, now you can see all you want," Rik said.
"For now. I still think we're going to die on the mountains."
"No point in giving up," Rik said. "We might as wel
l try." But there was a distinct note of worry beneath his confident front. That wasn't like Rik.
"I know," Markus said. "I just wish I could feel confident."
"We're not going to die on those mountains." Rik put a hand on Markus's shoulder. "Trust me."
Markus stifled a bitter laugh. Trust you? You nearly got us killed.
But he couldn't stay angry at Rik for long. Rik hadn't meant any harm. He'd simply misjudged the nature of Woodsville.
They passed young dockworkers in shabby work clothes that barely held together. The wooden buildings around them looked on the verge of collapse. How could Warrick claim to make a better society when so many people suffered in poverty? He surely had the ability to improve the Empire, but he only helped those who supported him.
Markus could never serve a man like that.
At last, Markus and Rik reached a portion of the docks where the boats were smaller and the platforms emptier. A few people milled about, their clothes cleaner and more fashionable, but not much. The truly wealthy stayed away from places like this.
The docks sat beside buildings in a poorer district of Levine. Every time they passed an alley, Markus glanced into the narrow space, expecting someone to jump them. According to Uncle Theo, Levine was infested with thieves, cutthroats, and other scum. Rough-looking men watched Markus and Rik pass but didn't accost them.
For once, Markus was glad of his large stature, which usually made him feel awkward.
"Nice place," Rik said.
"Let's just find a captain willing to take us downriver and get out of here."
Soon they entered a rundown inn at the edge of the docks. Oil lamps scattered about the walls gave the place a shadowy vibe. Most of the patrons looked as rough as the men skulking in the alleys. A few looked up as Markus and Rik passed, and their looks unnerved Markus.
The innkeeper, a man cleaner than most of his customers, was busy serving some people talking about their tough days as dockworkers. His assistant, a pretty young woman, attended to patrons at the other end of the bar.
"Excuse me," Rik said when the innkeeper had a free moment.
"What?"
"We're looking for a boat captain," Rik said, "someone who can take us downriver to Tate City. I was hoping you'd know someone heading that way."
Markus hung back, glancing around the dark inn. It felt as if everyone was watching them, sizing them up, looking perhaps for a quick gold coin or two. There was a whole lot of muttering, and it sounded like it might be about them.
The innkeeper frowned. "I know a few, if you've got money. But by the looks of it, you don't have much." He stared at them, as if examining them. "Things around here don't come cheap. What've you got that anyone would want?"
"A few silver coins, that's it," Rik said.
"That won't get you anywhere."
"It's just a ride downriver," Rik said. "We could work for our passage."
"It's not that simple, young man." The innkeeper stepped out from behind the bar and motioned for them to accompany him to an empty corridor. Markus and Rik exchanged nervous glances, but followed.
The man led them into an empty room, then closed the door softly. From his pocket, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper, which he handed to Markus.
The paper listed two young men wanted for questioning by Imperial Guards. The descriptions were a perfect match. Only one person could have given the authorities this information.
Markus clenched his fists. If he ever got his hands on Uncle Theo.
"So you think this describes us?" Markus asked.
"It's a bit too close for comfort, don't you think?"
"Just a bit." Markus handed the note to Rik, who read it.
"Yeah, pretty sure that describes us," Rik said. "Why'd you warn us, though? What does it matter to you?"
"Any enemy of Imperial Guards is a friend of mine."
"So you're part of the Order, then?" Markus asked.
The innkeeper nodded and took the note back. "Look, I don't know why you're in trouble, but I think I can help you. No honest captain is going to take you downriver with your descriptions all over town. Honest traders have enough trouble with Imperial Guards as it is."
Markus looked around the room that the glare of the setting sun had turned orange, and suddenly felt trapped. How had Uncle Theo known where they were going to go? Had Markus made it that obvious that he wanted to leave the Empire?
"So who will take us downriver?" Rik asked. "We're not going through the swamp."
"I know just the man. His name's Klint. He's a smuggler among many other things. Gets all around the Empire. He owns a boat at the docks here, and he's got a large shipment he's trying to get to the Order in Tate City. He needs some extra help with transporting it and wouldn't say no to a couple of fugitives."
"Is he an Order person then?" Markus asked.
"Not exactly. Klint does things for his own gain. We don't ask how he gets his goods, or what he's been up to at all. Things are easier that way."
"Sounds like a great guy," Rik said.
The innkeeper smiled weakly, then motioned for Markus and Rik to follow him. They reentered the inn's loud and smoky common room, where the inn's patrons were still watching Markus and Rik. These people had surely seen the notice.
The innkeeper kept his voice low. "You'll want to get out of here pretty soon. There's no telling when someone will call the Imperial Guards."
They walked to a quiet corner of the inn, where a man was sitting at a small table, reading a local newspaper. Most large cities had newspapers run by Warrick's government. These newspapers never printed anything the emperor didn't like.
The man looked up, narrowing his eyes. "What do you want?"
He had dark, messy hair and wore a few days' growth of beard. As he stared at them, sizing them up, he took a large bite out of his sandwich.
"Klint," the innkeeper said, "I think I've found two young men who can help you out." He explained what Markus and Rik wanted.
Klint studied them, flickering light dancing against his face. "You sure they can help me? Yeah, they're big, but I can find plenty of big people around here."
The innkeeper settled down on a nearby chair. "How many of those people would be willing to take on the risk of helping you? As I'm sure you've noticed, they match the descriptions of two young men the Imperial Guards are looking for. They've got nothing to lose."
"Interesting." Klint took another bite of his sandwich. When he finished chewing, he said, "I don't care what you did. In my line of business, it's better if we don't know that. You obviously have some reason you want to get to Tate City. Again, I don't care why. You need a ride down the river. I need some help."
"Then you'll take us?" Markus said. He wasn't sure he liked Klint, or trusted him.
"Yes, I'll take you, but you'll work for it."
"We have no problem with working," Markus said.
"Good, it's settled then. We leave at midnight. The ship's already stocked. You'll have to help unstock it in Tate City, and then you'll be free to do whatever it is you plan on doing."
"Thank you," Markus said.
Klint picked up his sandwich. "Now leave me alone. We'll meet right here at midnight."
The innkeeper directed Markus and Rik to a room. Since they weren't staying the whole night, he didn't charge them any money, which was good, for they had little to spare. The innkeeper also brought them beef and cheese sandwiches, for which they did pay. Once they finished, the waiting began. Time felt as if it had slowed down.
After a few minutes of uneasy silence, Rik said, "What do you think of Klint?"
"Not sure. Seems kind of questionable to me."
"I know what you mean," Rik said, "but what other choice do we have?"
"I just wish he didn't look so much like he'd stab us in the back and rob us at his earliest convenience. Not that we have much worth stealing."
"Ain't that the truth," Rik said.
* * * * *
Darie
n Warrick sat upon his throne in the Golden Palace, high atop Mount Imperia. Commander Wes Glenn of the Crayden Town Guard had bowed before him. Darien fought back impatience, hating how much time these people wasted acting subservient.
Commander Glenn rose. "What are your wishes, Your Majesty?"
"I have two matters for you to handle. First, you will prepare some of your Imperial Guards to head to the mountains south of Tate City."
Commander Glenn frowned.
"I understand that you're confused," Darien said. "But I would prefer it if you handled this. It concerns Theo's nephew Markus. He is going to try to leave the Empire. I expect you to stop him, and his friend Rik, before they reach the barrier."
"It will be done, Your Majesty." Commander Glenn bit his lower lip. "What are your wishes regarding their condition? Are we to kill them?"
"You are not to kill them under any circumstances."
"Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I don't quite understand."
"It is not your duty to understand," Darien said. "It is your duty to carry out my orders. Do not kill Markus. You will suffer my wrath if you do. As for Rik, I would prefer that he remain alive, but I might forgive you for killing him. Don't count on it, though."
"I understand, Your Majesty."
Darien leaned forward on his golden throne. "Now let's address the second matter. In a few days' time, Crayden will be destroyed."
The commander's eyes widened. "Why are we destroying it?"
"Once again, that is not your concern. You will not take part in the destruction. I understand that you and your men might be reluctant to destroy the city they call home. It's not something I want to do either, but it must be done. For the future. Your part in this is to send a warning to Lord Tylen Watson. He must not be there when the city is destroyed. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Good. You may go."
The commander left the throne room. Darien watched him go, worried that the man would not succeed in carrying out these plans. Markus and Rik had complicated everything, forcing Darien to make adjustments.
But destroying Crayden had always been part of the plan. He'd looked for ways to get around it, but any other path led to failure. That was the strange thing about the Webs of Fate. Some events were stronger than others, as though they drew disparate strands toward them, just like some people were Weavers, guiding the Webs through their unusual importance.
Empire of Chains (World in Chains Book 1) Page 6
