The city was completely left to its own devices against an evil king. But they didn’t even care—they were more willing to fall into depression and discouragement than to do anything about their situation. Even Dmitri’s group—most had been killed, but the rest had scattered and refused to help any longer.
Jacob waited nervously for the castle’s reaction to the prince’s escape—he was sure the king wouldn’t respond well.
Two mornings after helping Dmitri, Jacob entered the servants’ kitchen, and from the hushed whispers and gossip, knew things had finally happened. It surprised him to learn from Sarot that Dmitri had actually left the morning before—it took a full day for things to trickle down through the ranks. Apparently, the king hadn’t told anyone but Het and Isan, who’d searched the city thoroughly.
“The king is devastated. He wouldn’t talk to anyone at all yesterday, and no one knew what was going on.” Sarot took a bite of bread. “If I were you, I’d avoid him as much as possible. You might get thrown out of service for not reporting for an assignment, but that’s better than getting killed by the king.”
Then the king and his two sons disappeared, and most of the footmen didn’t have any assignments. Bekett did his best to keep them busy, but without the royal family to serve, there weren’t many tasks. The head butler ended up assigning Jacob to work in the stables for a couple of days. Things there were chaotic too, because Kelson had been in charge and was now gone.
Jacob had been in the stables for nearly an hour on the third day when Bekett rushed inside.
“Thojac, I’ve got an assignment for you.” He handed the usual slip of paper to Jacob, then left.
Jacob rolled his eyes—why couldn’t Bekett just tell him what the assignment was without wasting so much paper? It was ridiculous. He unfolded the sheet and read what Bekett wanted him to do. A package was arriving for the king. Since the king wasn’t present, Jacob would need to take the package to the king’s quarters and guard it until the king returned. Jacob raised an eyebrow. That might end up being a really long time.
He dropped the pitchfork he’d been using and walked out of the stables to wait near the servants’ door. The package would arrive at any time, according to Bekett’s note.
Fifteen minutes later, the usual delivery coach pulled up and Jacob took the package for the king. He looked at it in shock. It was one of the all-important white boxes the king wouldn’t allow anyone but himself to touch for more than a couple of seconds.
Jacob turned to go into the castle, but hesitated as a thought entered his mind. The king was gone, the princes with him. No one in the royal family knew this box had been delivered. Dmitri’s group had placed these packages on high priority and had spent a lot of time trying to get their hands on one of them, and here Jacob had one in his possession. Should he take advantage of this opportunity and open the box? Would his magical abilities allow him that much?
Jacob looked around. He couldn’t risk ruining everything he’d worked toward by opening the package right there, or be seen hesitating. If someone caught him, he’d be fired for sure and wouldn’t ever get into the king’s workroom. Resolving to complete his task to the best of his abilities and to open the box in the king’s quarters if necessary, Jacob started walking toward the servants’ entrance.
But just then, Bekett rushed out—through the main entrance. Jacob’s mouth popped open. If the king were there, Bekett would be put to death immediately.
“Wait, Thojac,” Bekett said, huffing as he waddled down the stairs. “Wait a moment.” He held out his hands. “I can take that—I’ll complete the assignment for you.”
“But . . .” Jacob didn’t know what to say. Curse Bekett! “I’m fine doing it—it’s better than working in the stables.”
Bekett didn’t appear to have heard him. He yanked the box out of Jacob’s hands and turned, rushing back into the castle.
Jacob frowned. Curiosity about the butler’s urgency flooded over him. He should probably follow Bekett, just in case.
The head butler knew the castle much better than Jacob did, and several times he disappeared down passageways that hadn’t been on the maps Jacob studied. Jacob had to rely a great deal on his Time-Seeing ability to keep up with the man.
Bekett eventually entered what Jacob assumed were his personal quarters. The room was much larger than Jacob’s, which wasn’t shocking, but was sparsely furnished and ugly. As soon as Bekett shut the door, he made sure the room was empty, then put the package on a small table near a window. Instead of opening it, however, the head butler proceeded to pace the room in front of it.
Jacob made sure he was in a place where he could Time-See without interruption and continued watching Bekett.
It looked like the man was having an argument with himself. He stopped pacing frequently and faced the white box, wagging a finger, pointing at it, approaching it, then hesitating, all the while obviously experiencing a series of emotions. Was he planning on opening the thing or not? Jacob was getting tired of waiting and wished he could yell at the man to just do something.
Someone knocked on Bekett’s door. The man paused, then opened it a crack. Jacob didn’t hear the conversation—he rarely could unless he concentrated hard—but it seemed like someone needed Bekett.
Given the butler’s body language, he wasn’t happy with the results of the discussion. He sent one last, longing glance at the box, then stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
Jacob’s hands started sweating. He knew what had to happen: he would break in and open that box before Bekett returned. He watched the butler cross nearly the entire castle, giving Jacob at least five minutes to get into Bekett’s room and out before the man returned.
Jacob pulled back from Time-Seeing and ran to the head butler’s room. He slid inside, quietly shutting the door behind him.
Chapter Eighteen: Perfect Opportunity
The package was still on the table, sitting in the sunlight. Jacob strode across the room and with shaking fingers, started untying the twine that held the box shut. He only had a few minutes. Bekett would find a way back as soon as possible.
The twine and white cloth fell to the side and Jacob pulled the top off the box. Inside were wads and wads of cloth. Jacob took these out one at a time, making sure there wasn’t anything important written on or held inside them.
After he’d removed a good portion of cloth, Jacob saw that it was being used to protect what he assumed were the more important contents of the box: two ceramic jugs with lids, about four inches tall and four inches wide, held shut tight with more twine.
Jacob reached in to take out one of them, but his heart started hurting. He pulled his hand away. The pain got stronger, so he grabbed the jar again. That didn’t alleviate the ache. What was wrong? If he was supposed to stop opening the package, removing his hand should’ve ended the pain. It hadn’t, though.
Jacob’s breath came in gasps. Light flashed in front of his eyes. His fingertips began tingling from the increasing pain, and his thoughts started muddling. Something seriously bad was about to happen, but he had no idea what it was or how to stop it.
Then it occurred to him. Being there, in Bekett’s room, was the problem, not the act of opening the box.
This new knowledge imprinted on his brain, Jacob rushed to shove all the cloth back into the package. Someone was on their way to Bekett’s room. Maybe Bekett himself. Whoever it was, if they found Jacob there, things would be bad.
Jacob stuffed the rest of the cloth into the box, his head now pounding and his muscles clenching involuntarily. He barely had control of his fingers as he attempted several times to tie the twine back around the outside of the package.
Positive he only had a moment to spare, Jacob finally finished tying the knots. He spun, looking for a place to hide. Footsteps sounding just outside the door told him he’d been correct: he was about to have a visitor.
Jacob dashed across the room and slid feet first under Bekett’s bed, let
ting the bed skirt fall in place, hiding him.
The moment he was hidden, the pain began to dissipate. Jacob grasped his chest with one hand and his head with the other, his ears pounding so loudly he couldn’t hear anything. How close he’d been to death, he didn’t know, and was glad he wouldn’t find out. But the burning and throbbing took their time leaving, and by the time Jacob’s senses were completely restored, he realized he wasn’t alone.
Wishing he could Time-See to figure out who was there with him, Jacob did the only thing he could. He lifted the bed skirt just a bit and peeked out.
What he saw made him nearly gasp. He dropped the skirt, feeling the blood drain from his face.
Hayla. It was Hayla.
Jacob lifted the cloth again, wanting to make sure. Yes—Hayla stood over the box, staring at it. But her hesitation didn’t last long. With deft and skilled fingers, she quickly untied the twine, pulled the lid off, and threw the cloth aside. She didn’t even pause, acting like she knew what to expect. But how?
Hayla pulled the two ceramic jugs from the box, placing them on the table next to the package. She removed two other jars—not identical, but roughly the same size—from her robes and put them in the box, then hurried to push the cloth back around the ceramic.
She put the lid on, retied the twine, and slipped the real jugs into her robes. Then she exited the room.
Jacob rolled onto his back, letting the bed skirt fall. Whoa. He hadn’t been expecting Hayla to be the one entering Bekett’s room! What did she want with the jars?
He realized he was in danger of being discovered still—Bekett could return at any moment—but given the amount of dust on the floor under the bed, the head butler never looked there. Jacob needed a moment to relax—his muscles still ached and every movement hurt. While waiting, he Time-Saw and watched Hayla return to the basement of the castle and a small room with two beds in it—probably where she slept. She placed the jugs into a box at the foot of her bed, then pulled out some clothes, obviously about to change.
Not wanting to invade her privacy, Jacob searched the rest of the castle and found Bekett. It looked like the butler was on his way back.
Jacob took a deep breath, stretched to make sure his body was ready, then rolled out from under the bed. He got to his feet and brushed the dust off his clothes, then dashed out of the room. It took a couple of minutes, but he found an empty spot and Time-Saw, watching as Bekett entered his quarters.
Jacob only spent a few seconds there, realizing that what the butler proceeded to do with the package no longer mattered. So he Time-Saw back to Hayla’s room. She’d finished changing and was now dressed like a Troosinal peasant. She was sitting on her bed, staring blankly at the wall. Jacob almost pulled away, figuring nothing more was going to happen, when a determined expression crossed her face and she jumped to her feet. As he watched, she removed the jars from her box and hid them in her clothes.
Hayla tucked her hair under her scarf, brushed the wrinkles out of her skirt, then turned and left the room.
Jacob made sure he knew which direction she was headed, then rushed out of his hiding spot, resolved to follow. He needed to know what was in those jugs! Time-Seeing wasn’t enough, not when using his own eyes and ears would be more effective and powerful.
While running—occasionally Time-Seeing to make sure he knew Hayla’s location—Jacob pondered the events of the last several minutes. It seemed like everyone in this castle had an agenda. But whose side was Bekett on? And more importantly, what about Hayla? What was her motivation, and again, how had she known what was in the package?
Jacob’s pulse quickened as he thought of the possibility of working with her to “crack the case.” He pushed that thought aside, realizing he’d never be allowed to do it. He didn’t belong in this time period.
Hayla was fast, and as with Bekett, Jacob got lost trying to follow. Any feelings of pride over how well he’d learned his way around the city quickly vanished. He found himself trying to predict which way she was going, then Keying himself to an area nearby. This worked for the most part and he was able to keep up with the girl.
After twenty minutes of taking back roads and Keying around and losing, then finding, her again, Jacob was completely lost. He’d never be able to retrace their steps and he had no idea which section of Troosinal they were even in.
Finally, Hayla reached what seemed to be her final destination. Jacob Keyed himself to a building next door, ignored the shouts of surprise when he entered the place unbidden, and rushed back on the street. He approached Hayla’s building with slow, quiet steps, then hid under an open window.
“You got them?” a deep, male voice asked.
“Yes,” Hayla said.
“Well? Hand them over, girl.”
Jacob heard the swishing of robes and envisioned Hayla removing the jars from her clothing. With a clank, they were placed on something solid.
Unable to resist the urge, Jacob got onto his knees and peered into the window. It was dark enough outside that they shouldn’t be able to see him.
A tall, skinny man towered over the jars. He looked at Hayla, a dark expression crossing his face. “You’re sure these are the correct ones?”
Hayla shrank behind a seated woman whose hand she held. “Yes, sir.”
Both women had the colors for fear swirling through the air around them. Jacob did a double-take—the guy didn’t look like he was strong enough to hurt a rat, so why were the girls so afraid of him?
Jacob felt his breathing become rapid again, and the need to protect someone helpless nearly overcame him. He was positive that if Matt had been there, he would’ve rushed in and decked the guy before even knowing what was going on.
The man undid the twine with a quick yank and pulled the lids off, setting them aside. He peered into the containers for a moment, the colors in the air around him showing confusion. That didn’t last long. He looked up at Hayla, the light from a lone candle making his eyes glint. The colors around him changed to red.
“Where is the gold? The jewels?”
“The . . . the gold?”
“Yes!” the man spat. “What else would the king hold in such high esteem?”
“I . . . I don’t know!”
“What have you done with the riches, you wench?”
Hayla stepped behind the older woman’s chair, obviously wanting to be sheltered. The woman did nothing—and Jacob saw why. She didn’t have legs, and one arm was missing. She mouthed wordlessly at the man, and Jacob wondered if she could even speak. Pity overcame him as he watched her emotions flood the air around her.
“I did exactly as you asked,” Hayla said. “I removed these from the box and replaced them with the jars of sand. Uncle, it took much longer than I thought to even get one of the packages—”
Hayla’s uncle raised his hand and Jacob dropped down, unable to witness what he couldn’t stop. He heard a thud and Hayla started crying. Jacob clenched his fists, fighting the urge to jump in through the window and beat the man to a pulp. For the second time that day, Jacob’s heart started hurting, and he realized he was thinking too seriously about doing something rash. He forced himself to push the feelings of justice aside, wanting to listen to the conversation.
But tuning in again did him little good—the uncle had moved on from the jars.
“We needed the money! And speaking of money—where is last month’s pay? You failed to bring . . .”
Jacob didn’t want to hear anymore. He ran down the street and Keyed himself back to his room in the castle. It shouldn’t have surprised him, really, that Hayla belonged to an abusive family. It seemed like Troosinal was full of that sort of thing. But the feelings of helplessness, of anger, of wanting to do something but being unable to made Jacob nearly choke with anger. Anger? Was that the right word? He fell onto his bed. He knew it wasn’t the right emotion. No, what he’d really felt was shame. Shame for knowing how a helpless, innocent girl was being treated, and not able to do anything about i
t.
Jacob found himself wishing even more than ever that he could just return home and forget about everything going on in Troosinal. Why did he have to research the Lorkon? Why couldn’t Azuriah do it? Or Jacob’s parents? Or one of the Makalos? Someone older, with more experience?
He heard someone fidgeting with the doorknob and rolled over on his bed, pretending to be asleep when Sarot entered the room.
“Thojac? You awake? You’ll never believe what happened.”
Jacob knew he should care, but he didn’t. He’d talk to Sarot in the morning.
Sarot didn’t say anything else, and after a while, Jacob heard the footman’s deep breathing. Jacob sighed and turned onto his back, putting his hands behind his head and staring up at the ceiling.
He had to forget what happened with Hayla. He had to put it from his mind, else the next time he saw her, she’d be able to tell right away that something was wrong. And he knew that would cause problems.
Jacob needed a distraction. He needed something else to think about, aside from her and his inability to fix things.
The jars themselves—that was a worthwhile thread to follow. What had been in them? The room was too dark and Jacob couldn’t see. And Hayla’s uncle had only stared inside—he hadn’t touched them. But obviously what he saw wasn’t what he’d been expecting.
Then Jacob had the idea to Time-See in the past, following this most recent package to its origination point. He sat up in bed. That was something he could do, and it would help further his investigations.
Deciding it was important to appear to be sleeping, in case the other two footmen returned, Jacob lay back down and rolled to face the wall. He Time-Saw to the point before the carriage pulled up in front of the castle.
He followed that carriage in reverse, then followed the package as it exchanged hands a couple of times—moving from one carrier to the next. The package took a very long route—through mountains and past cities. Jacob didn’t pay much attention to the surroundings except to notice a tree that looked exactly like the one in Taga Village. It had to have been a Kaith tree.
Rise of Keitus (Kilenya Series, 4) Page 22
