Sennar's Mission

by Licia Troisi

  With a beaming smile on his face, Sennar made his way down the hallway toward the villa’s exit. He felt as if he were walking on air. His mission wasn’t by any means complete, but the count’s response was a significant step in the right direction.

  He’d hardly walked through the front gate when he saw her. She was sitting on a step, waiting, a basket in her lap. Sennar hurried down the stairs. “Ondine!”

  She turned, knocking the basket over as she jumped up and ran. She threw her arms around his neck and Sennar was struck again with the same feelings as the night before.

  “I was so worried,” Ondine said under her breath. She stepped back. “What did the count say?”

  For a moment, Sennar said nothing, enjoying the way Ondine tried to read the answer in his expression. Then he lifted her in the air and pulled her to his chest. “It’s official. He’s taking me to the king!”

  Wrapped in each other’s arms, they spun in circles until they collapsed on the villa’s front lawn. Above them, schools of fish swarmed through the water. To live like this all the time: that’s what I want, thought Sennar.

  Ondine looked into his eyes. “I’m coming with you.”

  Sennar was speechless. “With me? But your parents?”

  “I told them I might be away for a little while,” she replied, with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “Listen, Ondine, I don’t think it’s the—”

  She pressed her finger to his lips and silenced him. “I saved your life, Councilor. I think you owe me one.”

  After they’d eaten the food from Ondine’s basket, they went looking for a place to sleep. Ondine lent Sennar her cloak and, covering his face and hair as thoroughly as possible, they headed toward an inn.

  The man at the front desk riddled them with questions and treated Ondine insultingly, though she didn’t seem to pay him any mind.

  “There’s only one room available,” the innkeeper growled in the end.

  Ondine kept her cool. “That’s fine, we’ll take it.”

  For Sennar, the idea of passing the night together with Ondine stirred up thoughts that hardly fell within the parameters of his mission. What kind of lousy councilor are you? This is a diplomatic mission. This is no time for giving in to passions.

  When they stepped through the doorway, however, Sennar was aghast. Looming in the center of the room was one, large bed. “Don’t worry,” he stammered. “I’ll sleep on the ground.”

  Ondine narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, of course. As you wish.”

  13

  Rescue

  They left as the last light faded. Nihal didn’t think it such a wise choice. Sure, they’d be protected by the dark, but night was a double-edged sword. No one could see you, but you couldn’t see your enemy, either. Every attack Nihal had faced had come in the nighttime.

  “Wouldn’t we have been better off waiting for dawn?” she asked at the old man’s back, as he dodged rapidly through the bushes and trees.

  “No, it’s better this way,” he whispered.

  His bare feet moved stealthily over the grass. The only noise, now and then, was the soft clinking of his chains. The forest was his, it seemed. To move with such certainty, he must know its every inch.

  Nihal, meanwhile, proceeded with great effort. Her eyes were accustomed to navigating the dark, but the undergrowth was dense, and the thick maze of foliage put her agility to the test.

  It wasn’t long before they reached their destination. They emerged from the dark wood, and before them, in the distance, loomed a massive rock face, lined here and there with strands of ivy. The base of the cliff disappeared into a sea of trees and bushes, and the rock wall itself appeared completely smooth.

  Nihal was at a loss. “Well?”

  “There.” The old man lifted a wizened finger.

  By the light of the moon, she could make out a miniscule gap in a long row of shrubbery. The thieves’ hideout. Not even the sharpest of eyes could have spotted it.

  “You wouldn’t think so, but the cave is quite large, with two spacious, interconnected rooms,” he whispered. “Hidden in the bushes, there, is a lookout. At night they each take two-hour shifts. During the day, though, it’s almost always left unattended.”

  Nihal was taken aback by the sheer amount of information the old man possessed. He must have known the thieves well. He was truly a mystery.

  “How many of them?” she asked.

  “There used to be ten, but two of them died. Another is wounded. He’s hardly mobile.”

  For a minute or two they remained silent. Then the old man studied the sky for a moment and got to his feet. He seemed to be in a rush to go somewhere. “That’s everything,” he said. “There’s nothing else I can do for you.”

  Nihal stood up as well. “Thank you. For saving my life, for leading me here. I hope one day I’ll have the chance to repay you.”

  The old man shrugged. “Who knows. Perhaps we’ll cross paths again. Until then, best of luck.” In a split second, he disappeared among the shrubs.

  Nihal turned back to the opening of the hideout, her hand resting on her sword. All those days spent waiting in the old man’s cave had exhausted her nerves. The thought of Laio on his own in there worried her—she knew there was no time to lose. Still, the sheer number of thieves was daunting.

  The black blade screeched as it slid from its sheath. The sound broke the night’s stillness. Nihal froze. Not a trace of movement, either from her or from whoever was guarding the cave’s entrance. Though there was certainly someone waiting there; she could sense it: someone alert and ready to fight. Still, she remained motionless, her sword half drawn. Patience, Nihal, patience. This is one of those moments when you need to keep calm and think. Don’t let yourself fly off into a rage like usual. She took a deep breath and slipped her sword back into its sheath as quietly as possible. No, to raid the thieves’ hideout with no preparation was out of the question. The guard she could deal with, but as soon as she set foot in the cave she’d be face-to-face with seven men, well-armed and trained in battle. She needed a plan.

  Nihal wiped her face. She loathed being patient, and even more so detested strategy.

  The moon was gone and the sky gleamed faintly in the west. Dawn couldn’t be far off. Nihal retreated into the dense wood, in search of a secure hiding place where she could think things over in peace.

  She wandered aimlessly until she ran into a small brook that intersected a larger canal. She descended to the water’s edge and leaned down to drink. At first she wetted only her lips. Then she dunked her entire head.

  She needed to clear her mind. For a while, she sat on shore, watching as the sky grew paler and paler before recharging into an intense blue. Summer was nearing, and only in the beauty of summer did the sky take on such a deep shade.

  Nihal tried to concentrate, to ease her nerves, to calm herself enough at least to form a strategy. It was the first time she’d tried this sort of mental exercise away from the battlefield, where she always performed her pre-fight ritual. She’d sit silently in a corner, forcing herself to listen only to the beating of her heart, keeping the savage inside of her at bay, silencing the buzz of voices in her head, reminding herself that an even temper and a clear head were essential to a great knight.

  This time, though, it was different. There was no war to fight, no battlefield at all, no howling Fammin awaiting her, no warriors to defeat, not even the Tyrant’s threatening shadow. This battle had nothing to do with vengeance. This time, the first time in Nihal’s life, it wasn’t about fighting for herself, but for someone else.

  With her plan finally in order, Nihal set to work. Before all else, she needed to survey the area, to get a better sense of the topography and of the thieves’ hideout. The old man had spoken of a cavern divided into two rooms, but that wasn’t enough. She needed more specifics.

  First off, she studied the entrance. It made her feel like a kid again. She crawled silently between the ferns, edging close enough to get
a clear view of the passageway, but not so close as to give away her position. Lying on the ground, her hands resting on a bed of dead leaves, she couldn’t help but remember the games she’d played out on the steppe in Salazar. Then, too, she’d crawled along the earth, her heart racing, excited and frightened, cautious as a cat. All that playacting had quickly become harsh reality.

  It was exactly as the old man had said. There was a guard. He stood just outside the cavern entrance, hidden in its shadow. Nihal took her time observing him. He looked formidable. If only their own army had a few guards like him. He seemed relaxed—evidently the thieves weren’t expecting an attack—but he stayed alert, trailing even the faintest of sounds with his gaze.

  Nihal waited for his shift to end. When the time came for the changing of the guard, the new arrival was of an entirely different breed. He leaned apathetically on his sword, which he’d driven into the ground, and drifted in and out of sleep.

  She memorized his features. Short and stocky, with long oily shoulder-length black curls. It would be much better to attack when he was on duty. That would make everything easier.

  In the afternoon, she busied herself by surveying the area around the hideout. With great care, she studied the cliff face housing the cavern. It was a massive wall, running along a fault line, and Nihal was forced to walk a good distance before finding anything she could grab hold of. Once she did, she climbed toward the top of the cliff. The rock, she noticed, was brittle and stratified, and when she reached the top, she found a range of various-sized holes boring down into the cliff.

  Carefully, Nihal analyzed each one. A tunnel leading to the thieves’ hideout would make for a welcome discovery. Nearly every hole, though, tapered off into a narrow passageway, and her initial explorations led only to bruises and scrapes. A job for dwarves. If only Ido were here, she thought, and brushed the dirt off herself in frustration.

  It took some time before she found what she was looking for: a wide hole that opened out into a sort of tunnel. Nihal kneeled and tried looking down to the bottom. The tunnel seemed to run almost parallel to the ground, but observing it more carefully she noticed a slight decline. A little more dirt on my clothes won’t do any harm. Nihal took one last look at the sky, breathed in deep, and plunged head first into the passageway.

  The tunnel was narrow. Even with her small stature, Nihal struggled to make her way through. Air was in short supply, and what little there was stunk of rot and mildew. Nihal advanced blindly along the insect- and worm-infested walls of the tunnel, running her hands along the spongy moss. At any minute she expected to run into a dead-end and be forced to turn around. But there was nothing. The descent continued, cramped and wearisome. Nihal lay down and began to crawl on her hands and knees until she noticed a pale glow in the distance. She crept forward cautiously. If the tunnel truly led to the thieves’ hideout, she couldn’t risk being discovered.

  At the bottom of the tunnel she noticed a narrow crevice. Through it, a blade of light sliced upward through the darkness. She drew nearer. The walls were extremely thin. One good bump of her shoulder, she thought, and the whole structure would crumble.

  Nihal crept closer and closer to the hole. Her heart leaped. A few yards below her she could see Laio, his arms and legs bound, seated on a pile of straw. He was bruised and dirty, but there were no bloodstains on his clothes. Other than the pale, drawn expression on his face, he seemed to be doing okay. Nihal felt the urge to come crashing through the wall, grab Laio, and make a run for it, strategy be damned. She squeezed her eyes shut. Don’t lose your head like usual! Once she’d regained her calm, she went back to observing.

  It was a large cavern, somewhat circular in shape, and bounded by high rock walls perhaps twenty yards in diameter. Four torches bathed the room in a reddish glow. Bedding was piled up along the wall and a rudimentary hearth had been carved into one corner. There lay the injured thief, stretched out on a cot with one bandaged leg. Five other men moved about. The rest of the crew must have been in the other room. Perhaps there was another tunnel leading there—she might have missed it. Nihal cursed under her breath. When she climbed back up, she’d have to go worming through every hole she hadn’t yet explored.

  She examined the thieves. Nothing special, really: a group of grimacing, muscled men. These are no trained soldiers. I can manage this.

  Crawling back out of the tunnel required time and patience. Without enough room to turn herself around, Nihal was forced to make the journey backward, wearing down the skin on her knees and elbows. When she finally saw light again, it felt like a rebirth. The air tasted fresh and sweet.

  Until the sun set, Nihal did nothing but climb in and out of tunnels, one more or less narrow than the next, until she was certain that no other passageway led to the hideout.

  It had been dark for some time when she finally descended the cliff face. She was exhausted. Immediately, she devoured the provisions the old man had left her and lay back to rest among the branches of a giant oak. She pushed herself to think of the best possible strategy for rescuing Laio, but her exhaustion persisted, her thoughts muddling and trailing off down ever more abstruse paths until, at last, sleep enveloped her.

  When she woke, she had to squint against the first light of day.

  Quickly, she climbed down the tree and, as on the day before, dunked her head in the water. It was freezing cold, but pleasant. No better way to wake up.

  She spent the entire day making traps. It wasn’t anything she’d learned at the Academy. There they spoke only of war, and such base tactics, thieves’ tactics, were not even considered. She’d learned this art as a child. Barod, a kid in her gang, had taught her. They’d captured their fair share of birds with those traps. Later, it was Ido who’d taught her to apply what she’d learned to guerrilla warfare. A true warrior, the dwarf was open to any strategy, as long as it assured victory. “Honor is not to be found in the tactics one employs,” he always said.

  It was a slow, painstaking process, mostly because she lacked the proper tools. With only a rope and a knife, she had to make do. Tying loops in the rope, she laid a series of traps hidden beneath layers of dry leaves. Then she set to work on a more complicated task. She dug a pit that spanned nearly fifteen yards, just beyond the forest’s first line of trees, right across the entrance to the hideout. With only her hands and her sword to dig with, it was a bear of a job. Fortunately, she needed only to reach a depth of ten or so feet. By mid-afternoon, she’d completed the task. She then gathered a large quantity of branches and sharpened their ends to a point before staking them securely in the pit. She used a heap of fronds to cover over where the ground dropped off and, as a final touch, tied a length of rope at ankle height along the pit. Whoever came that way—and sure enough someone would—would be in for a nasty surprise.

  By the time she’d finished, the sun was nearing the horizon. Nihal sighed with impatience. It had taken longer than planned.

  Up in the oak again, she draped her cloak over her face. She’d sleep until the first shadows fell. Then she’d strike.

  The crickets had just begun to sing. It was a cool, clear evening. After such a muggy day, the cold gave Nihal goose bumps. The heat beneath her cloak had been stifling, and sweat froze all up and down her body, shocking her awake.

  She crept to the hideout’s entrance, picked up a stone, and slipped her knife from out of her boot. From a distance, she observed the guard. It was the lax guard from before. He was at ease, his eyelids sinking with drowsiness. He hadn’t noticed her approach. Nihal addressed him in her mind. Doesn’t it always happen that way? Right at the moment of utter serenity, tragedy strikes. And then when you die it’s never the way you imagined it’d be. Just like that day in Salazar.

  Her fingers tightened around the dagger’s handle. She felt no anger at all. This would be a new experience, far different than battle. She’d have to kill a man in cold blood, a man who’d never done anything to threaten her, a man with no idea that death was crouching in t
he bushes, waiting to pounce. Nihal had never felt any hesitation in killing. The first time, it had happened too quickly to even realize what was going on. And then war had stripped her of all emotion. Killing had become a habit for her, a routine. But here, stretched out on the earth, far from the deafening clamor of the battlefield, it was clear that killing a man was homicide.

  Nihal flung the stone angrily into the trees. This is for Laio. I’m doing this for Laio. The vegetation was dense and the stone landed with a loud, papery crash. The guard shook himself awake and scoured the dark.

  Nihal stood and crept toward him, slowly, her senses alert.

  The guard took a few, timid steps forward, dragging his sword behind him. In a flash, Nihal was on him. With one hand she covered his mouth, with the other she slid the knife across his throat. The man didn’t so much as groan. Slowly, he went limp in her arms. She let him sink to the ground, averting her eyes.

  She shook her head. This is no time to get sentimental.

  Returning to the edge of the forest, she gathered the logs she’d cut earlier that day and piled them beside the entrance. With her flint, she lit the fire and took off running. The wood was fresh and would need time to catch, but it wouldn’t be long.

  She scrambled up the cliff face, found the passageway, and plunged in. Her knees and elbows burned worse than the day before, but she paid no mind. Her pointed ears stood at attention to detect any noises coming from the cave. For a while, all she heard was her own body, struggling downward through the tunnel.

  Then, toward the end of the passageway, she heard a confused babbling, muted and surprisingly tranquil.

  Stay calm. The smoke will take a while. You knew that.

  Just as the day before, a blade of light pierced the dense darkness of the tunnel. Nihal leaned forward to peer through the fissure. No sign of smoke in the air, though she could already detect its acrid smell filtering in. The men were standing around, sniffing the air. One, two, three, four, five. Two were missing, probably in the other room. Two of them went ahead to scope things out, but there was nothing to discover. The air was beginning to thicken and cloud. Nihal could sense their growing agitation, their nerves jumping as they shifted restlessly about the cave. Then one of them shouted: “Fire!” and everyone broke into a panic, clamoring toward the exit and leaving Laio and the injured thief to fend for themselves.