by Paul Heisel
“I’m ready,” he said.
The two escorts led him through the palace to the ballroom. There was a receiving line where numerous people were greeting guests, but the escorts took Feln to a different entrance where workers were preparing food. They emerged from the kitchen and made it to the ballroom, where Feln was directed to a table near the front. The table was one of dozens spread throughout, and to his left there was a table elevated on a stage and set away from the main congregation. Nobles were milling about, the wine was flowing, and the conversation raised the noise level to a dull din. Soon other nobles and guests sat at his table. He wasn’t sure what their reaction to him being the Most Favored of Safun would be, so he introduced himself as Favored One of Safun sent to pay his respects to Chang. The questions were numerous. There were mean-spirited questions about the Most Favored being an assassin, others were less venomous and asked about how Safun was doing and how long it took him to travel to Emesia. He took it all in stride, knowing he would see justice happen even if Hiru didn’t suffer personally for it. Hiru would suffer just the same.
At times he scanned the crowd, wondering who the other Most Favoreds were. Everyone looked the same with their latest fashions, so he could only guess. On the raised table there was a gaggle of people, and he thought he had picked out Hiru when bells began to ring and a man in the middle of the table stood up. He was handsome, chiseled from head to toe and wearing a dark green uniform with sewn stalks of grain adorning the shoulders. He had blue eyes and wavy hair sprouting from underneath his fashionable hat. He was smiling and raised his arms to help the bells quiet the ballroom. The sounds died down to that of the servants clearing plates and bringing the next course of food, which Feln hadn’t touched.
“Welcome to the celebration of our beloved Chang,” the man bellowed, trying to be as loud as possible without shouting. “As you know, I am Xian-er-Ku-Hiru, Favored One of this great province of Emesia. Tomorrow I will be the Most Favored of Emesia.” He paused long enough for the attendees to clap, urged on by others at his head table. “Enjoy the food, wine, and company. Those of you who knew Chang may have stories to tell about him. My hope is you will share. Throughout the evening close friends of Chang will address you and tell you about his life. He was a kind man.” More claps. “I have been informed that the Emperor has arrived and he will be at the feast soon. When he does, please give him the warmest of welcomes. Enjoy your evening.”
The conversations started right away as Hiru sat down. Feln scanned the crowd, searching for Iristi. There was no chance she was here, he knew it, as Hiru wouldn’t allow it. Either that or she was dead. The possibility that she was dead left an empty pit in his stomach, and he forced himself not to think about that possibility. He had promised to save her. She had to be alive. At his table the conversations waned and Feln looked up to see Hiru approaching. The others greeted Hiru with flattery and talk of the magnificence of the celebration, the remainder gave their condolences and hope of bringing the killer to justice. The last comments sent Feln’s blood boiling. Now he was more determined to see this through. Hiru came to Feln and it looked as if he was trying to hide his mood. This close Feln could see that Hiru was one solid man built for war, and he imagined he was a great fighter.
“We almost met the last time you were here,” he said to Feln, voice cool. “Xian-er-Ku-Hiru, Favored One of Emesia. Soon to be the Most Favored of Emesia.”
“Good evening,” was all that came out of Feln. Anything else would have caused a stir at the table, he was sure of that. He wanted to stand up, but the way the table was organized he would have to move one of the guests out of the way. They were fawning over Hiru and still talking to him although Hiru’s complete attention was on Feln. With a little foot nudge, Feln made the overweight woman next to him slosh her wine on her amble bosoms. She went into a lament about her outfit, and her movement gave Feln enough room to stand up. Face to face Hiru was more intimidating than Feln had thought. He had expected a dark, wiry, conniving man with snakelike minions skulking in corners to do his bidding. But this was a striking man with grace and poise, with a warrior’s stature and a warm, disarming smile.
Hiru leaned forward and spoke softly. “We know what you did. Returning here will be your last mistake.”
“Accusing me will not be your last mistake, I’m assured of that. I’m looking forward to hearing of how you mismanage Emesia.” He paused. “Both of us know the truth. Where’s Iristi?”
“Not here and you won’t find her,” Hiru said. “Don’t go looking unless you are prepared to face the consequences.”
Feln’s insides fluttered. She was alive. It sounded like Hiru was challenging him. “I’ll find her if I have to tear this palace apart. And I will find her.”
Hiru laughed. “You had two weeks to get here, and you didn’t even bring one loyal guard for protection. Not smart.”
Before Feln could answer, massive gongs sounded from the entrance of the ballroom. They resounded repeatedly until there was no movement in the great room. A rhythmic beat began, gong after gong. Hiru scrambled away and up the steps to the raised table, heading for his center position. Through the doors stepped the Emperor, dressed in rich blacks and a tall black hat. To his side was the Warlord of Pyndira, and flanking them were guards emblazoned with the emblem of the golden dragon. Feln doubted the guards were ceremonial; he was sure they were more than capable of protecting the Emperor. There were probably Furies mixed in with the group as well.
This was his opportunity while everyone was distracted, so Feln slipped by others who were standing up to see the Emperor, and he went toward the kitchens. He could see guards at every entrance and exit, but they were passively guarding the openings at the kitchen so people could come and go without being hindered. Feln skirted to the side, got lost in the gaudy decorations and blinked. It had been a long time since he had vanished using his magic, and he hesitated for a moment thinking it hadn’t worked. Without a sound, he slipped behind workers and made his way out into the hallways, then as fast as he could he went toward the dark dungeons of the palace. Guards were everywhere in the hallways and he took care to avoid them. He continued down until it was dark and he was sure no guards were present, then he lit a candle so he could see. He dropped his chi, no longer invisible, and moved swiftly as he could without losing the candlelight. There was a slim possibility the door was guarded, and if that was the case, he would have to disable the guards and fetch Suun to help him. If there weren’t any guards, he would unlock the door and make sure it couldn’t be closed or relocked.
The hallway became familiar. The last time he was here, he found two slain guards, their spilled blood still warm. Ahead was the door, barred and shut – no guards – beyond led to Chang’s residence. Feln undid the latches and slid the bars away, then he jammed the bars between the door and wall, stressing the hinges until they gave way. He did that three times and the door came crashing down. He lifted his candle, resisting the urge to go and see Suun. It would be easy for him to do, as he had the time and he was sure no one would discover him gone. But that wasn’t part of the plan, so he shuffled back into the palace and stopped when there was more light, snuffed out the candle, and waited for the smoke to dissipate. He hid the candle in one of his pockets, took out the book, and wrote a message to Suun, telling her to wait for his signal.
Understood.
Feln moved higher into the palace, invisible and evading guards, then made his way to the kitchen. He had only been gone thirty minutes and he hoped no one had noticed. Not sure what he would find inside the ballroom, Feln dropped his chi and dodged the kitchen workers, then emerged into the ballroom following steaming trays of food. There was music playing and dancers performing. The Emperor was sitting near Hiru, stoic and seemingly unimpressed, while Hiru smiled and clapped along with the crowd. Feln clapped too, nearing his table, then took his seat. No one noticed. His insides fluttered. Everything was going to plan.
The night continued. Feln ignor
ed the wine and food brought to him, partaking of the items he had stuffed in his pockets. He did sample the fruit, it was presented in wooden bowls for all to share, and he thought Hiru wouldn't poison a whole table of patrons in order to kill him. Now came speeches and poems, and it was apparent to him that Chang had a loyal following. Nearly all pledged their service to Hiru, who was enjoying the attention. Desserts and fortified wines came last, along with another round of circus performers who did tricks and flips, as well as juggling and tumbling. One performance was a man with a collection of eight wide brimmed hats, and he would spin them and catch them and flip them, then he did the most amazing feat Feln had ever seen. He threw the hats out into the crowd as he ran in a circle. The hats went out different distances, spinning. Feln didn’t know how, but the hats came back to the performer while he stood in the middle of the room. He caught all of them, stuffed them on his head one by one, then bowed. The applause was deafening.
The head table departed, the Emperor leaving first presumably to retire for the evening. Hiru excused himself, placed an underling in charge, and disappeared. Nobles and others began to file out, so Feln glanced through the crowd – he didn’t see Iristi. It was time to implement the weakest part of his plan. It all depended on Hiru and what he intended to do. Were there men waiting in his room? He doubted that. What he had anticipated was Hiru trying tonight, with his Furies, and if that was the case, then it would work in his favor. Feln tried to slip away through the kitchen, but the guards would have none of it. He was getting tired, drained from the travel and using his chi earlier to open the door in the lower levels, and he didn’t want to use his magic – he had to save it for one more escape. If he could call it that. He ventured into the crowds, sidestepping the hardcore attendees who looked as if they were going to drink wine all night. He managed to make his way out of the ballroom and into the sea of people milling about. The hour was late and he hadn’t anticipated so many would linger. The guards and palace staff were moving people this way and that, directing them toward their rooms or toward the exit to carriages that would take them into the city. Feln didn’t know where the Emperor went, he wondered, did the Emperor stay at the palace or did he have alternate arrangements? It seemed staying at the palace would be the most logical thing for the Emperor to do, but away from the general population in a private, secured area.
The crowds thinned, finally, and Feln began walking toward the residences within the palace. He was alert for anything out of place; if Hiru was going to act, it was now. Nervousness came. He had to be convincing if he was going to make this work. It all depended on him. He pulled his hat tight down upon his head, concealing his forehead and one of his eyebrows by cocking the hat sideways. He ripped the top of his outfit, exposing a white shirt beneath. It stood out amongst the dark fabric. A deep breath later, he turned a corner and found an empty hallway. There was decorative furniture and old tapestries, the hand-woven rug below his feet was old but well-cared for. A noise caused him to turn. A dark figure, nearly invisible against the wall, stepped into the hallway. He was dressed the same as Chang’s assassins, wearing dark fighting clothes with the face wrapped in a black cloth. A blade slid out silently. Feln’s instinct was to attack, but he had to stick to the plan.
The assassin lunged at him, not going for a kill, but instead trying to wound. Feln recognized the attempt for what it was, He figured there were others lurking around the corner, and the assassin wasn’t going to take Feln on by himself. The blade missed his leg. With speed, the belt of the Most Favored assisting him, Feln kicked and sent the assassin back. Out of the corner of his eye he saw others, dark figures, coming for him. There were more assassins, and in the middle of them, was a Favored One who had greeted him upon arrival. He had a katana ready. Instead of picking up the downed assassin’s blade, Feln ran. There was no doubt in his mind that with a ninjato or katana he could have made quick work of Hiru’s men in such close quarters, but that wasn’t what he needed. He needed them to chase him. Feln sped around a corner and heard the clatter of small daggers against the opposite wall. As soon as he found a staircase, he started down. The pursuit was behind him, and he slowed, not wanting to lose them. He kept going down, not stopping, but not getting too far ahead of them.
#
The Favored One was angry. He kicked the downed assassin as he went by, adding to his injuries. They had a perfect trap set and would have taken him captive, then they could have chopped off Feln’s head at their leisure. Now there was the chance for the Safun rat to escape or find his way out of this section of the palace. Their target was running. If he made it to the public parts of the palace, the chase would be over.
A few times they nearly caught him, but he always found a way to extend his lead. At the stairs he started down, stupid, as the lower levels were the worst place for him to go. There was little light and many passageways were dead ends. They slowed as it became dark, wary of their quarry hiding. They blocked off the corridor and fetched lanterns and torches. The idiot was running himself into a corner. When the light arrived, they inspected the ground and saw recent activity of a person having come this way. The Favored One was sure they had Feln trapped. There was nowhere to go. They moved ahead, systematically sweeping the side corridors – then ahead of them they saw a lantern and two men coming toward them. The Favored One motioned for the assassins to stay back. Coming at him were two palace guards, regular conscripts, dragging a man toward them. They were moving slowly, as the burden of the dead weight and holding a lantern forward made it awkward.
“Halt,” the Favored One said.
The two guards stopped. They maintained a grip on their prisoner’s arms.
“Speak!”
“He was trying to escape through a door,” one guard said. “He attacked us without provocation.”
“How did you two capture him then?”
“There used to be four of us. The other two are unconscious. Back that way.”
The Favored One moved forward. Farther down the corridor, on the edge of the lantern light, he could see two pairs of feet. He then looked at their captive. They had taken the Most Favored of Safun. The hat was still askew on Feln’s head. The torn flap of tunic was sticking up, white undershirt showing.
“Move away.”
The guards complied.
The Favored One bent down and unbuttoned the torn tunic, searching for the belt underneath. When he found it, he untied it and pulled it free with yanks that would have hurt a conscious man. He threw it over his shoulder.
“Where should we take him?” the guard asked.
“You two return to your post and rouse those two louts. We’ll take it from here.”
“We?”
The assassins came out of the shadows and gripped Feln’s arms, dragging him away.
“Return to your post. Now.”
The guards bowed and walked away.
Halfway down the corridor the assassins and Favored One stopped. The guards were gone, they were in an unused and inaccessible portion of the palace, and there was no sense in delaying the inevitable. Besides, the Most Favored was beginning to stir. The Favored One shoved a felt bag on Feln’s head and cinched the strings so it was tight under the chin. They bound his hands behind and made him sit up. Now he was awake and struggling. One of the assassins kicked him in the gut. The felt bag sucked in and out with his desperate breaths. The Favored One took his katana and struck, removing the head with one clean strike, as if he had done this many times before. A quick shake and cinch of the bag and the head, a bloody trophy, was contained and put into a wicker basket filled with hay. The Most Favored of Safun was dead.
Chapter 9 - Naïve
Feln, drained of his magic, had to drop his chi and become visible. He was in the private part of the palace, moving high up. The activities thus far were tiring – the chase, signaling Suun, using his magic, hiding, and climbing all the way back to the top of the palace had taken a greater toll than he thought. Though winded, he knew he
had enough time. If all went well, he would grab Iristi and be out of the palace before anyone knew what was happening. So far he had executed his plan, and though not completely flawless, it had gone well. He had Suun to thank as she was devious, clever, and thorough. Without her, none of this would have been possible. She was the one who devised the craziest part of the plan.
The decorations in the private areas of the palace were lavish. He bypassed the guards with the last of his magic, moving now to access the private quarters on the highest floors. He was in a grand hallway, long with a rather squat ceiling, and it was adorned with armor and war decorations. Feln recognized pieces from Chang’s residence, including his favorite, the gleaming black armor with the grotesque helmet. I never fought in it. Ahead was a set of double doors, unguarded, and that was where Iristi would be. He had tacitly inquired about her with the servants, and over time they had given him enough information for him to figure out where she was. He learned that she was in a suite, alone, locked up for safe keeping. Most likely she was asleep, so he would have to get her up and out of here without bringing too much attention.
The double doors opened without a sound. There was a lounge room in front of him. Decorative lanterns and white candles blazed. Couches covered with red fabric and stuffed leather chairs dotted the room, exquisite hand woven rugs were below his feet. The furniture, finishes, and atmosphere were new and fresh. Feln could hear voices, one was Iristi’s; he felt his heart leap into his throat. He became nervous, more so than he thought he would be, and had to take deep soothing breaths to stay calm. The sound of delicate feet pattering across polished wood floors brought him to halt. Through a door came Iristi. She was wearing a tight fitting red silk top that barely covered her curvy hips. There were those bare legs, flawless, sauntering across the room. In the last month her hair had grown out a more, and it was well past her shoulders now. Her cheeks had a rosy glow. She saw Feln and yelped; surprised and shocked.
