by Cindy Dees
At length, she arrived with her motley companions in tow at the great portcullis, which towered some six stories high. Although she was accustomed to the grand scale of the palace, her companions were uncharacteristically silent. Which was just as well. Perhaps the immense audacity it took to rob the Emperor was finally hitting home with them.
“Sir Valyri, if you will announce me,” she murmured to the knight. He was her best chance of knowing the proper etiquette of a queen arriving at court. “Tell the steward I wish no honors and prefer to be shown directly to my quarters.”
The new plan was for Valyri to separate from the party and head back down to the water, where he would secure a small, fast vessel and see to transferring all of their gear and luggage over to it. And in the meantime, she and the others would engage in a bit of felonious insanity.
Her name caused a stir at the gate, and immediately, a series of servitors rushed forward to greet her. They were taken aback at her lack of baggage and servants, and she made no explanation of her strange and tiny escort. It took nearly a half hour to wind through the palace to the chambers reserved for the king and queen of Haraland.
Blessedly, Regalo was not in residence at the moment. Last she’d heard, he’d gone back home to oversee the recruitment and drafting of the latest batch of soldiers the Empire had requisitioned from Haraland.
A messenger knocked on her chamber doors in a half hour. He was a handsome young man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. She was sure she’d seen him before, but then the feeling slipped away. He bowed low, holding out his hand in which lay a folded and sealed sheet of parchment.
“Tell me, messenger, does the Emperor dine in-hall tonight?”
“Nay, Your Highness. He hunted with his familiars today and will dine in chambers.”
Thank the Lady. She did not think she was up to shielding her thoughts from the Emperor and his cronies throughout one of the interminable feasts in the Great Hall with the entire court assembled. She murmured her thanks, and the runner backed out of the room, bowing.
The note was written in Talissar’s elegant hand. He begged the pleasure of calling upon her to pay his respects. If she could receive him later this evening, he would present himself after the supper hour. She sent back a short note that it would be acceptable, as etiquette dictated.
Quickly, she changed into a gown from the supply of clothing she kept at court. It was appropriate to her rank, but was dark and plain enough not to attract attention as she moved stealthily through the palace. Madness. This entire scheme was utter madness. This whole venture would boil down to luck. Would Bekkan manage to spot whatever Tyviden had brought back for Maximillian?
Bekkan, Korgan, Jossa, and the thief followed her quietly as she slipped out of her chambers. Although the hour was late, the palace was still reasonably active. The Emperor rarely slept and often preferred to dine late; hence, the entire schedule of the Imperial Seat was skewed to his night-owlish ways.
The Thief in the Night lived up to his moniker and slipped along deserted hallways, blending into the shadows as if born to them. It was eerie how well he could disappear at a moment’s notice. She and the others did their more amateurish best to avoid detection, dodging down side corridors when other people approached.
A few people stepped out of doorways too close to avoid, and in those cases, Gabrielle lifted her chin to its most regal tilt and dared them to question her presence in this part of the palace.
The ploy worked until a woman stepping out of a chamber practically beside her was not a servant but a Kothite noble. A high lady, no less. High-Maker Meridine, daughter of Grand Marshal Korovo and Archduchess Quaya, who ruled the Dreaming.
Meridine was leader of the Inovo, a powerful group of artificers who built the Black Ships, arcane ballistas, and any number of the highest-technology machines the Empire possessed.
And she did not step out of that doorway alone.
“Gabby!” her dear friend Sasha cried, rushing forward from the side of her husband, Rafal, to embrace her. Rafal was the ambassador from the Heartland to the Empire.
“What are you doing here?” Gabrielle asked, hoping to forestall her friend from asking the same of her.
“We’re all just coming from dinner with His Resplendent Majesty in chambers,” Sasha answered. “And you?”
Mentally, Gabrielle winced, praying her Octavium Pendant would hold up to any probing of her mind that Meridine might be doing at this very moment. A heartbeat too late, she answered her friend, “I’ve got a message from Regalo to deliver to the Emperor’s secretaries. Given the late hour, I thought I would just leave it on one of their desks to find in the morning.”
Gabrielle swore under her breath, feeling the slight pressure at the edges of her awareness that indicated Meridine was, indeed, poking at her mind.
“May I escort you to your destination?” Meridine offered.
“Certainly not,” Gabrielle responded a shade too quickly. She silently cursed herself for her clumsiness. She added hastily, “I would not keep you from your rest. Please enjoy the remainder of your evening.”
“When did you get back to court?” Sasha asked.
“Just this evening. Hence the messages to deliver.”
Meridine murmured a surprised greeting to the Thief in the Night, who made a flippant reply about being unable to bear not seeing her beautiful face one moment longer and coming back to court to gaze upon Meridine’s beauty. Gabrielle prayed he could shield his mind from Meridine’s probing.
“I’ll walk with you,” Sasha said, looping her arm in Gabrielle’s, “and we can catch up. My lord, I’ll meet you back in our rooms in a little while. Yes?”
Rafal nodded, gesturing politely to High-Maker Meridine to precede him down the hall. “May I escort you to your chambers, my lady?”
Meridine nodded, but Gabrielle thought she detected the faintest of frowns on the Kothite woman’s brow. She swore to herself. There was no way to allay Meridine’s suspicions without making them worse. Their only option was to brazen out the encounter.
“Tell me what you’ve been up to, Sasha,” Gabrielle said brightly as they headed down the hall away from Rafal and Meridine, Gabrielle’s motley entourage in tow.
It took many long seconds, but at last she heard Meridine’s heels clicking on the flagstone floors, retreating in the other direction.
The pair turned the corner, and Sasha immediately stopped in the middle of the hall. “What’s going on, Gabby? Are you in trouble?”
“I might be.”
“How can I help?” Sasha replied immediately.
The thief made a gesture behind Sasha, silently offering to slit her neck. Gabrielle spoke quickly to him. “She’s one of us. No violence is necessary.”
“Violence?” Sasha exclaimed. “What is going on?”
Gabrielle spoke urgently. “There’s no time to explain. Please don’t ask too many questions. But we need to get into the Emperor’s trophy room and have a look around.”
“Good heavens—”
She cut her friend off, grabbing Sasha by the arm and dragging her down the hallway quickly toward Maximillian’s trophy room.
“Gor, that was close back there,” Korgan breathed.
The thief mumbled, “Self-important scion prisses.”
“Enough,” Gabrielle muttered. Never mind that the thief was one of those self-important prisses himself. “Hurry. We’re almost there.”
“Why are you breaking into the trophy room?” Sasha muttered. “This is insane.”
“I know. Please trust me and don’t ask any questions,” Gabrielle whispered back.
The thief surprised Gabrielle by stopping her just before she turned into the broad gallery that housed their final destination. “There will likely be guards posted. Let me go first and draw them away. Slip into the trophy room while they are absent from their posts, and I will join you when I’ve gotten rid of the guards.”
“What will you do to them?” she asked susp
iciously.
He shrugged, but his smile was wolfish, and bloodlust glinted in his dark gaze.
“We’re not here to kill anyone!” she exclaimed under her breath. “Do you have any idea how much attention a murder inside the palace would draw? The Emperor would be furious. He would tear open every mind in the palace in search of the killer.”
The thief ignored her and slipped around the corner, out of sight.
Swearing under her breath, Gabrielle peeked around the corner.
His voice floated back to her. “Huh. No guards. Arrogant whoreson must think no one would be foolish enough to rob him.”
Gabrielle hurried after him. When she reached the thief, who stood in front of the closed doors to the trophy room, she replied sourly, “Or perhaps the protections upon this room are so great that he has no need to post guards.”
Jossa stepped forward and examined the door closely. “I have extensive knowledge of warding magics, and I see none upon this door. Can anyone here detect traps?”
The thief grinned. “I might have a bit of skill in that regard. And I can assure you, there are none upon this portal. There’s not even a lock on the door. Of course, roaming parties of the Hand come through here every quarter hour or so.”
“How soon will one of those patrols be coming by?” Gabrielle asked nervously. The Hand were Maximillian’s personally selected and trained bodyguards, fanatics one and all, the fiercest and most capable warriors in the entire Empire. They had a decided tendency to kill first and ask questions later.
“We’re within a few minutes of a patrol passing this spot.”
She looked both ways in alarm. “No one told me—”
“You had no need to know. In we go.” The thief boldly reached for the great bronze door handle and opened the door.
No explosions or warded alarms went off. No traps sent deadly bolts at them. Not even the slightest flash of magic lit the darkness. The room beyond lay still and silent, illuminated only by faint moonlight coming in through the high windows at the far end of the vaulted chamber.
“I hear someone coming,” Jossa whispered urgently.
Gabrielle bolted forward into the trophy room with the others close behind. The thief closed the door quickly, easing it shut at the last moment.
They stood frozen just inside the door, holding their collective breath as several pairs of boots marched down the hall and stopped outside the very door they leaned against. She counted each agonizing second in her head. At long last, the boots finally started to move again, marching away at an unhurried pace from their hiding spot.
Gabrielle’s heart was pounding out of her chest. She was no good at this stealth stuff. The iron band that often constricted around her chest was making itself known, and she took several slow breaths, holding them as long as she could before exhaling.
Jossa said in wonder, “This place is huge. We’d better split up to hunt for clues to Bekkan’s king. Otherwise, we’ll still be here in the morning when they open the place up.”
Gabrielle nodded and everyone scattered into the deceptively large space. It was so crowded with display cases, tables, stands, and cluttered trophies that the room felt much smaller than it actually was.
“What on Urth are you up to?” Sasha demanded.
“We’re looking for whatever Tyviden Starfire brought back from the Sea of Glass.”
“Can I help?” Sasha asked gamely.
Gratitude washed over Gabrielle. “If you see anything that looks like it comes from there, tell me.”
“Ooh. A scavenger hunt. What fun,” Sasha said cheerfully, taking off down one of the long rows of treasures.
Gabrielle wandered the rows of collectibles as well. Her mind boggled at the wealth: huge shelves of books, exotic stuffed beasts, jewelry, fossils, weapons of unbelievable beauty, even gems of every size, color, and composition were collected here.
“This,” Bekkan said abruptly from the next row over. She slipped between a set of glassed-in cases and moved to stand beside him in front of a display of minerals.
He was pointing at a fist-sized lump of something black that shone faintly iridescent in the scant light. “What is it?” she asked.
“Septallum. The giant-made metal that runs in my king’s veins—” Bekkan started.
The thief appeared at Bekkan’s other side, interrupting, “We can discuss its properties later. Take it and move along.”
“We’re not here to take anything—” she started.
The thief picked up the rock and thrust it into Bekkan’s hand. She sputtered as the rokken traded grins with the thief and the two men moved away from her. But that wasn’t the plan!
She couldn’t exactly argue in here and risk being overheard. Furious and more terrified than ever, she moved deeper into the great room.
“Gor, will ye look at that?” Korgan exclaimed under his breath ahead of her, staring up high on a wall where a pair of swords were mounted next to an empty hanger for a third sword. “Those be the great swords of the dwarven kings—Deep Fang and Battle Brand.”
“Where’s King Eitrik’s sword, Mountain’s Edge?” Bekkan asked.
The thief answered, “It was never found. The Emperor has offered a ten thousand gold reward for it, though.”
Gabrielle blurted, “That’s enough to buy a small kingdom!”
“Aye,” the thief answered dryly. “Apparently, he really wants to complete the set.”
Bekkan’s gaze hardened. “As long as I draw breath, my king’s sword shall not end up on that wall. By the giants below, I vow I’ll find it myself and put it back into his waiting hands.”
“Does anybody know what those are?” Jossa asked, pointing at a series of old-fashioned-looking keys hanging from big iron rings.
The thief answered, “Keys to other planes. The milky crystal ones are keys to the dream realm. And those brightly colored ones should lead to the fae realm.”
Gabrielle’s gaze snapped to the gem-encrusted, whimsically shaped fae keys. What she wouldn’t give to use one to go to the Blue Court. To see her children. To hug them and tell them how sorry she was that she couldn’t keep them at home and raise them herself. Her gaze drifted to the next ring of keys, made of some cold, black stone that gave off no light whatsoever. It took no great scholarly skill to guess which realm those led to. She shuddered at the Void keys and turned away as Jossa reached out to caress the sparkling fae keys longingly.
A tinkle of crystal made Gabrielle look up sharply. Near the throne room doors sat a table carved entirely of pale jade, and upon it sat a huge bowl of faintly glowing crystals. Korgan was running his fingers through the gems, each varying slightly in hue and shape from its neighbors.
“Those aren’t what we seek,” she told the dwarf. “They’re Mindori mind crystals. The Emperor’s chamberlain told me that each one holds the memories and essence of a famous or important paxan.”
“There must be five hundred of ’em here!” Korgan exclaimed. He started to put the handful of stones back, but then tilted his head to one side, as if listening. “Ye hear that?” he murmured.
“Hear what?” she asked quickly.
“They’re whispering to me.”
“What are they say—” She broke off. “Never mind. They’re not what we came for.”
She turned away, and when she glanced back, Korgan’s hand was in his pocket, and he wore a smug look on his face.
Bekkan swore from just beyond Korgan, where the golden doors to Maximillian’s private throne room loomed. She knew what must have caught his attention. The Man in Amber, he who stood eternal sentinel beside the doors.
“I know him,” Bekkan rasped, his voice rough with grief and rage. “What did they do to him?”
The Man in Amber was as old as Bekkan? That poor man had been trapped in there for five thousand years? Appalled, Gabrielle answered, “He’s said to be alive, trapped in amber to serve as a reminder to all of what happens to those who resist Koth.”
Sasha, who�
��d been drawn to the commotion, gasped as she spied the Man in Amber. “He looks so much like Rafal!”
Gabrielle studied the face behind the amber prison and started. He did look like Rafal. They could be brothers.
“Who is this man?” Sasha demanded. “Surely he’s related to my husband.”
Bekkan answered, “His name is Inan Domitri, commander of the Order of the Thorn.”
Gabrielle could swear she saw joy flare in the unmoving eyes of the Man in Amber, as if he’d heard his name uttered for the first time in a very, very long time. At least the name of his order explained the rose insignia on the man’s chest, the thorns on its stems more prominent than usual in depictions of roses.
“What is this Order of the Thorn?” Sasha asked.
Bekkan answered, “They were the personal guards assigned to Princess Raisa.”
“Princess who?” Sasha echoed.
Gabrielle answered, “A people called the etheri ruled this continent until the Kothites came about five thousand years ago and conquered them. This princess would have been one of the last members of the royal family of the etheri.”
“How does my husband look practically like his twin?”
Gabrielle frowned up at the Man in Amber. “Perhaps Rafal is a descendant of this man.”
Bekkan said, “Inan and Raisa were lovers. They had no children, although there were rumors at the time of the invasion by Koth that she carried his child. She never gave birth to that babe, however.”
Sasha frowned. “The Heart has protected the bloodline of Rafal’s family for a long time. I will speak with our genealogists upon my return to the Heartland,” she declared. She paused for a moment, then asked, “Can he hear us?”
The thief answered, “Absolutely. Preservation in amber is performed specifically to keep the subject alive inside the amber sarcophagus. It is traditionally done for the subject’s protection until medical care can be obtained.”
Sasha said to the trapped man, “Now that I know you are here, I assure you, sir, the Heart will do everything in its power to have you released.”
