The Silvered

by Tanya Huff

  “You put half of Tardford to sleep,” Tomas murmured against her ear.

  There was that. But how did he…

  “And you’re cutting off the circulation in my lower arm.”

  Oh.

  She tried to look overwhelmed by the magnificence, but suspected she looked like she wanted to throw up. Although, logically, that could be interpreted as overwhelmed, it would definitely attract more attention than they wanted.

  The hall eventually dumped them into the small assembly room they were looking for. Most of the people around them kept walking out the open doors on the other side, one loudly declaring that only first timers stopped so close to the gate.

  Mirian followed Tomas’ gaze up to the ceiling and the naked, winged babies that cavorted across the painted sky. She couldn’t see details, but they were large enough and gold enough, she couldn’t mistake what they were. “My father says expensive ugly is still ugly.”

  “Your father’s right.”

  “My mother never agreed.”

  “The emperor’s mother had it restored just before she died.”

  She hadn’t noticed Reiter arrive. Tomas hadn’t started, so he must have picked up the captain’s scent.

  “If you’re interested in her restoration work, she saved some ornate plasterwork as well.” He looked as bored as the guards on duty, but then he would, showing his sister and her husband around the palace.

  “I’d love to see the plasterwork.” Mirian smiled broadly, then toned it down a little as his eyes narrowed.

  They fell into step beside him as he led the way out of the assembly room and along a broad hall. Outside the narrow windows that provided light, was a small interior courtyard dominated by a tall post covered in trumpet vine.

  “It’s what’s left of the old gibbet,” Reiter told her, catching her staring. “That was the palace’s execution yard before they built this wing.”

  “Foreshadowing,” Tomas muttered. “Ow.”

  “Why would they keep the gibbet?” Mirian asked as Tomas rubbed his side where she’d pinched him.

  Reiter shrugged. “Sentiment.”

  The prison on the southern edge of Bercarit had an execution yard and hangings were open to the public, but Mirian’s mother had declared only the low and the vulgar attended. Mirian didn’t care who went; she only knew she’d never see death as entertainment.

  The vine burst into flower.

  “Mirian.”

  “I didn’t mean…”

  “What did I say about accidents?”

  “If I could control it, it wouldn’t be an accident. It would be a deliberate!”

  “Fair enough.” Reiter’s voice had gotten deeper. “Now keep walking. Look at the pretty flowers if you want to. Aren’t they nice? Don’t make a big deal of it.”

  It was a voice intended to calm soldiers. Mirian had heard it in the woods when she’d been his captive. She could almost see him walking along a line of men in uniform, speaking quietly, calmly, steadying them to get the job done.

  “I’m not one of your soldiers.” She didn’t know why she said it.

  “No.” He almost smiled. “At this point, I expect I’m one of yours.”

  Her elbow stopped Tomas’ growling almost before he got started.

  “Where is everyone?”

  The hall was nearly empty.

  “I was told the emperor often shows himself in the antechamber of his private wing in the first hour on a festival day. The crowds are crazy, though. I was warned away. There’ll be other chances.”

  About to make it clear she had no interest in seeing the emperor, Mirian realized Reiter was once again talking to them like they were visiting family, assuming he’d be overheard. At the end of the hall, most of the crowd had turned right, but they stopped and stared at the plasterwork on the ceiling while Reiter opened a door and slipped into the room, pulling the door closed but not latching it behind him.

  After a moment, of pretending interest in a white blur, Mirian heard. “Follow me when it’s clear.”

  When the halls were clear? When no one was looking their way? “Tomas…I can’t see that far.”

  His hand was warm on the small of her back. “I’ve got it. Look at the plaster…at the plaster…Move, now!”

  She let his shove carry her forward, her weight opening the door. Tomas latched it behind them. The room wasn’t large and held only a long narrow table at one end with a single, high-backed chair behind it. There was a smaller door on the back wall.

  “This is the first room I was ever in, in the palace.” Reiter stood by the second door. “Come on.

  As Mirian stepped closer to the rear wall, she managed to identify the repeating blue pattern of the wallpaper as a shepherdess playing the flute. Her mother would have loved it. The door opened into an empty hall. Painted a soft gray, with gaslights along the left, it had little in common with the high ceilings and ornate paint effects in the hall they’d just left.

  “Service hall?”

  “Imperial shortcut. There’s service halls that connect to it, but this will take us to the mages.”

  * * *

  A sigh as the wood crumbled.

  A crack as the bolt hit the floor.

  A bare foot on slate.

  A slow creak as the door at the end of the hall began to open…

  …opened faster.

  The hollow melon slam of a head against a wall.

  A grunt. A groan.

  A body hitting the floor.

  Being dragged…

  Danika scrambled to her feet as the bolts of her door were eased open. Although the light from the guard’s lantern abandoned at the far end of the corridor didn’t spill as far as Danika’s cell, it was enough to turn the black to deepest gray, enough for her to see Stina’s unmistakable silhouette on her threshold. She pressed two fingers against the other woman’s mouth before Stina could speak, then leaned in close.

  “The speaking tubes can be used for listening as well. We need to tie him and gag him if we’re going to leave him here.”

  She felt Stina nod.

  They had no time for sentiment, but she took a moment to hug the older mage and breathe, “Well done. You’re amazing.”

  The guard was still conscious, but only just. There wasn’t light enough to tell which guard it was even as they stripped him and tied him with his own clothing, afraid the sound of tearing sheets would warn any listener something was up. Danika checked that he could breathe while Stina checked his weapons.

  Then they shoved him under the bed and locked him in.

  Out in the hall, Danika ran to Jesine’s door while Stina freed Annalyse.

  “We can’t go through concrete blocks,” Danika whispered as they huddled together, needing the contact. Annalyse was shaking so hard Danika could feel the tremors through Jesine. “So we can’t get out the way we came in. The lower level goes by the dark cells, it goes to…well, it goes somewhere we don’t want to and there’s a greater risk of running into guards that way. But they move food and furniture in and out of the big room, so there has to be another door.”

  “Probably a hidden part of the wall,” Stina pointed out. “Like the emperor’s rathole.”

  “We find it and we get out through the palace. No one will be up at this hour.”

  Jesine’s hand closed around her arm. “And the captive Pack?”

  “They’re past reason. We have to get the nets off before we can release them.” Danika laced Jesine’s fingers with hers. “We will do everything we can to come back for them, but if we have to sacrifice them to save our children, we will.”

  “I hate the thought of leaving them.”

  “I know.” She’d promised she wouldn’t leave without them. It was a promise she couldn’t keep, and breaking it cut more painfully than Adeline’s dagger. “Come on.”

  In the big room, the guard’s shielded lantern provided a pale circle of light, not strong enough to push the darkness back beyond its border.


  “Find the door with your fingertips, with your nails,” Danika told them. “Find the seams. I don’t care how good the empire is with gears and motors, if you push two solids up against each other, there will be a crack!”

  “Before we get going…” Stina handed Annalyse the guard’s baton. “I’ll keep the pistol, I expect I’m the best shot of the four of us, but you’ve got the longest reach and a good strong arm. Best this is with you if we need it to be used.”

  “You took his stick?”

  Stina’s teeth flashed white. “I would have, sweetheart, but Lady Hagen thought it would make too much noise.”

  One hand clutching the baton, Annalyse covered her mouth with the other to stop the spill of giggles.

  “How did you deal with him?” Jesine asked.

  “While he was still thinking we were harmless, I flicked his hat off him and slammed his head into the wall. Once he hit the floor, I kicked him in the chest, and knocked the air out of his lungs. Wouldn’t have worked, though, if he hadn’t hesitated.”

  “The door,” Danika said, pushing her gently toward the wall. “We can hear your tales of battle when we’re out.”

  They’d find the door, they’d slip through a quiet castle, and they’d disappear into Karis before the capital woke. Aydori had withdrawn their ambassador when the Imperial army crossed the border into the Duchy of Traiton, but the embassy was still there. Empty as far as Danika knew. It would, of course, be the first place Leopald would look, but they’d have time to…

  She froze, fingertips splayed against the plaster.

  She could hear voices coming from above. From Leopald’s rathole.

  * * *

  “He watches the mages from here. It’s the only way I know to get to them.” With the emperor held by the duties of a public festival, the lamp in his little room hadn’t been attended to. Reiter lifted the glass chimney off and set it on the chair. Then he pulled a fire-starter from his pocket, rolled up the lamp’s wick, and lit it.

  He turned and saw Mirian blinking in the spill of light. She rubbed her eyes, looked down, and jerked backward.

  Tomas barely grabbed her in time to keep her from falling down the stairs. “What is it?” he demanded as he hauled her upright.

  When she pointed, Tomas’ lips drew back off his teeth and he began to growl. This time, Mirian didn’t stop him. She kept swallowing as though she were about to be sick.

  Reiter had no idea…

  The rug!

  Burn it, it wasn’t even anyone they knew! He dove for the chair as Tomas clawed at his clothing, impressed, in spite of the danger, by how fast the boy could undress. The glass chimney toppled, fall cushioned by the thick fur underfoot. His hand closed around the lever in the side of the chair and he yanked it back, turning to see if…

  It was one thing to know they changed. It was another to see it happen. Or almost see it happen. There was a glimpse of limbs stretching, changing, pale skin suddenly covered in black fur, a flash of silver on one shoulder, teeth…

  Which was when he realized that the wall was taking longer to open than Tomas was taking to change and he was stuck in a small room with an enraged wolf. “Mirian.”

  Hand on Tomas’ shoulder, she shook her head. “You don’t understand. How would you feel if you saw Private Chard’s head on the wall?”

  He tried a laugh. “Chard may not be the best example.”

  “Captain!”

  “We can’t save him.” Heart pounding, he waved a hand at the pelt and moved up and out and to the right of the chair as the wolf moved forward along the left. “And we don’t have the time to waste on…”

  Tomas leaped forward, out through the still opening door in the wall.

  * * *

  It looked like a shadow leaping out of the spill of light. It cleared them easily, landed, spun around, took a step forward, head up…

  “Tomas?” Danika knew that silhouette and if her heart said Ryder first, no one had to know. He turned toward her, made a sound half whine, half word and she threw herself at him, her arms around his neck, her face buried in his fur repeating his name over and over. Then Jesine and Stina and Annalyse were there, touching him, stroking his ears, his shoulder…

  When he began to change, they backed away and only Danika held the young man whose strong, callused hands lifted her head off his shoulder so he could look into her face. “Are you hurt! You’re not hurt? You don’t smell hurt…Is the baby all right?”

  “The baby is fine.” She dropped one hand to the curve of her belly, kept the other on his shoulder. “Tomas, what are you doing here?”

  “We’re here to rescue you.”

  “Ryder…” Twisting in his hold, she stared up at Leopald’s rathole. No, not Ryder. Captain Reiter and a girl she didn’t know. “No, of course not. The Pack Leader can’t leave Aydori.” When she turned back to Tomas, his cheeks were wet. “He sent you, though.”

  “No, he…There wasn’t…” Tomas’ grip on her arms tightened to the edge of pain. “Ryder’s dead, Dani.”

  She wanted to scream, to weep, to wail, to lie on the floor and kick her feet and refuse to believe him. Except she could hear the pain in Tomas’ voice. Her belief was irrelevant. And they didn’t have time for her to fall apart.

  Tomas stood as she did.

  “Mirian and I came to rescue you.”

  Unexpectedly, Annalyse spoke next. “You were at the opera. I saw you on the promenade.”

  “My mother’s idea.”

  Danika looked up to meet the gaze of a girl probably no more than Tomas’ age. Eighteen. Nineteen maybe. Younger by three or four years than Annalyse, who Danika had been thinking of as so very young. “You’re the sixth mage.”

  She nodded. “Mirian Maylin. I’ve been following you since you were taken.”

  “You should have gone to Lord Hagen…”

  “That was the plan, but first I ran into Captain Reiter and then Tomas.”

  “I rescued her.”

  Mirian smiled pointedly at Tomas. “We rescued each other.”

  “So just the two of you?” Jesine moved to stand by Danika’s side. “There must have been someone else.”

  “Everyone else is fighting a war. Or dead.”

  “If you were captured…How did you get the net off?”

  “I heard your warning, Lady Hagen, and I twisted resin and sticks into my hair. It hasn’t been cut in Pack fashion, so there’s more of it.”

  Hasn’t been? Hadn’t been. Danika listened to Tomas breathing beside her and thought, It could be now.

  “We could have defeated the net with a hat?” Stina snorted.

  “So it seems.” The girl, Mirian, reached back to pull Captain Reiter to the edge. If the skin was still up there, it had been rolled back. “The captain has the artifact to remove the nets.”

  “The fork,” Jesine said in Imperial.

  “That is what it looks like,” the captain agreed, reaching into an inside pocket and pulling out the small wooden fork they’d used to remove Jesine’s net before cutting into Danika’s chest.

  The scar throbbed. She only just managed to stop herself from touching it. He’d been there when it happened. He’d been there when Kirstin died. “Why are you helping us?”

  “There’s a difference between serving the needs of your country and supporting a madman.” Because he looked so miserable about realizing it, Danika decided to believe him.

  “You didn’t know he was mad when you let Tomas and me go.” Mirian spoke to the captain almost the same way she spoke to Tomas.

  He stared at the girl for a long moment then said, “I knew he was wrong.” But the look on his face told Danika he hadn’t been thinking of Leopald at the time.

  “You have no mage marks.” Danika squinted up toward the rathole. Even from here she should be able to see the color in Mirian Maylin’s eyes. “You can’t be the sixth mage without mage marks.”

  “My mage marks are white, Lady Hagen.”

  Beside
her, Tomas made a questioning noise—it seemed as though this was news to him as well—and Danika shook her head. “There’s no such thing.”

  “Yes, there is.” Stina spoke in Aydori, but it was clear she’d understood at least the gist what had been said in Imperial. “My mother was from Orin. Most Earth-mages have closer ties to the old country, but that’s neither here nor there. When I was young, she told me stories of mages with white mage marks, mages who could work in all six of the crafts.”

  “All six?” Annalyse shook her head. “My professors always said that to divide your power between disciplines would keep you from realizing your full potential.”

  Stina snorted and, watching her stare up at Mirian through narrowed eyes, Danika wondered what she knew the rest of them didn’t. “All our professors said that. I suspect it depends on how much power you have and how much you’re willing to let it shape you instead of you shaping it.”

  Smiling tightly, Mirian said only, “If you could throw the artifact to Tomas, Captain. It would be best to leave this discussion for another time.”

  “Sensible,” Tomas murmured as he caught the fork. He grinned up at the girl, she smiled down at him and Danika could hear history in the word. They’d have a lot to talk about, her and Tomas. Her and Mirian Maylin. Later.

  He didn’t give her a chance to tell him to free Jesine first. He shoved the prongs through her hair and forced the net up off her head. There was a flare of pain and then the headache she’d had since that morning on the Trouge Road lifted with it. It felt like a cool drink of water running down a dry throat. Like the first strawberry in the spring. Like stepping out of too-tight shoes. Like a lover’s touch…

  “You could have warned me it would feel this good,” she said quietly to Jesine as Tomas freed first the Healer-mage then Stina and Annalyse.

  “I was too distracted the last time to notice,” Jesine reminded her.

  “Tomas, boost them up and let’s go. This is the only way I know to get you out,” the captain added as Danika turned her attention to him.

  “They can’t go through the palace dressed like that,” Mirian protested. If Mirian wore current Imperial fashion, then she was right. Her wine-colored dress with the bulk of the skirt fabric gathered at the back below a fitted waist and hips looked nothing like the loose, high-waisted dresses they were wearing.