Shanks leaned close and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispered in her ear. He gave her waist a squeeze then turned back toward Sebande.
“Where’s Thain?” Mosaba shouted. Nica could hear the stamp of his boots as he walked down the corridor.
“Which way?” Shanks whispered.
“East.” Sebande leaned back to reply. He waited a few minutes. “He’s gone. Let’s go take a look.”
“Wait here,” Shanks said to Nica. He followed Sebande around the corner and Nica followed right behind, trying to step lightly so he wouldn’t notice her.
Sebande walked straight up to the guard. “Qarto Mosaba?” he uttered in Sartish.
The guard started to answer, when he suddenly leaned forward with an odd groan. Nica wondered at the man’s strange behavior when Shanks darted around Sebande and pushed open the door the man had guarded. It wasn’t until Sebande grabbed the guard under the arms and pulled him into the room that she saw the hilt of his dagger protruding from his stomach.
Nica bit her lip as she hurried behind Sebande, trying not to look at the dead man on the floor. By the time she was inside, Shanks had already cut Jaaniyah free and she was in his arms.
Sebande dropped the dead guard and pulled his dagger free, casting a quick glance around the room for other guards. Expressionless, he leaned over to wipe the blood from the blade onto the man’s shirt. With sure, swift movements, he cut through the ropes that held Becknah.
Jaaniyah turned from her embrace of Shanks. She ran to her sister and threw her arms around her.
Thank you, thank you, for saving me,” she whispered. Nica took in Jaaniyah’s bruised and swollen eye along with the traces of blood around her nose and mouth. She was surprised at the surge of emotion she felt at finding her sister alive.
“Can you walk?” Shanks asked, bending down to help Becknah stand.
“Yes, yes,” the old man said. “We must go while we can.”
“Sebande,” Shanks called. “Triste semparte les elas. Reela sa wizartio ley pondo brechna.”
Nica stared at Shanks. He was speaking in Corsosh. There was only one reason for that—he didn’t want her to understand what he was saying.
“No,” she said in a firm voice. “No—to whatever you’re saying. We’re staying together.” She gave Shanks a steady look.
Shanks’ look of surprise turned to one of exasperation. “Nic, we have to split up. Becknah needs help. We need to get both of you out of here while we have a chance.” His voice was pleading.
“No,” Nica repeated. “We go out together.”
“Argue in the hallway,” Sebande said. “And do it quietly,” he muttered as he motioned for Jaaniyah to follow him. Jaaniyah cast a confused look between Nica and Shanks then hurried to stand behind Sebande. He pulled the door open and eased into the hallway, motioning for Jaaniyah to follow.
“At least pull your hood up,” Shanks whispered to Nica, as he indicated with a jerk of his hand for her to follow Jaaniyah out the door. Becknah was hunched over and appeared to be in pain as he shuffled along with Shanks.
They eased out of the room and hurried down the corridor. Smoke was thicker now and the smell more acrid, causing her eyes to burn. Coughs could be heard coming from different areas, along with shouting down the corridors. They turned into one passageway filled with men running back and forth. Sebande abruptly steered them to another hallway that was less populated.
They passed the pit, smoky flames billowing forth, and moved into another dark passageway. Sebande turned another corner and suddenly Toppen’s pale face was pressed against the bars staring at her.
“Nic. Help me.”
Nica paused.
“Keep moving,” Shanks said in a growl, his hands full helping Becknah.
Nica took another hesitant step down the corridor.
“Nic, get me out of here,” Toppen cried. He gripped the bars so tight his knuckles were white. “Don’t leave me. They’ll kill me.”
She stopped and looked at her friend.
“How can I get you out?” she asked. “Who has the keys?”
“Pick the lock,” Toppen whispered. “Here.” He shoved his wine corkscrew into her hands. “I’ll tell you how.”
Nica slid the dagger into her boot and took the corkscrew from Toppen. With trembling fingers she pulled the small blade out. At the end of the hall, Becknah’s tattered robe disappeared as he followed Sebande and Shanks around the corner. She didn’t dare yell. Nica wavered.
“Please Nic, please. Don’t let me die in here. I’m begging you.”
She looked back at Toppen.
“Yes, of course.”
The door that stretched across the opening to the cell was mostly solid. The lock was located on the far side away from the bars through which Toppen was peering, making it impossible for a prisoner to reach the lock from inside the cell.
She hurried over to the lock. “All right, what do I do?”
“Slide the blade into the hole where the lock goes. Push it all the way to the back until you can feel pressure.” Toppen hung onto the bars, twisting his head, trying to watch her. “Push until you hear the click. That’s all it takes.”
Nica fumbled with the small blade, trying to get it to feed into the hole. Finally she got the blade into the keyhole and shoved back as hard as could.
Nothing happened.
“I don’t think it’s long enough,” she whispered. She looked down the hallway and wondered how far away Shanks and the others were now. Would she be able to find them again? Her heart pounded in her ears until she could hardly think. She jerked her head back down to the lock and pushed again, trying to twist the blade, hoping that it would hit the tumbler.
“Try again,” Toppen commanded.
Nica angled the small blade and pushed hard, then pulled back and slammed it into the hole from a different direction. “I can’t get it,” she cried. She pushed again, as hard as she could. Just at the moment she was going to give up she felt the pressure release against the tip of the blade and a barely audible click.
“What do you think you’re doing?” A deep voice asked from behind.
Nica dropped the corkscrew and turned with a start. One of Mosaba’s guards from the palace stood before her—Frinder Bosk. He wore a leather vest marked with the crest of Sartis over black breeches and boots. A curved sword swung low on one side. “Who are you?” he asked, reaching for her hood.
Nica jumped back and yanked her dagger from her boot.
“Don’t touch me,” she spat, holding the blade in front of her. All the hate she felt for Mosaba came boiling out of her at that moment. She would defend herself anyway she had to.
“A girl?” The man said in surprise. “Ho ho,” he laughed, relaxing his stance, “you want to stab me, little girlie?” He chortled as he lunged for her arm. Nica whipped her knife to the right and stabbed forward with all her strength, aiming for a spot just above his oversized gut. At the same moment something swished by her ear and a thin sabre slid neatly into the center of the man’s chest.
“No, but I want to.” Nica barely recognized Shanks’ voice, it carried such a deadly tone of malice.
The man’s shocked eyes glazed over before he crumbled at their feet. Shanks pulled his sabre free as the man fell forward. The Sartisian’s head flopped on the floor with a resounding thud. Shanks kicked him over and pulled Nica’s dagger from the corpse.
“All right?” Shanks asked as he wiped off the blade and handed it to her.
Nica nodded. With a shudder she slid the dagger back into her boot.
Shanks gave Toppen a derisive sneer before he kicked the cell door open.
“You can come out now, you gutless coward,” Shanks snarled. He pulled Nica away. “Come on.”
An outraged bellow rent the hallways. Mosaba’s furious roar echoed throughout the Ortawn.
“Run.”
Nica followed Shanks down the hallway. She was right on his heels as
he darted into the dark little tunnel where they had sneaked into the Ortawn. Sebande’s worried face peered down from above.
“Step on my knee and I’ll lift you,” Shanks said in a rush as they skidded to a stop. Nica’s sides were heaving and her breath came in short gasps. He dropped down and propped up his knee. Nica took a step back then ran up onto Shanks’ knee and jumped for the opening. Sebande caught her arms and pulled her through in one smooth motion, setting her on the ground next to him. He thrust an arm down for Shanks and yanked him up through the opening too. With Shanks on safe ground, Sebande began to roll the stone back in place.
“Wait for me,” a thin voice wavered from below.
Sebande shot a confused look at Shanks who frowned at Nica, then nodded. With a growl of disapproval Sebande dropped down and thrust a hand out for Toppen to hold, then pulled him free. With a grunt he pushed the rock back into place.
Shanks was already leading Jaaniyah and Becknah toward the forest, their silhouettes mere shadows in the blowing sand. Sebande grabbed Nica’s hand and pulled her along beside him as he ran to catch up with Shanks, leaving Toppen to fend for himself.
hey rode two to a horse; Sebande and Jaaniyah, Shanks and Nica, Toppen and Becknah. Sebande had given Jaaniyah his coat to cover her night dress, and some cloth torn from a shirt in which to wrap her feet.
“Pray that Heathron has control of the slivers,” Shanks muttered as he urged the horse to go faster.
“How’s your side?” Nica asked, fearful of the answer.
“It hurts like bloody hell, but I don’t think it’s bleeding,” he said. “Thanks to my witch woman.” He smiled over his shoulder at her. Nica returned his smile, relieved the stitches had held. She leaned her head against his back, trying not to grip his sides and exhaled deeply, relaxing into the rhythm of the horse.
It took several hours to reach the northern sliver. Nica could see no sign they were being followed. Mosaba and his men must have been sidetracked by the smoke in the Ortawn.
Sebande barely slowed as he directed his horse onto the narrow, winding land bridge. Nica sucked in her breath as Shanks followed close behind, trusting in the horse’s ability to find footing on the sliver of land that projected out into thin air. Toppen stopped at the edge of the canyon before urging the horse forward at a walk.
On the far side of the canyon six Jarisan guards stood at attention, weapons poised, watching their passage. Shanks yelled as they neared the other side of the Great Divide. When they reached the other side Sebande urged his horse close to speak to soldiers with Jaaniyah clinging to his back. The guards stared at her, unsure whether to believe their eyes. Nica quickly pulled her hood over her head to avoid any questions that might delay them further and tucked her head against Shanks’ back, content to remain invisible and listen.
It didn’t take long to arrange a contingent of soldiers to escort them back to the palace. The soldiers split up, half riding before their group and the other half behind. Shanks sent Toppen to ride with the group of soldiers following behind.
“Pain in the arse, that one,” Shanks muttered as he returned from depositing him with the captain of the guards.
It wasn’t until they stopped for the night that any of them had a chance to talk. Becknah, appearing old and frail, immediately curled up by a small fire and went to sleep on the sparse scattering of blankets Shanks offered him
“M’lady.” Shanks looked at Jaaniyah as they sat huddled around a second, larger fire. “Your sister—”
“Jonn, stop calling me M’lady in front of other people,” Jaaniyah snapped. “You never call me that when we’re alone. It’s fine to call me Jaani.”
“Jaani, then.” Shanks smiled. “Your sister believes we’re on the path to locating the Getheas Stone.”
Jaaniyah gave Nica a curious look. “You’ve deciphered one of the quatrains in the Avedla, then?”
“Two, actually, beyond the first one Becknah figured out,” Nica replied. She sat on a rock next to Shanks and leaned her shoulder against his with a smile. “But I did have a little help.”
Next to her Sebande coughed and abruptly stood up, everyone’s eyes following his movements. “I need to check on my horse,” he mumbled. He looked pointedly at Shanks before he disappeared into the darkness.
“What have you found so far?” Jaani’s voice sounded cold, her lips pressed in a straight line.
A confused frown etched across Nica’s brow as she watched Sebande go. She briefly described the symbol of the crown and the eye, as well as the message from the ‘T’ quatrain to ‘go through the veil of prisyms’.
“And what is a veil of prisyms?” her sister asked.
“We don’t know that part,” Nica said. “Yet.”
A long silence stretched around the campfire. After a few moments Jaaniyah held her hands out to the warmth of the flames. “Based on my recent experience with that mad man, I can confirm Mosaba is obsessed with the Stone and thinks we know where it is. I do believe he’ll do anything to obtain possession of its secrets.” She spoke to Shanks as if the others weren’t there. “Jonn, without question, it would be in our best interest to find the Getheas Stone before he does, if it truly exists. Upon my return to the palace I’ll dispatch a group to continue the search.”
“Where will you send them?” Nica questioned.
“There’s a Valley of the Gods within The Spires Mountain range. A place on the Pian’glo Pass,” Jaaniyah said thoughtfully. “It’s supposed to be very ancient. My father was going to let Becknah start an archeological dig up there after the spring thaw.” She lifted her head as though she’d made up her mind. “That’s where I’ll send the men first.” She turned to Shanks. “Has there been any change in my father’s condition?”
“No.” Shanks shook his head. “Cottrai—” he nodded toward one of the guards— “is in Heathron’s confidence. He knows your father’s location. He told me the King is improving but not yet fit to travel.”
“Then we must assume Tarantu remains at HighGarden?” Jaaniyah asked.
“When we return we’ll put a twenty-four hour watch on him and find out how he’s feeding information to Mosaba. In the meantime, Heathron is there, along with the other ministers,” Shanks replied. “And Becknah will be back.” He nodded in the direction of the bedroll where the old scholar slept near the fire.
Jaani’s eyes flicked over to the old man, her expression grim. “Mosaba will be tracking us, no doubt?”
“No doubt,” Shanks agreed.
NICA SAGGED WEARILY against Shank’s back as they rode, leaning close to combine their warmth. They’d ridden for much of the day and the travel was much rougher sitting behind the saddle rather than in the leather seat. It was as if every bone in her body had been jostled over and over. Night was upon them again and the air had turned frosty. She could see the stars through the trees, sparkling above in a crystal clear sky while the crescent moon illuminated the forest with a wash of blue-grey light.
Sebande rode in the lead with Jaaniyah riding behind him. Occasionally, Nica peered over Shanks’ shoulder to look at the pair riding ahead. It was an eerie sensation to see her sister on the back of Sebande’s horse with her hair hanging free. It was as though she watched herself.
“Oh, thank the Gods,” Nica whispered when Shanks reined his horse to a stop. Before he could move she pushed herself straight back over the rump of the horse and dropped to the ground. She gave the horse a pat on the flank, ignoring the dust that rose, and pushed herself away with a groan. Her legs were stiff, her back ached and she smelled like a horse.
Shanks climbed down with the same disjointed movements.
He looked over at her and straightened up with a pained expression. “It’s painful to live around you, you know that?” he said. He raised his arm with a chuckle as she tried to swat at his head. Jaaniyah’s cold voice made her stop.
“Jonn,” Jaaniyah said. “Come here, I need to ask you something.” Shanks walked over to Jaani, shrugging on
e shoulder as he tried to straighten the cramped muscles of his injured side.
A cool breeze brushed Nica’s face like a warning. Once again, she wondered at the relationship between her sister and Shanks. She approached Sebande before the thought of Jaaniyah and Shanks together could grow any bigger in her mind.
“What can I do to help?” she asked.
Sebande straightened from where he was lining out the bedrolls and stared down at her. Nica waited, but instead of speaking, the muscles in his jaw clenched as though he held in his words.
“We need kindling,” he finally muttered.
Nica nodded. He would tell her when he was ready. She went to collect the wood ignoring Jaaniyah and Shanks huddled together.
NICA WAS AWAKE before the dawn. Bird song chattered from the tree tops. The occasional scream of a monkey split the air. They’d slept around the fire, keeping the flames stoked throughout the night. For this one moment, a sense of peace engulfed her. Jaaniyah had been rescued. The King lived, as did Toppen and Becknah. She thought of the Avedla verses and the ancient trail of which they spoke. Did the clues they’d deciphered so far lead to the Getheas Stone?
Her thoughts drifted to Shanks. She turned to gaze at the shadow that was his sleeping form. Shaun. His shaggy blond hair was visible beyond the edge of his blanket, his boots sticking out the other end. A depth of emotion she’d never imagined flooded through her. She was in love with him. How had that happened? And did she even have a chance with someone like Shanks when a princess of the land he considered home loved him as well?
When Jaaniyah rose, she seemed to make a point of requiring Shanks’ assistance for any number of tasks. Nica went to fetch more kindling for the fire, keeping her head down and trying to ignore her jealousy. Jaani had known Shanks longer than she had. It was to be expected their relationship would continue.
Nica was down near the creek when she spied a thatch of leaves woven together in an odd bundle and tucked between the roots of a giant Pandoxian tree. Curious, she reached for the oval shape and began to peel away the huge tropical leaves. When she’d peeled back the last leaf she sucked in a sigh of amazement at the contents. It was a wood carving of a woman with her hair piled high. A crown embedded with gems encircled her head. She had a broad nose and eyes that glittered with the icy fire of the rare shirpa stone. Nica pushed herself up and hurried back to camp.
The Midnight Spy Page 22
