The Narrowing Path: The Complete Trilogy (The Narrowing Path Series Book 4)

by David J Normoyle

  “What can I say? Some people get bad dreams.” He had never gotten them before the Refuge three years ago, of course. He flipped off his blankets and went to his closet and ran his fingers along the row of garments hanging up. All the trappings of being a Guardian of Arcandis, but nothing to back it up. Everything was a facade.

  “Where are those azure robes?” Bowe asked Zofila. “The ones I wore during the Green Path.”

  Zofila studied Bowe. “So this meeting you called is that important. What’s going on? Should I be worried?”

  Bowe turned away. “Nothing important. I was joking.” He grabbed one set of clothes randomly from the closet and put them on. “Those old azure robes did their job and deserve retirement. So who told you about this meeting?” Bowe had been wondering for a while how Zofila always knew what was going on. He had his suspicions about that.

  Zofila sat on Bowe’s bed. “I have my ways. No one tells us ascora anything—doesn’t mean I‘m stupid.

  “Us ascora? Do you think of yourself like that? There’s still only one Bellanger ascora so far.”

  “I have to do the work of twenty.”

  “So you think the others should start getting married? Sorrin, Sindar, Thrace, Xarcon?” Was there one of those that she wouldn’t like to see married? “Give you some ascora to order around.”

  “All ascor marriages take place during the Green Path, and I don’t think now is the time to change that tradition. I’ll survive another three years as the sole ascora.”

  “You should attend the meeting,” Bowe said. “It affects you as much as anyone else.”

  “No, don’t be ridiculous. Something like this is just for the ascor men.”

  “From how I remember the Raine harem, the women didn’t attend the meetings, but they usually knew what went on in them even before the men had exited it.”

  Zofila smiled at him. “You wouldn’t expect it to be any different here, would you?”

  “So you’ll just have a servant listening at the door?”

  “Something like that. You know me too well.”

  She had her sources, but Bowe didn’t think it was the servants. Or at least not only them. He moved around the bed and leaned in toward her. “I do know you well. You are my only wife, after all. So how come we’ve never...” He grabbed her waist and pulled her close. “You know?”

  “Why, who’s the feisty goat this morning?” She patted Bowe on the cheek and swiveled out of his grasp.

  Bowe reached for her again and she danced out of reach with a laugh. She ducked behind the curtains and stuck her head out. “I’m not coming out from behind here until your blood cools.”

  Bowe remembered meeting Zofila for the first time out on the balcony at the ascor ball. She’d called herself ugly and Bowe hadn’t protested. When he’d first married, he hadn’t objected when she had said they had to wait. For the last few months, though, he had wanted her. Her easy smile, quick banter, and the sparkle in her eye attracted him. And her body had filled out in ways that could cause a trembling behind his kneecaps. “We’re over three years married now.” Unfortunately, he now suspected the sparkle was for someone else.

  Zofila’s smile became fixed. “You know you’re still too young.”

  “I’m no longer a boy. I’m a man.” He was sixteen now, more than old enough. Sindar and Sorrin had brought him to a courtesan house a few weeks back for his sixteenth birthday. He’d been back a few times since, but he often left feeling empty. It inflamed his desire for Zofila instead of quenching it. And, in his happier dreams, for Iyra.

  Zofila came out from behind the curtain. “What brought this on? You know our marriage was one of convenience to survive the Infernam. We haven’t discussed becoming man and wife for real.”

  “That’s because you dodge whenever I broach the subject. When we first married, you were adamant it was me you wanted to marry rather than any of the other ascor. You didn’t seem so cool toward my affections then. You insisted on a heartfelt proposal. What’s changed?”

  “I thank you for saving me, and making me a Bellanger ascora. But come on, that wasn’t heartfelt. I practically had to force you into asking me.”

  “What’s changed?” Bowe repeated.

  “Now isn’t the time.” Zofila brushed past Bowe. “You shouldn’t keep everyone waiting downstairs. You called the meeting.”

  “Every time I try to have this discussion—” Bowe called after her, but she didn’t reply. Bowe felt a sinking feeling. He had started to suspect that Zofila had become involved with one of his ascor from her constant rejection and the way she always knew what was going on. Did Sindar get tired of looking for companionship just among the ascora in the other three families?

  Bowe went to the mirror to make sure he looked presentable. It was mainly to confirm that he still looked like the Bellanger Guardian and not the little boy Zofila made him feel like.

  He left the bedroom and descended the stairs and entered the dining hall. The table was much too big for the number of ascor the Bellanger family had. Sorrin, Thrace, Oamir, and Sindar took up only the smallest part of it, and Bowe went to join them. Oamir was reading from a book and making notes on a parchment. Bowe shoved Sindar’s feet off the table, then sat. “Where’s Xarcon?”

  “I got word to him,” Sindar said. “Or at least I think I did. I talked to someone who told me they could get a message to him.” He shrugged. “I told you we don’t see him around much anymore.”

  “So did Sorrin fill the rest of you in?” Bowe asked.

  “About what Eolnar and Kirande said.” Sindar nodded. “Sounds like we’re in the bowels of a sinking ship with no way out.”

  “And the ship’s on fire,” Thrace added.

  “And there are sharks in the sea,” Sorrin said.

  “And—”

  Bowe interrupted Sindar. “Okay, okay, I get it. No need to rub it in. Sorrin, did you work out when Dulnato is planning to make his move?”

  “Afraid not. I’d assume sooner rather than later for now.”

  Bowe still hoped the other families wouldn’t act too quickly, allowing him more time. Either way, he didn’t have many options. “Any word on The Fool’s Hope? Is what Eolnar said true?”

  Sorrin shrugged. “We haven’t heard. I don’t think it matters now, though. We don’t have the time to wait and find out.”

  Bowe turned to Thrace. “What are our chances in a fight against Dulnato?”

  Thrace considered. “We have eight marshals. You didn’t want us to recruit more than that for now. They’re pretty well trained this time around. Better than the last time Dulnato attacked, at least. But we don’t know how many Dulnato will bring.”

  “For all we know, Dulnato could bring every Grenier marshal in the city down on us,” Sindar said.

  As Sindar spoke, Bowe imagined him and Zofila together and his stomach churned. He had more important matters to worry about but he couldn’t help himself.

  “So what are our options?” Bowe asked. “Should we accept either Eolnar or Kirande as our leader? Name one of them the Bellanger Guardian?”

  Oamir looked up from his book, seemed about to say something, then returned to his reading.

  “It’s the worst time to take either of them as leader,” Sorrin said. “If we accepted one of them earlier, we might have retained some independence. But now...”

  “We’d just become an offshoot of the Lessard or Grenier family,” Bowe said bitterly. “Fear of that is why we refused them in the first place, and now we have no choice.”

  There was a long silence around the table. When they’d left the Refuge, the task of building up the family once again had seemed daunting, but also an exciting challenge. How had it gone so wrong?

  Bowe stood up and walked to the wall and pulled down the banner showing the azure Bellanger sun. He threw it on the table. “Is this where we decide whether to re-color the Bellanger sun red or green?”

  Thrace slapped his hand on the table. “Neither. If they
want the Bellanger sun, let them come here and take it.”

  Bowe sighed. “What choice do we have? Sorrin, what do you think?”

  “If I had to pick one, I would choose Lessard and Eolnar,” Sorrin said. “Even though Kirande seems a reasonable guy—for a Grenier—I suspect we’d get a looser leash from the Lessards. Sorani wants his brother to have power. The problem, though, is that the Greniers have more immediate muscle at their disposal. So by making Eolnar the leader while the Greniers are prepared to strike might be throwing ourselves into the fire.”

  “Would the Greniers dare attack if we were under Lessard protection?” Bowe asked.

  “Maybe that’s why Dulnato is tasked with this,” Sorrin said. “He could attack, claim it was because of a personal vendetta, and afterward Kirande and Stenesso could deny involvement.”

  “So that leaves choosing Kirande as our only choice,” Bowe said.

  “Kirande as Guardian might solve the immediate problem,” Sorrin said, drumming his fingers on the table as he thought. “But come next Infernam, will the Lessards and Raines accept the Bellangers as a fourth family when it is controlled by the Greniers? The whole reason the other Guardians allowed you and your new Bellanger family into the Refuge was to prevent the Greniers from becoming too powerful.”

  Bowe shook his head. “How do you escape a room with no doors?”

  “Fly,” said a voice.

  Bowe looked up to see Xarcon striding across the room toward them.

  “Look who decided to join us finally,” Sorrin said.

  “I missed a bit of your nattering, did I?” Xarcon placed his palms on the table and leaned toward Bowe. “You shouldn’t still be here.”

  “Where else can we go?” Bowe asked. “Fly? I don’t exactly have wings.”

  “Well, grow them. You need to flee now. Dulnato is already on his way.”

  Sorrin leaped to his feet, his chair crashing to the ground behind him. “He can’t be. They have to give us more time than this. Kirande just gave us the ultimatum yesterday.”

  “More time for what?” Xarcon asked. “How long do you need to figure out you don’t have any options?”

  “We can’t just leave,” Thrace said. “We’ve fought too hard for what we have.”

  Xarcon laughed. “What you have? This is all based on pretense. Just be amazed it’s lasted this long. There is no power behind the mask that has been created. All it needed was a little push and everything came tumbling down.”

  He’s right, Bowe thought. They’d had three years to reestablish the Bellanger power and everything they’d tried had ended in failure. “How many men is Dulnato bringing?” Bowe asked.

  “Scores of them.”

  “Okay, let’s get out of here,” Bowe said. “We should divide up. No point in all of us getting caught.”

  “Where can we go?” Sorrin asked.

  “Don’t pretend you haven’t prepared for this.” Xarcon walked behind Sorrin and brushed his fingers up Sorrin’s arm, across his shoulders, and down the other side. “I know what you’re like. You’d always have a bolt hole ready.”

  Sorrin turned around and pushed his face into Xarcon’s. “And what if I have?”

  Bowe pushed Xarcon and Sindar apart. “We don’t have time to fight among ourselves. Smart of Sorrin to have prepared for something like this.” Of course that left him wondering why he himself hadn’t done something that obvious and easy. He’d thought he would have more time. “What about you?” Bowe turned to Sindar. “Do you have somewhere to go?”

  “Nowhere planned,” Sindar said. “But I know a lot of hidden routes and people who’ll hide me.”

  “Could you hide others with you.” Bowe studied him closely. “What about Zofila?”

  “I’ll take her,” Sorrin said.

  So it’s you, Bowe thought. Bowe stared at Sorrin until he flushed and looked away. Focus, he told himself, stopping his mind from picturing what he didn’t want it to picture.

  “They’ll want me above all, so it’ll be easier for the rest of you to get away if I’m not with you,” Bowe said. “Since you already have an escape planned, Sorrin, you can take Zofila and Oamir with you.” It pained Bowe to say it, but he wouldn’t be able to keep Zofila safe with half the Grenier marshals after him. At least he knew that Sorrin would protect her. It gave Bowe some small satisfaction to put a third wheel with the two lovebirds; he didn’t want to make it too easy for his wife and best friend to cheat on him. “Thrace, you and Sindar tell the Bellanger marshals and servants to disappear. If they remove the Bellanger colors, they shouldn’t have any problem disappearing. Tell them...” Bowe hesitated. He didn’t know if it was a lie or not. “Tell them they can rely on the Bellanger family reforming again. And when the Infernam comes around, those who were with us from the start will be first in line for places in the Refuge. Can you do that, Thrace?”

  Thrace nodded.

  “After that, you and Sindar should get out of here,” Bowe said.

  “What about you, Bowe?” Thrace said. “How will you find somewhere safe even if you get away?”

  “I can take Bowe to someone who might be willing to help him,” Xarcon said. “Perhaps the only person capable of hiding him once the Greniers start turning the city upside down looking for him. Bowe, we have to move now.”

  “Okay.” Bowe grabbed Sindar and embraced him. “Keep safe. Don’t be doing anything too dangerous.”

  Sindar raised his eyebrows. “Who, me? Never.” Despite his protestations, his cheeky smile indicated he’d be hanging upside down by his toes while on some daring escapade before long.

  Bowe moved on and threw his arms around Thrace. “Keep the faith. This is only a setback.”

  Bowe put his hand on Oamir’s shoulder. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he said, then put his arms around Sorrin’s neck and pulled Sorrin’s head to his chest. “Keep the Bellanger family safe until I return. Stay loyal. Say goodbye to Zofila for me.”

  “Come on,” Xarcon called out from the hall. “I’m leaving now, with or without you.”

  Bowe sprinted out after Xarcon.

  “Here, throw this on.” Xarcon threw Bowe a large cloak. “Hide those fancy clothes you’re wearing.”

  Bowe threw the cloak over his head, shrugged it down over his shoulders, and, after wrestling with it, managed to shove his arms into the sleeves. He pulled the hood over his head and darted outside.

  When they reached the street, Xarcon—after looking both ways—turned left. He stopped at the corner and poked his head out to make sure the way was clear before turning right. Bowe followed, keeping the hood low over his face.

  At the next corner, Xarcon stuck his head out then jerked it back. “Two Grenier marshals guarding the end of that road.”

  “We’ll have to try a different route.”

  “If they have this road blocked off, no doubt the other streets will be the same,” Xarcon said. “Not much point guarding a single exit point. And I don’t know where is safe in this section of the city. Maybe we can escape via the rooftops. I think we passed a stairway.”

  They retraced their steps and turned into a narrow alleyway with a small set of stairs cut into one wall. Xarcon started up the steps and Bowe followed. The stairway was made of the same red clay as the wall it leaned against; it was barely wider than the width of two feet, and so cracked and weathered that it was more like climbing a steep slope than defined steps. Bowe was only halfway up when he realized Xarcon had reached the top and was scrambling down again. Bowe descended, skidding on loose stones near the bottom but managing to hold his balance.

  “Let me guess. They have the rooftops guarded, too,” Bowe said when they were both down.

  Xarcon grimaced. “This is the last time I help you. I could have stayed away and let you get caught.”

  “Well, go,” Bowe said. “I’m sure you can get away easier without me. If trying to help me is such a chore for you.”

  “I still owe you. But if I get you out of
this, I’ll consider my debt to you paid.”

  “Just like that? Are you not still one of the Bellanger ascor?”

  “In name only. It’d be better if you no longer consider me as one.”

  “If that’s the way you want it.”

  “That’s the way it is. Now, enough of getting sidetracked. We have enough to deal with.”

  “Why didn’t they just surround the mansion?” Bowe asked. “Why set up such a wide net?”

  “I guess they figured you’d probably have an escape route out of the mansion. A tunnel to a nearby house, perhaps.”

  Bowe nodded. “I certainly should have had something like that. What do we do now?”

  “We could find an empty house and hide out, but they’ll likely find us eventually. I’ve an idea. Follow me.”

  Xarcon led Bowe farther down the alleyway until they came upon a beggar sitting on the side of the street. Xarcon nodded toward him. “He looks about your size. Offer to swap clothes with him.”

  “This is your plan? Are you serious?”

  “We have to be invisible. What are more invisible than the beggars on the streets? Hurry.” Xarcon disappeared around the next corner.

  The beggar glanced up at Bowe, then sank his head back on his chest. His beard was long, twisted, and dirty and he smelled of piss and unpleasantness. Bowe felt dirty at the very thought of putting on the beggar’s rags, but he didn’t have a better plan than Xarcon’s.

  He took a deep breath and crouched down. “What do you say? Want some new clothes?” Bowe glanced up and down the street, but there was no one else around. The Grenier marshals were likely stopping people from entering this part of Arcandis.

  “What’ll you give me for my clothes?” The beggar peered up at Bowe, scrunching his face into a mass of wrinkles and dirt streaks.

  “These clothes that I’m wearing,” Bowe said. “Clean, good quality.” Bowe pulled down the neck of his cloak to show his ascor garments underneath.

  The beggar rubbed the sleeve of Bowe’s cloak, leaving a dirty stain on it. “I don’t like them.”

  Bowe did his best not to flinch away. “What’s not to like? They’re not falling apart and covered in filth. Do you expect someone to come along shortly and offer you a better deal?”