Plague of Shadows

by Howard Andrew Jones

  Early afternoon, Elyana thought. So much had changed in only a handful of hours. A butcher vendor eyed them suspiciously as they filed into view, then lost interest as a squat woman challenged him about the freshness of his stock.

  Merchants hawked goods from stalls set up all around the square: dried gourds, cloth, breads, even wine and desserts. Smoked meat was offered by half a dozen different butchers, and some folk had brought their own small livestock for slaughter. If not for the guillotine and the self-important pairs of soldiers, it would have looked like the market section of any city.

  Arcil, his features hidden by his deep hood, led them through the maze of people and goods. Though disguised, they really didn't blend in with the Galtan crowd, and Elyana wasn't terribly surprised that someone behind them called for them to halt. Arcil kept on, pretending not to hear.

  "You there, in the hood! Halt, I say!"

  Arcil froze.

  The crowd behind them cleared away as surely as if they'd heard someone declare their little group had the plague. As the liberty-capped guardsman strode forward, Arcil turned suddenly and pulled down his hood.

  The shoppers and merchants had turned from their own tasks to become a crowd, and they gasped almost with one voice. Arcil wore a gray leather mask and tricorne. The garb of the Gray Gardeners.

  The two guardsman stopped a few paces off, and Elyana saw the blood drain from their faces.

  "I am on business, citizen," Arcil said menacingly. "Is there some way that I can help you?"

  "No," stammered the pug-nosed man on the right. "No, citizen."

  "Good." Arcil pulled the hood back up and stalked away, the cloak belling behind him. A trifle dramatic, really, but the Galtans loved drama, and it had silenced them.

  The wizard then boldly walked up to the postern gate of the gaol, showed mask and hood, and when challenged for the password spat: "Beautiful and blue."

  The guardsman stood quickly aside, and Arcil strode on as if he owned the place. Elyana did not stare at the grounds, and tried not to dwell on the outer wall of the jail they had but lately escaped. Been allowed to escape, she corrected. Was this, then, some other strange ploy? Surely not. The Galtans could not be anticipating her return. So why had they imprisoned Vallyn?

  Arcil, head thrust forward as if he strode into a stiff wind, walked straight for the dark stones of the prison and set his hand to the door latch.

  Before long they were moving again through narrow corridors and up twisting stone stairs. The first-floor cells were full once more, for guards were pushing a squeaking cart heavy with food trays into a hall, and Elyana glimpsed fingers wrapped around the cell windows, as though inmates were pressed against them in anticipation. On the third floor they saw but two guardsmen, who played dice on a battered table. At sight of Arcil as Gray Gardener they hopped to their feet, ashen-faced. They quickly turned over cell keys and lantern to Arcil. The wizard unlocked the gate and they passed through, leaving the guards gulping behind them.

  The sky rumbled outside.

  "This was our hall," Drelm noted.

  Arcil was counting softly under his breath. He stopped at "twelve" and faced left. He peered through the door's barred window, then slid a key into the protesting lock and turned it. He hauled it open, and Elyana stepped to his side.

  The bard peered up at them from his seat on a straw pallet. While the hairline was the same, his face was so distorted that Elyana at first did not recognize him as her old companion. His upper lip was purple, his cheek bruised, and one eye was swollen shut. His nose was broken. He raised his hands and Elyana heard the rattle of chains. Manacles wrapped his wrists, which were tethered to the wall with a short, rusty chain.

  He did not recognize either of them until Arcil removed his mask.

  "Arcil." Vallyn's one good eye rolled over to Elyana, then widened slightly, recognizing her garments and the way she carried herself. "Elyana. Of course. Of course you saved her."

  "On the contrary, my old friend," Arcil answered pleasantly. "She slew the dragon with no help from me. Or you."

  "I didn't think either of us had a chance, Elyana," Vallyn explained.

  Arcil answered for her. "It is good to see you...having gotten something like what you deserve."

  "You must wonder how I got myself here." Vallyn's voice was cracked and strained.

  "Not especially," Arcil said. "I just want the crown."

  "And Elyana's helping you with that?"

  "We have an arrangement."

  "I can help you find it," Vallyn promised, "if you let me out."

  Arcil smiled and his voice went on, precise and measured. "Or I can kill you, and compel your soul to purge itself of secrets. That would be faster, I think."

  Vallyn's one open eye rolled toward Elyana, who stood still as death.

  "What should we do with him?" Arcil asked conversationally.

  "You killed my horse, you miserable bastard."

  "I ...I had to ride fast, Elyana. I knew the kind of things that live in the shadow lands—"

  "You are a coward."

  "Yes ...yes, but I had no choice. I had to take them the crown. I had to—"

  "Where is it?" Arcil demanded.

  "Why?" Elyana asked, setting one hand on the door frame.

  "Do you honestly care?" Arcil asked her.

  "He was my friend, once," Elyana said. "Or a fine, fine liar."

  "The latter, I think."

  The bard spoke quickly. "No, I am your friend, Elyana. I panicked when I saw the dragon—I'm sorry about that. But I had to get the crown away. I had to—"

  "Your friends killed the elves," she told him. "All three of them. Including the girl." She glanced to her left where Renar watched tensely.

  "The Galtans had already done that," Vallyn said. "I had nothing to do with it. You've got to believe me."

  "So it was an accident?" Elyana's voice rose in outrage. "Is that what you're saying? That there was no way to warn them?" Elyana's voice grew hard. "Gods! What's wrong with you?" She looked at Arcil as well. What was wrong with both of them?

  It was as though Arcil heard her thoughts. "I wished no one to see my weakness," Arcil said. "As for him...he's probably not telling the truth."

  "I am!" Vallyn whispered, then strained against the chain so that he could lean a few feet closer. "You must believe me. I had no choice. They would have killed me years ago if I hadn't supplied them with information. Names. Locations. Everything. It took me years to get where I was. I wasn't lucky enough to be born to privilege. I had to fight my way up from nothing, and they were going to take it away!"

  "Greed," Arcil said. "His sin is greed and mine is pride." The wizard sounded as though he were enjoying himself. "What's yours, Elyana? If we were going to live a parable, we really should have seven sins, don't you think?"

  "Let me out," Vallyn begged. "Let me out, and I'll take you to the crown. I can do it. I know what they're doing."

  "Tell me where the crown is," Arcil said, "and she'll think about it."

  Vallyn licked his puffed and bloody lips and searched Elyana's face for sympathy. He found none.

  "They were awfully eager to see me," Elyana said. "So they want me dead, and you told them where I was, why haven't they come after me?"

  "I don't know," Vallyn said. "I figured you'd been taking care of them. Nadara's sent out at least three assassins in the last five years, for you and Stelan. They never came back."

  "Assassins?" Elyana repeated. There'd been a few bandits, and a wolf pack, and an occasional murder. No personal threat to her or Stelan ...She looked over at Arcil.

  "I told you," he said woodenly, "I've been monitoring you. Stelan too. I knew you'd be upset if he died." At her strange stare, he continued. "After the first assassin, I kept a few servants on the perime
ter of Stelan's holdings. No one else got as close."

  Vallyn's dry chuckle sounded more like a death rattle. "Arcil the guardian angel," he said.

  "You ridicule me?" Arcil's hand rose as though he cupped an invisible ball, and a cold light flickered in his palm.

  Elyana stilled him with a hand on the wrist and faced the bard. "You'd be pitiable, Vallyn, if you were worth the trouble. You're not. They dropped you here because they finally thought they'd gotten all they could out of you, didn't they?"

  "Nadara swore!" Vallyn said, indignant. "She swore this would be the last thing! She even promised she'd leave you and Stelan alone if I just got her the crown! I swear that I didn't mean anything bad to happen to you!"

  "The crown," Arcil said. No hint of humor remained in his voice. "Where's the crown?"

  "Nadara's got it." Vallyn drooped. "They're planning something big, tonight. There's going to be a huge speech with all the city dignitaries."

  "She doesn't waste time," Elyana said.

  Vallyn shook his head. "She's been biding her time for more than twenty years, inching her way into power among the Gray Gardeners. And she has her uncle's notes, and the knowledge. You should have seen how excited she was when I told her you were headed for the crown—"

  "Enough story," Arcil said. "Where is she?"

  "Let me out and I'll take her to you."

  A line of blue lightning shot out from the wizard's hand and struck the bard.

  Vallyn convulsed as the energy danced over his body. His head crashed with a thunk into the wall behind him and his mouth opened in a silent scream.

  "Stop it!" Elyana snarled.

  Arcil dismissed the spell with a careless wave.

  Vallyn slumped in his chains and wheezed. Elyana bent down to grasp his chin. She turned his bruised face up and glared into his good eye.

  "You have lied to us. You have betrayed us, and our allies. You stood idly by when you knew assassins came for me."

  "I didn't know—" Vallyn objected.

  She dug her fingernails into his chin. He whimpered and fell quiet.

  "And you rode my horse to death. All for what, Vallyn, the promise of wealth? Was Nadara that good in bed? Don't answer. Where is she?"

  "Promise you'll let me go."

  "I promise not to kill you if you tell me where she is. Now."

  "You trust him. Over me."

  "You should worry about me, Vallyn."

  Tears trailed down from the corners of both his eyes, the swollen one and the good. "There's to be a demonstration at the parliament steps. They will either be there, or in the Chamber of Liberty."

  Elyana released his chin and considered, frowning.

  "That's the tall building beside the guillotine. The Gray Gardeners meet in the third floor. Above the square. Now please—"

  "How many will we face, Vallyn?" Arcil's voice was soft and sinister.

  "At least seven are wizards or sorcerers. A few are swordsmen and political folks. They'll be backed up by the army. Elyana, don't go. You won't have a chance. I don't know what kind of deal you made with Arcil, but I can—"

  "No deals, Vallyn. No arrangements. No words. Arcil, pass me the keys."

  Arcil's eyebrow arched, but he pressed the jangling ring of keys into her hand.

  "Thank you, Elyana," Vallyn sobbed. "Thank you."

  "And you have no idea what the Gardeners plan?" Arcil asked.

  "Nadara's going to unite the factions. With the crown. I don't know how, but she seemed awfully amused. Please, Elyana."

  Elyana had not yet set the keys to the manacled wrists offered up to her. Galtan factionalism was almost as mysterious to her as finances and organized worship. She did know that national and regional Galtan office terms were finished by Madame Guillotine with surprising regularity, and that various factions inevitably rose and thrived in the resulting chaos. These scrabbled constantly for access to Galt's failing resources.

  "Why do the Gardeners wish to end the chaos? It keeps them in power."

  "Nadara's going to rule Woodsedge. Through the Gardeners. With the crown. I don't know how. Please, that's all I know."

  Elyana set the keys down beside the bard. "It's time to go."

  "Wait," Vallyn protested. "You're taking me with you, aren't you?"

  "I'm leaving you the keys. How you escape from here is your own affair."

  Arcil looked at her dubiously as she shouldered past, then smirked at Vallyn and followed. Renar and Drelm stepped to the cell doorway.

  "Renar, please. Reason with her! I can't possibly survive if you just abandon me—"

  "It's a better chance than you gave Aliel," Renar said bitterly.

  "That was an accident," Vallyn said quickly. He was fumbling with the keys as he spoke, twisting his hand to fit the key into the manacles. "You know that I couldn't possibly have meant for anything to happen to her! You have to know that."

  Renar stepped away. Drelm glowered down at Vallyn for a moment, watching as he freed himself from the first manacle. Then he closed the door with a thunk and followed the others. There was the click of a lock.

  "No!" Vallyn shouted. "That's not fair!" He scrambled to his feet and pressed his face to the bars. He screamed after them in fear and anger. "Don't leave me here!"

  Drelm did not look back.

  Chapter Twenty

  Citizen Assembly

  The five o'clock bells were tolling as they exited the jail, but there was no sign of the soldiers who should have been gathering for mealtime. A lone soldier walked the upper wall above the gate, and two dejected-looking guards manned it. They didn't seem surprised by the sight of a Gray Gardener and a small group of followers, and allowed them through without challenge. Arcil drew up his hood as they left, and passed the hat and mask to Sareel to stow in a backpack.

  The streets outside were packed with long streams of men, women, and children walking for the central square.

  Elyana wished they'd grabbed a few liberty caps off of their opponents in the Vale of Shadows. One out of every five people was wearing one.

  They stayed with the crowd, walking among them toward the square. Soldiers were clearing the vendors away, and folk gathered to face the wide stone steps that fronted the parliament building. A podium had been erected under its impressive portico, which was supported by a half-dozen stone pillars. Soldiers stood along the bottom row of steps, keeping the crowd back from stage, podium, and row of chairs behind.

  Some enterprising children had clambered to sit on the ledge of the platform that supported the guillotine, gaily swinging their legs and chattering among themselves.

  A mob bore crude placards. Some of them Elyana understood simply enough—"Death to the Tyrants," "Liberty," "Down with Taxes"—but others mystified her. Several men carried wooden signs with symbols of horses and vegetables, and they seemed almost as agitated as a knot of burly men holding signs labeled with such slogans as "Support your Builders' Guild" and "No Stones, No Liberty." She wondered if the letterers understood the irony in the last statement, for escape from Woodsedge to liberty had been far simpler before the construction of its wall.

  A handful of vendors remained, calling attention to their goods: cheese, bread, and fried meat on sticks. They did a brisk business. Drelm sniffed—a peculiarly loud sound to rise from a human nose, and it earned him a quick glance from a beady-eyed merchant before he turned to badger other passersby.

  "I'm hungry," Drelm muttered.

  Elyana could hear folk talking about all sorts of things: whether or not it would rain, how hungry they were, irritation that they had to gather for yet another speech. Others had heard rumors that all the city leaders would be in attendance and looked forward to the political sparring that would surely transpire.

  Arcil slid up to Elyana's
side. "There's a great deal of magical energy emanating in a wave toward the stage," he told her softly.

  "From where?"

  Before the wizard could answer there was a flurry of motion on the steps of the parliament, and a trio of men in gold-trimmed blue waistcoats ascended the stairs. They lifted brass trumpets to their lips and blared out a fanfare that was more loud than skilled. The fanfare stuttered to a halt, then the musicians launched into a ragged rendition of "The March of Liberty," one of the informal anthems of the Galtan revolutionaries.

  The massive entry doors of the parliament hall were thrown wide, and a dozen well-dressed men and women strolled onto the steps, waving at the crowd. The throngs erupted with cheers, waves, and a few catcalls. A chant about wall-building rose from the sign-shaking citizens, but died before reaching much momentum as another trumpet blast rang out. A fat but handsome man with wavy black hair stepped up to the podium, hands raised high. Almost unnoticed, a trio of robed and masked Gray Gardeners had also come through the doorway. They watched quietly from the shadows as the speaker thanked the assembled citizens for coming.

  "The magic's centered all around the people on the stage," Arcil whispered to Elyana. "They practically glow with it. I believe that the magic on the stage is linked to whatever's going on ...over there."

  Elyana's eyes followed the line of Arcil's gaze toward a tall, grand building behind the guillotine, directly across from the parliament. The Chamber of Liberty, Vallyn had named it. The shutters on three wide third-story windows were thrown open, but unlike all other windows around the square, no one leaned against the sills.

  "There's a great deal of sorcerous energy wielded by both the gardeners and something on the top floor of that building. And it's connected."

  "Where's the crown?"

  "I can't tell. Honestly, it might be on either side."

  Elyana realized that the whole mess wasn't going to get any simpler. Wouldn't the clerics of Abadar be perfectly happy with the blessed armor, which was clearly of great worth? And hadn't she already risked enough for Arcil—who, after all, was a murderer and a blackmailer?