by Carol Berg
The serving woman jumped to her feet. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”
“Ways lead both in and out of any maze,” I said. “I bring an urgent, private message from the lady’s foreign friend.” The “foreign friend” was indeed my own self, the designation Lydia had given me when we were working to save Aleksander from the Khelid and their demons.
Oddly enough, my words elicited a sharp in breath, not from Lydia, whose only reaction was a perfect, fragile stillness, but rather from the veiled serving woman, who quickly bent down to confer with her mistress. I did not spy on what was said, and I remained about twenty paces away, hoping to seem less threatening. As the serving woman retreated and settled herself at a discreet distance a quarter of the way around the pool, the Princess said, “Come.”
I stood up again and moved a few steps closer. “May I speak freely, my lady?” I said softly.
“The answer depends on what news you bring,” she said, meeting my gaze. The fire in her great green eyes told me that her fragility was but an illusion. This woman was the Empress-in-waiting that I knew, Aleksander’s worthy sparring partner. “My waiting woman will signal us if anyone intrudes. But be warned. I do carry a knife.”
I crouched down beside her, speaking low so that no one could have heard us, save perhaps the brown and white hawk that now sat on an almond tree beside the pool. “He lives, madam.”
“And you think I care about the despicable, rock-headed tyrant?” Only one who understood Lydia’s temper and her passion for her husband would have recognized the moment’s true emotion—the shallow breath exhaled, the quick swallow, the book tossed aside by fingers no longer clenched.
“Indeed, madam, I believe we yet share that particular affliction, although once I give you his message, your feelings may rightly change.” I hated what the Prince had asked of me.
She hunched her shoulders under her capacious white shawl as if the day had grown bitter. “Then perhaps you had best get on with it, lest I be tempted to think his sending you, of all messengers, is one of his usual sneaking ploys to regain my favor. How many exiled wives are brought messages by one that rumor names a god?”
“Ah, my lady—”
“Did you know that Edik fears that rumor more than anything? That a winged spirit favors his rival?”
I could allow no such distractions. No matter my own sympathies, I had to give her Aleksander’s words just as he had said them. And then I would have to leave her without any word or gesture of my own that might dilute their cruelty. He had made me swear it, knowing that I disagreed with him on the matter. And so instead of telling her how he had clung to thoughts of her in his pain and how desperately he needed to know she was safe before he could embark on this dangerous venture, I stared at the expanding fish rings on the pool and reminded her that Denischkar heged tradition gave Aleksander the prerogative to take a new wife if the first was barren. As the terms of the marriage agreement drawn up between their houses stated that Lydia would submit to Denischkar custom, Aleksander could also command Lydia to do his will in every matter. Therefore her husband was requiring her to petition the Emperor publicly for a dissolution of marriage. “He regrets the necessity to force you to this,” I said. “But he will not have his new wife be second to a woman who cannot be trusted to defend his interests.”
“Does the ass think I will believe that he found a new woman willing to put up with him?”
“He insists that you believe it, madam. He says that he has no more time for childish games with you. If you did not believe him in the spring when he banished you from his house and his bed, then you had best come to your senses.”
Lydia’s pale cheeks flushed, as if the sun were rising there instead of in the east. “And if I refuse to do his bidding and step aside?”
“Lord Aleksander will send the petition to the Emperor and the Council of Twenty himself, along with notice of the breach of the marriage agreement between his father and yours. Your father will be disgraced by your disobedience to his sworn word.”
“Edik will laugh at him and burn his petition. What does he care for Aleksander’s wishes? And why would my father care, for that matter? No one would hold him accountable for me.”
“My lord cares nothing for Prince Edik. But he requires the matter to be made clear to others in the imperial court,” I said, “so that both his supporters and his enemies will see that he is committed to the succession. He prefers you handle this unpleasant task by your own doing, as he has no wish to ruin your father and brothers whose support he would like to retain. But you are in his way, and he will have you removed.”
The waiting woman’s hidden eyes seemed to be fastened upon her own book, but Lydia’s slight gesture had the servant up and hurrying to her side.
Lydia glanced up at me and said with remarkable coolness, “Tell me one thing, Seyonne, is his leg healed?”
Startled by the change of subject, I saw no reason to answer other than honestly. “Straight and whole, madam. He has thrown out his last crutch. I saw him running for the first time just yesterday.” A few steps only, but a small triumph. A bitter triumph.
“Well, you may tell the lord of kayeets and scorpions and shengars that he may run off a cliff on his repaired leg, and take this ‘new wife’ with him. As you will see, I have no intention of stepping aside for anyone.” The Derzhi Princess gave her hand to the serving woman, who helped her stand, allowing the billowing white shawl to fall to the sides. And then did the world lurch off into an entirely new direction. Aleksander’s wife was most assuredly, most obviously, and most immediately not barren.
“Oh, my lady ... my dear lady ...” This was as far as I could get for several moments.
“Damn, damn, damn all cursed men ...” All of a sudden Lydia was fumbling at her gown. Her efforts were fruitless, and the servant had to produce a kerchief for the Princess to dab her eyes. “... and damn this vile condition that makes one into a child again. You will not tell him there were tears, Seyonne. They are not for him, anyway, but only a result of this same malady that makes my feet like those of chastou and my skin like a grinding stone.”
Indeed her proud demeanor was not diminished by her tears, though she had every right and reason to weep. I could not imagine the strain of her position. Knowing that the least whisper of the child to Edik would see both her and the babe dead. Hearing nothing of Aleksander in the months since he lay so ill in Drafa, save that the Emperor’s men were scouring the Empire, vowing to see him dead in the most dreadful ways. Completely uncertain of the future, save that the danger would be worse with every passing day.
“Lady, if we had known ...” No, I couldn’t tell her. Not yet. I could not unsay what I had sworn to say, though all was made irrelevant by the truth. Lydia could not appear before the Emperor to dissolve the marriage, not for something more than two months, but assuredly less than three. And even then, an infant was much more difficult to hide than a pregnant belly, unless you sent the babe away, as my child had been sent away. “We must get you out of Zhagad, Your Highness. You and the child are in grave danger.”
“And where would I go? To my husband, who has made his position with regard to me so clear? I think not. The mere fact that he was wrong will not remedy what he’s said. So where else is there to go? I am not the most useful of women to be put in a cottage somewhere to fend for myself. Though clever enough, no doubt, the learning might be difficult for the child, and I will not risk that. No, I think that behind my father’s walls is as good as I can do.”
“No, my lady. You must believe me. You and your child are safe nowhere in this Empire; you are wise enough in the ways of the world to understand that, and soon the danger will increase a hundredfold. If you wish this child to survive, then you must go with me, or prepare to remain here while the babe is hidden elsewhere.”
“I’ll not be separated from my child.”
“I thought not. And so we must find you a refuge, the sooner, the better. I know a place
—”
“Is he there?”
“Yes, for the moment. But many others live there as well.” I was talking to her back now. “Neither the journey nor the destination will be comfortable. It’s a poor place, but the best I can offer.”
“If the cursed Prince can live there, so can I. When do we go?” As always, she took my breath away.
I glanced up at the brown and white bird soaring across the tiled roof. “I need to discuss this with a companion. Can you ride at present, my lady?”
“By choice, no, but by necessity, yes. Not fast.”
“We’ll leave at dusk. I need to make arrangements for an extra horse and water, then I’ll come back for you. You’d best not be seen riding through the streets, so you’ll need to walk as far as the south gates. But how we’re to get you through them, I don‘t—”
“I’ll get her through the gates.” The serving woman spoke with startling authority. “She’ll be safer with me. We’ll meet you outside the south gates at dusk, ready for hard traveling. I will be accompanying the lady, so bring transport for me as well.”
“Madam?” I addressed Lydia, though some elusive element in the veiled woman’s speech held my attention on the servant rather than the mistress.
“As she said,” said the Princess.
“You must not be recognized,” I said. “This will be very dangerous. You should wait—”
“I can take care of it,” said the veiled woman. “Can you still trust no one but yourself, cocky boy?” Now I knew what had teased at my ear. Her accent was Ezzarian ... and she was laughing at me.
I shook my head in disbelief. “Catrin?”
“Tienoch havedd, Warden. Greetings of my heart, my first and most prized pupil.” My friend and mentor lowered her veil, held out her arms, and drew me into a fierce embrace.
CHAPTER 25
Catrin, a member of the Ezzarian Council that administered the demon war, stepped outside the boundaries of Ezzaria only in the rarest instance. But I could not stay in the garden long enough to find out why she happened to be playing waiting woman to the banished Princess of the Derzhi. Considering that the last time I had seen her, she had been consenting to my execution, the story would likely take more than a moment’s telling. And considering the words this normally reserved woman whispered as she clasped me to her breast, I wasn’t sure I should be in any hurry to hear her tale. “Holy Valdis give you strength, Seyonne.”
I returned her embrace stiffly, unsure of what it meant, unsure of my feelings about a friend who had left me to die. But I had to postpone any exploration of Catrin’s heart or mine.
Danger stalked the Princess even within the Marag house, so the women reported. The Emperor had sent his own man to reside with the Marag to intercept “any who might harass or threaten the noble, distraught lady wife” of his “murderous cousin.” Lydia spent most of each day in seclusion, walking and sitting in the garden only in the earliest morning when no one was about. Only her father, brother, and two loyal servants knew of the coming child ... and my mentor Catrin.
Leaving the women with a sufficiency of warnings, I slipped back into the garden and transformed. Blaise and I returned to our alley outside the walls, and I told him what had come about. “We need to get the Princess to Taíne Keddar,” I said. “Every moment she remains in Derzhi hands, she’s in mortal danger. She has nowhere else to go.”
Blaise sat against the alley wall, his face in sunlight, the rest of his body in shadow as the sun crept higher over Zhagad. “Are you trying to get us all killed? You and your royal friends are like a plaguey corpse—like to draw all sorts of vermin after you. No, the lady cannot stay at Taíne Keddar. But”—he raised his hand to quiet my protest—“there is another settlement. I’ll have to ask permission, but I don’t think they’ll refuse me. It’s a better place to birth a child and at least as safe.” He pulled a biscuit out of his pocket and eyed its unappetizing gray color. “Though safety and comfort are not in great supply anywhere at present.”
We spent the rest of the day acquiring two more horses. We had nowhere near enough money with us for this unexpected expense, and no man who valued his skin would consider stealing horses in Zhagad, so the acquisition was a matter of great delicacy, involving strong drink, a game of ulyat, and a bit of enchantment. Once we had the horses, we acquired extra waterskins, along with provisions for a two-day journey and an emergency childbirth. Remembering Vanko’s dead infant, I could not shake the imagining of Lydia’s being brought to term before-time on a journey in the desert.
In late afternoon Blaise flew back into the city to watch over the two women as they made their way through the streets. My changing was too slow to be of much use in an emergency. He would fetch me only if I was needed. I sat on a stone wall outside the gates, twisting the horses’ tethers about one sweaty hand and snapping the dry twigs off a thorn tree with the other. I hated waiting.
Mounted guards bulled through the teeming crowds, raising more memories of the trouble at Karn‘Hegeth. Slaves lit the torches at the fortresslike gates. When a flood of poorly dressed men and women spilled out from the cavernous opening—servants and laborers of too little use to be housed in a noble’s palace, and not permitted to stay within the city overnight—I sat up, alert. Among the coarse and weary crowd were two veiled women in brown robes, plodding and pushing a small barrow piled with baskets.
I was ready to leave my post and join the two women when a brown-and-white bird swooped low over a rangy, bearded man shouldering his way through the crowd. A dark blue cloak hid his hands and his dress, the cloak’s hood shadowing his face. He was only a few steps from Lydia’s back. With a harsh cry the bird soared up and circled over my head, then dipped over the man again. He didn’t need to tell me twice. I dropped down from the wall, wrapped the horses’ tethers about the thorn tree, and slipped into the crowd.
I purposefully averted my face as Catrin and Lydia passed by me. The blue-cloaked man edged closer to their backs as they moved slowly down the road, Catrin craning her neck looking for me. I shoved my way through the stream of people until I was just behind him. He reached toward the veiled Princess.
“Excuse me, sir,” I said, grabbing his outstretched arm and drawing him close, where he could feel my dagger poking under his ribs. “I think we need to have a word in private.”
The man muttered a curse and tried to wrestle away. Growling, I pricked him harder and nudged him toward the roadside. If I could get him into the darkening lanes of the outer city, I could whack him on the head until we were well away. But he would not cooperate, and luck was against him. One of the mounted Derzhi rode within ten paces of us. My prisoner snarled and raised his arm. “Your hon—” I rammed my knife upward, silencing his betrayal. Before he could fall, I sheathed my knife and grabbed him with both arms. His head lolling, blood trickling out of his mouth, I draped his arm over my shoulder and staggered drunkenly toward the side of the road, dragging him away from the alerted Derzhi. Careful. Not too fast. I maneuvered the body toward the spot where I’d left the horses, and then draped him headfirst over the wall, as if he were vomiting. Snatching the reins from the thornbush and keeping myself out of sight between the beasts, I quickly distanced myself from the dead man.
The crowd began to thin as people drifted off into the dim, smoky maze of tents and shanties. Only a few wagons were left to push on down the desert road along with a handful of mounted travelers, a shepherd with a small flock of goats, and a tinker’s caravan. Blaise was now walking just ahead of me, beside the caravan. Some twenty or thirty paces ahead of him were the two brown-robed backs, hesitating as the other travelers passed.
I shoved past the goatherd and his flock just as the first alarm was raised inside the walls of the city. Whether or not they were after Lydia, the alerted guards would find the dead man in moments. “Shifter!” I called quietly, not wanting to bandy names about. Blaise whirled around. “We’d best lift our feet!”
Blaise grabbed the horses whi
le I went after the women. I touched Catrin’s arm, just as her bewildered eyes settled on me. Together we drew Lydia out of the traffic. “Catrin, my lady Princess, this is our guide,” I said as Blaise caught up to us with the horses. “We must be quick.”
I made a step with my hands, and with Blaise and Catrin helping to lift and balance her, we hoisted Lydia smoothly onto her mount. Blaise boosted Catrin up easily, and then the outlaw flung himself into the saddle and led us into the darkness. “Not too fast,” I said, though the rising clamor from the direction of the gates demanded that we run. We spurred the horses to a gentle walk as we passed the tinker’s caravan. A horn sounded from the walls. Men were shouting—a loud warning yell, likely the dead man being discovered.
Blaise’s power swelled into life, his enchantments as visible to me in that darkening night as the rising moon. Though our steps were deliberate, the smudged lights of torches and lanterns dwindled quickly into pinpoints of yellow, sprinkled among the sharp-edged stars. We rode without conversation for well over an hour, our ears and thoughts fixed on the road behind us, Blaise first, then the women, myself at the rear. Hooves pounded the hard-packed road, but no one came near us.
About the time the last faint vibrations of pursuit were drowned out by the dull urgency of our own mounts, Catrin turned in her saddle. “Seyonne, we need to rest soon.”
“No,” said the Princess. “I can keep going.”
I nodded to Catrin and rode forward to Blaise. “Are we well away?” I said. “It’s not been long, but I can’t sense anyone behind us anymore.”
Blaise’s eyes were like coal pits in his white face, and sweat beaded his brow. “Another quarter of an hour,” he said, his voice rasping. “I’m trying to take us faster.”
“A little while longer and we’ll be out of danger,” I said, dropping back beside the women. “Then we’ll stop and rest for a bit. We’ll be able to go easier the rest of the way.”
