Eona: The Last Dragoneye

by Alison Goodman

  Nearby, Vida held the young eunuch at knifepoint against the temple wall. The slumped form of the soldier was at their feet. Dela edged back the way we had come and peered out, then did the same for the path ahead.

  “No one coming,” she whispered. She bent to check the guard.

  “Dead?” I asked. But the overpowering stench of urine and bowels had already answered me.

  “Yes.” Dela rose and crossed to the other eunuch. “This one, too.” She grabbed the dead attendant under the arms and dragged him farther back into the shadows, then rolled the body against the red brick wall. “We need to get out of here. This passage is too well used.”

  I tried to force my mind beyond the stinking presence of death and the pain humming through my head. We had to get to the Pavilion of Autumnal Justice; the cells were part of its compound. I closed my eyes and pictured the layout of the palace again. The fastest route was across the forecourt of the royal apartments, but it was also well lit and well guarded. My inner map showed another possibility. The servants’ path ran the whole way around the palace wall—a hidden track for the low and menial to navigate without being seen. And it was never guarded.

  “The servants’ path will be safest,” I said. “We can get to it up past the royal apartments. Or we could go around the front of the West Temple and beside the kitchens.”

  “Both have soldiers posted,” Dela said.

  “Apartments,” the young eunuch whispered.

  Vida jerked the knife closer to his throat. “Shut up.”

  Dela walked over to him. “Why do you say that?”

  He lifted his chin. “Blossom Women are brought to the royal apartments all the time. They never go to the kitchens.”

  “Why do you offer this?”

  “I am already dead,” he said, eyeing the knife. “If you do not kill me, His Majesty will, and not as quickly.” The round curves of his face sharpened. “If I must die, I will at least deny him two more victims of his sick pleasure.”

  “He is right,” Dela said. “The royal apartments are closer, and we will have a better chance of deceiving the guards.”

  “Take me with you,” the eunuch said quickly. “It will look more authentic.”

  Vida leaned in. “You will just call for help.”

  “No, no—please! Take me with you. I cannot stay here anymore.”

  Dela stared intently at him. “All right, we’ll take you,” she said, stopping Vida’s protest with a raised hand. “But you have said it yourself—Sethon will kill you as surely as I take my next breath. We are your best chance of survival, so do as we say.”

  “And I will have this knife at your back the whole time,” Vida added.

  I remembered the sympathy in the young man’s face as he led me toward his royal master, and felt a leap of grim intuition.

  Sethon did not limit himself to Blossom Women. “You will not give us up,” I said to the eunuch. “Will you.”

  He met the knowledge in my eyes. “No.”

  Vida snorted with disbelief. I levered myself upright and leaned against the wall. “Where are Ryko and Yuso?”

  Dela looked up from removing the dead guard’s helmet, her eyes bleak. “I saw two soldiers join their dice game.” She bent to untie the man’s leather vest armor. “If they can get rid of them, they know where to meet us.”

  The god of luck was playing his own games. Mustering my strength, I pushed myself off the wall. The world pitched and spun, then settled again into gray shadows. At least the haze had not returned. I cradled my arm against my ribcage, my fingers still clamped over the wet, pulsing wound.

  With a soft grunt, Dela pulled the vest over the dead man’s head. His body flopped back against the wall, a sickening reminder of Yuso pulling his sword from Lieutenant Haddo’s chest. I shivered, but it was not all from horror. I felt hot and cold at the same time.

  Dela slid the vest over her head and knotted the side ties. Although she hated dressing as a man, she made a convincing soldier. Her movements were always quicker and bolder in men’s garb. All the womanly control and grace—gone.

  She looked up at the walls on either side of us, topped with slanting tiles. “Too high to throw the bodies over,” she said, tucking her greased hair under the helmet. “We’ll have to leave them, but they’ll be found soon.” She picked up the sword. “Ready?”

  I nodded and stepped beside Vida, the simple action bringing a wave of nausea. Although a deep breath steadied me, fresh blood oozed through the field bandage and my fingers. I shifted my good arm over the wound; the wide silk sleeve would hide most of the blood from view. Hopefully, I would not drip a trail behind us.

  Vida held the knife poised behind the eunuch, the end of his sash wrapped around her other hand. She smiled reassuringly at me, then prodded him between his shoulder blades.

  “Walk normally,” she ordered.

  I heard him whisper a prayer. Then he moved forward, leading us out of the shadowy protection of the passage.

  We rounded the corner of the harem; before us rose the two enormous red and gold palaces that formed the royal apartments. Each was raised on a marble terrace with a staircase guarded by two gilded lions. Heavy brass braziers lined the steps, creating two majestic paths of light up to the identical porticos. Twelve red columns—topped by carved jade emblems— supported each gold tiled roof that curved up toward the heavens: a harmonious meeting of the earthly and celestial planes. And to enhance the good fortune of the Heavenly Son and his empress, a water garden stretched between the two residences, the pale moonlight picking out the arch of a formal bridge and the answering genuflection of twelve ghostly water trees.

  Yet it was not this grandiose beauty that caught my breath. It was the soldiers posted every few lengths around the terrace walls.

  “Holy Shola,” I whispered. “So many.”

  The eunuch glanced back at me. “There are fewer alongside the empress’s residence,” he said softly.

  It was logical; the residence was empty. Sethon had not summoned his old wife to sit by his side as empress. Still, even with fewer guards, the avenue between the residence and the West Temple would make an excellent trap if the eunuch planned to betray us, after all.

  Vida’s hand tightened around her knife; she must have come to the same conclusion. If it came to a fight, there would not be much I could do. Every step I took brought a fresh welling of blood through my fingers, and a chill had settled on my skin. Even worse, there was a lightness in my head that made the world pitch and sway.

  We crossed the perimeter of the forecourt, the eunuch keeping us at the edge of the light thrown by the bronze braziers. The two soldiers at the corner of the empress’s residence shifted to watch us walk by. I clamped my fingers more tightly around my arm, hoping they could not see the dark saturation of blood on my silk sleeve. A strange sound brought my head up. One of the soldiers was kissing the air, gesturing at his groin. His partner snorted, the noise attracting the attention of two sentries farther along the wall. The eunuch looked back at us, his eyes wide with terror.

  “Turn around,” Vida whispered urgently. He obeyed, but his body was stiff with fear.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Dela gesture obscenely at the gyrating kisser. “You wish,” she called, her voice rough.

  He gestured back, but subsided.

  I lifted my chin, fighting to keep my breath even.

  “Keep moving,” Dela urged softly.

  We turned into the wide lane that ran between the temple and the empress’s residence. At the very end was the main palace wall, and beneath it, the dark track of the servants’ path. So far away. We had to pass at least ten more sentries along the terrace wall. I fixed my eyes on the ground and concentrated on keeping up with the eunuch’s brisk pace. A mesmerizing pattern of light and dark stones passed beneath my feet. I counted the sentries, trying to focus past the racing rhythm of my heart. Four … five … six. My whole being listened for a shout or the hiss of a drawn blade, but all I co
uld hear was my hard breathing and the shrill, throbbing song of the frogs in the water garden.

  The palace wall loomed ahead. We passed the last sentry and I saw his head turn to follow our progress. The urge to run the last few lengths surged through me. I grabbed Vida’s arm, praying I would not stagger. We finally crunched onto the rough gravel of the servants’ path—dark, narrow, and thank the gods, deserted.

  Dela ushered us behind the thick hedge grown to hide the passage of the palace menials. Vida half carried me along the dim, pot-holed path until I stumbled and pitched forward, kicking up a spray of dirt and pebbles. Strong hands caught me under my arms and eased me onto the uneven ground.

  “Put your head between your knees,” Dela said, pressing my head down. She crouched in front of me and pulled my hand off my arm. The wet dressing stuck to my palm and yanked the cloth out of the wound, ripping a gasp from me.

  “Sorry,” Dela whispered. “Vida, I think she’s still bleeding. Get something else to bind it.”

  I hung my head, breathing through the pain. The world was spinning around me again.

  Vida took Dela’s place in front of me. “Let me have a look.”

  The eunuch peered over her shoulder. She took my arm in a firm grasp and peeled back a larger section of the cloth with a low grunt of concern. “There’s not enough light to see properly, but from the feel of this bandage, you’ve lost a lot of blood.”

  She unwound the sash from her waist and folded it into a pad, then pressed it over the wet dressing, using the ends to tie it in place.

  “Hold it up against your chest,” she said, lifting my arm across my body. The weak moonlight caught her frown. “Your skin is cold.”

  I caught her sleeve. “Don’t let me pass out. If I pass out, I won’t be able to heal Ido. Everything will be lost.”

  At Ido’s name the eunuch stepped back. “Do you mean Lord Ido, the Dragoneye? The prisoner?” He retreated a few more steps, pebbles clinking loudly in the sudden tense silence. “I thought you were Blossom Women. Who are you?”

  Dela stepped up to him, her hands held out as though she were calming a nervous horse.

  “It’s all right,” she said, then punched him in the face, the snapping blow so fast and so heavy that he staggered backward, sat down on the pebbles, then toppled over.

  I gaped at the still figure lying in front of me. Knocked on his arse like the eunuch clown in the fool’s opera.

  The ludicrous comparison rose through my shock in a quivering curl of laughter. I bit down on the building wave of whimsy—it was callous and wrong—but it broke out of me in uncontrollable giggles. I clamped my hand over my mouth. It had to stop. The poor eunuch had been punched senseless. We were in extreme danger. Which was suddenly hilarious. I rocked forward and shoved my bloodied knuckles into my mouth, trying to force back the spasms that caught my breath into snorting gasps.

  Vida stared at me, a horrified smile pulling at her lips.

  “Stop it,” she hissed. The words hiccupped into a snuffling giggle. She pressed both hands against her mouth. “Stop it.” But her shoulders shook, her eyes filling with tears. The sight pushed me further into gulping spasms.

  Dela’s hands caught my shoulders, holding me still.

  “Eona, calm down. You’ve lost a lot of blood. You need to calm down!”

  The low urgency in her voice broke through my hysteria. I sucked in a breath, fighting for control. The fluttering crest of a giggle ebbed away, leaving only the thudding pain in my arm.

  Dela looked at Vida. “I don’t know what your excuse is,” she said acidly.

  Vida wiped her eyes. “Sorry.”

  “Get up and help me roll him under the hedge.”

  “Is he all right?” I asked.

  “He’s still alive, if that’s what you mean.” Dela hooked her hands under my armpits and helped me to my feet. For a moment everything was still, then the hedge and the wall rushed past me in a spin of nausea. I swayed and fell back into the tight embrace of Dela’s arms.

  “Eona?” Her face blurred in and out of focus.

  My heartbeat resonated in my ears, fast and labored. At the base of my skull, a sick ache drummed in the same ominous rhythm.

  “Get me to Ido, quick,” I said, the words like sludge in my mouth.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  DELA HITCHED ME up higher on her back and edged into the shadowy portico of the Pavilion of Autumnal Justice. Under the tight hook of my good arm, I felt her chest still heaving from the effort of sprinting from the Pavilion of Five Ghosts. I blinked through my own weariness; I had to stay awake. Already I had half stepped into the shadow world twice; only Vida’s vigilant pinches had pulled me back from crossing into oblivion.

  Dela’s quick breathing lengthened into a sigh. The portico was empty. Yuso and Ryko had not yet arrived. Had they been caught? Were they still alive? I pushed the grim rush of possibilities away. They must make it to the pavilion: without them, our soldier and Blossom Woman ruse would not succeed.

  I licked my lips, trying to find some spittle in my mouth. The last time I’d felt such thirst had been at the salt farm. Dela pointed to a tall, heavily carved recess: its dark alcove held the promise of good concealment and a decent view of the courtyard and cells. With Vida leading, we crept to our new vantage point using the thick columns that fronted the portico as cover. Vida pressed herself into the corner of the deep niche, shifting position until she had a sightline of the cells.

  “Let me down,” I whispered against Dela’s ear.

  Her head turned, stubbled cheek brushing mine. “Are you sure?”

  She had carried me all the way from the servants’ path and the trembling in her shoulders and legs vibrated through me.

  “I’ll be all right.” It was more of a hope than a certainty.

  She relaxed her arms and let me drop to my feet. For a moment, all was steady—then the world lurched, and a gray haze billowed across my vision.

  “She’s going again,” Vida hissed.

  Her voice sounded far away. My legs folded.

  Dela spun and caught me. “I’ve got you.”

  I nodded, although the pain in my arm lodged in my throat like a dry retch. How was I going to get past the cell guards if I could not even stand? Dela gently maneuvered me against the carved wooden wall of the pavilion. With the solid support behind me, I rode the wave of dizziness.

  “Rest.” Dela eased me down the wall until I sat on the stone floor. She crouched beside me. “You’re so cold.” Her arm circled my shoulders. The smell of leather and grease rose from the damp heat of her body.

  And so the wait for Yuso and Ryko began. Although my body yearned for rest, I tensed at every night noise and flickering shadow. At some point, three lamp-eunuchs filed into the courtyard and lit the large pedestal lanterns set at intervals in a raked pebble border, the flare of each wick accompanied by a chime of thanks from a small prayer bell. Although they did not come near the portico, I still retreated farther into our hiding place, glad of its deep, shadowed embrace. From my position, I could see only one of the two guards posted outside the cell doorway; he wore a leather and iron vest and held a Ji, his dutiful scrutiny of the wide courtyard interrupted by yawns and a bottle shared with his partner. Both bored, then, and open to breaking the rules.

  We waited, every passing minute adding another lead weight of fear.

  “What if they don’t make it?” Vida finally whispered beside us.

  “They will.” Dela was firm. “Ryko will move the heavens to get here.”

  A heavy silence settled over us. Vida shifted uncomfortably, her attention still on Dela. She gave a small nod—as if coming to a hard decision—then touched Dela’s arm. “Ryko loves you,” she whispered.

  “What?” Dela’s body tensed against mine.

  “You love him,” Vida said. “Don’t waste time. Men die fast in war.”

  Her eyes flicked to me, their stark sorrow pinning me against the pavilion wall. I looked away from the
grief I had caused.

  “This is hardly the place,” Dela said through her teeth. She turned back to scanning the courtyard, her disquiet like a thrum through her body.

  We all turned at the soft scuff of boots on stone.

  Vida half rose, knife in hand. Dela’s arm tightened around my shoulder, ready to lift me, as two dark figures paused in the shadows cast by the columns. But there was no mistaking the broad shape of Ryko, or lean Yuso. Dela’s hold relaxed as Vida beckoned the two men across the portico.

  Darting from column to column, Ryko and Yuso made their way toward us. They wore uniforms; no doubt the two soldiers who had joined the dice game were either dead or trussed up somewhere. Hard on them, but a victory for us. We were now three soldiers and two Blossom Women eager to see the Dragoneye in the cells.

  “Are you all right?” Ryko whispered to Dela.

  I could feel the softening within her at the sound of his voice.

  “Lady Eona is hurt,” she reported. “Knife to the forearm. Lost a lot of blood.”

  The news sent Yuso squatting before me, his face intent. “Can you still go ahead?”

  I nodded, but closed my eyes as the world swirled again. I felt Yuso’s calloused hand brush my cheek, his thumb finding the race of my pulse. His touch felt so like Sethon’s that I flinched.

  He pulled back with a frown. “We won’t wait for the shift change. We go in now.”

  “That will only give us a half bell before the new guards,” Ryko whispered.

  “It can’t be helped. Lady Eona does not have the strength to wait.” Yuso clasped my good arm and pulled me upright. “Ryko, carry her.”

  Hands helped me onto Ryko’s broad back. I rested my chin against the solid beam of his shoulders, my useless arm dangling over his chest. The whole limb was numb now. A small blessing, except I could feel the numbness spreading through my body. Everything was distant; sounds muffled, objects blurred, even the heat of Ryko’s body against mine barely penetrated the cold armor of my exhaustion.