by Pippa Jay
As the horseman grumbled into an argument over food, Quin slipped away.
* * * *
Keir shivered in his cage, aching with the cold. Sleep called to him, but he resisted it. Lying down on the pallet would just expose more of his bare skin to the chill air and hold him from any rest. His mind turned to Quin. Would she come for him?
No, she will not risk herself over my foolishness.
The thought growled in his mind, much as hunger did in his stomach. Had she not risked herself for his sake before? He knew her to be a brave and loyal friend.
She will never find me.
And yet he could feel her presence at the back of his mind. She must be close. She must be coming for him.
Ridiculous. She is not going to rescue me. I do not deserve to be rescued.
Something rustled near his cage and his muscles tensed. Rats, most likely. A cold night with them would not be a comfortable one. Drawn by his warmth, they would be only too happy to seek shelter against his body, and he had no desire for their restless fidgeting and flea-infested hides snuggled close to his own.
“Keir?” a familiar voice murmured in his head.
“Quin!” he replied in a hoarse whisper. The sound of her voice lifted his spirits like the first day of sun at the end of winter.
“Shh! Don’t talk!” Crouching down close to the bars, she flashed him a crooked grin and her gaze searched his face as if reassuring herself he had suffered no harm. Seemingly satisfied, she moved to the door of his cage, removed something from her belt and poured its glutinous contents over the single large hinge.
Another small capsule was snapped open and she took a tiny glass dropper from it, placing a few drops along the edge of the lock with exaggerated care. It sizzled and smoked with an acrid scent, before clicking apart. Quin and Keir eased it open enough to allow him to slip through, trusting the oil she had used to prevent any creaking that would betray them.
Once clear, she maneuvered the door shut and wedged it with a stone. She took Keir’s hand in her own–her fingers reassuringly warm–and tugged him toward the stable block.
Inside, a single glass-shuttered lamp hung on the main wall and gave a dim but warm glow to the wood. The smell of horses and hay filled his nostrils, the rustle of animals stirring contentedly met his ears.
As Quin shut the door behind them, a gruff voice called, “Is that you, girl?”
Quin gave Keir a hard shove sideways that sent him tumbling into an empty stall full of straw. He held his breath in fear of discovery, and made no sound or movement–even though the course stems stabbed into his bare skin like dozens of blunted needles–as her voice in his head cautioned him to remain silent at all costs.
“Yes.” Quin’s voice was calm though he could feel her apprehension.
The sound of shuffling footsteps on straw-covered cobbles made itself heard over the thudding of his heart as he lay in wait, poised to jump to Quin’s defense if needed.
“Where did you disappear to? It is not safe to wander around the palace, you know. The guards do not care for it.”
“I had some private business to attend to.”
“Fair enough,” the man said, and Keir saw the shadow of the stableman blocking the doorway as he drew close to Quin, passing her a small wrapped bundle. “Brought you some food, as thanks.”
“Thank you.”
Keir prayed the man would not look to the side, would not see him amidst the straw and summon the guards in panic. He fought to keep himself utterly still, terrified the slightest rustle would once more condemn them to capture.
“Well, I shall bid you goodnight then,” the man said. “I am sleeping in the hayloft next door. You can sleep in here, but our welcome expires at dawn.”
He gave her an abrupt nod of farewell and left. Quin remained locked in place, letting the far door thud closed behind him before she went to Keir. Finally loosing the breath he had held so tightly, he sat up, rubbing where the straw had spiked him and picking a few stray pieces from his hair.
“Who was that?” he whispered as she settled herself down next to him.
“The kind soul who smuggled me in,” she informed him with a trace of guilt, opening the bundle he had given her. “I’m afraid I took advantage of his good nature.”
“The straw prickles,” Keir complained, shivering.
Quin touched his shoulder. “Keir, you’re freezing!” Hastily, she removed her cloak and threw it around his shoulders, pulling it straight.
“Thank you.” He tugged it tighter around himself as Quin vanished, reappearing with a ragged horse blanket which she laid over the top. With the cloak already carrying borrowed heat from Quin, the warmth was instant and he sighed in appreciation.
“Are you all right?” she asked him then, sitting back down and investigating the food she had been given.
“Yes.” Even though seeing her face had filled him with joy that she had cared enough to follow, remorse chewed at his gut. “You should not have come after me.”
“Don’t be silly,” she scolded with a smile. Then it faded. “You didn’t really think I would leave you here? Did you?”
After a moment he shook his head, and she smiled again.
Liar, mocked his inner voice. You are not worthy of such loyalty.
“I am sorry. I should have asked for your help. At least told you my intentions.”
“Yes.” Quin smiled without recrimination. “Are you hungry?”
“Starved,” he managed. “I am too used to regular meals now.” He accepted the piece of bread she offered, taking a large bite. His last meal seemed a long time ago now.
“Keir, is there any part of the palace wall that isn’t guarded at night?”
“The East Tower,” he said slowly, talking around his food, “but that is only because it is part of the palace wall. There is no walkway behind it.”
“Any windows we could get through?”
“No. It is the bell tower, so there are only arrow slits. There is one entrance at the bottom and no exit until you reach the bell itself.”
“So you can get out of the belfry?”
“Yes, but there is nowhere to go unless you can fly.” He hesitated, a thought occurring to him. “You cannot fly, can you?”
“Unfortunately not, but we can climb down.”
“From the belfry? You will never find a rope long enough, it is too high.”
“What about the bell rope itself?”
“Perhaps,” he said cautiously, considering the idea. “It would be unfortunate to reach the end and learn that it is too short.”
“Worse than unfortunate, but we’ll have to try. They’re not letting anyone out until dawn, at which time they’ll discover your escape and we’ll have no chance. Are you ready to go?”
Keir swallowed the last piece of bread in haste and shrugged off the blanket as he rose. “Quin, my mother is here in the palace.”
“I’m sorry, Keir, we don’t have time for a visit.”
“She is not a guest. She is a prisoner.” Keir could not disguise the entreaty in his voice, painfully aware of the additional sacrifice he was asking of her. Her expression hardened and he had to look away. Disappointment dropped a heavy weight into his chest and his heart constricted. He would have to make the attempt alone. It was too much to expect of Quin.
“Do you know where?” she asked.
Hope blazed fiercely in his chest and he smiled his gratitude to her, seeing her matching grin in return. “The North Tower.”
“Take us there.”
* * * *
The Emissary waited in his chamber of shadows, dressed in gray and wearing his silver mask. In front of him, a patch of darkness grew in size and intensity, stretching to form a humanoid shape that gradually solidified, revealing a tall, reptilian male. Having materialized in a strange and sinister place, he adopted a defensive posture, red eyes warily surveying the murky surroundings. He glared at the Emissary, his profound distrust obvious.
“Welcome to my ship, Minister R’hellek. I am the Emissary,” he lisped. “No harm will come to you here.”
The minister lowered his guard somewhat and took a more relaxed stance, perhaps seeing less peril in a solitary opponent.
“Some warning would have been appreciated,” he rumbled. “Unexpected teleportation could be misconstrued as kidnapping.”
“My apologies. Such was not my intent,” the Emissary assured him, bowing.
Under the feeble light, R’hellek’s dark-green scales appeared almost black. Raised gray ridges encircled his crimson eyes and the points of his ears barely showed where they lay pressed close to the sides of his hairless skull. He was dressed in black–a plain, one-piece outfit from neck to knee-length boots–outlining a broadly-built and well-muscled physique. The rigidity of his posture hinted at a past as a well-trained soldier, defiant even in the face of the unknown.
“Why have you brought me here?” he demanded.
“I promised to meet with you and speak again,” the Emissary reminded him.
A glimmer of understanding tempered the anger in his gaze. “I remember,” the minister agreed. “You have wasted little time in making contact.”
“I have already waited far too long. Are you able to assist me?”
“Perhaps. It will not be easy. My antipathy is well known, and to suddenly express an interest will arouse suspicion.”
The Emissary approached the minister slowly, and the reptilian soldier focused watchful red eyes on him, his stance once more guarded.
“You said a meeting could be arranged,” the Emissary persisted.
“Only a possibility. The queen has a way to contact her, being a close friend, but she would need motivation. An outsider wishing a meeting would not qualify.”
“What reason would she require?”
“A threat, perhaps. The possibility of danger to her people, perhaps even to her family.”
The Emissary considered his words, head tilted to listen to distant whispering. “I will think on it. Perhaps we can meet again.”
“Perhaps,” R’hellek offered.
The Emissary extended a hand, revealing the clear crystal he had used before. “If you wish to speak to me, if you have news,” he breathed, “hold this in the palm of your hand until it sings to you. I will hear you.”
R’hellek took it, testing its weight before placing it in a pocket. “Until then.”
The minister flinched as black shadows swamped him, encasing him in a black shroud. He vanished within it and it dissipated into empty space.
Chapter 8
The domineering square turrets of the North and South Towers lay to either side of the Great Hall, behind the court. The northern tower overlooked its smaller sibling by two stories, capped by a flat pyramid-shaped roof and a metal spire in the shape of a dagger blade, pointed upwards.
The entrance lay unguarded, an omission that caused Quin a tremor of disquiet as she followed Keir inside. Even though her sanctuary on Lyagnius was impregnable by normal means, the gateway room was always watched if she was away on her travels. The lack of security here seemed completely unnatural.
All six upper levels of the tower housed private apartments for members of the Family, with the topmost set of rooms reserved for special guests. The stairs zigzagged up one side of the tower. Each level had a landing and a locked door for access. Keir paused at the third level with a haunted expression on his face, staring at the door as if expecting it to yield some vital secret to him.
“What is it?”
“I lived here, once. Before...”
Quin brushed his shoulder in commiseration, recalling a fragment of the memory she had shared with him once, of a privileged childhood that had ended in torture and a life of exile.
He shrugged and turned to follow her upward, his bare feet soundless on the stone steps.
At the top, she hesitated, even more suspicious to find Serena’s door without any guard. Her sixth sense whispered a warning at her, yet there was no indication where the danger would come from, what form it might take. The moment they’d entered the tower, Quin had known that they were trapped and committed, as surely as prey within the jaws of the hunter.
She touched Keir’s shoulder, drawing his attention. “Watch the stairs,” she warned him, before approaching the locked door.
She extracted her tiny vial of metal-eating acid and dripped it with precision inside the ornate lock, taking great care to keep it clear of her skin. It worked with deadly swiftness, and she grasped the twisted handle, turning it. The door gave a mournful creak as it swung open, revealing a brightly-lit bedchamber with a thickly-draped, four-poster bed and elaborate furniture. A figure sat on the side of the bed, head bowed and hands clasped in her lap. She made no move as Quin opened the door wider.
“My lady Serena?” she murmured, puzzled by the lack of reaction.
The woman turned her head. “Who are you?” she asked with a perplexed frown.
At that moment, Keir joined Quin in the doorway and Serena leaped to her feet, one hand to her mouth. “Keir?” she cried and reached out with both hands.
Quin stepped aside as he darted past, straight into his mother’s arms. Serena sobbed quietly, whispering to him as he held her, his head buried in her shoulder. After a moment, she put her hands on either side of his face to look deep into his eyes, her expression full of pride.
“My son,” she said, her voice throbbing with emotion.
“I am sorry–” he began.
With a light touch of her fingertips to his mouth, she silenced him. “No, my son. None of this was ever your fault. Remember that. I will not have you apologize to me, not ever.”
“You don’t have time for that now,” Quin interrupted, not wishing to intrude but aware that time was against them. “We need to go.”
At her insistence, all three of them moved toward the door but were halted by the appearance of a group of soldiers, and a single voice. “I think not.”
Flanked by soldiers in plain garb, Rialto stood before them, a look of blatant triumph on his face. Keir put his arm protectively around his mother’s shoulders and Quin took a deliberate step forward, to place herself between them and the armed guard.
“Pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” Quin taunted him, intent on drawing his attention away from his son and ex-wife.
Rialto grinned wolfishly, unperturbed by her words. “Do not rely on your magic to save you from me, witch,” he told her. “Tomorrow, you will all burn in the square before the palace, and I shall watch.”
“What about a trial, Rialto?” Serena asked in shocked tones. “The death sentence can only be given after sanction by the court.”
“Trial is not required for a charge of witchcraft,” he returned. “I have spent my evening in the court library. If sworn statements have already been submitted, as they have, the commander may order execution where the safety of the city is concerned. There are uncounted testimonies against you and Keir. Even my mother cannot stand against this ruling. The elite of the city have given me the rights and the means to demand your deaths.” He took a step closer to Quin, and she tensed, but returned his glare without flinching. “You will die tomorrow, witch, along with the creatures that summoned you. I look forward to it.”
“I won’t allow it,” Quin told him. “You have no right.”
There was a rasping, ringing sound, a herald of danger, and Quin froze, the tip of Rialto’s sword pressed suddenly against her throat. Hardly daring to breathe with the point digging into her flesh, she nevertheless met his gaze in defiance.
“Use your magic and your companions die,” he growled in warning. The blade shifted downwards until it reached her waist, and Rialto poked her spitefully just above her belt. “Remove that and throw it away.”
Quin obeyed, clicking open the buckle and tossing it aside in one fluid movement.
His sword never leaving her, he retrieved the belt and threw it to the nearest guard for safekeeping. “And a
s for you, my dear,” he said, his eyes turned to Serena. “Your heartfelt confession to aiding and abetting a demon in court today has likewise condemned you. It was prettily said, but a fatal error on your part.” He grinned. “Until dawn,” he told them, sheathing his weapon as swiftly as he had drawn it. He turned on his heels and left, but the four guards took station around the door as he closed it.
Her breath shivered out. Wow, he has some issues! She hugged herself, annoyed by the shaking in her hands.
“Quin?”
“I’m all right.” She turned to smile at him in quick reassurance, grateful for his concern, before casting a meaningful glance at Serena. Keir nodded, sliding his arms around her and whispering words of comfort through her tears.
Leaving them together, Quin moved to the window to give them some privacy. Through the flawed panes of glass the opulent buildings of the northern section of the city and the misted mountains beyond, lit by the twin moons, dominated the view.
Keir and his mother sat talking quietly as she made herself comfortable on the padded window seat and stared up into the sky at the major moon. Smaller than the lone satellite of Earth, its cratered surface gleamed pale rose, its tiny companion a faded blue crescent just below. Closing her senses to the room around her, she leaned back on the cold, stone carvings and focused her mind, reaching out to the far side of the city where her companions were waiting.
“Taler. There’s a slight change of plan. Listen carefully…”
* * * *
Keir and his mother sat together on the edge of the bed. She had regained her composure somewhat, one of his hands held tightly in her own as if she feared she might lose him again if she let go.
“You are so grown up now,” she said, with a touch of sadness. “You were just a boy when I saw you last. It has been so long since I’ve seen you like this, seen your face…”
She broke off as Keir flinched at her words, but he could not bring himself to speak or meet her gaze. All those years apart and he had never once tried to find her, despite her constant presence in his thoughts. Her own testimony in court had told him of her desperate search for him. Remorse clawed its way into his stomach.