by B. K. Boes
“Yes, Lord—”
Moloch held up a hand. “And don’t use any names. Not yet. I don’t want him knowing who I am.”
“Understood, sir.” Hurran nodded and stepped inside. “I won’t let you down.”
Moloch patted him on the back and stepped into the tunnel. Hurran closed the wooden door, jiggling it a bit for it to fully close. Their intrusion had apparently knocked it off a hinge.
As Moloch and Bram made their way back through the mountain, he felt a weight lifted. Now, if Morrwin tries to deny it, if the king doesn’t hear it from his nephew’s mouth as planned, I’ll have another way to prove Morrwin was the one poisoning the prince.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Jabin
The City of Nomika, Eikon
8th Cycle of Chenack
989 Post Schism
“This should work,” Mae said as she hefted an iron poker in her hand. She also grabbed the small shovel from the rack next to the fireplace and handed it to Jabin.
Jabin took it hesitantly, turning it over in his hands to get a feel for its weight. “I hope we don’t need to use these,” he said.
Mae’s lips pressed together in a tight line. “If I saw a murder instead of an accident…” She paused, letting her words hang in the air.
Jabin wanted to put the shovel back.
Could I even use it if we were in danger?
He’d had training with a sword, simply because he was the son of a minor lord, but he’d never actually used a weapon. He bit his lip as he ran his hand down the rough, black iron of the shovel’s handle. He looked up at Mae. “Better safe than sorry,” he said, a knot in his stomach.
Mae nodded and headed toward the door of the abandoned room. It turned out most of the rooms on the fourth floor were used for storage rather than as studies or workrooms. There were a few larger spaces that seemed fitted for meetings or social gatherings, but for the most part, this part of the High Court didn’t seem to be in regular use.
Dust covered everything. As they walked across the room’s great area rug, clouds of dust kicked up around their feet. Jabin’s eyes and nose began to itch. He was glad to step back into the hall.
“We should get to the rooftop before someone starts looking for us,” Mae said.
Though the hallway was empty, Jabin’s heartbeat quickened as he followed Mae. Their footsteps echoed off the tile floors, bouncing off the high ceiling. The same bronze men with bowls of fire on their shoulders lit this hall. All it would take was one person to come to the fourth level of the building. They were in the main hallway, which was wide and completely open. There was nowhere to hide.
Jabin breathed a sigh of relief as they turned a corner into a smaller hall. The shadows deepened as they stepped out of the light of the main hall; apparently, they didn’t bother with light in the smaller halls of the fourth floor unless the section was going to be used. Mae’s form became a mere outline in the dark. A cylinder of light pierced the darkness up ahead, shining through a tiny, circular window centered on the back wall. Jabin raised his hand, allowing his fingertips to brush the cool, smooth marble walls as he walked.
When they reached the end of the hall, Mae came to a thin wooden door in the corner. It was barely visible. She opened the door into more darkness.
“How did you find this?” Jabin asked as he followed her inside.
“It’s why it took me so long,” Mae said. She walked slowly, and Jabin put a hand on her back to keep from tripping over her. “These side halls are so dark. I tried several doors in lots of places. This one has a staircase,” she said, stopping for a moment. “Watch your step. It spirals up and leads to the rooftop.”
Jabin felt Mae ascend in front of him. He removed his hand from her back and found the railing. The spiral stair was tight with wedge-shaped steps. His fingers hurt a little as he gripped the railing tightly, anticipating a misplaced step. He also put one hand out in front of him, in case Mae lost her balance. Finally, they reached a small landing. Mae pushed open another door, and blessed light poured into the darkness.
Stepping into the fresh air on the rooftop lifted some of the tension in Jabin’s shoulders. The stone rooftop was slanted, but only slightly, with several chimneys peeking out of its surface. A low stone wall seemed to stretch the perimeter of the rooftop.
“I don’t see her up here,” Mae said as she turned in a circle, surveying the area.
“She’ll be here soon.” Jabin walked to the low wall and leaned his shovel against it.
Mae came up beside him. “It’s beautiful up here,” she said. “You can see the whole city.”
Spreading far and wide, the city bustled with life. Below them, Nomika Square was the only significant space not crowded with buildings, row houses, or vendor’s stalls, though every square inch of it seemed to be covered with people. The festival was in full swing, the excitement of the coming Pardoning Ceremony buzzing through the crowd.
The creak of hinges and a dull thud made Jabin spin around to face the door they’d come through just minutes before. Jabin recognized the woman in the red dress immediately. Her head was down, her hands fiddling with a knitted blue cloth. She walked with a determined step in their direction, not seeming to notice they were there. When her eyes ventured upward, she stopped in her tracks, head snapping up. Stepping backward a few paces, hand to chest, she gasped.
Her cheeks were streaked with tears, her eyes wild and wide. She hadn’t changed out of her wrinkled dress or done anything to remedy her disheveled hair. In fact, she looked worse than when Jabin had seen her before.
“Who are you?” she asked sharply.
Mae stepped forward, posture humble and unimposing. “My name is Mae, and this is Jabin.” She gestured his way. “We’ve come to help.”
The woman’s surprise faded, and she went back to holding the cloth with both hands, thumb caressing the fabric. She shook her head, a sad smile on her face. “How are you supposed to help?” She let out a bitter laugh. “You’re children.”
Jabin furrowed his brow. Something isn’t right.
“We’re oracles-in-training,” Mae said. “I’ve had a vision, and we think you’re in danger.”
The woman looked to the sky, ripped out the ribbon that held what was left of her bun in place, and held her hands up to the sky.
“This is what you bring me, Oh Great Sustainer? After your oracles here turned me away?” she shouted into the clouds. “I thought you had heard me when they arrested Tailu! But it was nothing but a cruel joke. He’s coming back, and now you’ve sent children to calm me? Did you think that would be enough?”
She balled her hand into a fist and shook it, her cheeks red with passion, fresh tears streaming down her face. “I won’t go back!”
Mae looked at Jabin as the woman shouted her tirade at the sky. “What is happening?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“I don’t know,” Jabin said. When the woman had finished, he stepped toward her, Oracle Lan’s teachings surfacing. He did his best to convey concern, but with a level of confidence many in trouble might find comforting. “Miss? Please, could you tell me your name?”
Gain a personal connection. Remain calm.
“You don’t even know who I am?” the woman scoffed.
“It… it doesn’t always work like that,” Mae said, voice unsure.
“Please,” Jabin repeated. “Tell us your name.”
“It seems the Sustainer has ill equipped you,” she said, eyes flashing with anger. “It doesn’t surprise me. If you must know, I am Baronness Ramia Udam, wife of Baron Tailu, cousin to the Duke of Nomika.” She spat the words as though they disgusted her.
“Lady Udam, I am Jabin Yllin, the son of Lord Abner Yllin, far to the south. A minor lord, not as esteemed as yourself, of course.” Jabin inched forward, holding his hands up in front of him as a sign of peaceful intentions.
The lady stepped to Jabin’s left in a wide arching circle, her skirts swaying as she shifted weight from o
ne foot to another. “Don’t come near,” she said. “I don’t want your help.”
“My lady.” Mae stepped forward, too quickly, surprising Jabin. He glanced toward her as she came into his peripheral. Mae rounded Jabin, and the lady kept stepping sideways — closer and closer to the railing.
“Mae,” Jabin whispered sharply. “Stop moving.”
She stopped short but refocused on Lady Udam. “You’re in danger,” she said. “The Sustainer sent me a vision. We believe someone is going to hurt you.”
“Hurt me?” She began to laugh, but it ended in sobbing. “You’re too late for that.” She glanced down at the cloth in her hands and held it to her chest.
It unfolded, and Jabin now recognized it as a small blanket meant for an infant. Lady Udam stroked it gently. She had rounded Jabin and Mae now, her back to the low stone wall. The lady stepped backwards now, toward the railing.
“Please,” Jabin said, everything becoming clear to him. “Come back toward us, my lady.”
Mae’s hand went to her mouth. “Jabin…” she whispered. “It… wasn’t an accident or a murder, was it?”
Jabin felt the blood drain from his face. He strode forward as the woman concentrated on the blanket. He and Mae came within a few paces when she looked up again, her eyes wide at their nearness. She stumbled backward and found the railing with one hand.
“No,” Mae said. “Please, whatever has happened, there is another way. We can help you.”
Lady Udam glanced over the railing, looking out over the crowd. Below, the bustling crowd seemed to grow louder. Jabin could see the Mercy Bell; the Pardoning Ceremony was about to start. Three men in shackles were lined up on this side of the bell.
“There he is,” Lady Udam said. “My husband… lined up with a petty thief and a conman, as if his sins matched theirs.”
“Your husband is being pardoned today?” Mae asked.
The lady sat on the low railing, and Jabin held his breath stepping closer still, careful to avoid drawing attention. He saw a few people in the crowd turn and point up at the rooftop, at the woman sitting on the edge.
“He wasn’t even arrested for what he did to me…” She looked down at the cloth. “… for what he did to our baby…”
Jabin’s stomach dropped. “If he hurt you or your child, you can seek punishment, my lady. Please, we will find help, an advocate who can—”
Her eyes turned on him with rage. “You think I didn’t try that, boy?” She held the blanket near her heart. “My father-in-law is a powerful man. A Justice of the king. Nothing will ever be done, not until circumstances force it. I’ve left a letter with my family. Perhaps I can force the world to notice, to provide true justice. Maybe…”
“This isn’t the way,” Mae said. “We’ll go above Nomika’s courts. Seek justice in Patriphos at the King’s Court.”
“That won’t bring back my daughter…” Lady Udam turned to face them. “I’ve made up my mind,” she said. “Where was the Sustainer when he killed my baby girl?” She gripped the railing with both hands and leaned toward them. “Tell all who will listen. Lord Udam is a liar, a womanizer, a wife-beater, and…” Her words seemed to catch in her throat, but then she finished, her voice low and bitter. “… and he’s a murderer.”
Lady Udam closed her eyes as the Mercy Bell rang. Fresh tears came as she clutched the blanket to her chest. She smiled and whispered, “See you soon, baby girl.” Then she rocked backwards, letting go of the railing.
As she pitched herself over the edge of the rooftop, Jabin and Mae rushed forward, both of them grabbing for her. Jabin’s fingers brushed the hem of her dress, but he was too late.
“No!” Mae screamed and overextended herself. Her hands grasped air as she leaned too far over the edge.
Jabin lunged toward Mae, wrapped his arms around her waist, and tackled her to the rooftop, both of them skidding across the stone.
“No, no, no,” Mae cried as she crawled toward the railing and pulled herself up. Her body trembled, and when she looked over the edge, she reeled backward immediately.
Jabin got to his feet and helped to steady her. The crowd had started to cheer at the sounding of the Mercy Bell. Screams of shock had erupted when the lady had pushed herself off the building, and now the hushed whispers of hundreds created an undertone that chilled Jabin to his bones. He held Mae as she sobbed, and he carefully lowered them both to sit on the rooftop.
He ran his hands over his face and took a deep breath as he ventured to the railing and peeked over the side. Lady Udam’s twisted form lay in the center of a circle, cleared but surrounded by onlookers. Snaking lines of dull red slowly spread between the cobblestones.
Jabin backed away. We failed. Her vision… we didn’t have all the details. He looked at Mae, now sitting knees to chest, head buried in her hands, sobbing. This is my fault. I knew better. I’ve been doing this longer than she has. I should have asked more questions. I should have told Oracle Lan as soon as I found Mae’s note. This is my fault.
His head swam, and his stomach lurched. Unsteady, he sat beside Mae and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, and they both cried. He did so silently as Mae sobbed into his chest, her tears soaking his tunic. Time seemed insignificant. They sat together, holding each other until there were no more tears. But, still, they didn’t move. It didn’t feel as if they’d ever move from that place of failure.
As the numb shock began to fade, Jabin was trying to think of something to say when he noticed three men running across the roof toward them.
“Mae…” he said, squinting at the men.
“Don’t, Jabin,” Mae said. “I can’t right now.”
The door behind them burst open. Startled, Jabin looked over his shoulder. Three more men, all guards, filed onto the rooftop. His head snapped back toward the others. They were close enough for him to make out their uniforms.
“Mae!” Jabin leapt to his feet.
Mae looked up at him as they were surrounded by six guards, all with spears leveled at them. She stood on shaky legs and leaned into Jabin.
“What’s going on?” she asked, tears still falling.
“You’re coming with us,” one of the guards said, his voice gruff. He thrust his spear too close for comfort.
“What? Why?” Jabin held Mae close, but he couldn’t protect her from every angle.
The same guard’s hardened eyes narrowed. “Why do you think?” he said harshly. “For the murder of Lady Ramia Udam.”
Chapter Fifty
Imrah
The Lower Sector
The City of Sydor, Adikea
8th Cycle of Chenack
989 Post Schism
Imrah stood frozen at the top of an old stone stairwell. An unpleasant smell wafted up from somewhere below, where a tunnel ran under the Inner Road. On the other side was Dregstown, a section of the Lower Sector she never thought she’d willingly venture into. In fact, she never thought she’d go anywhere in the Lower Sector except for the Forgotten Vale.
Prestis needs me.
She stepped down into the dark tunnel with her borrowed glow orb. She’d borrowed an older orb, one that already had a slight fissure. It was designated for use by the young true-children of the Dakkan Household, as it was bound to break eventually. Still, if it was found that she’d taken it for her own use…
Don’t worry about that… just keep going.
Imrah squinted, trying to see beyond the blue circle of light. A few steps into the tunnel revealed a beggar sleeping by the wall, but it seemed otherwise empty. She quickly walked around him to the exit and took the steps upward two at a time. She breathed a sigh of relief when she was on the other side, the wall of the Inner Road rising up behind her. But then she looked out into the city. Winding, thin passages branched out before her between sandstone buildings, most of which needed some repair.
Imrah pulled her cloak closer around her. It was an old cloak of Lady Vega’s, worn and a little frayed, but well-made and
still useful. Slave-wives weren’t supposed to cover their household emblem, but she wanted to blend into the Lower Sector, maybe trick people into thinking she was a Pure Born. She’d seen Pure Born women with similar cloaks before, and with the glow orb… maybe she’d be left alone. At least, it was better than being spotted as Dramede Dakkan’s slave-wife.
He’d kill me if he knew I was here… and it would lead to all kinds of unwanted questions.
And just in case, she had brought a bottle filled with a potent oil made from hot peppers. Her hand instinctively went to the inside pocket of the cloak, to make sure the bottle was still there. The pepper oil could blind a man if it was flung into his eyes. She took a deep breath and began to walk.
It was getting very dark. Candlelight shone out of a few windows here and there, but for the most part the city was already sleeping. That was a good thing. Dregstown was where disgraced Adikean men were disposed of after minor crimes, such as murdering a slave-wife with no money to compensate her master for the loss. Or, some were thieves or mercenaries, the kind of men who preferred to live where no one would be watching.
The streets left Imrah feeling a bit claustrophobic. They were so narrow in some parts that she had to turn sideways to squeeze through. Orange light flickered up ahead, and as she came closer, she heard gruff voices in an alleyway. She stopped and hid her glow orb beneath her cloak. A peek around the corner revealed three men around a fire, a few rodents roasting on a spit. Imrah looked back the way she’d come. It would take too much time to double back and choose another road. The alleys were mostly dead ends, rarely connected to the parallel streets, at least from what she could tell.
As she was deciding what to do, a child came out of the darkness on the other side of the alleyway, pausing in the far reaches of the firelight. He was perhaps ten. Thin, one arm cutting off at the elbow. In his good hand, he held a flagon by the handle.