by A. C. Cobble
Rhys acted bored as well and started rooting around in cabinets and drawers in the room, probably looking for booze. Towaal and Amelie watched the both of them.
Lady Towaal had been quiet ever since they’d found Lady Avril. When Ben tried to ask her about the former Veil, she simply shook her head and declared it a conversation for another time.
“There’s nothing we can do, Ben, except wait for him,” remarked Amelie. “You can’t hurry an emperor.”
“I know,” acknowledged Ben. “That’s what is so frustrating.”
There was a sharp rap on the door, but before anyone could call out, it opened.
O’ecca slipped inside, glancing over her shoulder as she did. She was dressed in traditional attire and was unarmed. After traveling through the desert with her, it was strange seeing her in the wide silk dresses and pale makeup typical of Ooswam’s noble houses. Her hair was gathered in an intricate bun, and her lips were painted into a bright red pout.
Or a frown, thought Ben.
“You need to leave,” she stated without preamble.
“What?” asked Ben.
O’ecca sighed. “I tried to convince him otherwise, but the emperor is determined that you should stay and help battle the demons. He just finished questioning his concubine, the one who betrayed him, and he’s already spoken to Crai. He knows what you are capable of. He wants to use you. With the coup and the demons, he is scared. I don’t think there’s anything you can say to change his mind.”
“He should be helping us,” exclaimed Ben, “not kidnapping us!”
“I’m sure he doesn’t see it that way,” remarked Amelie calmly. “O’ecca, how do we get out?”
“Wait,” said Ben. “This isn’t right.”
“I am sorry,” assured O’ecca. “It isn’t fair, but the emperor does as he wills. Having a group of heroes under his banner who defeated the Red Lord and a cabal of powerful mages will go a long way toward cowing any lords who feel the coup gives them cover to act out. He’d compensate you richly, I am sure. If you wanted, you could likely establish your own Houses here in Ooswam just like the Red Lord did when he stopped a coup.”
“That’s not what we want,” grumbled Ben.
“I know,” said O’ecca. “That is why I came to warn you. You must leave now, or you may lose your chance. The emperor is changing his clothing after questioning that woman, and when he is done, he will come here.”
Ben stalked around the room in frustration. Finally, he turned to O’ecca. “Will you come with us? You know what we are up against in Alcott. We could use your spear.”
A bittersweet smile crossed O’ecca’s face. “The emperor requested I join his court. What’s left of my family, my people, they will be protected and cared for if I acquiesce. I am not able to leave.”
Amelie crossed the room and hugged O’ecca.
“It’s better than marrying Chesson,” Amelie said, trying to insert some levity into the dark mood.
O’ecca guffawed. “That is true. Now, you cannot delay further. Take the window and circle to the front gate. It’s unlikely the guards will have been told to keep you here, yet. Once the emperor finds out you are gone, word will spread. The entire city will be dangerous for you. Having you under his banner would be a boon for him, but anyone finding out you fled his service would be terrible in his eyes. You cannot stop in Shamiil. You must keep going.”
“You are certain you cannot leave?” asked Ben. “There must be another way to help your people.”
O’ecca shook her head. “You have your battles ahead, and I have mine.”
Rhys pushed open the window and ducked his head out.
“A two-story drop,” he reported.
Ben groaned. He watched as the rogue wasted no time and disappeared through the opening. Towaal followed quickly. After one last hug for O’ecca, Amelie went out as well.
“Thank you for going with us to Qooten,” said Ben. “We couldn’t have made it as far as we did without you.”
“You fought the Red Lord in Indo. You prevented a coup by him. You defeated the demon swarm overrunning Ayd and defeated the Purple. Ben, Ooswam owes you and your friends our thanks. I am sorry the emperor does not see it that way, but know you have my support. When the emperor has forgotten about this, I will do what I can to assist you. Ooswam is behind you. You have my loyalty.”
Ben nodded then squeezed out the window after his friends. As Rhys said, it was a two-story drop to the lush lawn below. He dropped down and landed softly.
Yet again, they were fleeing a fortress with only their weapons and the cloaks on their backs. Yet again, they had an uncertain path toward a dangerous horizon.
14
Into the Barrel
They passed through the palace gates without incident and rushed down the winding walkway into the city. The people in the streets were on edge, aware that a coup had been attempted, that the emperor had survived, and little else.
Ben guessed they feared an inquisition. Some of the people in Shamiil must have assisted the Red Lord, and the emperor would come looking for them. After their own experience, Ben guessed the emperor wasn’t the type to worry about sticking a few innocent fish in the barrel as long as he got the traitors.
“Where should we go?” asked Amelie.
“We can be out the south gate long before the emperor realizes we’ve left,” offered Towaal. “Four of us traveling light, they’re not going to be able to catch up to us. We can follow the coast until we get to a port and find passage there.”
“If we don’t find a vessel waiting,” argued Amelie, “we could be stuck for days. We have no idea if the emperor will simply let us go or if he’ll pursue us. This is the biggest port on the continent and there are plenty of ships here. Let’s take one.”
“The port here is too risky,” challenged Rhys. “Even if we’re not pursued out of Shamiil, they’ll check the harbor. We may have only a few bells before soldiers are scouring the docks. It’s too tight a timeline to guarantee we weigh anchor before they find us.”
“We’re going to Alcott. We have to find a ship somewhere,” remarked Towaal.
“We know of one vessel we could catch a ride on,” suggested Ben.
Rhys raised an eyebrow at him.
“Martin,” added Ben.
Rhys grinned. “To the Fish Head, then.”
“Let me guess,” grumbled Amelie. “It’s a tavern?”
Rhys winked at her.
* * *
Three bells later, they sat in a small, grimy room. A single, hanging lamp lit the circular table in the middle of the space and not much else. Ben was glad it didn’t illuminate the corners of the room as he was almost certain he’d heard the squeak of rodents.
“You sure that’s safe to drink?” asked Amelie, gesturing at the ale Ben clutched in his hands.
He shrugged. “The liquid is boiled when making ale. It’s probably safer than any water served in this place.”
Amelie winced and pushed her tankard away.
Rhys refilled his ale and offered the pitcher to Amelie. “If things go according to plan, we’ll be stuck on a boat for the next four weeks. There’s no telling how they’ll be stocked. I suggest drinking now while you can.”
Amelie turned up her nose. “If that’s what’s available, I think I’ll pass.”
“How about you?” Ben asked Lady Towaal.
She shook her head.
“Is everything okay?” he asked her.
She paused, rubbed a hand over her face, then answered. “Seeing Lady Avril again was deeply disturbing. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out what she has been doing here, what it portends that we saw her.”
“She looks like a girl,” remarked Amelie. “A few years younger than I am.”
“She’s not young by anyone’s standard,” responded Rhys.
“You knew her before?” inquired Towaal.
Rhys grimaced then gulped down his ale. “Aye.”
“Why
didn’t you tell me?”
Rhys refilled his ale mug and sat back before answering. “Avril was the fourth woman to wear the Veil and the longest to hold the seat. I knew them all. Every one of them needed people with my particular skill set from time to time. That’s how you and I first met, remember, right after the Blood Bay?”
Towaal nodded curtly.
Rhys continued, “Sometimes, I’d be contacted by an intermediary. Sometimes, when it was a sensitive target, I’d work with the individual mages. I worked with Avril more than I care to admit.”
“A sensitive target?” wondered Amelie.
“Through five Veils, the transition of power in the Sanctuary has never been bloodless. These are ambitious women who live forever. When someone new is ready to take the seat…” Rhys shrugged and left the rest unsaid.
“You helped those transitions?” asked Towaal.
“I didn’t help remove Avril, but I helped her get there,” responded Rhys. “I don’t know what happened when she fell from power. After seeing the woman alive today, I’m second guessing everything I thought I knew about it.”
“But you worked with her before then,” accused Towaal. “You were her blade in the night.”
Rhys nodded and turned up his tankard, draining the ale in three big gulps. He refilled it and looked at Towaal.
“When the Sanctuary rose to power, the world was chaotic,” explained Rhys. “It was dark times. The world had nearly been overrun by demons, and the various factions of mages dealt with it in their own ways. The First Mages no longer held sway, and the younger generation were exploring the depths of their power, sometimes in awful ways. You all know of the Society of the Burning Hand, Eldred’s death magic?”
They nodded.
“Groups like them were growing in power. They’d started to use that power to gain territory and control cities and people. The Sanctuary at the time was a stabilizing force. They opposed the worst of the mages. They offered free healing to anyone who came across them and advice to the leaders. They were good, as much as any group of mages at the time.”
Ben sipped his ale, barely noticing the sour undernotes. He listened intently to Rhys.
“Back then, the concept of highborn was just beginning. There were no families with long lineages to brag on, no wealth and fortresses passed down generation to generation. Leadership was passed from the most capable person to the next, usually because the first died either a natural or a violent death. It was that way for a long time. The Sanctuary was no different except the mages didn’t die natural deaths. I helped them out. It was a small evil, I thought, to conduct a greater good.”
“Is that really why you did it?” challenged Amelie.
Rhys smirked. “They offered the usual incentives as well. Gold, women, and drink.” He shrugged. “I helped Avril with a number of smaller tasks while she rose through the ranks. When she came to me with a request to remove her predecessor, I welcomed the challenge. After that, we continued to work together from time to time. I really did believe she was dead, though. That was the word all over Alcott.”
“I remember,” murmured Towaal. “We were told assassins snuck in and killed her in her garden. They hanged several unsavory-looking men because of it. They even had a funeral for Lady Avril with a body. There were rumors, but Coatney, the Veil, was my friend. I didn’t believe she had anything to do with it.”
“Maybe she didn’t,” said Rhys quietly. “I assumed she thought I was loyal to Avril and paid someone else to stick the knife. With Avril still alive… I’m not sure what to think.”
Ben blinked.
“So, she’s been in hiding for hundreds of years?” wondered Amelie.
“She must have known Lady Coatney was ready to move on her and assume power,” guessed Rhys. “She left before she ended up like all of the other Veils before her.”
“Then Coatney must know Lady Avril still lives,” pondered Amelie.
“And she’d know that Avril wasn’t going to quietly accept an early retirement,” added Rhys. “I think we can assume these two women have been plotting against each other for centuries. They are powerful and devious. It makes me wonder how many of the current difficulties in the world can be laid at their feet.”
“We have to do something about it,” declared Amelie.
Rhys grinned. “Not enough on your plate already?”
“Amelie’s right,” said Ben, “but so is Rhys. We have to prioritize. We’ll deal with the mages when we can. First, we’ve got to get to Alcott and find Milo and the wyvern fire staff. It’s too dangerous for that to fall into the wrong hands.” Ben paused. “Well, it already is in the wrong hands. You know what I mean.”
“Don’t forget about Eldred,” mentioned Rhys. “We’re going to have to confront her sooner or later.”
“Ben is right. First things first,” interrupted Towaal. “We have to get out of Shamiil.”
A knock sounded on the door. Ben moved to open it.
Martin slunk in and immediately went to the ale pitcher. He filled a mug and slurped it noisily. When he sat it down, he glanced around the room. “This isn’t going to be as easy as we anticipated.”
Amelie groaned.
“What do you mean?” questioned Ben.
Martin scrubbed a hand over his face and leaned forward.
“Word’s gotten out that some people escaped from the emperor’s compound, people who look suspiciously like you. You should have told me who you were running from,” chided the man. “The emperor’s own guards have been patrolling the docks. I’m told no one is getting out the gates without a thorough search of their wagons. I was going to walk you straight down to the ship. We’d both be locked in some dungeon!”
“Who did you think we were running from?” asked Ben.
Martin shrugged. “The usual. Customs officials or the thieves’ guild.”
“We’re not thieves,” muttered Amelie, acting offended. “We don’t interact with them, and we certainly don’t run from them.”
“Well,” conceded Ben, “there was that one time in Fabrizo. Also in Irrefort, now that I’m thinking about it.”
“And the City,” mentioned Martin.
Ben glanced at the man. “I must have missed that one.”
“What?” said Martin with a snort. “You think your old partner was dealing honestly that whole time? Sure, he kept it a little clean while you were around, but he’s a thief through and through.”
“Renfro,” muttered Ben.
Martin nodded. “He’s loyal, though. I don’t think he’d mind if we borrow the ship for a bit to get you out of here. Long as you don’t get us caught by hiding things from me.”
Ben sighed. “You’re right. We should have told you. It is the emperor we’re running from. It’s not like you think, though. We did a favor for him. He wants us to stay, but we need to leave. I suspect he’ll forget about it in a few days. Until then, we can’t be in the city.”
“I can get you out,” assured Martin. “It’s what I do, but it’s not going to be a pleasant evening stroll anymore. We’ve got to smuggle you.”
“Smuggle us?” queried Amelie.
Martin grinned. “That’s my job, honey. You won’t get caught, but it could be a bit of a bumpy ride.”
* * *
Ben grumbled as he climbed into the filthy barrel. It was damp and smelled of the sour ale from the Fish Head. He wedged himself deeper, pulling his knees against his chest and shifting, trying to force himself lower so Martin could affix the cap to cover him.
In a barrel beside him, Rhys complained, “I’ve had dreams where I dove into an ale barrel, but it never went like this.”
“You can try walking past the emperor’s soldiers,” responded Martin dryly.
Ben sighed. “Can you push me down? I don’t have the leverage to get in here.”
Martin put his hands on Ben’s shoulders. Apologetically, he offered, “Sorry about this.”
“I don’t like small spaces,” admitt
ed Ben, wiggling in a vain attempt to get comfortable.
“I said I was sorry.”
Martin pushed down, shoving Ben deeper into the barrel. The slimy, ale-damp wood slid across his skin. Ben felt a finger-sized splinter break off into his arm. He winced in pain from the splinter and from the pressure of the barrel against his knees and chest.
“Should be good enough,” muttered Martin.
One of his crew came over and set the cap over Ben’s head.
Ben closed his eyes in the darkness and tried to ignore the four quick hammer blows that nailed the barrel shut. He supposed he should be thankful the story was that they were sneaking out empty barrels, or else Martin would have insisted on pouring ale in there with them. As it was, the empty ale barrel was unpleasant enough. He grunted when someone tipped the container over. Then his stomach lurched as the barrel started to roll.
He tried not to think about the tiny space, smaller than the cell in Fabrizo, the tight bunks on a ship, and anywhere else he’d ever found himself. He shifted his focus to where they were going, trying to block out the sense of creeping dread in the small, dark barrel.
Martin and his crew would roll the four of Ben’s companions down to the docks, along with half a dozen other empty barrels, and then load them onto their ship. They’d sail with the midnight tide, but until then, Ben was stuck inside the foul-smelling container. It didn’t make it better when he realized he’d been drinking ale out of a very similar barrel just half a bell before.
The ale sloshed in his stomach as he was turned over and over on the long journey down to the docks. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think about getting sick, which only made it worse. After an interminable time, they stopped, though his head continued to spin.
He heard muffled voices outside. Someone tapped on the wood with hard knuckles. He heard more taps and then a screeching sound as one of the barrels must have been pried opened. Customs or soldiers, he guessed, ensuring the barrels were empty of smuggled goods. The problem was the barrels weren’t all empty. If someone opened one of the ones his friends were hiding in, they couldn’t help but discover them. And he was stuck, unable to get himself out, and unarmed even if he could. Martin’s men were carrying the weapons.