Unlike the Hall of the Beyond, the Palace of Golden Eternity had no spires or lofty towers to draw the eye heavenward. Instead, a face had been carved into the stone above the uppermost dome of the palace. A solemn face, hard and scarred, with a stern expression and eyes that seemed to fix on Evren as he drew closer to the palace. The face of Hallar, Shalandra’s founder, watching over his city even in death.
The peak of the mountain Alshuruq ended in a sharp tip a few hundred yards above Hallar’s head, but the mountain was sheer, the climb impossible for any but a very experienced climber—or the Hunter, Evren thought.
He studied the palace as he followed the palanquin toward the grand front entrance. No way I’m getting in this way, that’s for sure. Anyone trying to enter through the front would be visible to the Indomitables guarding the gate and patrolling the plaza.
Then there was the matter of the warriors standing guard. They carried two-handed swords nearly as tall as him, with strange flame-shaped blades made of midnight-colored Shalandran steel. Their armor was the same black as the Indomitables’, but the spikes protruding from the elbow, shoulder, and knee joints added to the snarling lion helmet to give them an air of deadly menace.
He stopped as the palanquin halted in front of the grand entrance. The six slaves—indentured servants, Samall had emphasized the distinction—lowered the palanquin to the ground and stepped aside. Sweat streamed down their faces. They alone of the Shalandrans wore no headbands; the mark of their servitude, he guessed.
Evren struggled to stifle a snorting laugh as Hailen emerged from the palanquin. His pale face had been painted bone-white, with dark lines around his eyes and bright lipstick to emphasize the redness of his lips. He looked absolutely ridiculous in his fancy gold-threaded shendyt, long-sleeved tunic, and gold-and-green stole. Even from five yards away, Evren could smell the thick perfumes—a potent mixture of ambergris and musk—that hung in a thick miasma around the younger boy.
If only the Hunter could see him now!
Hailen shot him a furious glare, then turned and held out a hand to the young Dhukari woman within the palanquin.
Lady Briana was pretty, with skin a deep golden mahogany, oval-shaped face, and arrow-straight nose that reminded him of the young women of Vothmot. Her petite frame brought back memories of the few times he’d roamed the Ward of Bliss, Vothmot’s pleasure district. She wasn’t too stuck up, either. She’d actually thanked Hailen when he helped her into the palanquin the first time, and nodded to Evren and the other footmen. She was pretty decent compared to most of the nobility of Vothmot and Voramis that he’d had the misfortune to meet.
In the few seconds that he’d been able to catch Hailen alone, Evren had asked about his duties. The young boy had rolled his violet eyes and shook his head. “They’ve got me fetching things for Lady Briana and her new bodyguards. Not a bad job, but if I wanted to do that, I’d have stayed in the House of Need.”
“At least no more of those lessons, eh?” Evren had said with a grin.
Hailen shrugged. “The food’s better, too.” His expression had grown excited. “But wait until you see what I found in her fath—”
The tinkling of a bell had cut off Hailen’s words, and they hadn’t had a chance to speak again.
At least he’s been treated well. That was more than he could say for himself. Samall had come dangerously close to ordering him whipped when he discovered the slop water stains on Evren’s clothing. Evren wouldn’t have allowed the stocky attendant to strike him, so he’d been relieved when the order came for them to prepare for the journey to the Palace of Golden Eternity. A reprieve from the inevitable confrontation. Samall would take his role as Evren’s superior too far, and he’d earn himself shattered teeth for it. Sadly, that would be the end of Evren’s short-lived career as a footman—and set back his plans to get close enough to the Blade of Hallar.
That’s already easier said than done, Evren thought. Let’s just hope there’s a side or back way in.
The last two members of Lady Briana’s retinue dismounted from their horses and took up guard positions beside the young woman. One was a fierce, exotic-looking young woman with impressively strong arms and a short spear, the other a young pale-skinned man Evren guessed was roughly the same age as him. Evren couldn’t decide if the fellow hailed from Praamis, Malandria, or Voramis—most southerners looked alike to him—but he had a strange, almost familiar confidence about him.
The two were Lady Briana’s bodyguards, and they looked capable enough. The young woman, in particular, seemed like the sort of opponent he’d avoid tangling with at all costs. Though, given the familiar ease with which the young southerner carried his sword, Evren guessed he’d be a competent fighter as well.
Let’s just hope they’re enough to stop whatever Samall has planned.
He’d contemplated telling them about what he’d overheard but decided to wait until he had more concrete proof. The fact that Killian had pulled strings to get him and Hailen employment with Arch-Guardian Suroth probably meant that the blacksmith had eyes and ears among the serving staff. He’d want to know about the servants’ whispers that the abduction of Lady Briana had been an inside job, and he could offer insight on what Samall and his companion had planned.
If Killian proved a dead end, Evren would go to Nessa or the bodyguards. His evidence might be tenuous at best, but he’d risk it if it meant Hailen was out of harm’s way.
Evren made to follow his new mistress into the palace, but Samall stepped in his way with a glower and shake of his head.
“You, stay with Kuhar and watch the palanquin,” Samall growled at him. “You’re nowhere near ready to serve Lady Briana.”
Evren ground his teeth and bit back an angry retort. “Yes, sir.” The words came out harsher than he’d intended, but Samall had already turned to accompany Lady Briana and the others inside.
The bare-headed slaves lifted the palanquin and carried it toward an arched gateway on the western side of the palace. There, he found himself amidst a sea of equally luxurious palanquins parked in another massive, albeit less ornate courtyard. It seemed the people of Shalandra preferred the slave-born litters with their plush cushions, silk curtains, lacquered paintwork, and gold-and-bronze finials over the comforts of wagons and carriages. Given his experience riding on Brother Modestus’ wagon from Voramis to Shalandra, he couldn’t fault them.
To his surprise, when the litter bearers set down their poles, they were ushered into a side entrance. Evren overheard the words “wine and meat” as the bare-headed, broad-shouldered men filed inside. He, however, had to content himself to wait out here with Samall’s co-conspirator, far from any sustenance or refreshments.
Well, isn’t that a kick in the bollocks! He hadn’t eaten more than the small flatbread he’d managed to filch from beneath the cook’s nose. I can already tell tonight’s going to be a real treat.
“Stand guard at the front, I’ll take the rear, where I can keep an eye on Lady Briana’s chest,” the man, Kuhar, told him in a curt voice. By the half-sneer he shot Evren, he shared Samall’s disdain for the new hire.
Evren nodded. “Got it.” He strode around to take up a guard position at the front of the palanquin. He pretended nonchalance, his stance relaxed, but he kept one wary eye on the man.
Back in the mansion, Samall had said that their presence here provided “the perfect opportunity to plan tomorrow’s strike.” If the attendant intended to slip away or try anything duplicitous, Evren would be watching and waiting.
Time seemed to pass at a slow crawl. Evren had developed the patience required to be a successful thief, but even he grew bored after an hour. He occupied his time studying his surroundings. The courtyard was likely the equivalent of the carriage yards common in the homes of Voramian nobles, though thankfully with far fewer horse droppings. The few attendants that had remained in the courtyard were clustered together a short distance away and speaking in voices too low for him to hear.
Soli
d sandstone walls flanked the western and northern sides of the courtyard, though the eastern side opened onto a cluster of smaller buildings. Doubtless they were the ancillary structures common to palaces: stables for the Pharus’ horses, storage rooms for his food, chambers where his laundry was washed, and so on.
Over his years as a thief, Evren had learned that these places tended to be the weak spots in any building’s architecture. The Pharus likely preferred his servants to come and go through side and rear entrances, keeping the grand front entrance clear so as to impress his guests. No one would marvel at the stunning architecture if it bore the dust of rugs beaten on the walls, and the black-and-white-tiled courtyard would steal fewer breaths covered in horse droppings.
But those weren’t the only vulnerabilities. Evren scanned the second- and third-floor windows and balconies for any way he could get in unseen. Unfortunately, the western side of the Palace of Golden Eternity was as damned-near impenetrable as the front. Black-armored guards patrolled the balconies and kept a close eye on the courtyard. The only place not guarded was a small archway on the northwestern corner.
He shot a glance at the man at the rear of the palanquin. I doubt he’d let me slip away to do a bit of exploring.
Just then, Evren’s ears perked up at the sound of a low whistle coming from the direction of the palace. He made no move, gave no indication he’d heard it, but his eye snapped toward his fellow servant. The man had straightened and was glancing around the courtyard.
“You awake, new guy?” Kuhar called.
Evren responded with a grunt.
“Gotta relieve myself right quick. You think you can keep an eye on things for a few minutes?”
“You got it.” Evren gave a disinterested wave. “Just snag me something from the kitchens on the way back, yeah?”
“Will do,” the man replied almost too cheerfully.
Evren pretended to turn away, but tracked the man’s movements out of the corner of his eye. The attendant slipped between a pair of silk-curtained palanquins and disappeared from view.
A few seconds later, Evren abandoned his post and slipped in silence after the man. He moved parallel to Kuhar, keeping watch on the attendant from the corner of his eye. As he’d expected, Kuhar was moving in the direction of the whistle, which had come from that archway on the northwestern corner of the courtyard.
His muscles tightened as he caught a glimpse of Samall standing in the archway, framed by the light of the lanterns burning behind him. As Kuhar hurried forward, Samall beckoned for him.
Evren caught Samall’s low whisper. “This way.”
The two men disappeared through the archway, and Evren followed a few seconds later. Let’s see where you’re off to, eh?
The arch opened onto a short corridor broad enough for two wagons, which gave way onto a smaller courtyard of simple sandstone tiles. The smells wafting from the open doors and windows told Evren that this was the way into the palace’s kitchens.
Evren clung to the shadows of the stone corridor, silent as a wraith. The Hunter had honed his skills of fighting, but years spent living on the streets had trained Evren to move without a sound.
Samall led Kuhar away from the kitchen door, and instead to a metal grate set into the ground level. The two men crouched before the grate, studying it, and Samall spoke to Kuhar in a low voice.
Evren pricked up his ears in an effort to overhear the hushed conversation.
“…soon as you can, you must get word to our brothers,” Samall was saying to the man. “Harol has found us our way in through the storerooms.”
Thank you, Samall! Excitement thrummed through Evren’s chest. The treacherous attendant had just showed him the perfect way to get in. I’ll still have to find a way through the palace and into the Vault of Ancients to get at the Blade of Hallar, but it’s a damned good first step.
On the other hand, the fact that Samall was planning something in the palace meant he—and whoever his “brethren” were—had something far larger than one simple kidnapping in mind. People only snuck into palaces with the intention of killing monarchs and rulers.
Killian needs to know about this. Perhaps the blacksmith could send word to whomever in the palace handled security, have them lay an ambush for Samall and his fellows. Doubtless that would earn Killian a great deal of favor with the right people in the Palace of Golden Eternity—favor that would trickle down to Evren.
But that didn’t help Evren keep Hailen out of harm’s way. He needed to find out more about whatever Samall and his fellow traitors had planned so he could make his own plans to protect Hailen.
“Get back to your post quickly.” Samall’s words snapped Evren from his contemplation. “No one can suspect anything. As soon as we return to the Arch-Guardian’s house, slip away and get word to our brothers.”
Evren’s heart stopped as Kuhar nodded and turned to head back toward the carriage. Shite!
He scrambled deeper into the shadows of the stone corridor and slunk toward the outer courtyard as fast as he dared. When he reached the concealment of the various palanquins, he broke into a run and dashed back to Lady Briana’s litter.
I can’t let him see me!
He reached his place not a moment too soon. He’d just managed to get his rapid breathing under control when Kuhar appeared from the shadows.
Evren shot the man a glance he hoped looked casual. “Bring me anything?”
The attendant shook his head. “Cooks are watching everything like a mother lion guarding an injured cub.”
“Damn,” Evren growled. “It’s going to be a long, hungry night, then.”
Kuhar snorted. “Get used to it. The life of a Dhukari’s servant is glamorous, indeed.”
Evren grunted in response and settled back into a comfortable position leaning against one of the palanquin’s arms. Yet though he kept his expression nonchalant, his mind was racing.
When they returned at the end of the night, Kuhar intended to sneak off, to send word to whoever his allies were on the outside. Evren would be ready. He had plenty of experience tailing people through crowded cities.
I will find out who you’re working with, you treacherous bastard. His fingers tightened around the hilt of the knife tucked into his sash. And when I do, I’m going to make sure your plans fail.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kodyn exchanged a meaningful glance with Aisha, and she gave him an understanding nod. After he’d relayed to her the Black Widow’s ominous warning, they’d both agreed that they needed to stick close to Briana all night long. Kodyn would only slip away long enough to make contact with the Secret Keeper, Ennolar. Once that was done, they’d convince Briana to make excuses to leave early.
The sooner we’re out of here, the better. Who knows what sort of danger lies behind these welcoming facades?
And people did seem to be welcoming, at least of Briana. A steady parade of Dhukari cooed over Briana, offering hollow well-wishes and meaningless words intended to endear themselves to the daughter of a Councilor.
Aisha hovered a step behind Briana, but Kodyn had taken on the task of steering the Shalandran girl through the thick crowds of well-dressed men and women. He ached to scratch his nose—the miasma of musky scents emanating from the throng set his nostrils itching—but feared he’d break his tight-fitting silver-and-gold-threaded tunic if he moved his arms.
Thankfully, Briana hadn’t insisted on making him wear the wig-like headdress she’d donned over her wavy locks. She had, however, forced a bright-colored shawl and silk sash on him, using the excuse that “he wanted to blend in among the Dhukari”. At least he had a few places to conceal daggers. Added to the sword on his hip, he felt confident that he could protect Briana among the perfumed, costumed Shalandran nobility.
If there’s one good thing about this ridiculous style, is that it’s nearly impossible for anyone to really conceal weapons. The women’s ankle-length sheath dresses fit too tightly and the men’s sleeveless tunics bared hands an
d arms. He’d have no problem spotting an attack if it came. Still, he kept a hand near the hilt of his sword as he shouldered a path through the crowd.
The presence of stone-faced guards in black armor would likely deter anyone from attacking Briana. The hard warriors with their solemn expressions, heavy plate mail, and enormous swords contrasted sharply with the white marble floors, high-vaulted domed ceilings, colorfully painted walls, and the decorative gold and silver rosettes that seemed to be in favor in the palace’s grand hall. The light of a thousand oil lanterns sparkled off the precious metals with dazzling brilliance.
Then there was the music, far too many high-pitched flutes trilling over the gentle strum of an instrument that looked like a lute with too few strings, the thumping beat of a pair of tambors, and the clicking of castanets. To his Praamian ear, it sounded like chaos in a jar.
He kept an eye on his companions as they moved, and he caught the strain in Aisha’s face as they passed another pair of black-armored guards. She went out of her way to avoid them, her expression strange. She actually shuddered as they passed one, a towering man with a face that looked cut from stone. He didn’t understand her strange behavior—she’d done the same thing with Ormroth on the road to Shalandra—but he hadn’t had time to ask her about it.
“Lady Briana!” The call was accompanied a moment later by two familiar faces—Arhin and Feasah, the Dhukari they’d met on the road south. Kodyn stopped listening as the men exchanged banal pleasantries with Briana. Instead, he divided his attention between searching the enormous hall for the man he’d come to see and watching for any sign of threat.
He kept a particularly close eye on Briana’s new servant—the young boy, who had called himself Hailen, was clearly a foreigner to Shalandra, with the light skin and fair hair common to Malandria. Yet there was something strange about him, something Kodyn couldn’t quite put his finger on. He said and did nothing to rouse suspicion, but Kodyn knew that there was far more to the boy than his smiling, innocent demeanor.
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