by Kirby Crow
The first inkling Liall had that something had gone wrong was Jochi’s sudden appearance. The hour was around noon or thereabouts. He still had not returned to being an accurate judge of time in the twilit Rshan winter. I have, Liall thought wryly, become a Byzan: too reliant on the sun.
Jochi appeared at the doorway to the queen’s scriptorium and peered in nervously, then vanished. Several minutes later, Liall looked up from the trade treaty he was scanning and Jochi was there again, his eyes darting to the corners of the room. By that time, Liall had become suspicious and he begged leave of Glin, a nervous scribe with thin, shaking hands, and followed Jochi.
Liall found him only a few steps down the hallway.
“Ap kyning,” Jochi said respectfully, but would not meet his eyes. That was unlike the teacher. Jochi fidgeted and seemed alarmed. That, in turn, alarmed Liall: to see calm, level-headed Jochi, wringing his hands like a new mother over a sick babe.
“It is ser Keriss,” Jochi said at last.
Liall’s heart nearly stopped. “Is he worse?” Gods, what if Melev had been wrong?
“He is not here, my prince.”
Poor Jochi, set to guard a youth more willful than a king. Liall felt relieved and irritated at once. “What do you mean, not here?”
“I cannot find him.”
“Have you looked everywhere?”
Jochi nodded, his features tight with shame.
Liall ran a hand over his hair, his thoughts scattering in sudden fear. It was very cold outside, and Scarlet knew nothing of the countryside. Liall was stunned that Scarlet would even consider it. The boy must have been angrier than he had realized. “He cannot have gone far, it is the middle of winter, after all. Tell Nenos to—”
“Nenos has been waiting to speak with you as well, my prince. There has been trouble.”
“Trouble,” Liall stated flatly, waiting for the explanation.
Jochi’s face was lined and drawn, and that told Liall much. “We should go and speak to Nenos at once. At once, ser,” he added with a look to the walls. Such a look said: other ears could be listening.
Liall followed him without another word.
Nenos was standing at attention just inside the main door to Liall’s apartments, obviously waiting for them. He held a small, red velvet box in his hands.
“What is it?” Liall said harshly, his heart thudding loudly in his ears. “What’s amiss?”
Wordlessly, Nenos held the box out to Liall. The prince took it and jerked the cover off. Inside, nestled on a bed of folded red silk, was a white essima, the tiny, fanged, ruby-eyed viper of the north that ever seeks warmth, hiding under pillows and cushions and near warm chairs. So silent it was, and so swiftly did it kill, that the name for this snow-pale serpent and the name for assassin are the same in Sinha.
The essima was dead, its spine crushed into a bloody mess, red blood on its pure white scales. Liall gave Nenos a look that made the servant take a step back. “Where did this come from?”
“It was left here, my prince,” Nenos turned and touched the small table by the door, the table Liall had taken to leaving small gifts for Scarlet on, such as the wolf pin. “I do not know who put it here, but certainly I have admitted no one but Jochi and, once, Prince Eleferi. Beyond that there are only the other servants, Dvi the cook, and myself.”
“Who killed it?”
“I did,” Nenos answered calmly. “I noticed it when I returned from fetching herbs from the apothecary on the ground floor. Cestimir sent me on an errand, saying the queen herself had insisted on this herbal tincture being mixed for ser Keriss’s health. When I came back, both Prince Cestimir and ser Keriss were gone.”
Gone? One thing at a time, Liall thought, forcing himself to remain calm. “And you opened it?”
“Of course, my prince.”
“For all you knew, I could have left this gift for Scarlet,” Liall pressed him, merciless in his fear. “Why did you open it, servant?”
Now Nenos squared his shoulders in grave offense. “That box was not here when I left, and I am charged with all that occurs inside these apartments. I open every package, listen to every conversation, no matter how intimate. I am not charged with merely serving your che, my prince, I am your servant, and you asked me to guard the lad.”
In the face of Nenos’s righteous anger, Liall wilted. The man was right. Liall placed the lid carefully back on the box and returned it to Nenos, bowing. “I have rewarded loyalty with suspicion. Forgive me. You could have been killed yourself, opening that.”
Nenos was mollified, but not much. The box was handed to Jochi, who made a sound of disgust at its contents, perhaps commenting on the situation in general.
“I was not killed,” Nenos said. “But I am willing to die to protect those I serve. I would be proud to do so.”
“The House of Camira-Druz values your loyalty,” Liall answered formally, his heart an aching lump of fear in the cage of his chest. Someone had tried to murder Scarlet, and now he was missing, probably gone off on one of his wandering adventures, not knowing that a killer stalked him.
“This was not an attack on you, Nazheradei,” Jochi said. “It is reasonable to believe that whoever left the box knew that you did not sleep here last night.”
“It was not an attempt to kill me,” Liall agreed grimly, “only to cripple me. We must discover who did this before they try again. And Scarlet must be found and moved into more secure lodgings at once. I will put him in with the queen and her soldiers if I have to.” And sleep standing up with a sword in my hand, he vowed. They would not take Scarlet from him. “I should have done this last night, but I was angry with him and stupid. Now look what has happened.”
“My prince,” Jochi said reluctantly. “There is more.”
Gods, what more? “Speak,” he commanded.
“Prince Cestimir’s new sleigh is gone, and his driver, Yesuk, cannot be found.”
Now that he had an idea where the boys had gone –apparently under their own will– Liall was relieved, but somehow angrier. He poked a finger in the middle of Jochi’s chest. “Come with me to the guard house. We will assemble a search party. Nenos!”
“My prince?”
“If Scarlet comes back before we do, tie him up and sit on him! Do not let him leave these apartments again.”
“Yes, ser.”
Liall and Jochi each took ten men and horses from the guard house and searched the sleigh paths and the farthest reaches of the grounds, both in opposite directions. Liall returned before Jochi did, having found not even a trail.
The wind is up, Liall thought. It may have eroded their path, or else they may have left through another route. There are many, many...
Two dozen or more exits surrounded the palace, each with trails leading off into the countryside and back to the port city in a spider-work of paths and roads, some well-traveled, some not. Looking for a single set of sleigh tracks among them was impossible.
Liall was realizing this and pacing the little guard room near the wide, stone steps of the palace entrance –the same ones Scarlet had found so huge and imposing when he first stepped out of that carriage– when Jochi’s men rode up in a jangle of bells and harness.
When Liall saw the searcher’s hangdog faces, his anger curdled up into a sinking ball of fear in his stomach.
“It is time to tell the queen,” Liall said. He waved his hand at the search party. “Double their numbers and send them back out. The hour is late and the snow bears will emerge soon to search for food.” As he said it, the coldness in his gut began to spread throughout his body. Something was very wrong. He felt it. Perhaps the man or woman who had aimed their venomous arrow at Scarlet had now found a perfect opportunity to remove two troublesome youths with one blow.
“Find me a good horse,” he told Jochi. “I will be going again, too.”
Jochi shook his head. “You cannot.”
Liall rounded on him, his fists clenched. “Do not order me, Setna!”
“I am not,” Jochi answered, calm and rational despite his worry. “I’m only stating a fact. After Cestimir, you are the last true prince of Druz. If Cestimir is indeed taken –and that is what you’re thinking, ser– then the only hope he has is if you are alive and well in the Nauhinir, where you can strike back at Vladei.”
He was right. Damn him. Oh Deva, Liall prayed soundlessly, looking out into the blue twilight and the hills of snow creeping up into the mountains, if you truly do exist, guard my Scarlet, for he believes in you and he is a good man who does not deserve to come to harm. And if you will hear prayers for the life of a Rshani prince, guard Cestimir as well.
It brought him no comfort, and he turned away heavily to speak to his mother.
9.
A Small Piece of Earth
“We’re going so fast, Cestimir!” The sleigh raced over the shadowy road, making Scarlet feel as if he were flying. Through the window, the white trees seemed to flash by like the wings of birds. There were hollows and glades nestled in the rolling hills above the Nauhinir, and jagged tors that looked like black spikes wreathed in snow.
“Good! After that horrible hunt and the nasty scene Vladei made afterwards, we both need fresh air and time to ourselves,” Cestimir said merrily. “You’re growing too pale, Scarlet. And will you please for the sake of the Shining Ones call me Cesta and not that lavish title?”
Scarlet couldn’t help laughing. “You sounded just like your brother for a moment there,” he said. But he did not want to talk about Liall.
Cestimir reached his long arms over Scarlet to throw a blanket over their knees, and then covered Scarlet alone with another fur.
“Just to be safe,” Cestimir said. “I don’t know very much about Hilurin. We Rshani tolerate cold very well, but I have difficulty judging what is too cold for you.”
“Prince Nazheradei does that, too,” Scarlet said. “Or too hot. He’s forever stoking the fire up in our rooms, until he has me sweating and swearing at him to open a window.”
Cestimir laughed. “Well, you see? He cares for you.” He pushed Scarlet’s shoulder. “You have been imagining otherwise, yes? Please do not. There is one thing that everyone says about my brother: his moods do not change with the weather. He is a constant man. He loved you yesterday and he loves you today.”
Scarlet looked away. “I lied to him.”
“And he lied to you. You are even. Time to forget and start over. Ah, Scarlet, life is short! It is so very short, and there is so little time to do the things we yearn to do. Do not waste time on this... this useless heartache, I beg of you.”
Scarlet smiled a little. “How old are you again, boy?”
“Fifty, according to Alexyin,” Cestimir grinned. “And then at other times: five. Today, I believe, we are at a five.”
“Where are we headed?” Scarlet asked again, peering at the front window, which was almost totally blocked by Yesuk’s broad back as he snapped the reins, urging the pair of horses on.
“Just for a run,” Cestimir replied, settling back. “Up near the foothills. We’ll be back before my mother and Nazheradei are out of that damnable council meeting with no one the wiser. I want to show you the old temple ruins. Melev has told me so much about them that he has gotten me quite curious, and I’ve been thinking of going there since you told me about the statues you saw in Morturii. The legends say that the Shining Ones lived there once. We’re supposedly descended from them.”
Scarlet nodded. “So Lia... your brother has said.”
Cestimir gave him a curious look. “What do you call him? You never say it all the way, but cut yourself off or call him Prince Nazheradei, with your tongue sounding like you’ve eaten briars.”
“Liall,” Scarlet answered, pushing back a wave of sadness. “It’s his name back home.”
Scarlet realized that the sleigh was moving awfully fast, even faster than the one Liall and he had ridden to the palace. He gripped the cushions with gloved hands and hoped Yesuk knew what he was doing. The sleigh began to ascend another steep hill with no sigh of slowing.
“There is nothing to worry about,” Cestimir said. “Yesuk is very skilled, and he is familiar with this road.”
Scarlet peered out the window. Well, he supposed there was a road somewhere beneath the snow, at least. “Does the snow ever melt up here?”
“No, not up here. In the lowlands, yes. You will hardly recognize my land then. Everywhere it is green and bright with sun.” Cestimir produced a flask from his coat and opened it. “Here, have a sip, it will warm you.”
Scarlet took a cautious swallow and found it was the same stuff that Liall had given him on the Ostre Sul, fiery but warming. He handed it back to Cestimir, who also took a swallow and put the flask away. “Has Liall spoken with you yet?”
“About?” Cestimir arched a too-familiar eyebrow.
That made Scarlet laugh again. “There, that’s very like him. Nothing in particular. He was just going to arrange a longer meeting with you.” It occurred to Scarlet belatedly that it might be unwise to make assumptions.
“Oh, that. Yes.” Cestimir looked pleased, though. “He apologized for delaying in coming to visit me. I think I like this unknown brother of mine. He thanked me for being kind to you, and I felt obligated to tell him I had not.” His tone was regretful. “I’m sorry for that, truly. And I’m sorry that you’ve been ill-treated by the court. I’d like a giant broom to sweep them all away some days.”
“Some of them could take up a better job than being nasty to folk all the time,” Scarlet admitted. The sleigh swayed and he clutched at the door.
Cestimir grinned and Scarlet opened his mouth to ask the prince to tell him more about the legends of the immortal giants, and then the world turned upside down.
The sleigh swayed again wildly, swinging around almost sideways in the road. Then it jolted so hard that it rattled Scarlet’s teeth. There was a terrific crack just before the rear end of the sleigh seemed to bottom out. Beneath his feet it sounded as if the earth was being ripped and torn apart. Scarlet could hear rocks being thrown up against the undercarriage, and then there was one more tremendous jolt and they were tumbling, end over end, streaks of starlight racing past the window.
Scarlet thumped his head on the roof and caught hold of Cestimir, purely out of terror. It saved him from being thrown through the window. Gravity vanished and he closed his eyes, dizzy and sick, just before they slammed back into the earth with a crash that was thunderous in the small confines of the sleigh carriage.
They came to rest, tipped half-way up again, neither right side up, nor upside down, but balanced precariously. Cestimir tried to sit up. The sleigh rocked and shifted.
“Don’t move,” Scarlet gasped, and Cestimir froze. “Wait, wait.” He closed his eyes a moment and breathed through his mouth, waiting for the dizziness to lift, and then opened them again.
This is very bad, he thought as the sleigh creaked again. He heard one of the horses screaming.
“What shall we do?” Cestimir’s voice was muffled by furs, but he sounded calm enough.
“Be still. Give me a moment.” Scarlet moved his hand by inches and rubbed his glove over the glass to clear it. “Oh gods...” He felt sick. They were on the very edge of a cliff, the window giving him a view of black, open space below them. This was going to be difficult.
“Cesta, this is very important.” Scarlet was trembling so hard that it was difficult to speak, but then he glanced at the prince’s face. Cestimir was pale and his eyes were wide like blue marbles, and Scarlet reminded himself that the boy was only fourteen. Prince or not, he would have to be the strong one here.
“We need to inch back towards the other door to shift our weight,” Scarlet said, forcing his voice to be level. “We need to do it very, very slowly and carefully because we’re close to the edge on my side.”
“All right,” Cestimir said, but did not move.
Scarlet took in a breath, willing his teeth not to chatter. “You wil
l have to go first.”
“Oh. Of course.” Cestimir sounded winded, as if he had run a long ways, but Scarlet admired his calm.
Scarlet held his breath, as if that would do any good, and held very still as Cestimir shifted back, little by little. “When you get to the door, see if you can open it and slide through.”
“I’m not leaving you!”
“Please don’t,” he returned dryly, shifting his weight over with the prince. “But one of us has to go first and you’re closest. Don’t argue, you want-wit, just do it.”
Scarlet heard a creaking noise and the sleigh shivered unpleasantly, as if it were considering sliding off the edge anyway. The door creaked.
“Open,” Cestimir said. The sleigh steadied again. “Hurry, Keriss,” Cestimir said in a scared voice, sounding younger by the second.