“Can you still feel him?” Ky’ara asked silently.
“Barely...all the people passing through have wiped most of the traces away...But I think I know where they went.”
Ky’ara looked ahead, his mental nudge indicating the structure ahead of them as surely as if he’d pointed. The royal palace loomed ahead of them, though this was the backside of the enormous building, where a number of storage facilities and the stables broke up the low stone wall that surrounded the rest of the structure. It would be easier to sneak in here than any other part of the palace, though the dozens of guards that patrolled the area would still present a problem.
‘We need someplace to lie low for a little bit, so we can plan how to get in.’ Ky’ara said, ‘And we may need disguises...If I’m recognized we’ll have a much harder time rescuing Taren before I have to face the Destroyer.’
‘I know...there’s someone who might be able to help us, but I don’t know if he is even still alive. Calistra lost all contact with her agents inside the capital when the King officially declared us rebels. What she did hear wasn’t good...public executions are a nasty way to discourage fraternizing with enemies of the crown.’
‘It’s worth a try anyways,’ Ky’ara replied.
Joran led her down a side alley to a street with rows of small houses, mostly rented by servants who worked at the palace. He counted carefully and then led her up to the fifth from the end and knocked on the door. After what seemed like forever, it opened just a crack.
“What do you want?” A woman asked briskly, a note of fear in her voice.
“Is Arvon working late today?” Joran asked.
The woman gasped and tried to slam the door shut, but Joran’s reflexes were too fast, and he blocked it with his boot.
“What happened to Arvon? Where is he?” Joran asked, pulling the door open a little wider as the woman fought to close it.
“Go away and leave me be. Arvon is dead. You lot got him in enough trouble already!”
Joran let go of the door reluctantly, but not before Ky’ara had glimpsed the face behind it.
“Shei?” She asked in surprise as the door closed in their faces.
The woman opened it a crack and looked at Ky’ara more closely, then grunted and held the door open as she hurried them inside.
“It is you! Shei, what’s going on here?” Ky’ara asked. The woman was an old friend of Mier’s. Ky’ara remembered her as a lighthearted busybody who gossiped fearlessly. This skittish, cranky old woman was almost unrecognizable.
“You lot scared the King into thinking he has to protect himself, that’s what happened,”
Shei retorted, checking her curtains to be sure they were all pulled closed. “Mier somewhere safe?”
Ky’ara nodded, and Shei sighed with relief, “Well that’s something anyways. Didn’t quite know what to think when you both disappeared and then your face appeared on all the wanted posters a few months later...Arvon wouldn’t give me any details, but I knew it must have something to do with that dratted organization he kept trying to get me to join. And then the King ordered anyone with any shady connections rounded up and beheaded in the town square and I only still have my neck because I was away when they came looking and the neighbors vouched that I never could agree on anything with him...Still lost my job though. Couldn’t risk a rebel having access to the palace they said, even if it was just the laundry house.”
“Was Arvon your husband?” Ky’ara asked, straining her memory. All she knew of Shei was from when the woman had come around to chat with Mier while they sewed together...she’d never thought to ask about her family. She’d always just assumed the garrulous woman was single.
“Brother,” Shei grunted, watching them both shrewdly.
Joran peered around the dingy apartment warily, as though soldiers were going to materialize out of the cluttered mess. “So he really is dead then?”
“As a doornail.”
Joran sighed. “Well that complicates things.”
“Maybe not,” Ky’ara said, “Shei, could you get us into the palace?”
“Weren’t you listening, girl?” Shei said sharply, “I already told you I lost my job. I’m barely scraping by doing laundry and mending for some of the merchants and soldiers. They’d turn me away from the palace in a heartbeat, and if word got ‘round, I could lose the few clients I have.”
“Did you know any of Arvon’s contacts?” Joran pressed, “Someone in the network must have escaped the King’s purge.”
“Half of Arvon’s friends were dragged to the chopping block with him! I don’t know of anyone still foolish enough to meddle with you people, except myself apparently.” Shei said it passionately, but her gaze slid down and to the right just a fraction after she said it. Joran narrowed his eyes.
“You DO know somebody who can help us though, don’t you?” He said.
Shei sighed. “Happens I do. A few days ago a man came here looking for Arvon, same as you. He was mighty disappointed to hear he’d been killed.”
“Did he tell you how to find him?” Ky’ara asked.
Shei snorted, “Are you crazy? He might as well have asked me to turn him in for the reward if he did that...but it happens I’ve seen him at his post.”
“His post?” Joran asked.
“Just outside the kitchens, at the palace,” Shei clarified, she looked at their surprised faces, “Didn’t I say already? He’s a palace guard.”
Chapter 20: Deception
Lauryn quickly made her way back down the hall to the first room they had arrived in. Her father’s office. She listened at the door for a moment to ensure Iregh had not returned in their absence, then went inside. She left the door open just enough so she could hear if anyone approached, but not so much that anyone in the hall would notice it was open until they got right up to it. A quick search of the room revealed little other than that her father was obsessively tidy. The books were alphabetized on the shelves, the desk clear of clutter, the sofa against the back wall perfectly arranged.
She opened the drawers carefully and gingerly rifled through their contents. She had to move with care: Iregh would notice the smallest thing out of place. The first drawer held notes about magic. If there was anything useful there, it was nothing she could understand. The second held only spare ink, quills, and paper. She looked under the desk and felt around the sides. The chair was simple and lightweight, not likely to be hiding anything. Lauryn wasn’t sure why she thought there might be anything useful in here—something just told her to keep looking. Finally, after running her hands along what seemed like every surface in the room, she found herself facing the bookshelf again.
Nothing seemed out of place—of course, many of the books were written in foreign languages or glyphs, so she had no way of knowing if they were truly alphabetized like the others. On the end of one row a thin volume bound in black leather caught her attention. She pulled it out and glanced through its contents. Spindly black handwriting filled the pages, but either it was in a foreign language or the handwriting was just so terrible she couldn’t make out any of the words. She closed it in disappointment, and a piece of paper floated to the floor. This one held much neater script and she was able to read enough to recognize that her father must’ve been taking notes on the contents of the journal.
The faint sound of footsteps out in the hallway startled her and she quickly tucked the paper into a pocket and started to return the book to its place on the shelf. She hesitated, then changed her mind and pulled it back out again, tucking it away with the paper and rushing to the door. She pressed herself against the wall and watched breathlessly through the crack as a lone figure walked briskly through the hallway. A maid. Recognizing what might be her only opportunity to get a disguise, she waited till the girl was level with the doorway, then opened the door and yanked her inside. There was a brief scuffle, and then Lauryn managed to get her arm around the girl’s neck. She counted silently to herself as the girl continued to kick and
struggle. As soon as the maid went slack, she carefully lowered her to the floor and switched clothes, putting the book in her apron pocket and murmuring an apology for the headache the girl would have when she came to.
She tied the maid up and hid her behind the plush sofa, checking her pulse to ensure she’d be ok, then returned to the room Sukylar and Nori were hiding in. Sukylar raised an eyebrow at her disguise and she shrugged in response. "How else will we learn anything? I'm almost certain we're in the palace somewhere...there is no way we're going to capture my father and bring him back with us. I'm not certain we even have a glimmer of hope to escape by ourselves."
Sukylar grimaced, recognizing the truth. "I suppose you're right. If we can get out of the palace I may be able to connect with some associates here...though they could be dead or in hiding. We haven't heard from them in months."
"I don't know about walking out of here without being caught, but I think I'll stick with small goals for now... I'm going to find us some food."
Sukylar nodded. His pack had held most of their rations, since he’d reallocated their supplies to lighten Norika’s load that morning. Without it, they had only a few hard biscuits and some dried meat from Lauryn’s pack. “Be careful,” he warned her. Lauryn nodded. She hesitated a moment and then handed him the book and page of notes. “See what you can get from this,” she said, then walked back out into the hall. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins after the fight with the maid, and she felt an odd sort of excitement. It had been years since she’d had to sneak around and steal food to survive, but this was something she knew she was good at. No reading, no magic, no trekking through a swamp or a forest, just her and her wits and a simple objective: Don’t. Get. Caught.
* * * * *
Ky’ara and Joran watched the door to the palace kitchens, hidden behind a cart in the alleyway. Shei stood on the corner with a basket of clean laundry, waiting for a client. She was willing to point out the guard, but then they were on their own, she’d said. Ky’ara got the impression that if she hadn’t felt an obligation as Mier’s friend, she wouldn’t have even done that much.
“That’s him,” Shei said suddenly, keeping her voice low. A guard had walked around the edge of the building, his uniform neatly pressed, his helmet tucked under one arm. He reached up a hand and ran it through his hair nervously before putting the helmet on his head, and Ky’ara jolted with surprise.
“It’s Jace!” she whispered.
Joran peered closer. “The soldier Calistra sent back to spy for her? You’re sure?”
Ky’ara nodded, feeling a rush of adrenaline. Being an Ysinkai had its frustrations, but when a coincidence this big came along, it made her feel hopeful—like the universe wanted them to succeed.
“So do we go right up to him and risk being caught, or do we try to somehow get a message to him?” Joran asked.
Ky’ara looked at Shei hopefully. The old woman’s mouth turned down, and she refused to meet her eye.”
“Don’t even think about it. I’ve done more than I wanted to already. From here on out you’re on your own.” She picked up her basket and turned to leave.
“I understand,” Ky’ara murmured as she walked by, “thank you for your help.”
Shei nodded just slightly, still looking annoyed, and briskly headed back toward her apartment.
Ky’ara and Joran watched Jace for a few minutes, looking for an opportunity to get his attention.
“I think we’re just going to have to risk it,” Ky’ara said after it became apparent that he pretty much just stayed right next to the kitchen doors.
Joran sighed. “Wait here a moment.”
He left his sword next to her and ruffled his clothing a bit, dabbing some dust on his cheeks and then running across the busy street and around the corner to where they’d seen some vendors. Ky’ara watched him haggle for a moment with two of the men selling things, and a few minutes later he came back across the street with a rickety push cart full of a selection of vegetables and an old tattered cloth.
“A disguise?” Ky’ara said skeptically.
“An excuse to go up to the kitchen. Put the swords along the side and cover them up.”
Ky’ara started to drape the cloth over the weapons.
“Not with that,” Joran grinned, “That’s for you.”
Ky’ara cringed and pulled the burlap around her head and shoulders as a crude shawl, then finished tucking produce over the swords. Luckily, her clothes were relatively rumpled and dirty from the last few days of travel. No one would realize they were made of more expensive material unless they looked closely.
“Is that good?”
Joran tweaked the shawl a bit and rubbed a bit of dirt in strategic places on her face, trying to make her look older. “It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do,” he said critically.
Ky’ara rolled her eyes and shuffled next to the cart as Joran pushed it out into the street. As they approached the kitchen Ky’ara felt a surge of apprehension. What if Jace wasn’t spying for the rebellion? What if he’d given the King information on the rebels and been rewarded with a position at the palace? He came looking for the rebel contact, she reassured herself, he has to be on our side...unless he was hoping for the money reward for turning in a rebel spy...She faltered a bit, and was just about to suggest that they try a different approach when Jace looked up at them and caught her eye. A look of surprise flitted across his face and was quickly replaced with a carefully blank expression.
He waited till they came up to the door and then halted them officiously, and bent over to examine their produce.
“What are you doing here?” he murmured, turning over cabbages and eyeing them critically.
“We need to get into the palace, can you help us?” Ky’ara asked, keeping her tone light and casual, hoping not to attract any attention.
Jace glanced over at the guard stationed outside the laundry building nearby. The bulky man was watching the crowds that passed the palace, one hand lightly resting on his sword.
“I can let you past, but then you’ll still have to avoid the guards at the other doors...I think our best bet is if I arrest you.”
Ky’ara tried not to feel smug as a wave of annoyance rolled off Joran.
‘Getting yourself intentionally captured is different than having an ally pretend you are being arrested!’ he thought irritably.
‘I didn’t say anything!’ Ky’ara protested silently.
His silence somehow conveyed the same implications of an eyeroll. Ky’ara ignored him and looked up at Jace.
“Do it then, but bring the cart, our swords are in there.”
Jace nodded. “That’ll give me a perfect excuse,” he murmured, “But the only way they’re going to let me bring both of you in without backup is if you’re unconscious. Can you fake taking a hit?”
Ky’ara conferred with Joran silently for a moment, and then told Jace they would take care of it. He gave the smallest of nods, then dug his hand through the produce and pulled out Joran’s sword.
“What’s this? Trying to smuggle weapons?”
Ky’ara immediately rounded on Joran and started berating him, calling him out for his no-good conniving business schemes. He fake slapped her, at which she shrieked and shoved him violently into the back of the cart.
‘Sorry!’ she apologized as his head cracked against the side. He mentally shrugged as he slumped back, faking unconsciousness. Ky’ara gasped and started to fan herself, bending over him and patting his cheek and pretending to attempt reviving him.
Jace quickly wiped the look of astonishment off his face and jumped into his role as a guard. “I’ll have to take you in for questioning, miss, you say you didn’t know the weapons were there?”
Ky’ara nodded vigorously, her eyes wide.
“You won’t cause any trouble, will you?”
She shook her head, looking down at the ground.
Jace called over to the other guard, who by now was staring openly at the
spectacle they had made. “Rotam, I gotta take these troublemakers in. Can you watch my post till I get back?”
The guard sighed and nodded, moving so he was halfway between their two spots. Jace thanked him and lifted the handles of the cart, pushing Joran inside while Ky’ara followed alongside, looking appropriately contrite. They ignored the glares of the kitchen staff and quickly exited through a side door into a small courtyard.
Jace looked around swiftly and then motioned for her to get into the cart.
“We’ll get a lot fewer questions if you appear to be knocked out as well,” he said.
Ky’ara shrugged and sprawled next to Joran, keeping her eyelids just open enough to catch occasional glimpses of their surroundings.
‘This isn’t very comfortable,’ Joran complained as Jace rolled onto a bumpy flagstone path and under an archway that connected to another building.
‘As long as it works, I don’t care if it hurts,’ Ky’ara replied silently. Aloud, she whispered, “You seem like you have a plan, where are you taking us?”
Jace kept his gaze ahead of the cart while he answered. “They brought a rebel captive in about the same time I got here, are you here to rescue him?”
Ky’ara paused only a moment before replying. “Yes.” They could worry about confronting the Destroyer after they’d located Taren. Likely one would lead to the other anyways.
“I can take you where they took him, we’ll have to wing it from there, but that’ll get you through a lot more of the layers of guards than you could on your own,” Jace said determinedly.
He stopped talking abruptly as they turned a corner and saw a maid headed toward them. He nodded politely as she passed, but Ky’ara could practically feel the anxiety rolling off him. The maid must’ve sensed something off as well, because she stopped suddenly and turned back.
Jace quickened his step, muttering reassurances under his breath. They hit a bump and unintentionally Ky’ara’s eyelids flew wide open and she got a better look at the maid.
“Lauryn!” She cried out, barely managing to keep her voice low enough not to carry far. Jace looked startled, and slowed his pace, breathing hard from the effort of pushing them both in the cart.
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