The Eyes of God

by John Marco

  “Don’t bark at me,” said Figgis, getting out of his chair. “I’ve been a little busy trying to come up with a way to keep Akeela from invading Jador! And how was I supposed to know you’d actually show up? You were gone for sixteen years!”

  Lukien groaned. “Great.”

  “Wait,” said Gilwyn. “Maybe the two of you haven’t considered a way to get Cassandra out of Lionkeep, but I have.” Smiling, he gave his simian companion another biscuit.

  After another uneventful night in her chambers, Cassandra retired early to her bedroom.

  Since her astonishing meeting with Gilwyn two weeks ago, she had once again been forced into the prison of her own home, unable to touch the outside world. Her two brief encounters with the boy had made her hunger for more, yet she knew she could not risk it. So she resigned herself to waiting, not even attempting to contact Figgis at the library to see what—if anything—was happening. Akeela had come to her only seldom over the subsequent days, mostly to torment her with updates on his progress. As the time for his march on Jador drew nearer, he became more and more aloof and moody, more subtly cruel to her. He had not been the same since their argument when he’d torn the curtain between them. His moments of kindness were fewer now. She could hear the growing agitation in his voice, how impatient he was to find the other amulet. In two more days he would leave, he had told her yesterday. And when he returned he would have the fabled other Eye. No more did he speak of it as a loving promise, though. Now he threatened her with it.

  This night, however, Akeela had not come to her bedroom, and Cassandra was glad. She had begun to lose faith in her wild scheme to find Lukien, and now hoped only that Akeela would leave for Jador and that his mad quest would kill him. Surprisingly, her ill wishes for him caused her no guilt. He was insane, she reasoned, and would be better off dead.

  It was a shame what had happened to him, though. For that, Cassandra had regrets. She dragged herself into her windowless bedroom, took a sip of cold tea from a cup on her bedside table, then blew out the candle. There was no reason to stay awake and she was tired from thinking too much. Her private wing of Lionkeep echoed with its usual, ruthless silence, making the thoughts in her mind seem louder. Tonight she was plagued with images of Akeela and Lukien, and what she had done to them both. She wanted only to sleep.

  Sleep, however, did not come easily. And when it did it was fraught with restless dreams. Cassandra tossed in her sheets for the first hour, trying to banish her phantoms, then heard an insistent voice calling her name. Her eyelids fluttered open to see the dark room and a figure standing over her.

  “Cassandra, it’s me,” said the voice. In her stupor it took a moment to for Cassandra to recognize it.

  “Jancis?”

  “Yes. Can you see me?”

  Cassandra sat up in alarm. “Barely. What’s wrong?”

  “Look!” said Jancis, holding out her hands. It took a moment for Cassandra’s eyes to adjust. Jancis was backlit by lamplight from the adjoining room. In her hands was something small and round.

  “What?” Cassandra asked, reaching out for the object. The thing squealed at her touch, making Cassandra jump. “Great Fate, what is that?”

  “The monkey!” said Jancis. She hovered over the bed, still holding the object out for Cassandra. “Remember? From the boy Gilwyn!”

  Cassandra blinked uncertainly. “Monkey?” She shook her head, tossed her naked feet over the bedside, and studied the thing in Jancis’ hands. Gradually her sight improved, revealing the furry mass in Jancis’ hands. It was indeed a monkey.

  “Where’d you find it?” asked Cassandra quickly. “Is Gilwyn here?”

  “I don’t know,” shrugged Jancis. “I was asleep myself when he woke me, just a moment ago! He scared me to death!”

  “Teku is a she, Jancis, not a he,” said Cassandra. “Gilwyn must be around somewhere. There was no note with her?”

  “Not this time,” said Jancis. “Unless I’m missing it.”

  Cassandra studied the monkey, but in the dim light could see nothing. She was excited that Gilwyn was back, because surely only he could have sent Teku looking for her, but without further directions she didn’t know what to do. She thought about going into the other room where there was light, then realized in a flash what needed to be done.

  “The garden!” She reached out and gently touched the monkey, patting its furry head. “Teku, is Gilwyn in the garden? Will you take me to him?”

  The sound of her master’s name made the monkey bob her head.

  “Put her down, Jancis,” directed Cassandra.

  Jancis replied, “With pleasure,” then spilled the furry creature onto the floor.

  “Is Gilwyn near, Teku?” Cassandra asked softly. “Is he in the garden?”

  The little monkey chattered and moved toward the door.

  “What’s it doing?” asked Jancis.

  “She wants me to follow!” Cassandra took a step toward Teku to test her theory and was rewarded with another movement toward the door.

  “It understands you?” asked Jancis incredulously.

  “I think so. Gilwyn told me she was smart, and obviously she knew enough to find you. I’m going to follow her, Jancis, see if she takes me to Gilwyn.”

  “Cass, you can’t go to the garden now. You’re not even dressed!”

  “I have to, Jan.” She started toward the door. “Gilwyn’s probably waiting for me. Lukien might be with him.”

  “Wait!” cried Jancis, stumbling after her. “Take slippers at least!”

  Cassandra groaned in frustration, located her slippers beside her bed, and hurried into them. “Don’t follow me, Jancis. I don’t want to make any more noise than I have to. And if Akeela comes looking for me. . . .”

  “I’ll tell him you’re sleeping,” sighed Jancis. “Go. But be careful!”

  “I will,” said Cassandra, then hurried after Teku. The monkey led her from the bedroom into the main chamber, then out toward the open hallway. She moved quickly but with silence, letting Cassandra skulk after her as she scurried through the corridor. Cassandra mimicked her silence. She was chilly suddenly and regretted not bringing a shawl, but she was too intent on reaching the garden to think much about it. She followed Teku to the end of the hall, near the kitchen where Freen worked. Luckily, the cook had long since gone to bed and neither Megal nor Ruthanna were around. Both Cassandra and Teku kept to the wall as they rounded the kitchen. They were approaching the edge of Cassandra’s private wing now, and for a moment Teku looked confused. She studied her surroundings, sniffed the air then looked at Cassandra, her yellow eyes full of concern. Cassandra squatted down beside her.

  “Are you lost, Teku?” she whispered.

  The monkey merely grunted.

  “The garden’s the only place he could be,” Cassandra mused aloud. “Is that where Gilwyn is?”

  Teku headed toward the door again. This time, though, Cassandra caught the monkey, scooping her into her arms.

  “It’ll be quicker this way,” she explained. Teku seemed to agree, climbing onto her shoulder. Cassandra smiled as she plunged further into the dark corridor. “Just tell me if I’m going the wrong way, all right?”

  She knew the way better than the monkey, and soon found herself near the scullery again, where on that first night she had ventured out into the free world. The hall was dark, as always, and a chill crept beneath her nightgown. Her ears picked up some far away movement, but she was free of her servants now and knew they wouldn’t discover her. All that was left was to reach the garden.

  The last few moments were the worst as she pushed through the unlit scullery hall, where the rusted pots and pans hung like dead men from pegs and the unseen spider-webs surprised her skin. Searching for the door, she reached out. . . .

  “Cassandra?”

  Cassandra gasped and fell back in alarm. At the door was Gilwyn, almost invisible in the blackness.

  “Gilwyn, you scared me!” she cried.

  “S
hhh,” scolded Gilwyn, coming forward. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t risk being seen.” He beamed at his pet, taking the monkey from Cassandra’s shoulder. “Good girl, Teku. You found her!” He kissed Teku and hoisted her onto his own shoulder. “I was worried she couldn’t find you. I sent her out almost an hour ago.”

  “She found Jancis,” Cassandra corrected. She looked over Gilwyn’s shoulder toward the door, noticing with disappointment that he was alone. Gilwyn caught her glance and smiled at her.

  “I found him, my lady,” he said. “I found Lukien. He’s waiting for you not far from Lionkeep, in the apple orchard.”

  The news was like beautiful music. “Really?” Cassandra asked. “Lukien’s back? How is he?”

  “He’s fine, but there’s no time to talk. You’ll see him soon enough.” Gilwyn reached out and took her hand. “Come on, we have to hurry.”

  “What, right now?” Cassandra pulled her hand back. “I can’t leave dressed like this.”

  “My lady, please don’t argue,” implored Gilwyn. “This is the only chance to get you out of here before we’re discovered. My wagon’s not far from here, waiting for us. I was able to get inside the keep because I said I was delivering books. They checked my wagon and that’s what they saw—books. They won’t check me again on the way out, but we have to hurry!”

  Cassandra’s head was spinning. She was barely dressed, it was the middle of the night, and she hadn’t even said good-bye to Jancis. But Gilwyn’s earnest face told her he meant business. Lukien was waiting, and couldn’t wait forever. If she didn’t leave now. . . .

  “Please, my lady,” said Gilwyn nervously. “We’ve got clothes waiting for you in the orchard. But we must hurry.”

  Cassandra glanced back down the dark corridor. The utensils of the scullery stood out stark and ugly. But it in an odd way it was home. Leaving it might kill her. Or worse, Jancis if her treachery was discovered.

  “I’m not sure I’m ready,” she laughed nervously. She looked at Gilwyn for support, and got one of his encouraging smiles.

  “We can make it, my lady, I know we can. But we have to hurry.”

  It had all come down to this, a getaway in a wagon full of dusty books. Cassandra had waited sixteen years, and in that time had imagined many escapes, all of them more grand than this one. Beneath her nightshirt the Eye of God gave off its reassuring glow, the only warmth for her cold body.

  “All right,” she agreed. “Let’s go.”

  Gilwyn didn’t say a word. Like a phantom he turned in the darkness, opened the door to the breezy outside, and led Cassandra toward freedom.

  Alone atop his black charger, General Will Trager trotted toward Lionkeep after a long day with his lieutenants. All was in preparation for his departure to Jador, and the general was in an excellent mood. The lights of Lionkeep drew him forward like a moth. He had good news for Akeela and knew that the king would still be awake, so he had decided not to wait until morning. They were on schedule to march, finally, and could do so as soon as Akeela wanted. If need be, they could depart tomorrow, a full two days earlier than anticipated. Will Trager was proud of himself. His pride glowed in his bearded face. The lateness of the hour had made his trip from Chancellery Square particularly pleasant, without the usual choking traffic. He had even whistled a little while he rode, pleased that he no longer needed to face Warden Graig before meeting Akeela. Akeela had taken old Graig’s death hard but it had been worth it; now Akeela listened only to him. Not even Figgis had much access to Akeela these days, an added bonus Trager hadn’t expected. Akeela was growing impatient with the old librarian, sure that he was stalling. Like Queen Cassandra, Figgis opposed the invasion of Jador. That made him less useful to Akeela. Trager grinned in the moonlight. It was a very good night, indeed.

  Up ahead stood the gates of Lionkeep. A pair of wardens were posted, each with a spear and a black helmet. Since the death of Graig, they had been particularly keen on guarding Lionkeep. Even Trager had to announce himself. He watched them as he rode nearer, slowing his mount a bit. They were suspicious of him and he knew it. There were bold rumors afoot that Graig had been murdered, and though nothing could be proven, the wardens were taking no more chances. Trager was merely yards from the gates when he noticed another pair of wardens arriving, relieving the first pair, who after a quick exchange of formalities disappeared into the darkness. The new sentries fell into position, noticing the approaching general at once. Through the bars of the gates, Trager came under their suspect glare.

  “Open up,” he commanded. He had no interest in pleasantries and wouldn’t have wasted them on wardens, anyway. The sentries studied him with undo care. “Oh, hurry up,” he shouted. “I have business with the king!”

  “Yes, sir,” replied one of the men. It was easy to catch the rancor in his tone. With his partner he opened the gates, bidding Trager inside. But just as the general crossed the threshold, he noticed a wagon coming toward him from within the keep.

  “Wait,” ordered the first sentry. He held up a hand to stop Trager.

  “Wait? What for?”

  Both sentries fixed on the wagon. There was a single rider in the conveyance, a boy Trager thought he recognized. Behind him, in the buckboard, was a lumpy pile covered with a tarpaulin. The boy looked pale in the moonlight.

  “You boy, hold up,” said one of the wardens. He stepped in front of the wagon and raised a hand to halt it. The boy grimaced and reined in his horse, a tired looking old beast with drooping eyes and lopping gait.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked the warden.

  “Where are you going?” replied the warden pointedly.

  “Back to the library,” said the boy. He sighed. “Look, I already explained everything to the last sentries. I’m Gilwyn Toms, from the library.”

  Suddenly Trager remembered the boy. He watched the happenings with interest.

  “We know who you are,” said the warden. He spied the wagon’s contents, frowning. “What’s all that stuff?”

  “Books, of course! And if you recognize me, will you let me pass, please?”

  “Sorry, boy.” The warden took a step toward the wagon. “We’re checking everything that comes in and out, you know that.”

  “But I just came in!” Gilwyn Toms protested.

  “Doesn’t matter,” said the warden. He walked over to the side of the wagon, reaching into it to pull off the tarpaulin. “We have our orders.”

  “Stop being ridiculous,” barked Trager. His loud command stilled the warden’s hand. “The boy just wants to get home to bed.”

  The wardens seemed shocked. “General, we have our orders,” said one of them.

  “Orders,” spat Trager. “Let the boy pass. Those are my orders, warden.”

  Hesitantly, the sentries stepped back from the wagon. Gilwyn Toms looked remarkably relieved. And for Trager, the tight grimaces of the wardens was priceless. He laughed, shaking his head in disgust.

  “Really, do you think stopping a crippled boy is what Warden Graig would have done? You’re pathetic.” Trager turned toward Gilwyn Toms. “Go on, boy, get back to the library.”

  The boy broke into a peculiar smile. “Thank you, sir.”

  “All right,” grunted Trager. “Safe home, now.”

  Self-satisfaction filled him as he watched the boy snap the reins and head out through the gates with his wagon full of books. The wardens watched the boy go too, shaking their heads and sighing. Trager rode past them with disdain.

  “Idiots,” he sneered. “All you wardens ever do is waste people’s time.”

  Cassandra lay motionless beneath the tarpaulin, clinging desperately to the amulet against her chest. The soft glow of the Eye’s gemstone warmed her cold skin. Through the tarp she had heard the voices of men, then Gilwyn’s insistent arguing. The voices had been very close, but now the wagon was moving again. Were they free? Cassandra held her breath. Her body rocked to the movement of the road, pinned on all sides by sharp-edged books. Her awkward positio
n in the wagon had quickly become painful, but it would all be worth it to escape Lionkeep. She said nothing as the wagon moved off again, waiting for a sign from Gilwyn. At last it came.

  “We made it, my lady,” came the boy’s excited whisper. “We’re out of the keep! Don’t move; we’ll be safe soon.”

  Cassandra didn’t move, but she did smile. She wrapped her fingers around the amulet, gleaning its needed warmth, and prepared herself to see Lukien.

  39

  A thin mist rolled through the apple orchard, brightened by moonlight and the distant glow of Koth. Except for the crackle of a small campfire, there was no sound between the perfect rows of fruit trees, only the scent of apples and the soft, dewy earth. A tawny colored horse stood motionless in the firelight, burdened with packs for a long ride. Lukien squatted by the fire, listening, watching. Down the orchard row he could see mist breezing through the trees. The fog had cut visibility considerably, but he knew he was alone in the orchard, and that worried him. For two hours he had been here, waiting for Gilwyn to return with Cassandra. So far there had been no sign of them, and Lukien was despairing. He put his hands up to the fire, staring pensively into its flames. Smoke from the dry kindling irritated the wound beneath his eyepatch. The horse Figgis had managed to find him chomped lazily at the ground, occasionally finding a fallen, unripe apple. She seemed a good horse, good enough at least to speed him and Cassandra to Breck’s farm, where his own mount awaited him. From there they would ride to Marn. It was a decent plan and Lukien was satisfied with it, but none of it mattered unless Cassandra came. As the minutes ticked by, that seemed less and less likely.

  And for a moment, Lukien thought that might be for the best. He had nothing to offer Cassandra, really, just his love. He was an outlaw. He wasn’t even welcome back in Norvor. And unlike Cassandra he had aged over the years, badly. She, on the other hand, was as beautiful as when he’d left her, or so said Gilwyn. She deserved a life better than he could offer, but maybe she didn’t see that. Maybe she was just too desperate to escape her gilded cage.