Mourningbird (Empire of Masks Book 3)

by Brock Deskins

  A flash of movement out of the corner of her eye made her bolt upright and hide the picks in the palm of her hand.

  “Donella, I thought you were going out tonight,” Esmerelda said as she sauntered toward Kiera.

  Kiera took a deep breath and pitched her voice to a higher octave. “I was, but I remembered something I needed to do at the last moment. I’ll be on my way in a minute.”

  The tall woman’s eyes narrowed behind her mask. “Is there something wrong with your voice? It sounds off.”

  “The storm the other night kicked up a great deal of dust, and I am still trying to get it all out of my lungs. I’m afraid it’s done a number on my throat.”

  “Hmm, yes. Enjoy your evening. I am retiring for the night and will not likely see you before I leave in the morning. Do keep an eye on Lysse for me.”

  “Of course,” Kiera replied than hastily added, “Your Grace,” when she detected the duchess’ scowl.

  Kiera waited for Esmerelda to disappear around the corner before turning her attention back to the lock. She hated the idea of snooping through the woman’s things with her present. It meant she would likely have to sit and wait for an interminable length of time for her to go to sleep, and Kiera was not the patient type.

  She locked the door behind her, swapped out her mask for her own, and turned her clothes inside out to wear the dark colors on the outside. No disguise, no matter how clever, would explain her presence out on the window ledge, so her best bet now was not being seen at all.

  Kiera scanned the street below before scampering out onto the narrow ledge. Using her grapnel gun to adhere to the wall, she shinnied across the ledge until she reached the duchess’ window. She peered through the glass before easing the window open and slipping inside.

  The shuffling of feet alerted Kiera to Esmerelda’s approach. She dove behind a desk and hid inside the kneehole. The duchess appeared from her bedroom, narrowly missing her intruder. Kiera pushed herself against the modesty panel as the sound of Esmerelda’s footsteps drew closer.

  Kiera held her breath as she stared at the legs covered by a drab dress just inches from her face. She heard a drawer open and close before the legs moved away. Kiera crawled out of her hole and risked a look around the side of the desk.

  Esmerelda was poking around a bookcase. She removed a book, reached into the void with her free hand, and the cabinet next to her swung out to reveal a hidden passage. The duchess returned the book and disappeared into the opening, closing the bookcase behind her.

  OK, the duchess is dressed like a commoner and sneaking out of her own embassy. Either she has a lover she doesn’t want anyone to know about, or she’s up to some shady business, and shady is my middle name. Kiera Shady Rey.

  A jolt of electricity coursed through Kiera’s body at actually having a last name. She had been just Kiera her entire life. The thought of being part of something bigger, of having a real name, a legacy, was almost overwhelming. It felt as though she had a void she never knew existed until it was unexpectedly filled. The emotional surge shook her to her core.

  Kiera pushed her thoughts and feelings aside with practiced ease. She had a job to do, and she needed to keep her focus. Even having seen how Esmerelda opened the hidden door, it took Kiera a minute to find the latch.

  She padded lightly through the short, narrow passageway inside the walls and down a set of spiraling stairs. There were many branches reaching out to various sections of the embassy, but Kiera maintained a course that led her down and to where she hoped there was an outside exit.

  The wall texture changed on the next level, and the feeling of an oppressive weight bearing down on her made her think that she had entered part of Undercity. She redoubled her efforts at stealth and focused her full attention on detecting anyone who might be lurking within the dank passageway, her hand gripped tightly around the haft of her baton.

  While certain she was in part of the buried ruins, Kiera soon came to the conclusion that this area was exclusive to the Nibbenese Embassy and not part of Nimat’s realm. The corridor ended at a wooden wall with a ladder bolted to it. Kiera ascended a few steps and felt around with her hands until she found the latch securing a trapdoor shut.

  She could hear muffled voices on the other side of the barrier, and cautiously opened the trapdoor wide enough to peer through. The area beyond was dark but less so than the shaft in which she stood, and Kiera could just make out the bales of hay stacked to each side of the hatch. She slipped through the opening and followed the sound of voices.

  Peering past a wall of hay, Kiera saw the disguised duchess speaking with two men near the stable’s entrance. An unadorned horse and carriage waited just beyond. The lantern hanging on a post was turned low, and she was not able to make out anyone’s features beyond their silhouettes and a few rough details.

  “Memorize this and destroy it,” Kiera heard Esmerelda say as she crept closer. “This needs to happen as soon as your people can pull it off, but not before two days from now.”

  “Has Rastus declared his heir then?” Irving, the man reading the paper by the dim light, asked.

  “No, but it is a technicality. Bertram is his only blood relative. I and the other leaders will propose his succession, and I am sure the boy will not renounce his ascension. This is not an optimal situation, but events require us to move now. Rastus is hoarding the navy to himself and intends to leave Nibbenar undefended. I cannot allow that.”

  Kiera’s heart rate ticked up a notch. This is what she was looking for. It appeared the fates were once again with her. Her heartbeat redoubled as the man lifted the glass chimney from the lamp, about to touch the paper to the small flame.

  Kiera had the grapnel gun in her hand and clipped to her arm in seconds, but the corner of the paper was already adding the light of its own flame to that of the lamp. She stuck the grapnel to a beam just above Irving’s head and launched herself at the man.

  The sound of the grapnel striking the wood over his head caused Irving to instinctively duck from a perceived attack, pulling the page away from the flame with his movement. However, the attack did not come from above, but from the carriage house’s interior in the form of a human shape flying out of the darkness.

  Kiera’s feet struck the man in the chest with enough force to send him tumbling out into the street. Releasing the grapnel’s hold, she followed his trajectory through the large opening, landed atop him, and snatched the page from his outstretched hand.

  Esmerelda’s heart hammered in her chest and her blood ran cold. Her first thought was that the Necrophage had found her and come to finish his gruesome task. She shoved the idea aside as she took stock of the situation. The person was much smaller than the creature that had attacked them in the palace, and it was stealing her instructions to her agents.

  Kiera jammed the page into a pocket as she pushed off the prone man with her hands and feet and began to run. She had barely taken more than a few steps when something hit her with the force of a runaway carriage. She went airborne for what felt like an impossibly long time before striking the side of a building on the far side of the road.

  The nightbird rolled onto her side with a groan and saw the duchess approach, the bracers clamped around her forearms glowing with eldritch light and casting her in an ethereal aura.

  “That belongs to me, little thief,” Esmerelda said, her voice low and heavy with malice. “Return it, and I will make your death swift and painless.”

  “Too bad I can’t say the same about your ass-kicking,” Kiera replied.

  She aimed her grapnel gun at Esmerelda’s right shin. The shot struck true, eliciting a painful curse from the duchess before Kiera retracted the cord with an assisting yank and pulled the woman down. She used the force on the line to help haul her to her feet and speed her leap through the air.

  Kiera landed on the duchess’ chest with her knees parted and delivered a short, quick strike between her eyes with her baton. She pushed herself to her feet and gave E
smerelda a swift kick between the legs for good measure. Kiera threw herself aside at movement out of the corner of her eye, narrowly avoiding Irving’s shot. The man raised a second pistol in his other hand.

  The shot had spooked the horse, which had until now been standing patiently waiting for its passengers, causing it to bolt. Kiera launched her grapnel at the back of the speeding carriage, thankful for the extra sand covering the road due to the recent storm as the carriage dragged her down the street, not unlike what she had done to the Necrophage.

  Thankfully, her slide was a bit more controlled, and she managed to pull herself onto the back of the coach as Irving’s second shot punched a hole through the wood panel a handspan from her head. Kiera climbed atop the carriage, used her grapnel gun to launch herself at a passing rooftop, and ran off into the darkness.

  CHAPTER 31

  Kiera limped into the house, her hand pressed over the bleeding wound in her hip that her fight had reopened. Conner was at her side the instant she entered the room.

  “What happened? Are you all right?” He saw the wetness on the dark material beneath her hand. “I knew I should not have sent you out so soon!”

  Kiera slapped at his questing hands. “It’s fine. I just busted my stitches…and maybe a rib or three.”

  “What happened?”

  Kiera pulled the crumpled paper from her pocket and handed it to her father. “I caught Esmerelda conspiring against Rastus red-handed.”

  Surri appeared with her sewing kit in hand as Conner’s eyes flicked over the message.

  “Is that what you needed?” Kiera asked as Surri knelt beside her and began her ministrations.

  Conner narrowed his eyes and read the missive a third time. “It’s hard to tell. It is not encrypted, but it is encoded. If I had context I might decipher some of its meaning.”

  Kiera yelped as Surri plunged the needle into her flesh. “She said that the man’s people needed to act but not before two days from now. He asked if Rastus had declared Bertram his heir, and Esmerelda said it didn’t matter, that Bertram was his sole blood relative. She also said that Rastus was leaving Nibbenar undefended and she could not allow that. Does that help?”

  Conner used the information as a key to the riddle he held in his hands. “It helps a great deal. It looks as though Esmerelda has at least one, and likely more than that, person positioned close to Rastus. This section here alludes to the attack and the mysterious killer. My guess is that this person or people are to kill Rastus and make it look as if the Necrophage returned.

  “Your mention of two days coincides with this passage. I imagine the duchess wants to be far from the city when it happens. I bet Lysse will also be somewhere public with ironclad alibis for her whereabouts as well. It is all very circumstantial, and the interpretation relies a great deal on assumption, but if I were a regent faced with potential assassination, I would take it very seriously. I will bring it to Bertram tomorrow to present to Rastus.”

  “By that time, Esmerelda will be on an airship back to Nibbenar!”

  Conner shrugged. “There isn’t much else to do. Given your appearance, my guess is that you did not procure this document without being noticed.”

  Kiera’s lips curled into a feral grin. “Not unless she overlooked getting knocked on her ass and slit-kicked.”

  Conner cradled his head in his hand as he wagged it back and forth. “Good gods, child.”

  Kneeling at Kiera’s side, Surri failed to fully stifle the chortle that escaped her lips.

  ***

  “I’m sorry for the delay and having you come to me,” Bertram said as Conner entered the office he maintained in the palace. “Things have been rather hectic of late, and it is difficult for me to get away.”

  “It’s no problem. I can imagine. Sadly, I think my visit is going to only compound your workload.” Conner handed the inquisitor Esmerelda’s instructions to her agents.

  Bertram stared at the page with a quizzical expression until his guest repeated what Kiera had told him. “Ah, that sheds a great deal of light on the subject. You certainly wasted no time. While grateful, I can’t help but feel utterly inferior as an inquisitor.”

  “It was an enormous amount of luck and serendipity.”

  “I’ll take you at your word, but I think you are being unduly modest. I wish I could hold up my end of our bargain with such speedy efficiency.”

  “Time eventually answers all questions,” Conner said.

  “We should bring this to my uncle without delay.”

  “We? I did not plan to deliver the news to him personally. I thought it should be you to inform him.”

  “I think it will be more compelling if you are there to give him your firsthand accounts. As obvious as it is to you and I, I am certain he will resist our conclusions.”

  “Even when it could mean his own life?”

  “We are telling him that one of our closest allies, and possibly my future wife, is conspiring to assassinate him in order to leverage their own position. This represents a massive threat to the city, and he puts it and his people above all else, even his own life. Even if he believes us, getting him to act on the information is going to be a challenge.”

  Conner nodded. “All right then. Let us get on with it.”

  Bertram led his guest through the palace’s expansive halls. Being Rastus’ nephew provided him an office not far from the duke’s, and yet there were at least a dozen armed guards between the two with half as many stationed just outside the regent’s room. Rastus’ secretary noted their approach, knocked on the door, and opened it at their arrival.

  Rastus sat behind his desk, intently poring over several documents. He waved the pair to sit as he scribbled upon the pages. “Dispensation of our naval assets is a tedious chore. Particularly since that monster gutted our senior officer ranks in his attack.” The duke looked up from his work. “I suppose gutted is an insensitive term under the circumstances.”

  “And yet appropriate,” Bertram replied.

  Rastus shuffled the papers to one side of his desk. “What brings you gentlemen to see me?”

  Bertram said, “Grim tidings and ill news. You should secure the room before I relay the information.”

  Rastus touched a button on the underside of his desk, causing hidden runes to flare around the door and window frames to prevent any sound from escaping the room. “Why is it no one ever comes to see me with something good to say? How bad is it?”

  Bertram gave the note to his uncle and relayed what Conner had told him.

  Rastus listened intently as he read before putting the page down. “This is a very serious accusation, son. Do you have any evidence to support it?”

  Bertram’s eyebrows knitted together. “What more evidence do you need, Uncle? You have it in writing as well as a firsthand account.”

  “A cryptic message that could mean anything, its meaning derived from what is technically a third-hand account. Conner, I trust you as a man of your word, but I would like to speak to your agent, the one who overheard the conversation, myself.”

  Conner shook his head. “That cannot happen, Your Grace. It would jeopardize the man’s anonymity and safety.”

  Rastus leaned back in his chair, not accustomed to being refused. “I could command you to produce your witness, sah.”

  “I would still refuse.”

  Rastus let out a sigh. “You were always a stubborn man, Sah Conner Rey. That’s why you made such a fantastic inquisitor. All right, let us assume you are correct in your assessment. What would you have me do?”

  “Not get killed is a good start,” Bertram replied. “You cannot let this go unpunished. You must arrest Lysse immediately, call for Esmerelda to stand trial, and sanction Nibbenar.”

  “Esmerelda left last night with half our airship fleet following just a few hours behind her.”

  “Of course she did,” Conner scoffed. “She feared this information reaching you.”

  “Her hasty departure certainly do
es not look good,” Rastus concurred.

  Bertram said, “Most of the fleet officers still follow your command. That is why she wants you gone, so she can eventually seize control. A majority of the pilots are from Nibbenar, and I am certain she would take advantage of the chaos resulting from your death and use them to take control of the airships.”

  “It takes more than a pilot to enact a full-scale mutiny.”

  “It is a start. It gives her leverage. You are too honest a man, Uncle. You have to start thinking like she does.”

  The duke rested his elbows on the desk and groaned into his hands. “All right. I will think on what to do about Esmerelda. For now, I will have my agents do a thorough house cleaning and purge it of spies and infiltrators. I already have a good idea of who some of her spies are. I am not a total fool, as you would believe me to be.”

  “I never thought you a fool, Uncle.”

  Rastus slapped his hands onto the desk and stood. “At least we have solved one problem. Let us drink to your success.” He strode to a small liquor cabinet and retrieved an ancient bottle. “This brandy is from our ancestors’ time. Perhaps both Jareen and Quinlan shared a drink from it?”

  Conner chuckled. “I highly doubt it. At least not at the same time.”

  “I suppose in a way they are now,” Rastus said as he plunked down a tumbler in front of his guests and poured them a drink. “After all, they are a part of us.” He raised his glass. “To thwarting evil!”

  “To thwarting evil,” Conner and Bertram repeated.

  Conner held his glass up to the light to study the liquor’s rich color and noted the fingerprint marring its otherwise perfect structure. A thumbprint to be precise. A thumbprint with a telltale scar bisecting it.

  Cleary’s words echoed in his mind. Given their appearance, my guess is one of Nimat’s people working on her behalf. Rastus paid Nimat to keep the peace. The underlord and Velaroth’s ruling family shared a long history. Of course Nimat would know of the plans to kill his family if Rastus was behind it.