by Barb Hendee
"I don't know the city. I've never been," Korey said, and now she looked frightened. "I'd get lost! But you know the city, and you could do it."
Hedí released Korey's shoulders, sinking limply back against the door. "Lord Darmouth will never let me out. You have to—"
"I can show you," Korey said, and grabbed Hedí's hand. Unfortunately, this caused the quilt to slide off and she was once again naked. Hedí pulled the quilt up as Korey leaned forward, whispering. "You don't talk to me like everybody else, like I'm too young… too stupid. I know things! Papa tells me."
Hedí sat upright. "What things?"
"One time Papa played a trick on Julia and Devid when Lord Darmouth was gone away. He put stuff in their food, and they went to sleep. Julia snores like a dog! Papa said when they woke up, they wouldn't tell or they'd get in trouble for sleeping. He told me to change into a cat, and hid me in a big sack, and took me down and down under the keep, with places like cages with iron bars for doors, and showed me a piece of wall…"
Korey paused to catch her breath.
"We went through it and found a thing he called a 'portal,' and he opened it. He showed me, and he said, 'Just in case.' Then we hurried real fast to get me back to my room. He told me if I went through the portal door, I'd find a secret to take me to the woods way over on the other side of the lake."
Hedí remained as calm as she could. If Korey's tale was true…
This was more than a way to send Byrd a warning. Could it be what they had spent years searching for—a way to breach the keep? How could she get into the lower levels? She had seen guards at every post that might lead below.
"Korey, what is down there? How could I get across the lake to the woods?"
Before Korey could speak, a knock sounded on the door.
"Quick," Hedí said, and lifted the quilt off Korey. "Under the bed."
Korey scurried away on all fours and wriggled out of sight, and Hedí spread the quilt roughly over the bed. She returned to the door and opened it a fraction.
A middle-aged guard stood before her in the corridor. He looked distraught.
"Forgive my disturbing you, lady," he said. "Baron Milea has arrived and is waiting in the meal hall. Our lord sent word last night that you wished to see the baron. But all this happened before—"
"Before today's commotion," Hedí finished for him.
"Yes, my lady. Our lord has granted the baron a short visit."
"Thank you. I will be down in a moment."
She closed the door and rushed to the cherry-wood desk, grabbing a scrap of parchment and a feather quill.
"Korey, come out," she said, and dipped the quill in the inkwell, scribbling a note. "You must get back to your room quickly. Wait… how did you open and close the door with paws instead of hands?"
Korey scoffed with a roll of her eyes. "I don't do it while I'm a cat! I take my clothes off in my room, wait till no one's in the hall, then go out and change. No one notices a cat around here 'cause they're supposed to be catching rats and mice."
Hedí shook her head. If only she had met this little one years ago. "Hurry back to your room. Julia may be there soon with your dinner. I will come for you later, and you can show me how to find this portal."
"I'll wait up for you," Korey agreed.
Hedí fought down guilt again. What she did was for the sake of her people—her lost mother and sisters, and her father, and even for Korey.
"Good girl," she said. "Now, change."
Korey's body began to shrink, darkening with fur that sprouted from her soft skin.
Hedí watched the reverse process with fascination instead of horror.
When it was complete, she cracked the door open, and Korey, the little black-brown cat, scurried out and down the corridor. She closed the door and folded the note she had written until it fit into the palm of her hand. When enough time passed that Korey would be well on her way, Hedí left and went down to the meal hall.
Emêl stood within the archway in his green tunic and watched her enter. She almost smiled at the sight of his face. Then she saw Darmouth standing further into the hall.
"My lady," he said, and the tone made her feel like property.
She ignored him and held out her hands to Emêl in greeting. Confusion replaced the sadness in his eyes as he returned her polite gesture, taking hands. His brow creased when he felt the folded paper she pressed into his palm.
"It is good to see you," he said calmly. "Lord Darmouth tells me you left unfinished business at the Bronze Bell?"
"Yes, I have not paid Mistress Dauczeck at the dressmaker's. It is two streets west of the inn. She will be waiting for the coins. Also, I never got to the letter for your sister regarding plans for the winter feast. Would you see to that for me?"
Emêl nodded politely.
The following moments of inane chatter were torture, standing so close to him. Hedí wanted to touch him and to ask how he was or assure him of her treatment. Darmouth remained vigilant at the rear of the hall. When she ran out of conversation and imaginary tasks for Emêl, Darmouth became restless and approached.
"Is that all?" he asked.
She could think of nothing else. The note in Emêl's hand was urgent, and hopefully he would understand and follow her instructions. She studied his reddish hair and kind eyes, wishing she were leaving with him.
"Then I've other matters," Darmouth said. "You're dismissed, Emêl."
He crossed his arms over his breastplate. Emêl nodded his good-bye to Hedí, his subtle sadness returning, and left the meal hall.
Hedí was left angry and adrift as she heard the entryway door clunk shut. It strained her to remain polite and submissive in Darmouth's close presence.
"Perhaps you think me harsh," he said, "to lock up that scholar."
Neither denial nor confirmation would please him, so she remained silent.
"Your scholar girl is bait for a dangerous criminal," he continued. "Another traitor to be dealt with. You even know something of him, as I suspect you've never lost interest in what happened to your father."
Hedí was now confused. She remained passive, and answered truthfully, "I do not understand, my lord."
"His name is Leesil," Darmouth answered slowly. "Son of my former servants, Gavril and his elven wife, Nein'a, who betrayed me."
He looked her up and down, watching for her reaction—or something else. She wanted to spit bile in his face.
"I do not understand," she repeated, doe-eyed.
"That half-blood drove the stiletto through the back of your father's skull while he slept."
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Shortly past dusk, Chane and Welstiel stepped into the Ivy Vine inn. They retreated to the privacy of their room, their task completed. Chane had awoken Welstiel after the sun dipped below the trees. The two had gone in search of the inn called Byrd's, where they knew Magiere hid with this would-be revolutionary. Chane had only to glimpse the location to hold it in his mind for later use, and Welstiel shielded his presence from Magiere's or Chap's awareness. Still, Chane was relieved to be back in their room.
Removing his cloak, he dropped to his knees beside the robin's cage and carefully lifted out his bird. Welstiel stood silently as Chane opened his hands and watched the robin fly into the night. Chane closed his eyes and guided his familiar.
Leesil's anxiety grew through the afternoon. When he put on his cloak to leave in search of Magiere, Byrd stepped in his way.
''I'll do it," Byrd said. "I'll put up my 'closed' sign, and you lock the door after me."
"I'm sick of sitting here. They take too many risks just because I might be seen by someone who knows me. That's over. I'm making the decisions now."
"Then make the right one," Byrd argued. "I know who to see and what questions to ask. And someone has to stay here, in case they make it back."
Leesil remained poised to force his way past Byrd. His father's old "friend" was right, which only angered him more.
"Then go," he said.
Byrd left, and Leesil reluctantly latched the door behind him.
When dusk finally came, anxiety turned to panic, and Leesil paced through the common room. Twice he found himself leaning on the bar, staring over it at the wine and ale casks behind. He was on the verge of grabbing his cloak again when he heard a creak from the kitchen. He jerked the doorway curtain aside as Byrd came through the back door alone.
"Where are they?" Leesil asked.
"Calm down," Byrd said, but his stoic expression had no such effect. "I can't get a straight answer from any of my contacts, but there's been gossip among the townsfolk about a skirmish near the bridge. Soldiers chased a tall woman and a wolf through an eastside tavern. No one knows what happened after that."
"What?" Leesil grabbed Byrd by his thick wool vestment, and anger and fear made his stomach burn. "You're the one who was all for her going to Darmouth!"
Byrd's expression darkened as he tried to pull away and step past.
Leesil shoved him back. Too many things had gone wrong since they'd come to Venjetz. For all Byrd's cunning—plotting against Darmouth and still serving him, allied with the Anmaglâhk yet still alive and unsuspected—why did this man always know so little when it mattered most?
The back door slammed open, and Magiere and Chap rushed in.
Her hair had broken loose from its thong, and both she and Chap panted from exertion. Leesil released Byrd and grabbed Magiere in his arms. She let him hold her for a moment and then pushed him back. Her face was smudged, and her clothes marred with dirt and strands of hay.
"They took Wynn," she said. "You were right. It was a trap… and they caught her instead of me."
Leesil hadn't thought of Wynn amid his relief over Magiere's return. "How long ago?"
Magiere shook her head. "Not long after we left. We had to run, and I sent her the other way, thinking the soldiers would follow me. I heard her call out but couldn't go back for her."
Chap's sudden growl startled Leesil. The dog wrinkled his jowls, half exposing clenched teeth as he inched toward Byrd. When Leesil lifted his eyes again, he found Magiere's irises had flooded black.
"You two-faced bastard!" she snarled, and lunged around Leesil.
Leesil heard the crack of her fist before he could turn his head. Byrd reeled into the kitchen's hearth, then pivoted around, raising heavy fists before Magiere closed again.
"You sold us out!" Magiere shouted.
Leesil grabbed Magiere's waist but only slowed her enough for Byrd to shift out of her reach. Chap circled around the table's other side, blocking Byrd from reaching the kitchen doorway.
Byrd's innkeeper persona vanished. All emotion drained from his face, and the blinks of his eyes came further apart as his gaze hardened upon Magiere. He slid his left foot slightly back so that he was angled well enough to charge at either Magiere or Chap. Byrd slipped his right hand behind his back where Leesil had once seen the man pull out an infighter's fist-knife from under his shirt.
"Darmouth is strangling my people," he said, "but I wouldn't give you up to him. It would gain me nothing."
"How else would he know?" Magiere continued shouting. "Wynn is Darmouth's prisoner. And you're in league with those murdering Anmaglâhk. I won't swallow any more of your lies!"
Byrd held his guard, watching Magiere and Chap, but his answer was to Leesil. "I told you before, my goals have nothing to do with you."
"Faris knows about Leesil," Magiere continued. "He may even know where Leesil is… and that means Darmouth knows. Why else would his men try to take me, except to get to Leesil?"
Leesil didn't know how Magiere had learned all she knew, but events were starting to add up. He'd halfheartedly tried to believe that Byrd wasn't using him—yet. He'd dragged Magiere, Chap, and Wynn into danger. Even when he'd wanted to get them out again, he'd given in to their risky plans on the thin hope of finally learning what had happened to his parents. And Byrd was the one who'd pushed for that plan to proceed.
Leesil ached inside as he felt his past bleeding into the present. His selfish weakness had put Wynn into Darmouth's hands. But there was also more at stake than a search for two long-missing people. Much more.
"You think killing Darmouth will help anyone here?" Leesil asked, now that Byrd was forced to listen. "You'll start a bloodbath. The other provinces and even his own officers will tear one another apart to take his place. Are you prepared for 'your people' to get caught in the middle? Warlords and petty tyrants fighting each other at the front gates of Venjetz? You're deluded if you think you can stop it. As bad as things are, Darmouth holds this province together."
Before Byrd answered, someone rattled the inn's front door as if trying to open it. Loud banging followed. Byrd started for the curtained doorway, but Chap snarled until he stopped.
"We're getting Wynn back," Magiere said. "And you're going to help."
"And if she dies," Leesil added to Byrd, "so do you."
Magiere glanced his way. Even with irises deeply black, Leesil saw her anger falter.
"I need to see who's come," Byrd replied flatly, unaffected. "It might be news of your friend."
Leesil hesitated, then motioned Chap out of the way. The dog reluctantly backed up and Byrd headed out. Leesil followed to the curtain, watching through the crack.
Byrd paused at the front door with his hand on the latch. "Who's there?"
"Baron Emêl Milea," a muffled voice answered. "I have a message for someone here."
Byrd unlocked the door, and a slender man stepped inside. His open cloak exposed a green tunic and a straight saber sheathed on his hip.
Leesil knew him.
Older now, with thinning hair, this red-haired nobleman had chased him through the forest beyond the city walls. Eight years ago, Leesil had barely eluded the baron among the night trees. He also remembered Emêl leading the mount of a young girl given to him by Darmouth—an orphaned fifteen-year-old girl. Hedí, the only survivor of Leesil's first service to Darmouth, had been Emêl's reward for constant loyalty.
"You are the proprietor?" the baron asked.
Byrd nodded.
Tentatively, Baron Milea held out a folded parchment. Byrd took it and, upon opening the first fold, stopped to read something. He then opened the sheet completely and read further what was written on the parchment's full page. The barest hint of surprise crossed his features.
"Where did you get this?" he asked.
"Lady Progae. She is held at the keep… for her protection. Explain what this is about."
"Leesil, Magiere," Byrd called. "Get out here."
Leesil pushed the curtain aside, and Magiere and Chap followed him into the common room. Clover Roll perched on a table and only blinked as Chap passed by. At the sight of Leesil, Emêl's mouth opened slightly.
"You?" he breathed.
"This is Baron Emêl Milea." Byrd gestured toward his guest. "He brought us something interesting."
"I know who he is," Leesil answered with a glare. "Lady Progae— Hedí Progae—is your mistress."
Magiere glanced at him in alarm. Perhaps she remembered the name Paris had spoken before Leesil's night of madness.
Baron Milea nearly snorted in disgust. "Do not feign concern for her welfare. I can guess what you are."
Leesil jerked a stiletto from his left wrist. "You won't have to guess."
"Both of you stop it!" Byrd stepped between them, but it was Leesil he faced. "Magiere, make him see some sense… if you want to help your little sage."
Leesil remained where he was, and all Magiere did was step in next to him.
"What's this about?" she demanded of Byrd.
Byrd folded the parchment in half and handed it to Leesil. A few lines were scrawled in Belaskian on its back.
Take this to the farthest inn south of the merchant district. I will join you soon.
Leesil flicked the sheet fully open. More was written therein, obviously intended for Byrd.
Leave the inn, or you will be arrested shortly past sunset. I have learned there is a way to escape the keep from the lower level. I do not know more, except that it will take me to the woods on
the lake's far shore. Take the bearer of this note, and go there to watch for me tonight. If my guide is correct, we have our way in.
Leesil stared at the parchment. Hedí Progae, the baron's slave consort was no fool. She had purposefully kept all names out of the message, in case it was found.
"A hidden path from the keep," Leesil whispered to no one in particular. "With the city gate closed and outer wall alerted against escape."
This was why his parents had fled there on the night he'd abandoned them.
"What?" Magiere asked. "Leesil?"
She couldn't read well, so he read the note aloud to her, pondering the words again as she listened. When he finished, she grabbed his arm, and her words were hurried and anxious.
"I know how much this means, that your parents might have escaped. That's why Byrd's informants never learned more of what happened to them. But Darmouth's soldiers will be on their way. We have to go now!"
Leesil sidestepped to the bar, watching Byrd, and lifted the glass off a lantern. He lit the parchment and dropped it on the floor, watching it burn black before grinding it with his boot.
Movement in the shadows below the tables and chairs caught his eye. Chap crept within lunging distance behind Byrd, his jowls quivering short of a snarl. Leesil looked away, so as not to draw anyone's attention toward the dog. Magiere thought only of getting him out of here, but Chap understood what she'd overlooked in panic.
"You're not leaving my sight," he told Byrd.
The baron looked at the stout innkeeper. "Who are you, and why would Hedí go to such lengths to send you this information? I know she has certain… proclivities for commoners, but what have you dragged her into?"
Instead of answering, Byrd glared at Leesil.