Oathtaker

by Patricia Reding

  Mara reached for the doorknob. It wouldn’t turn. Now what? The door is locked.

  Basha grinned. No problem. I’ll move the tumblers until they fall into place.

  I never would have thought of that.

  It may take a few minutes, but I can do it. Basha placed her hands on the doorknob and concentrated. The click click of tumblers falling into place disturbed the quiet hallway. Moments later, she turned the handle. With a minor squeak of protest, the door fell open before her.

  The women entered.

  Mara created a flare, keeping its light low. She picked it up with her fingers and made a dome over it with her other hand.

  Basha watched, then replicated the procedure. Now that her flares were no longer hot, she also could hold them between her fingers. She smiled with satisfaction.

  The room was spacious, completely decked out in the deep carmine red for which Lilith was so well known. The lights of the flares gave a sinister quality to the room, making the walls appear to ripple and move, almost as though blood covered them. Mara half expected to find a pool of it on the floor.

  They made their way down the rich red carpet toward Lilith’s desk.

  Mara directed Basha to a bookcase near the back of the room, then turned her attention to the desk. She opened the drawers and removed the contents to examine them. She checked for possible secret compartments, got down on her knees to examine the inside portions, then ran her hands along the edges for possible keys or latches that might open to hidden treasure. She found none.

  She examined Lilith’s collection of quills, all made with black, likely crow, feathers. Then she moved ink jars, paperweights, and blotters, and rummaged through stacks of reports, personal correspondence, hand written lists, maps, and Council meeting notes. Finding nothing of interest, she held up her flare, seeking out other potential hiding places.

  She examined the shelves upon the walls. When through, she returned to Basha’s side.

  Anything?

  Basha shook her head. These books are all trivial.

  Did you look behind them?

  Yes. I even took the ones large enough for someone to hollow out down from the shelves to examine their insides. Nothing.

  Well, this didn’t take long. To Lilith’s chambers?

  Basha agreed.

  They went to the door and put out their flares, each pocketing the crystal that came of doing so. Mara held her ear to the door, then grasped her companion’s arm firmly, warning of footsteps in the hallway.

  A palace guard, Basha commented. He’s probably just making his regular rounds.

  Mara waited a minute, then opened the door a few inches. She peeked out. Seeing nothing, she exited, Basha at her heels.

  You’d best lock it.

  Already done.

  Basha led the way through the vestibule and up the side stairs to the family’s quarters. Making her way down the second floor hallway, she scanned the paintings on the walls. She hesitated for a minute at an empty space.

  What is it?

  The painting of Mae, Rowena and Lilith’s mother, is missing. Basha shrugged, then moved on.

  When they came to Lilith’s room, she grasped the door handle. Locked. She tried to unlock it.

  A minute passed, then another.

  A guard walked down the hall on the floor above. The sound of his footfalls kept a steady rhythm that sounded throughout the palace.

  Another minute passed.

  I’m having trouble here.

  Let me try.

  All right. Concentrate first on picturing the tumblers, then move them like you’d move anything else by magic. You should be able to hear them drop in place.

  Mara placed her hand over the lock and concentrated. Within seconds, she could picture the tumblers and precisely how to move them. Wait. What is that? There was something in the way—a thread of sorts. She approached it from various angles. There was a knot in it. Was it magic? It held the tumblers solidly in place. She thought of how to remove it. Try to unknot it? It was very complicated. Try to remove it? Chop it in two?

  Are you getting it?

  What’s this thread that’s holding the tumblers in place?

  Thread?

  Here. Mara placed her fellow Oathtaker’s hand back to the lock. You feel it there?

  Basha nodded when she found the thread. She examined it from different directions, poked at it, prodded it, and even tried to pull it. I didn’t notice it before, but you know what it reminds me of?

  Mara’s brow rose in question.

  It’s like the feel of a band. Remember the one Lilith used on Dixon? I couldn’t remove it, but you could.

  Mara smiled. I remember. I just pulled.

  Try.

  At just that moment, someone neared the top of the stairs at the end of the hall.

  Quickly, Basha, do something to distract the guard!

  The Oathtaker closed her eyes and concentrated on the objects she’d observed on their way to the family’s quarters. Yes, there—just around the corner at the bottom of the stairs, is a vase. She jiggled the table upon which it sat. The delicate vessel fell over. A faint clink sounded out as it fell to its side, then came a crash as it met the floor, followed by the tinkling of shattering crystal.

  The guard retreated back down the stairs.

  In the meantime, Mara grasped the handle of the door, peered into the lock with her magic, grasped the thread, and then pulled.

  The band released.

  She concentrated on the tumblers. Click, click, click, they fell into place. She turned the handle and opened the door.

  You did it!

  In! Mara commanded.

  Once inside, they lit flares and looked about. The deep carmine red walls answered back, once again causing them both to shiver.

  Mara’s mouth dropped open. Before her, and scattered about, lay a gallimaufry, a jumbled hodgepodge, of objects. Hair pieces hung over candelabras and lamps; clothing was piled in corners and strewn about; bottles and jars of creams and powders and perfumes and pastes seemed to jostle for position on the tables, some broken open and several having spilled forth their contents; books with torn pages laid open; hats and shoes and gloves and hair pins and jewelry were scattered and strewn about.

  A large trunk, similar to those the Oathtakers had seen down in the tunnels, sat in the center of the room, nearly filled with papers and fabrics and a confused, mingled, scramble of objects. It appeared as though someone had thrown a tantrum within.

  They looked at one another.

  This will be difficult to do quietly, Mara said.

  Just take your time. Basha wrinkled her nose. Yikes! It smells like Lilith in here.

  You mean all rosewater and white lilies?

  Uggh! It gives me a headache. I thought the Select were—

  To smell like the throne of the Good One? Mara interrupted. You’re right. It’s just further confirmation that she’s lost her place. Look here, she said, lifting a jar. Essence of rose. She uses this stuff to make people think she’s found favor with the Good One.

  I think you’re right.

  Mara looked around. Where do we start?

  You take the table there. I’ll start over there. Basha motioned toward the trunk.

  The women moved things about, looking under, beneath, and around, the larger objects.

  Dust from Lilith’s perfumed powders rustled up into the air. Mara sneezed. She stifled the sound in the crook of her elbow. Then seeing something that roused her curiosity, she picked it up. It was a small jar of pink paint. She opened it and brushed some on her hand. Basha!

  What?

  Look at this.

  What it is?

  Mara made another mark on her hand.

  Basha’s brow furrowed. What?

  Lilith is using this to make—

  Something that looks like her sign of the Select!

  Right.

  They shook their heads.

  She thought of everything, didn’t sh
e? Huh. Well, back to it. Mara set the item down. When she completed her search of the top of the dressing table, she bent down and looked beneath it. Something was lying in the back corner. She picked it up and brought it toward her flare. It was a book. “Serving Daeva: The Power of the Great Under,” she read the title aloud.

  Basha’s eyes flashed her way even as a voice sounded out, like nails scratching on slate.

  “Looking for ssssomething?” The mirror above Lilith’s dressing table burst into life.

  The Oathtakers looked up. Within the looking glass, in flames of red, something took shape. In a flash, the outline filled in, revealing a skull. Flames flickered, grew, and lashed out at the women.

  Mara sidestepped quickly, as fire rushed toward her.

  “Well, well, well, who have we here?” the voice inquired.

  Say nothing, Mara ordered her companion.

  “Won’t sssspeak to me, huh? Well, we’ll ssssee about that.” More fire burst forth.

  Basha shrieked. The flames licked at her feet.

  Mara rushed to her friend’s side. She stood tall, staring at the countenance in the mirror.

  “Well, well,” the voice heckled, “if it isn’t the great Oathtaker herself. At lasssst. At lasssst.” The creature leaned back examining her. “So what are you made of?” it sneered as it shot out another burst of fire.

  She stepped away from the flames, startled that though intensely hot, they consumed nothing in the room.

  “It issss not here, you know,” the creature said.

  “Oh, really? What is it you think I seek, and why would you think I would trust you anyway, Daeva—lord of Sinespe?”

  “Daeva!” Basha exclaimed.

  “Ha ha ha ha ha. So you recognizzzze me? I am flattered.” Daeva’s hollow eyes bulged out of the sockets of his skull. “Well, you can trusssst me on thissss! Surely, Lilith would not leave such a ssssacred item out in the open. Particularly since she no longer has need of it. She hassss me!” He released another burst of flame. “She’s packed up that old life, left it behind. She’s mine now,” he fairly whispered. “And in due time, so too will you be.”

  At that moment Mara knew where the scepter was hidden. Daeva had said too much. “Be gone!” she demanded.

  “Ha ha ha ha ha.”

  “Mara, he’s burning me!”

  “Leave her be!” Mara cried.

  “Oh, you like that heat?” Daeva heckled Basha. “Well then, here issss some more!”

  Mara reached into her pocket to put the book she held in it for safekeeping. It was then she felt them—the crystals. She grasped one. Just as Daeva opened his mouth to laugh again, she threw it. When it hit, the mirror burst into millions of glass fragments that went cracking, shattering, clinking and tinkling down to the floor.

  Daeva disappeared. With him every fragment of Lilith’s looking glass vanished.

  Mara gasped. It was so like the disappearance of a grut. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’m fine. His presence was just so . . . painful. I couldn’t breathe. I felt my skin would go up in flames.”

  “Well, it seems you’re all right now. And Basha!” Mara shook her fellow Oathtaker. “Basha, I think I know where it is!”

  Footsteps came rushing toward the door.

  “Let’s go!” she cried. Then the two—disappeared.

  Basha opened her eyes. They were back in the tunnels. Before she could open her mouth, Mara signaled that they should not speak, then approached the storage room they’d found earlier. She pulled the key from her pocket and unlocked the door. Quickly. Before someone comes.

  Grab the books you want and let’s go, Basha said.

  No! I mean, yes, I’ll grab the books. But didn’t you hear what that evil thing said? Mara was loath to speak the name of the lord of Sinespe again.

  Basha’s eyes narrowed. What?

  He said Lilith had ‘packed up that old life.’

  Packed up? You think it’s here? In one of these trunks?

  It’s somewhere here. I know it! But we have to hurry. If the guards find us missing from our rooms, they may come here looking for us. Mara pointed out a trunk near the wall. Check there. I’ll start here.

  The women started searching through the trunks. Mara checked the title of each book she found, making a small stack of those she wanted to take along. She flinched at a spider, jumped at the occasional mouse, and started with each sound that seemed out of place. When through, she approached Basha’s side. Nothing?

  Nothing.

  I don’t understand. It has to be here. Mara remembered then how during training, her instructors played hiding games to hone their students’ skills. They chose a place—it could be a single room or a town square. There they placed something for their students to discover.

  She thought back to the advice they’d given the trainees. “If you look at groups, crowds, rooms, as a whole, you’ll lose the pieces for the mass,” cautioned one instructor. Another gave the advice: “If something looks out of place, it likely is.” Finally, one who believed wholeheartedly in hiding things in plain sight, said he lived by the motto: “Don’t ignore the obvious.”

  Mara gave the room a once over scan, then directed her attention to the shelves against the walls. She squinted as she looked from object to object.

  She examined a brass candelabra that was beginning to rust, a heavy gray pottery bowl that showed signs of wear through its chips and cracks, an old sun faded and frayed lamp cover, outdated figurines and statues that didn’t seem to go with the décor of any of the palace rooms she’d visited, a porcelain vase with nicks on its edges, a scratched jewelry box, an old tea server with only three cups, a spinning wheel with a missing bobbin and a splintered threading hook, a . . . She smiled.

  Basha watched. What?

  Mara walked up to the shelf and reached out. There was what appeared to be an oil lamp. Its base was a bowl. Inside sat the upright scepter, stuck into a block of wax. It glimmered in the faint light, even though someone had placed a dusty crackled glass hurricane over it.

  She chuckled. The hiding place had fit all of the rules: it was one of the pieces of the mass, it looked out of place as it glimmered, though faintly, next to the items surrounding it, and it was in plain sight. She removed the hurricane glass and presented the scepter to Basha.

  You did it! Oh, it’s beautiful, isn’t it?

  Stunning. Now, let’s get out of here. Mara dropped the scepter into her bag.

  Can we travel from here?

  Mara nodded, but then started to fall forward.

  Are you all right?

  Just a little tired.

  Fending off that monster must have taken a great deal of power. Then you brought us here. And it seems you’ve used some kind of magic to locate that, Basha said pointing at the scepter. Maybe we should leave the same way we came.

  Just give me a minute to rest.

  We can’t stop here. Come on! Basha grabbed the stack of books Mara had set aside and tucked them into her pack, then pulled her fellow Oathtaker out the door. She stopped to magically move the key back to the locked position.

  Just let me rest. I won’t be long.

  Not yet. Not yet! Let’s get as close to the exit as possible.

  Mara allowed Basha to drag her like a rag doll. The minutes passed. Each step felt heavier, each corner proved more difficult to round. If she could just rest, just for a minute, she’d be all right.

  Suddenly, Basha stopped.

  Mara urged her eyes open. There before them, was a cave-in. Rock and debris covered the ground, cutting off their intended exit. Even in her exhaustion, she was able to put the pieces together: this had resulted from the crystal that had exploded.

  “Here. Sit here.” Basha pointed out a small hidden space amongst the debris. She placed her backpack beneath Mara’s head. “You rest. I’ll start moving these things.”

  Mara fell into a heap. She gave no further thought to creeping, crawling things.

&n
bsp; A hand covered her mouth. She tried to resist.

  Quiet, Basha communicated. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.

  It was then Mara heard voices.

  “They must have come this way,” a man said.

  Is that Kennard?

  Yes.

  “How could they have gotten through that?” someone asked.

  “Maybe Basha used her magic to cave the walls in once they were gone,” Kennard said.

  “I forgot she could do that.”

  Mara opened her eyes. It was dark as pitch. Where are we?

  Still in the tunnel. I was waiting for you to awaken. But when I heard someone coming this way, I made us this little cove to hide in. If we’re quiet, maybe they won’t find us.

  “Do we move these and make our way out the exit?” the person attending Kennard asked

  That’s Sergio, Basha answered Mara’s unasked question. He’s Kennard’s assistant.

  What would they do if they found us?

  Probably try to hold us for questioning. You must admit, this all looks a bit suspicious. Besides, they would find the scepter on us, which we would have a difficult time explaining, and that would just complicate things. It would be better if we simply disappeared.

  “Well,” Kennard said, “they must have come this way. There were footprints along the path here coming and going all the way to the palace. But they’re long gone now. Let’s go. We’ll send someone into the village to see if anyone spotted them. I can’t understand what Basha was doing, but I’d sure like some answers.”

  He kicked a rock. It fell to the ground, carrying bits of broken rubble with it. “This will need to get cleared out and I’ll need to get the soundness of the structure checked. Arrange for a clean up detail down here right away.”

  “Right, sir.”

  The men’s footsteps receded into the distance.

  “Something’s crawling on me!”

  Basha lit a flare, then brushed debris from Mara’s head. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think you could get us out of here now before the clean up detail arrives?”

  Mara took a deep breath. “Where’s the—?”