I left my room’s door ajar and lay down in bed, but I didn’t sleep. I waited, listening, and plotted. I would have to wait until tonight to act. Let them all see me here. Let them think I was a hopeless drunk. I had four invitations—I wouldn’t tell Reister which I planned to attend. And of course, I would attend none of them.
Sometime today, I had to find a robot and ask for directions to Froddis Illugi’s school. Not Sveinn—he probably reported everything he witnessed me say and do back to Reister or Mother Tora. I wondered how much Mother Tora knew about Reister’s plans for me. Probably everything. Thinking back, I recalled the conversation she and Reister were having the night they took Bersi away. Mother Tora had said, “You’re lucky she’s beautiful.” Perhaps the whole thing was her idea.
If only there was a way to pay Liut back for his betrayal. I wished I could stab him through the heart with the dagger he won for seducing me. I had a dagger, I remembered—in the vest of the Raud Gríma disguise. Perhaps one day we would meet… but when I pictured driving the blade into his chest, my throat closed and tears threatened. Still in love with him. How pathetic.
Well, time would tell if I would have a chance to overcome my sentiments. For now, I had no way of punishing Liut anyhow.
I heard voices. Checking the bottle was displayed in plain sight on my nightstand, I closed my eyes, draped an arm across the bed and let my mouth open, breathing evenly.
“Her door is ajar!” came Mother Tora’s voice.
I concentrated on keeping my breathing regular.
I heard the floor creak as they approached—I could feel them standing in the doorway, looking at me. Reister made a scoffing noise and then I heard the door close. I didn’t dare move.
After a long time, I rolled over, still pretending to sleep, and peered through cracked lids at the door. They had shut it, and no one had remained in the room with me. I hadn’t expected them to, but now that I planned to deceive them, a fear grew within me that I would be found out. It was important to be careful.
The best thing to do at present was sleep anyway—I planned to be out most of the night, and would need the rest. I shifted to a more comfortable position. Soon, I would strike a blow against Reister that he wouldn’t quickly forget. And then I would take Bersi and flee this damned city.
~~~
Liut would be a complication.
The prospect of seeing him again sickened me, but if I avoided him he was sure to realize something had gone wrong. I couldn’t risk it—I must appear to be the same besotted idiot of the last weeks, so when the news of what I’d done reached everyone at court, I would never be suspected. The Myadar of before would have found some way to see him. In fact, the Myadar of before would have sought him out at the ball last night, and he was bound to have questions about why I hadn’t.
The best I could come up with was the situation with the konunger. When I saw Mother Tora that morning, I made a point of bemoaning my tactlessness with the monarch. I had developed a splitting headache, so it wasn’t hard to appear pained.
“I’m afraid I was awfully gauche,” I told her as she sipped her tea. She raised an eyebrow at me. “It was so humiliating, Mother Tora. I just couldn’t bear it. I had to leave.”
“I heard about it,” she said, pursing her lips. “Is it true he told the orchestra to stop playing?”
“True enough—it wasn’t an abrupt stop, but the result was the same,” I said, my voice mournful. “Sveinn, do be a dear and bring me a snifter of brandy?”
The robot gave me a bow and exited.
Mother Tora arched an eyebrow. “Drinking, so early in the day?”
“It’s almost three already,” I said with a shrug.
When Sveinn gave me my drink I stood and paced about the sitting room. I could smell the aroma of caraway coming from the glass, and my tongue tingled, wanting a taste. I knew it would wash my headache away, but no matter what, I must resist. Shielding the drink from Mother Tora’s view with my body, I poured some of the brandy out in a vase of silk calla lilies. I continued my circuit, stopping every so often at this vase or that. I also halted in front of the bookcase, selecting a volume on the architecture of famous Helésey buildings. There was one in particular I wanted to have a look at. I flipped through the photographs with a detached air, stopping on one page for just a fraction longer than the rest. Then I replaced the book and began moving around the room again, ridding myself of the alcohol a little at a time until Mother Tora clicked her tongue loudly at me.
“Really, Myadar, must you pace?”
“I apologize, Mother Tora,” I said. The brandy was mostly gone anyway. As I studied it, I noted that my hands were shaking. I hugged the snifter to me in an effort to mask the trembling. “I’ll just take this to my room. I haven’t selected a dress for this evening yet.”
“Have you selected which soirée you’ll attend? I understand the Fastulfs have invited you and in light of your embarrassment last night, it would be wise to be seen in the best company, don’t you think?”
“Oh, I’m not sure yet,” I said.
It wouldn’t do to commit myself. I headed for my room.
Having given it some thought, I realized I couldn’t take all the bottles from Reister’s cabinet after all. I couldn’t risk Reister deducing what I’d done—I’d face his wrath and I feared it more than the rumored prison camps. I hoped my stockpile would be enough, and I would take at least one bottle of his, for the principle. It would have to do. I might be able to steal another bottle from a soirée tonight, but nothing was guaranteed, and one more bottle wouldn’t be worth the risk of someone catching me anyway.
Regardless, I had realized that I must make an appearance at a party tonight. No doubt I’d receive a message shortly from Liut, either giving me the location of one of his family’s private rooms for a quick tryst, or at least telling me which soirée he was attending. Probably the Fastulfs’. I was impatient to put my plan into action. If he invited me to a tryst, I could give him some excuse when I saw him—although the thought of letting Liut touch me made me feel hot and cold all at once.
How would I explain that I couldn’t go out with him tonight? I couldn’t afford to be on Liut’s arm if I planned to slip away from the soirée. I sat on the edge of my bed and rubbed my temples with the pads of my fingers. If I said I was ill, he might say something about it to Reister, and Reister would know I lied because I had not stayed home.
It wouldn’t do. Meeting with Liut in a room would be risky enough—I wasn’t sure I could hide what I knew of his duplicity. If I then tried to make up some lie about tonight, it was sure to come out.
“Damn,” I whispered, crumpling the hem of my dress in my hands. Was it always so bright in this room? I squinted at the cabochon sconces on the wall. Perhaps I should turn them off and shut my eyes to think. It was the cursed brandy, of course. I couldn’t expect to quit drinking so suddenly and not suffer some effects. I left the lights on but lay back on the bed, covering my face with a silk pillow.
I would have to find a way to distract Liut at whatever soirée he chose. How would I do that? Sometimes Liut chatted with jarls or danced with jarldises but he always kept an eye on me.
Digging my fingers into my hair I let out a moan of frustration. What if I was unable to do this thing tonight? Not only would finding a way to distract Liut prove to be an obstacle, but now nausea had begun to set in. Perhaps if I was sick I could use it as an excuse not to go out. I could slip off later. With luck the nausea and headache would have passed by then. Otherwise, I might have to wait—attending soirée after soirée—until some opportunity presented itself. Intolerable.
I tried to sleep but found it impossible, between the throbbing in my head and the rolling in my stomach. I lay in bed, miserable, waiting for it to pass. It only worsened, and after an hour the urge to vomit sent me hurtling into the bathroom.
After brushing my teeth and rinsing out my mouth, the feel of liquid against my tongue and gums made me realize ho
w thirsty I was—not for brandy, but plain water. Of course. I was dehydrated.
I drank as much water as I dared, for the nausea had only abated a little. I lay back down, still unable to sleep, keeping still, and every hour or so I rose to have more water. After several hours like this, a knock sounded on the door.
“A letter for you, Jarldis Sölbói-ungr,” came Sveinn’s tinny voice.
“Come in.”
Sveinn entered with a letter on a tray. He bowed by way of bringing it within my reach. I took it and opened it. It was from Liut—although he never signed his notes, as if he feared someone in the house would find out about him. As if they didn’t already know.
The note had only one word on it: “Fastulf.”
No shock there. I was surprised, however, that he hadn’t arranged a meeting. He must be wondering what had happened to me. Unless he had communicated with Mother Tora already. If he thought I’d gone home out of embarrassment, perhaps he was in no hurry to meet and have to find a way to put me off about the sale of my jewels.
“Thank you, Sveinn. That will be all.”
The robot straightened and exited. I mashed the paper into a tight little ball and threw it as hard as I could across the room. The gesture sent a shock of pain through my head and my stomach lurched.
“Myadar,” came Mother Tora’s voice at the door. She must have interrogated Sveinn about what I was doing in my room. This was a sure sign that they were using the robot to spy on me.
“Come in,” I said weakly. I had decided that I would remain at home that night, and if my body allowed it and Reister remained away, I would try to sneak out. That meant playing up my illness for all it was worth.
Mother Tora opened the door but remained in the frame. “Myadar, are you unwell?”
I remained lying down, holding a pillow against my chest like a shield. “I’m afraid so. I have a splitting headache, and I’ve been sick.”
Mother Tora’s eyebrows shot up. She didn’t move from the doorway. “How unfortunate.”
“Quite,” I said. “I shall remain at home tonight. I shall try to rest and hope it passes.” Which was true enough.
Mother Tora pressed her lips together tightly, turned on her heel, and shut the door with a crack that stabbed me through the temple. I groaned and clutched my head. When the pain finally subsided a bit, I rose and drank more water from the bathroom sink. It was going to be a long day.
~~~
I waited until midnight. I couldn’t sleep, so I spent a good deal of time tearing the top sheet of my bedclothes into short strips. When the clock struck twelve, I stopped. By then, the headache had subsided to a low throb, and my nausea had become manageable. I probably needed to eat, but the idea was not tempting. Nevertheless, I crept into the apartment’s kitchen—I had only ever visited it once in the last weeks, so little was I tempted by food. I opened the pantry doors and found a block of cheese and a box of bread rolls. The smell of the cheese curdled in my throat, but I held my breath and hurried back to my room with the spoils, careful to avoid the sitting room, where I’d spotted Sveinn standing in a corner when I’d scouted a bit the hour before.
I packed the food, the strips of the bed sheet, and all the bottles of brandy and mead I had stolen into the leather sack and got the Raud Gríma disguise out of the chest, laying it on the bed. There was just enough room for it in the sack with the bottles. I stared at it. Did I really dare put it on? How strange I felt, and not just because my hands still shook and my heart beat like I’d just run all the way up the palace stairs. The thought of dressing like the legendary highway robber made my lips go numb. Well, I wasn’t putting on the costume right away. It wouldn’t do to go traipsing through the palace corridors dressed as Raud Gríma. I’d find some dark alley to change my clothes.
And I could decide against the whole plan on my way there, after all. No one was forcing me to do this. I would just sneak out of the palace, and think it all over. A breath of night air would do me wonders anyway.
I chose my darkest dress and coat as well as a black felt cloche to cover my honey colored hair. I put as much dark make-up on my lids as I dared—if I encountered someone in the halls it wouldn’t do to look too out of the ordinary. I selected a locket pendant from my jewelry box. There was a watch inside the locket—it would be good to keep track of the time tonight. The pendant nestled between my breasts, I slipped on shoes and gloves.
Stuffing extra pillows and old dresses from my trunks under the covers of my bed, I fashioned a sleeping form. Gods willing Reister or Mother Tora wouldn’t check on me at all, but if they did, I hoped this would be enough to convince them I was sleeping there.
Finally, I was ready. With a deep breath I tip-toed out of the Sölbói apartments.
I took the same passage out of the palace that the robot had shown me when I wanted to visit the temple. I passed no one. Everyone must be either sleeping or at some soirée or other, of course. I was grateful that no robots were out dusting, either.
It was so easy to escape the palace unnoticed, I took it as a sign. No sense fretting about the wisdom of my plan now. The gods had paved my way, it would seem. I squared my shoulders and walked briskly down the wide avenue looking for an alley. After quite a long walk, I found one.
Changing clothes, I considered my plan. Just the distance involved would add hours onto my goal. If only I had a vehicle, but I did not. Riding in the tram that sped on tracks raised high above the metropolis was also not an option—even if I was still dressed as a jarldis, it would create a citywide scandal, and I couldn’t imagine what people would say if I tried to do it dressed as Raud Gríma. However, I did know another fast way to cross the city. Did I dare pass through the Undergrunnsby unaccompanied? I would be disguised as Raud Gríma and armed with his dagger, but would it be enough?
As I tied the red silk mask behind my head and put up the leather hood of the vest, I considered my options. Crossing the Undergrunnsby was dangerous both because of its denizens but also because I might get lost. On the other hand, could I risk Officers of Tyr spotting me above ground, wearing my red mask? Between the two, I liked my chances with the sewer dwellers better.
I tightened the mask. The eye holes were wide enough for a full range of vision, and the fabric thin enough not to impair breathing. It was very well-made.
The Undergrunnsby. It had to be the right choice. I made my way down the alley, relishing the feel of trousers again—I hadn’t worn any since I left Söllund, where I had several pairs for work around the estate. Keeping to the narrowest, darkest streets, I searched for an entrance to the sewers. Before long, I found one.
When my feet—clad in the disguise’s leather boots and stuffed at the ends with handkerchiefs, for they had been made for a man—touched the damp floor of the Undergrunnsby, I hesitated. This place frightened me. Sconces gave pitiful light all along the corridor which I stood. One of them buzzed and flickered on and off. As before, I noticed the words painted in many colors on the walls: “ALL HONOR TO ALFÓDR,” “FRIGGA WATCHES OVER US,” and, more chilling, “DEATH TO EIFLAR-KONUNGER.” I imagined that if word of the last phrase reached the ears of Eiflar or High Vigja Galmr, the rumored extermination would become a reality sooner than later.
Aside from the buzzing of the light and the occasional ratty scuffle, I heard no noises in the tunnel. It wouldn’t help me to put this off any longer. Either get moving, or go back to the palace. I didn’t want to go back to the palace. I started to move.
I maintained a slow jog, but before long dizziness swept over me. I cursed under my breath. Hunger, no doubt—although my stomach still felt sick. How long had I expected to go without eating? I tried not to slow my pace as I opened the sack and fished out a roll. It wasn’t easy to chew and jog, and I had to slow to a brisk walk until I swallowed the last of it. The bread settled my stomach, and I broke a chunk of the cheese off the block and had another roll before picking up my pace again. The food made me feel a great deal better. I only wished I�
��d brought some water, for the cheese had been salty. It couldn’t be helped. I would have to hope that all the water I drank over the course of the day would be enough to keep me from becoming dehydrated again.
Jogging once more, I scanned ahead of me, spotting a junction in the tunnel some yards away. I knew that I needed to head south, and that mean turning right. After that, if I could keep from turning again, I should find my way to the docks and a spoke of the Torc. When I reached the junction I stared down both turns. To the left, the tunnel slanted upwards to a large opening at street level; I could glimpse the city lights. I turned right.
Even taking the tunnels the journey spanned several miles. I checked the little clock in the locket I wore. At my current speed I would reach the docks in perhaps an hour and a half. Just as I was considering this, I spotted movement to the side of me. I dodged just as someone lunged for me. My fingers closed around the hilt of my dagger and I drew it in a violent arc, spinning to see who was attacking me.
My assailant was a tall, lanky man with a dirty, gaunt face obscured behind a beard that at one time might have been golden. His eyes, sunken in hollows like caves, followed me as I backed away from him, the dagger held in front of me. My foot teetered on the end of the gutter that ran at the base of the wall, and I threw my arm out, hitting the painted stones before I lost my balance. I jerked around, trying to see if there were other attackers, and the man hurled himself at me.
With a yelp I slashed the dagger across his face. He howled and reeled away, clutching the wound, blood oozing between his fingers. I pushed past him and then broke into a run.
~~~
The rest of the way was relatively uneventful. I had to sneak through a shantytown and I spotted the strange, ominous machine again. This time black smoke poured from one tube on the far side. I hurried on, but no one else accosted me. When I climbed the stairs to exit out in the docks, I was still shaking, however. Standing out in the open again, I ate another roll with some cheese and considered taking a sip of brandy to settle my nerves. I had so many bottles. One sip would make no difference at all.
The City Darkens (Raud Grima Book 1) Page 16