The City Darkens (Raud Grima Book 1)

by Martin, Sophia

  “Pardon my asking, er… Raud Gríma,” Madr said in a shaky voice from where he was tied behind me. “You aren’t planning to use the window…?”

  “Too late for second thoughts, Jarl Madr,” I said, and I pulled us both to the open frame.

  “Wait, this is madness!”

  I ignored him and began tossing the length of rope that tied us to the bed out of the window ahead of us. I would climb it as best I could, and trust to the devices Spraki rigged on it, but if they failed and I lost my grip, we would fall to the end of its length. That would stop us a few feet from the street. I would no doubt at the very least break some ribs if that happened, and I did want to avoid that at all costs.

  “We can’t do this! We’ll be killed!”

  “Jarl Madr, beneath us, as we speak, a horde of Grumflein prisoners fight for freedom against the guards who would return them to their cells. This signifies two things. One, you and I are lucky, for we won’t have to fight at all in order to flee this place, unless something… unexpected happens.”

  “What else does it signify?”

  “That even if we tried to escape down that way, we’d never make it through the tumult.”

  “Gods preserve me,” Madr whispered.

  I finished pushing out all the rope. With a kick I knocked a low table underneath the window.

  “Come on, then,” I said. “We’ve got to do this now, while the diversion persists.”

  “By the Gods,” Madr breathed, but he climbed up on the table with me. It whined under our combined weight. There was a bit of slack between us, left purposefully so I could climb out first. Putting one leg out, then the other, I turned and faced him, the rope between us tightening. I eased myself down, and Madr advanced to allow my actions. His lips moved without sound. I supposed he must be praying, and I wondered briefly to whom. It didn’t matter. I must focus my attention on the task at hand.

  As I lowered myself, feet finding purchase in the cracks between the stones again, I made sure not to look down. Eventually this wall would end and we would hang from the rope in open space. I wrapped the cord around my forearm, making sure I could still move it. Madr had to lean out of the window to give me as much slack as possible as I prepared.

  “Right then, climb out,” I called against the wind, which tried to steal my voice away.

  “How?”

  “Climb out of the window, down my back, and let yourself hang.”

  “Are you completely mad?”

  “We’ll both be hanging soon enough,” I called back. “I’ll carry you to the edge, and then we’ll ease ourselves the rest of the way.”

  “Impossible! It’s suicide!”

  “You have this one chance, Madr! Stay or go, which will it be?”

  I stared up at him. His face was white, his eyes large and dark with fear. Biting his lower lip, he began to hoist himself over the edge of the window. I gripped the rope, hoping he would not be too heavy. When his mass settled, pulling the leather harness I wore taut, I exhaled in relief. The way the straps and buckles distributed the weight, it was manageable. I began the descent, using the wall as much as possible, but maneuvered with the rope as well. When we reached the end of the wall, I would have to rely solely on the cord, and I’d better have a sense for it by then.

  Behind me, Madr groaned and mumbled. I tried not to listen to him, concentrating on pushing my clawed toes into the cracks between the stones, then moving my similarly equipped hands to do the same. With Madr’s weight on my back, the challenge was much greater. The tips of the hooks dug into the mortar between the stones, but I could feel myself pulling away. My muscles strained, and I managed to scale ten feet before I had to give up and hang.

  My feet captured the rope between them and I gripped it tightly with both hands. The descent went much more quickly now as I loosened my feet and hands, slipped down for a span of the rope, and stopped. We cleared the edge of the upper prison.

  Without the wall to face we hung in the air like a couple of spiders sharing a thread of web. Madr’s muttering and groaning did not change in quality, which made me think he must have his eyes shut. Dangling in nothingness, rocked a bit by the stronger gusts of wind, I attempted to ignore my nerves, which had begun to send electric signals of panic through my body. As another large blast from the gale sent us twirling, I tried to move faster. I might have let us slide the rest of the way if not for the descender—and I supposed it served to prevent such a foolish act. Certainly the gloves I wore would prevent the burns that would have torn my palms to shreds if I had done that, but to relinquish control over the speed of our descent would be disastrous anyway.

  Now that we spun in the air only a few yards from the highest levels of the lower prison, I could hear some of the commotion inside. Flames licked out of two windows on one floor. Someone yelled something unintelligible over and over as we passed another level. Crashing, banging, cries, gunfire… every floor resounded with the noises. Peering beneath us at the fast approaching street, I saw that the riot had spilled out of the prison walls. This was both good and bad for us—I would have preferred to drop unseen onto unoccupied pavement, but with so many people fighting the guards and rushing away from the prison, I hoped perhaps we would go unnoticed anyway.

  Just as my mind formed the thought, we fell.

  My stomach rushed into my chest, crowding my lungs and heart. The stones of the wall whizzed by. A cry formed in my throat and remained trapped there.

  With a hard jolt, the rope caught again.

  “Gods’ balls!” Madr shouted. “What in the name of Hel was that?”

  I swallowed. “I’m guessing the bed came loose.”

  “Came loose? How?”

  “I don’t know. And I am concerned that we may fall again in a moment, depending on whether the bed broke apart or remained intact.”

  “Oh holy Frigga.”

  I shared the sentiment. I resumed sliding down the rope as quickly as possible. We had perhaps fifty feet yet to go. The descent loomed beneath us interminably. Hand over hand, letting rope slide through, and then stopping for a pause, we went down five feet, ten feet, fifteen, twenty. It was, of course, right at the point when I began to relax and think the bed was not coming apart above us that we fell again. This time, the rope did not catch. As Madr’s weight pulled me down I looked up above and saw the end of the rope, still tied to a piece of iron that had once been part of the bed, falling from the window above.

  Realizing I could not allow myself to land on top of Madr I jerked hard to twist us round; we crashed into a small group of rioters who’d been unaware of us above. They cried out, their voices mingling with Madr’s, as they broke our fall. A muddle of arms, legs, hands and faces struggled in a mass, and I gathered my wits in time to unbuckle the harness, free myself from Madr’s weight, and scramble out of the mess. I threw one arm back in and grabbed my charge by the elbow, hauling him free of the rest even as they began to sort themselves out. Just a few feet away an Officer of Tyr bellowed at us, but he was in the midst of grappling with another escaped prisoner and could give no chase.

  Madr in tow, I fled the scene.

  ~~~

  Alflétta had, of course, ignored my instructions completely.

  As we ran, the chaos of escaping inmates spread through the city behind us as some set fires and broke windows, while others simply tried their best to disappear into the night. When we arrived at the mouth of the Undergrunnsby closest to Grumflein, I waved for Madr to hurry. Jogging down the stairs ahead of him, I stifled a shriek as Alflétta stepped out into the dim light shed by the moon.

  “Gods above,” I gasped, gripping the iron rail imbedded in the wall by the stairs.

  Madr hesitated, a few steps above. “What is it?” he asked.

  “Lini?” Alflétta whispered.

  “You old serpent!” Lini gasped and he pushed by me, hastening to Alflétta and holding out his hands.

  Alflétta rushed to him then, catching him in a tight embrace.
I could hear the older man crying, and I turned away to give them what privacy I could. At the foot of the stairs I saw the sack that held my court garments. Traveling through the Undergrunnsby in a gown and heels always made me uneasy, but if we were caught, we had a much better chance of lying our way out of it if I wasn’t wearing the red mask and black leather. Stepping down to the sack, I stripped off the Raud Gríma disguise and slipped a dress of dark blue lace over my head, then rolled stockings up my legs and began to clip on the snaps of the garters.

  “Luka’s chains!” Madr exclaimed.

  I turned my face to him as I bent over one thigh, struggling with the garter.

  “A woman!” Madr continued. “Gods’ breath. How—it isn’t possible. If I had known—”

  I laughed. “You might not have trusted me to get you down safely, I suppose.”

  “No, certainly not,” Madr said, his voice awed.

  “You must keep this secret with your life, Lini,” Alflétta said.

  “Raud Gríma, a woman! No greater secret exists,” Madr said. “And whom should I tell, in any case? I shall have to hide.”

  I gave him a nod. “That is true. And we’ve no time to waste.” I pulled a headband of night blue velvet into my hair, mussing the locks so they spilled over it. Slipping my feet into the shoes I threw two strands of crystals over my head to hang about my neck, and I thrust my hands through copper and silver bracelets. A shimmering black stole completed the ensemble and I waved at the two men. “Come along, then!”

  Together, we hurried into the tunnels of the Undergrunnsby.

  ~~~

  I left both of them with Spraki in the machine and went back to the Sölbói apartments directly from there. Exhaustion dragged at me, and I was certain dawn must be minutes away, but the mantel clock informed me that it was not yet two. An early night, by my standards. Still, I wasted no time disrobing and collapsing in bed.

  When I woke the next day I felt ill and achy all over. As I bathed I discovered I had bruises covering me—they marked my legs, arms, the left side of my chest, and there was even one on my right cheekbone. No small feat, effectuating the prison break of several dozen inmates of Grumflein. I felt proud, but my stomach rolled despite that. Fatigue still clung to me even after the long sleep I’d had. It was almost lunch time. Hoping that food would settle my stomach, I dressed in one of my simpler ensembles and made for the dining room.

  No one else was home but Sveinn, who served me cold pheasant from Mother Tora’s dinner the night before—she had entertained a dozen jarls and their wives before they all left for the opera to see the same rendition of the Lukasenna the Hólmdórrs had invited me to.

  As I nibbled my lunch, Sveinn delivered the usual tray of cards. I flipped through them without giving them much thought, until one made my hand pause.

  It was a blank card without family insignia. All it said was, “194, noon.”

  I knew the writing, however. There was a time when I had waited for cards like this one with painful longing. My eyebrows drew together and I bit my lip. What did Liut want with me now?

  Concern over his intentions made my stomach turn, and I abandoned my meal, taking the card with me back to my room.

  Noon was less than a quarter of an hour hence. I paced, flapping the card against the palm of my other hand, wondering what to do. It might be some sort of trap. Had Liut found a way to defeat the cuff on his arm? How better to restore his status as a favorite of the konunger than to betray me!

  Yet, it didn’t fit—sending me an unmarked card, inviting me to a private room, as if for an assignation—it all maintained the falsehood that we were lovers. If Liut wanted to win favor with the konunger or at least the rest of the court, he would do better to follow me as he had the night that Kolorma captured him. If he caught me dressed as Raud Gríma and delivered me to the Officers, his return to grace was assured. In fact, if he wished to betray me, he needed only whisper to the Officers that they should search my room; he need not risk himself directly at all.

  Taking a deep breath in hopes of dissipating the queasiness, I decided to meet him. Perhaps he intended to ask some favor of me. I almost pitied Liut. I supposed, if it was nothing too difficult, I would try to grant whatever it was he wished. After all, at one time, I had loved him.

  I wrapped a wine-colored shawl of thin, soft wool around me and left the apartments, heading through the palace corridors to private room number 194. When I entered, Liut was leaning with his back in a corner, right arm across his torso, the left elbow propped in his palm and his face covered with his left hand. The pose communicated such unhappiness. Part of me felt gratified, but I felt pity, too.

  “Liut,” I said as I carefully closed the door behind me.

  His face jerked up, eyes looking over his fingers in disbelief. “You came!”

  “I did,” I agreed.

  He was wearing a white dress shirt but it had no cufflinks so the sleeves hung loose around his wrists, which still showed some of the damage they had sustained due to the chains in Liten’s crypt. The black trousers he wore had smears of dust at the knees as if he’d crawled on the floor in them.

  He crossed the room and grabbed my hand in both of his. “Myadar,” he said.

  I frowned at him. “Liut, why did you invite me here?”

  “Myadar,” he said again, his brow furrowed. “You must know how much I regret my part in—in the awful charade—”

  Was this his attempt at an apology? I started to pull away. “Liut, I really don’t care to listen to your excuses—”

  “Myadar, please,” Liut said, his grip on my hand tightening. “Please listen to me, I haven’t much time.”

  “What are you talking about?” Fear clutched my heart. Why didn’t he have much time? Were the robots on their way? That would mean I was betrayed.

  “I must tell you, Myadar, how my feelings for you changed,” he began, and I tried to pull away again.

  “I have no patience for this.”

  “Please, Myadar, please hear me out. I must tell you this, and I have a warning, and you really must hear it. But I insist that you let me say my piece first, for I’ll not have another chance.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, exasperated.

  “Please just listen.”

  I stood still, allowing him to hold my hand.

  “I regret my part in all of this,” he said, staring into my eyes. “It was all a game to me, Myadar. One I’ve played so many times. But in the end—I only pretended not to care, when I would meet with Reister and Finnarún. I couldn’t let on that my feelings for you had changed—”

  Impatience welled in my heart and I shifted my feet.

  “Wait, please. Look, I understand why you don’t believe that I’m sincere, and—and that no matter what I say, it won’t change how I lied to you, and how I betrayed you,” he said, and he released one of his hands to thrust it into his pocket. He produced my ruby jewels and pressed them into my palm. “But believe what you will about me, Myadar, I’ve come to warn you, and you must believe this. Reister is going to turn on you. He’s making plans. I overheard him plotting with someone, I’m not sure who, although I have a guess.”

  My eyes went from the jewels in my hand to his face. “I never trusted Reister,” I said. My queasiness was gone, I realized.

  Exhaling, he closed his eyes and nodded. He still held my hand in his. “You always were clever, Myadar. Not some country wench, like they said you were. Clever, beautiful, and so kind. So loving. I never felt such love as I did when I was with you.” He bent his head as if to rest it on my shoulder, and I stepped back, breaking away from his grasp.

  Liut dropped his hands to his sides. “Will you never forgive me, then? Will you hate me forever?”

  “I don’t hate you,” I said to him, although my voice was cold. “I pity you, Liut. You’ve lost everything. It all might have been different, but for your duplicity, and your betrayal. I loved you more than I ever loved anyone, except Bersi. I d
on’t know whether to believe you’re sincere in what you say, but it doesn’t matter, anyway. Thank you for the warning.”

  I turned to leave, and stopped halfway out of the door. “I hope you’ll land on your feet, Liut,” I said.

  I meant it.

  ~~~

  After I returned to my apartments I set about gathering everything I had that might incriminate me and packed it all in a bag. I had used so much of what Spraki equipped me with already that the bag wasn’t full when I was done. I made haste leaving the palace through the service exit and dashed to the nearest entrance to the Undergrunnsby. If Reister was going to turn traitor, I wouldn’t give him any evidence to use against me. My disguise and the rest of it would have to remain in the machine from now on.

  I ran through the tunnels, watching every corner, every junction, fearful someone would jump out, but no one did. Ever since I’d begun delivering convoy trucks to the people living in the shantytowns here, they had become less desperate. Food supplies strengthened them, and the strongest among them left the safety of the sewers to sabotage and vandalize the city above. It wasn’t enough for a revolution, but it was a start.

  The machine was quiet today, and I used a key that Spraki had given me, straining to turn the wheel and push the door open. I stepped over the lip of the door and shut it with a low thud. Making my way through the maze of panels, I heard voices ahead.

  “Well, that confirms it. I’m staying away from the palace for good,” came Spraki’s voice as I approached.

  “We must warn the others. The private rooms are no longer a viable meeting place,” said someone else. Liten?

  I emerged into the area in front of the counter with the high wall of screens.

  “What happened?” I asked, my fingers digging into the canvas of the bag I carried.

  Spraki, Liten and Madr stood in front of one of the screens and turned as one to look at me when I spoke.

  “Myadar,” Liten said. There was something strange in his expression.