by Gav Thorpe
His confidence fuelling his steps, he walked to the window and pushed back one of the shutters. Daybreak was not far off, the glow to dawnwards visible above the houses on the opposite side of the street. As yet the city was not awake. He dredged his memories for everything he knew of Magilnada from the time he had spent here before Ullsaard's pretend liberation. Noran had walked every street and alley and square over those long days of misery. The recollection brought a stab of pain as he remembered his depression, caused by the death of his wife and unborn son.
Holding himself up on the sill of the window, Noran bowed his head for a moment, the emotional agony of the memory greater than any soreness in his atrophied body. He fought back tears, fingers gripping the sill tightly, picturing the lovely Neerita. Looking back into the street, he realised Ullsaard's family were still in the house they had shared with Noran and his other wife, Anriit. He wondered if Neerita's older sister still lived here, and whether he would bother taking her from the city.
The creak of a foot on a floorboard outside the door caused Noran to spin. The handle turned and he staggered across the chamber as the door opened. A middle-aged woman in the garb of servant stepped inside, eyes widening in surprise and Noran lunged, grabbing her arm in one hand, clamping his other over her mouth as he dragged her inside.
She struggled and his weak body failed him, losing his grip on both her arm and face as he tumbled to the carpet.
"Master Noran!" the woman yelped, crouching beside him.
"Hush woman! Do not speak, but listen!"
With the maid's help, Noran regained his feet and leaned against the wall, signalling for the servant to close the door. When she had done so, he pulled her towards the bed and they both sat down.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Laasinia," the woman replied, eyes averted from the noble's nakedness. "I am Queen Allenya's senior handmaiden."
"Yes, Laasinia, I am remembering now," said Noran. He took her hand in his, squeezing it in what he hoped was a comforting fashion. "Look at me, Laasinia."
She turned her head, eyes betraying her confusion.
"It is important that you listen to exactly what I say, and not to waste time with asking why," he told her. She nodded. "First of all, do not tell anyone of my recovery yet."
"But Queen Meliu…"
Noran hushed her with a wave of his hand.
"Not yet," he said. "I need you to get me clothes, first."
"A chest of your robes and shirts is in another room," said Laasinia, standing up. Noran pulled her back and she tried to step away.
"No, not my own clothes," he said, thinking as quickly as he could. "Is there a servant of right height and build?
Laasinia looked him up and down and nodded again.
"Saamiaris is about your size," she said. "He is a cook. He has already left for the market; I can get clothes from his room."
"Good," said Noran, standing up. "When you have done that you must find other clothes, for your mistresses."
Again Laasinia opened her mouth to speak and Noran raised a finger to silence her.
"Do not ask me how I know, but there has been threat made against Ullsaard's family," he explained, the words coming quickly. "They are in danger, right now. The longer we stay here, the more dangerous it will be. I have to get them out of the city, and servants' clothes will make a good disguise. Do you understand?"
"Not everything," Laasinia admitted, "but I will do as you say. Shall I wake my mistresses?"
"When I am more respectable, I shall attend to that," said Noran. "Tell me, does my wife, Anriit, still live here?"
"She left," Laasinia said, embarrassed. "She has returned to Askh to seek the annulment of your marriage."
"One less thing to worry about," muttered Noran. He focussed on Laasinia. "Try not to let on to the other servants what you are doing. The house may be watched, and I do not know if the man who wishes harm to your mistresses has his own people in the household."
Even as he spoke the words, Noran wondered if he could trust the woman. She had served Ullsaard's family back in Askh, he remembered, but it was possible that Anglhan might have turned her loyalties. It was too late now, he realised.
"Can you do these things?" he asked.
"I will," said Laasinia. "The kitchen staff have taken the cart to the market, but I shall send a boy for another to take you to the gates."
"Good thinking," Noran said, patting her on the arm. "Do not say what is for."
"Of course not," she said, offended by the suggestion. "If the matter is as serious as you say, I will see my mistresses safely away from the city, do not doubt that."
Noran leaned forward and kissed Laasinia on the forehead, startling her.
"You are a gem, Laasinia," he said. "I am sure Allenya and Meliu will be very grateful."
"Let us hurry," said the maidservant, stepping briskly away. "It is market day and the streets will be busy by mid-Dawnwatch. Better that we are on our way before then."
Noran nodded and watched her as she opened the door and slipped outside, closing it quietly behind her. It opened again a moment later, causing Noran to jump. He relaxed as he saw Laarisia's face peer around the frame.
"You look like you need food, master," she said. "I'll bring something with the clothes."
Before Noran could thank her, she was gone again, her footsteps fading on the landing beyond the door. He paced back and forth at the foot of the bed as he waited, trying to come up with a list of things he would need. A weapon of some sort would be good. He wandered back to the window, scrutinising the street for any sign of somebody watching the house. It was impossible to say; dozens of windows on the houses along the street could see the main gate to the courtyard. He consoled himself with the thought that at least they were not locked up in some dungeon somewhere. Compared to that, smuggling themselves out of the city would be easy.
He turned quickly as the door opened again. Laasinia entered with a bundle of clothes in her arms, some bread and fruit perched atop the pile. She laid these on the bed with a nod to the nobleman and left again without a word. Though now ravenous, Noran took a cautious bite of an apple. It tasted sweet as juice ran down his throat and he fought the urge to finish off in a few bites, wary of taxing his shrunken gut. He had heard tales of the ailments that had befallen legionnaires over-indulging after long campaigns on march rations. He dragged on a heavy woollen kilt, apple held between his teeth, and tied the roped fastenings, marvelling at how skinny he was. The fit was adequate; for a cook, Saamirias did not sample much of his labours it seemed.
Finishing off the apple, Noran tossed the core onto a side table and ripped a hunk of bread from the loaf. He stuffed this in his mouth and chewed laboriously as he pulled the shirt over his head. The coarse fabric itched at his skin, nothing like the fine clothes he had been used to. Resisting the urge to scratch everywhere, he pulled on the sandals, a little too big for his feet, and tied the thongs as tightly as he could. There was a heavy, sleeveless jacket too, and he dragged this on to complete the outfit. Taking another apple and the loaf, he padded across the room and opened the door a fraction.
He could hear the sounds of servants elsewhere in the house, but the landing was empty. Knowing that Allenya would be the calmer of the two queens, he tiptoed out and to the left, heading for her bedchamber, keeping to the wall. He stopped at the second door and paused as he heard footfalls on the stair behind. Coiling to pounce if need be, he waited with breath held, letting it out in a rush as Laasinia stepped onto the landing. She saw him and nodded, lifting up a sack in her hand.
Taking the bag, Noran quietly opened the door to Allenya's room. Any feelings of intrusion were washed away by Noran's urgency; both from fear of discovery and ignorance of how long he would be able to continue walking and talking.
Ullsaard's wife was sprawled on the bed, covers in disarray, one arm flung out, her face hidden behind a mass of dark curls on the pillow. Noran could not stop himself admiring the
graceful curve of her exposed thigh. He quickly dismissed the distraction; having sex with one of the queens had been a mistake, lusting after this one would be suicide.
"Allenya," he whispered, crouching down in front of her. "Allenya, wake up."
She stirred, rolling to her back, eyes flickering open. There was a moment of vagueness before she sat bolt upright to stare at Noran.
"Yes, I'm back," he said, knowing exactly what thoughts were going through Allenya's mind. "There is no time to explain, and I do not know if I understand it myself."
"What are you doing in my room?" Allenya said, pulling a blanket over her body.
"Anglhan has betrayed Ullsaard." Noran spoke quickly but quietly, trying to keep calm. "He is keeping you in the city as protection against Ullsaard's retaliation."
Allenya ran her fingers through her hair, raking it back from her face, her expression half-asleep.
"What was that about Anglhan?" she said. She looked more closely at the man in her bedchamber. "And why are you dressed so badly?"
Noran stood and emptied the clothes from the sack onto the bed.
"You do not realise it, but Anglhan is using you as hostages against your husband," Noran said, stepping to the door. "We have to leave here as soon as we can, and get out of the city. Please, get dressed in these clothes and then get Meliu to do the same. Your maid is organising a means by which we can get out of here unseen."
"Wait." Allenya's call stopped Noran as he was about to leave. He turned back, one foot on the landing. "Anglhan has been very hospitable to us. Are you sure?"
"Ullsaard himself told me so," said Noran.
He saw the look of confusion that would herald more questions and decided to avoid them, moving onto the landing to close the door behind him. Laasinia was still waiting close by.
"Any luck with a wagon?" the noble asked.
"I've sent a lad to fetch one," she said. "He'll bring it up to the gate. How will you get on it without being seen?"
Noran thought about this for a while, hearing the sounds of Allenya moving around through the door.
"We will not try to hide," he said. "Find something that would look normal to load and move, a piece of furniture or something. We will just carry it out and climb on board with it."
"Why would two maids be moving furniture?" asked Laasinia.
"Think of something else, then," snapped Noran. The surge of strength that had propelled him so far was leeching away, leaving his limbs trembling and his head aching. "Use your head, woman."
Laasinia bobbed demurely and disappeared down the stairs. Noran leaned back against the wall, his hunger returning, his muscles twitching with the effort. On the floor below, a small bell tinkled to signal the start of Dawnwatch. More distant bells and calls could be heard from across the waking city. Noran fretted, gnawing at an overly long nail, fearing that they were taking too much time. Anglhan was no fool. He had chosen not to jail his hostages, probably for fear of provoking attention, but he would have the movements of Allenya and Meliu watched closely so that they could be prevented from leaving the city, even if innocent and ignorant of their predicament. The more people on the streets, the harder it would be to avoid attention.
Noran was chewing down a third nail by the time Allenya's door opened. She walked out garbed in the clothes of a maid, her face showing her full displeasure.
"I demand a proper explanation Noran," she said.
"Please, Allenya, keep your voice down," Noran replied. "It is very complicated. All you have to know is that Anglhan does not want you to leave Magilnada; he has made threats against you to Ullsaard. Your husband is less than a day from the city. I am going to take you to him."
"Ullsaard is near?" the prospect brightened Allenya's mood substantially and her further questions went unasked. "Really?"
"Yes, really," said Noran, trying not to sigh in frustration. "Please, take the other clothes, get Meliu dressed and we will leave the house. Make sure she causes no fuss."
"Wait here," said Allenya, heading to the other end of the landing. "You cannot be seen."
Noran bit back a retort about stating the obvious. He could hear Laarisia's voice from the bottom of the stairs, but could not make out everything that was said; something about the mistresses desiring not to be disturbed this morning until Low Watch. A wonderful woman, Noran thought, entirely deserving of some extra Askharins for her loyalty.
He lowered to the floor to sit with his back against the wall, resting his head in his hands in an effort the ease the throbbing at his temples. There was soreness in his chest and he lifted up his shirt and saw a jagged scar. No wonder every breath hurt.
"Shit," he muttered. He could barely remember anything of how he had been wounded. He recalled some soldiers trying to kill Ullsaard in camp and shouting a warning. The rest was all blurred.
A door banged open and he looked up to see Meliu dashing along the landing. He pushed himself to his feet and was almost toppled again as Meliu threw her arms around him with a gasp, the two of them saved from a tumble only by the wall.
"Oh, Noran!" Meliu gushed, kissing his cheek and neck ferociously.
"Hello," he said weakly, pushing her away.
Her brows furrowed, cheeks reddened and lips pouted. Recognising the signs of an impending outburst, Noran did the only thing he could think of to quieten her; her grabbed the back of her head and pulled her into a long kiss.
"Save that for later," said Allenya, hurrying to the top of the stairs.
Meliu pulled back with another shuddering breath, eyes moist.
"Allenya tells me we are in trouble and you have come back to rescue us!" she said. "You are so brave!"
Noran darted a look at Allenya, who shrugged in confession.
"Come on," said Noran, grabbing Meliu's hand. She squeezed it tight, painfully so in Noran's weak condition.
The nobleman led them down the stairs and found Laasinia sitting with some needlework on a chair in the hall below. She put the sewing to one side as they arrived.
"I have sent the other servants to clean the main feast room," she said, ushering Allenya towards the foyer. She looked at Noran. "Can you drive the wagon, or should I fetch one of the men?"
"I will do my best," said Noran, though he knew he was an inexpert teamster. "Rather that than risking the confidence of anyone else."
They hurried out into the courtyard, the flags still damp from overnight rain. Noran let go of Meliu to move ahead and open one of the gates. On the road outside a single abada stood patiently before its wagon, chewing on its leather bit, horn rope in the hand of a boy no more than ten years old.
"Take these," said Laasinia, ducking into a small storage shed at one side of the yard. She emerged with woven baskets. "Put them on the wagon and climb in."
"Try to act normal," Noran added in a whisper. "Do not look like you are hurrying."
Meliu grinned impishly and grabbed a basket before strutting out into the street. Allenya and Laasinia followed with their own burdens, leaving Noran to pull himself up to the board.
"Get yourself inside, and have something to eat," he called to the boy, who bobbed his head, tied the abada's rope through the yoke and scampered back into the yard.
The nobleman sat looking at the back of the abada, unsure what to do. He glanced around and saw a long switch hanging in a loop of rope on the side of the wagon. He pulled it free and tapped the abada on the shoulder with its tip.
"Move," he said.
The abada did nothing.
Noran tried again with the switch, slapping it against the beast's hindquarters.
"Get on," he said. "Move!"
"Give it a proper crack," he heard Allenya say from, the back of the cart. "Use your wrist, man."
"Right, you big, grey bastard," Noran snarled. "You will not ignore me this time."
He brought the switch back over his shoulder and then flicked it down as hard as he could. With a crack, he smacked against the abada's ribs. The beast gave a pai
ned snort and leaned into the yoke, the wagon lurching forward over the cobbles of the road. There were cries of discomfort from behind as the cart's occupants were bumped around and Noran almost fell off the driving board.
He snatched up the yoke ropes in his free hand as the abada settled down into a fast walk. The wheels clattered like thunderclaps in the dawn quiet. Noran winced every time they bounced over a hole or mound in the street. The grand houses of merchants and nobles passed by on each side, peeking over stuccoed walls and ornately carved gates.
They were almost at the end of the street when Noran realised he did not know which way to turn; or for that matter, how to turn. The quickest route would be to the right, along the main thoroughfare that wound down the Hill of Chiefs and to the avenue that led to the city gate. It would also be getting busy with the pre-market traffic; better to turn left and go around by the wall, he decided.