Sanctuary Tales (Book 1)

by Robert J. Crane

  “No, we don’t,” Aisling agreed. Norenn appeared at her side, and she felt the blood leave her head in a great rush as he helped her upright.

  “How are you?” Norenn asked, eyes rimmed with concern.

  “A little woozy,” she said. “About like the practice runs, maybe a little worse. I’ll be ready to go in a few minutes.”

  “Good,” Xemlinan said, stooping next to her. He had the Red Destiny of Saekaj clutched in his hand, a smile wide on his face. “Once we get to the servants quarters, all we need do is leave the palace and we’re free.”

  “Oh, only,” Norenn said under his breath. “We only have to leave the most carefully guarded building in Saekaj, that’s it.”

  “Well, you have to admit, it’s easier than getting into the most carefully guarded building in Saekaj,” Xem said with a smirk. “After all, we have an exit.”

  “Help me up,” Aisling said, then staggered to her feet with the help of Xemlinan and Norenn. She felt the unsteadiness working at her, as if her legs were new and weak. She stumbled over to where she had left her clothes and grabbed the gown. She slipped it on, careful to let it fall over her cloth shoes.

  They went through the double doors and back into the hallway, following Xem’s lead. He steered them back through the curves, and up a slope, murmuring numbers that were in his head as they went. “Forty-five steps and right …” He stopped before a door. “Here.” He looked them over. “Aisling, are you ready?”

  She sighed. “Give me a moment.” She frowned at him. “And turn around.” Xemlinan smiled slyly and complied.

  “Are you certain you can do this?” Norenn asked, giving her a worried look.

  “I have to,” she replied, and bent down to lift her skirt. Norenn knelt before her as she drew it higher and lowered herself slightly. Norenn gave her an uncertain look once more and then placed the Red Destiny of Saekaj squarely between her thighs. She clutched them together tightly. “Although I think it’s ironic; my mother cautioned me when I left home that if I was moving to Sovar, I’d have to make my money by opening my legs, not keeping them tightly closed.”

  Xemlinan let out a muffled laugh, and even Norenn smiled at that. She dropped her skirt and clenched her thighs tight around the surface of the Red Destiny. “You must admit it’s a rather ingenious way to smuggle it out. No one would dare to search a noble lady’s person in such a manner.”

  “I’ll admit it’s ingenious if it works,” Aisling said, straining her muscles. They had practiced this with a large stone, but the Red Destiny was surprisingly lighter. “Until then, I’m going to continue to wish we’d gone with the idea of dressing me as a pregnant woman and hiding it in the empty sack.”

  “Harder to impersonate a pregnant woman’s mannerisms than it is to simply walk very, very slowly,” Xemlinan said. “Are you ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever get, standing here with what feels like a ton of weight bearing on my legs.”

  Xem opened the door to the servants’ quarters and the three of them filed in. They were empty, of course, the servants all busy at the ball in one form or another. Aisling practiced shifting her eyes down, her hair already knotted atop her head. Giggle if you can. Look a little furtive, like you’ve been a naughty little slattern here in the Sovereign’s palace. Feed into their notions of why someone would be sneaking around in the servants’ passages.

  They filed out into the hallway past the servants quarters, a better-lit passage. “This way,” Xem murmured, guiding them toward a clatter that was rising from the kitchens.

  They emerged into a wide space, ovens roaring with flames, heating the room. Aisling found it unreasonably warm, like being curled up next to a furnace, and could feel herself starting to sweat. Not good. Maintain the hold on the Red Destiny. It was hardly a serious matter as yet, but she felt a deep urging to get out of the kitchen as quickly as possible. The smell of all the rich food was wonderful, but her urgency drove her to avoid so much as glancing at the available dishes.

  “Here,” Xemlinan said, darting toward a nearby door. Aisling giggled as she followed, aiming for flighty. Xem held it open for them, and she vanished into the dark outside of it with only a single glance back into the kitchen to confirm what she suspected—everyone pretended not to see them go.

  Nine

  “Not far now,” Xemlinan muttered as they stepped out of the door.

  “What am I supposed to do now?” Norenn asked, eyes shifting nervously. The blood was apparent when he unbuttoned the jacket, showing it to the two of them. “I may not have drawn attention from the servants, but I can’t pass the gate guards like this. They’re sure to pick me out.”

  They had paused just outside the kitchen door, now outside the Grand Palace and back in the main cave of Saekaj, but behind the walls still. The main gate was a few hundred feet away, behind one of the extended wings that jutted out, obscuring their view.

  “I have an idea about that,” Xem said, and his voice betrayed a hint of tension, “but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

  “What?” Norenn asked, hopeful and suspicious all at once.

  “You’ll need to look like you’ve hit someone,” Xemlinan explained calmly.

  “So you’re suggesting we make it look as though we’ve fought?” Norenn asked, glancing to Aisling. “Won’t that draw suspicion?”

  “Tremendous amounts of it,” Aisling said, wondering what Xem could possibly be getting at. Fights between men at the Sovereign’s palace were grounds for an immediate trip to the Depths for at least a month. “The only way you could possibly get away with hitting someone at the Sovereign’s party is—” The answer came to her, and she sighed. Men. “Ugh.”

  “Sorry,” Xem said, and she could hear the note of apology. “Up to you, but …”

  “Brace against my legs so I don’t drop the Red Destiny,” Aisling said, and Xem did so to her right.

  Norenn pushed in against her left leg, looking a little baffled. “Are you wearing out?”

  “No,” she said, “I could walk considerably farther. But I don’t want to fall when I do this.”

  “Do what?” Norenn asked.

  Aisling smiled at him tightly. “The only thing that’s going to allow us to walk out of here with blood on your shirt.” She raised her hand, clenched a fist, and punched herself in the nose with everything she had. Spots flashed before her vision and she heard a faint cracking noise.

  “What are you doing?” Norenn said, catching her arm as she slumped a little.

  “Is my nose bleeding?” she asked, trying to regain concentration enough to check. She ran a hand across her upper lip and found it wet, a warm stickiness spreading. “Okay, good, we’re set.”

  “Oh, gods!” Norenn said, and Xem shushed him. “You expect me to walk out looking like a woman beater?”

  “It’s socially acceptable,” Xem said quietly. “Sad as that is to say. Happens all the time at the Grand Palace.”

  Norenn said nothing for a moment, his face shrouded in shadow. Aisling watched him, could see the thoughts spinning in his head. “Let’s get out of here,” he said finally, every word grinding out like it was spit from a mill, the double meaning more than obvious to her ears.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Xem said, and each of them took one of her arms as they shuffled off.

  Ten

  There was a small crowd at the gates, dark elves passing through with only the occasional glance from the guards who stood outside, spears at the ready. The three of them shuffled along nonchalantly, avoiding scrutiny by any of the guards they’d run across along the path to the bridge where they crossed the moat. I suppose it’s a normal sight in the Grand Palace to see two men escorting a beaten woman toward the gate. She seethed inwardly but tried to stifle it. I’ll be away from here soon enough. Not far now.

  “Once we’re out of the gate, Leneyh will have a carriage waiting for us in the market,” Xem whispered as they neared the gate. “Just a little farther, half a mile
at most.”

  “I’m fine,” Aisling said, but in truth her eye was beginning to squint shut and her legs ached almost as badly as her nose. I can make it. For this fortune, I could carry it back to Sovar between my legs.

  The guards were still, two facing in on the sides of the pillars that held the gate. Two others waited just outside. She could see their arms behind the pillars, a spear jutting upward from one of them.

  They crossed the threshold of the gate without fanfare, without anything beyond a stray look from one of the guards who took her in with one glance then promptly returned to staring straight ahead. Aisling felt the pain in her thighs, a low, racking agony that was starting to spread down her legs and up to her back. Her nose was still dripping blood, and she sniffed lightly. She looked right and saw Norenn’s shirt, still dotted with blood. No one dared say anything. Predictable. Sadly predictable.

  “My gods,” Xem breathed once they were out of earshot of the guards, halfway down the wall that shielded the front of Dagonath Shrawn’s manor from view, “we did it.”

  “We’re not out of the city yet,” Norenn said.

  “Quite right.” Xem was back to stern once more. “But you might consider taking a breath once we’re in the carriage.”

  “Perhaps,” Norenn said, glancing at Aisling. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice lowered.

  “I’m fine,” she replied, ignoring the aches and pains. The street still carried the faint scent of the perfumes that had been worn by all the ladies who had trod this path, lingering long after they’d passed on to the ball. She smiled, grimacing when a bead of blood slipped between her lips and she tasted the metallic tang of it. “Or I should say I’ll be fine once this is done and we’re out.”

  She only just glimpsed Norenn’s faint smile. “Where should we go?” he asked.

  “Just out for now,” she said, the ache in her thighs growing. “Once we’re out, we can pick a direction.”

  “I was thinking of Reikonos,” he said, glancing at the nearly empty street around them. “It’s well out of the reach of the Sovereignty, and—” he paused, and there was a noise behind them. “What’s that?”

  “Changing of the guard,” Xemlinan said with only a glance back. “Come on, we’re only a little ways off—” There was a noise, something sudden and loud that expelled all the air from his lungs, and it took Aisling a moment to realize that a spear was sticking out of Xem’s chest, extended through his torso. He looked at it for a beat before seeming to realize it was there, and then he looked up in surprise. He started to speak, but blood bubbled at his lips and ran down his chin in great dark drips.

  “Xem?” The words came out of her in purest shock, even as Xemlinan slumped to his knees, eyes going dim.

  “Go!” Norenn cried out, echoing down the street. He yanked her arm, hard, and she felt her legs go weak, one pulling forward with the desire to run. Before she could correct for the Red Destiny that was squeezed carefully between her thighs, it fell, hitting the loose-packed clay street with a low thud. She started to bend and pull against him to retrieve it but Norenn grabbed her elbow and yanked her onward. She caught a glimpse of guards behind them, more than two, more than a dozen, spears at the ready, and she swallowed heavily, the panic catching her.

  She caught a glimpse of two of them hefting spears, ready to throw, and she ran to catch Norenn, pushing him behind the cover of the gate to their right, behind the wall she realized only belatedly was Dagonath Shrawn’s estate. Two guards waited just inside, swords already drawn and within easy striking distance of both her and Norenn. One of them extended his blade and pointed it into Norenn’s throat. He held it there, the silent threat implicit.

  Aisling stared at them, numb shock running through her. We were so close. So close. If we’d just been a little farther down the street …

  There was running behind them, the sound of metal boots slapping against the road, and guards appeared at the gates, smirking. They said nothing at all, merely placed blades against her throat, hers and Norenn’s, and seized them with heavy hands, dragging them back down the street to the palace they’d escaped only moments earlier.

  Eleven

  They took her back to the Grand Palace, locking her in a room after searching her roughly. They took her gown, her shoes, everything but her underclothes. The head guard only let her keep those after a thorough search of her person left her exposed for a few moments of terrible discomfort wherein she wondered what might come next. Finally he threw them back in her face before slamming the door and leaving her alone to put them back on, shaking as she did so.

  The room was bare to the walls, carved into the cave, and had taken a long, exhausting walk to get to. Her legs were in agony and by the end, two of the guards had carried her with an arm under each elbow to speed up her pace. They took her in through a servants’ entrance, Norenn dragged along behind her. They’d left Xemlinan on the street, dead, the spear still jutting from his chest.

  She didn’t bother to pace the room, though she might have if her legs hadn’t been so weary. She sagged when she leaned against the wall, and when she sat, her buttocks grew cold and began to hurt. She stood and leaned for a few minutes, then sat, then finally lay down and stretched out on the stone floor. It was hardly the worst bed she’d had in the last few years, and was almost certain to be better than what would be coming.

  She’d heard tales of the women who were sent to the Depths. They were not for the faint of heart nor weak of stomach. She tried to put that out of her mind, but thoughts of Norenn came rushing in to fill the void and she ended up alternating between the two, feeling sick over both at once.

  She was in there for hours, alone, worried, thoughts about what would happen next harrying her until the iron door finally opened and a walking staff clicked the ground in front of it as a figure came in, his grey suit with waist-length coat covering his girth. She looked up and caught a glimpse of his hair, which was white and curled with age, his lined face and sunken eyes. “Do you know who I am?” he asked, without a trace of expression.

  “Dagonath Shrawn,” she replied and realized her mouth felt dry. It had been hours since she’d had a drop of anything to drink but her own blood.

  “Quite right,” he said, and with a click he brought his walking stick down again as he stepped into the room, barely sparing a look at her, even though she was nearly naked. “Do you know why you are still here?”

  “No,” she said, her voice much smaller than she wished it was. Why did this have to happen?

  “Because the Sovereign wills it,” Shrawn said.

  “The … Sovereign?” Aisling felt her mouth get drier.

  “Oh, yes, child,” Shrawn said with an amused air as he stared at the stone wall of the room. “Did you really think you could steal the Red Destiny of Saekaj?”

  “Yes,” she said, and her voice crackled with just a seed of defiance as she said it, but it was lost in the whisper.

  “You might have gotten away with it if not for the Sovereign, if we’re being truthful,” Shrawn said, still looking at the wall, tearing his gaze away to finally look at her, as though he were reluctant to condescend that far. “He saw you enter the back halls from his alcove.”

  The Sovereign … The words echoed in her head. There will be no mercy … not that there would have been, even without him. “What happened to my friends?”

  “The one with the spear through him was spared death by Amenon Lepos,” Shrawn said, looking at her through half-lidded eyes. “I suppose he has a use for him, or perhaps a sentiment of some sort. It concerns him and the Sovereign now, not me.” He took a step closer to her and rapped the walking stick sharply between where her feet were stretched out. “You and your lover, however, are my concern. Well, the two of you and Leneyh.” He smiled a little at the mention of her name. “She’ll be an enjoyable one to deal with, I think, unlike you, you bony slip of a thing.”

  “What happened to Norenn?” she asked, feeling the words rush out
.

  “I’ll tell you in a moment.” He almost chortled. “Do you know why I’m answering your questions? Me, of the most noble house in Saekaj, answering a lowborn thief of Sovar’s questions?”

  “No,” she answered quickly, hoping it was the answer he was looking for. He doesn’t know who I am. He thinks I’m some street urchin. She kept her eyes from wavering. I must keep it that way.

  He rapped her across the mouth with the end of the walking stick, faster than she would have given the old man credit for. It stunned her, causing her to bring her hand to her mouth in shock even though it barely hurt, not even close to as much as her own punch had. The treatment she had received from the guards had been only a little rough; it was tame compared to what most would have experienced, she knew.

  “Because the Sovereign willed it,” Shrawn answered, turning away from her. “Because we have a growing problem, sneaking around under the corner of the horizon. It’s something we have no easy answer for, nothing in place, no sure way to deal with it. It’s one of a few problems. But you.” He turned around and looked down at her again. “Here you are. Bold. Not stupid, but unlucky. And now completely under our power.”

  He crossed the distance between them and knelt down, grasping her bloodied face in his hand and pressing her head against the wall. “Most citizens of Sovar exist in this jellied state, forever within our grasp but rarely in our palm. They stay close at hand, always in easy reach but rarely in need of a firm hand. When they do,” he slammed her head against the stone wall, “they find themselves in the Depths, plowing shit, tending to mushrooms, quarrying stone and mining ore.” Her head ached where he’d hit it against the wall, the searing pain bringing tears to her eyes. Still, she made no sound. “We find uses for them. Angry, belligerent men have but one use—being worn down to nothing. But you …” He smiled as she opened her eyes and saw it, and it made her sick to her stomach, “you have a different use entirely.”