SHADOW WEAVER

by Claire Merle

  My hands sweat inside my fur gloves. If I run and she shouts, her guard will give chase. If I reveal myself, she will want an explanation. As I hesitate, it strikes me she is waiting for somebody. Otherwise, a lurking figure would be cause for alarm.

  The Duchess raises her skirt, steps onto the low channel wall that slices the yard into two segments, and lowers herself into the waterway. Amazed, I watch her tiptoe across a narrow beam. She performs a dangerous acrobatic tightrope walk, before climbing up the other side.

  It is too late to run. I step from the tunnel and greet her. In the wash of pale moonlight, her features twist from wariness to shock. I pull off my hood so she sees who I am.

  “Lady Mirra! Why are you dressed like a boy? What are you doing here? What has happened?”

  “Lower your voice or your guard will hear us.”

  She glances back in the direction of the soldier, then her eyes flick into the tunnel behind me.

  “I come alone,” I say. “But perhaps you were waiting for someone else, Your Grace?”

  “No.” She shakes her head, dropping the leafed medallion.

  “My guardsman, Tug? Or should I call him Tye?”

  “What is the meaning of your question?”

  “Well, Your Grace, if you were not waiting for company, why didn't you shout for your guard when you realized there was someone in the tunnel? These are treacherous times, are they not?”

  Her eyes narrow. “Explain this visit, Lady Mirra. Has Tye sent you?”

  “Why would he send me?”

  “You are playing games,” she snaps.

  “Yet you stand here when you could leave.”

  Brusquely, she gathers her skirts and turns, but something holds her in place. An invisible thread. Tug was certain she would not speak to her husband of his resurrection from the dead. Were they secret lovers before she became the Duke's wife?

  If she is waiting for Beast-face, he could arrive at any moment. I must keep her on the defensive and discover what secret they share so I may use it to my advantage. Besides, I have gone too far with my challenging stance to draw back now. “Tye has told me,” I bluff.

  “Told you?” Her voice quivers. A bright room forms in the mind-world.

  She wakes shivering, afraid. Grown ups crowd around her. Memories flash. Running from hunters. Getting caught. Escaping. A boy's face comes into focus. “Calm yourself,” he says. “You are safe now. We will look after you.”

  I rear back in surprise. The boy was Tug. But that is not the reason my thoughts explode as though the skies have been set on fire. That is not the reason every hair on my arms and neck stand up as though I have grown metal spikes. Duchess Elise is Uru Ana. She is sighted, a shadow weaver, glitter-eyed!

  The reason Tug does not fear me, the reason he has been able to build walls from our kind, the reason he has been so determined to hide his past with Elise, it all tumbles into place. He grew up hiding an Uru Ana, protecting her secret.

  But if she has the sight, why hasn't she told the Duke the truth about me? Why did she come to my chambers and inform me of the Prince's impending marriage to a Rudeashan princess and of his mistresses, when one look into any of our memories of the last few days would have revealed I am Prince Jakut's purchased slave?

  “You are Uru Ana,” I whisper. The words spill from my lips before I can stop them. The Duchess’s pupils grow larger, blackness swallowing the autumn brown of her irises. She sways on her feet. If she passes out, I will get nothing from her. “I am the only person who knows,” I say. “Your secret is safe. Neither Tug nor I wish to betray you.”

  A pained laugh escapes her. She threads her fingers, unravels and threads them again. Her shoulders slump. “I have been careful. I never use the cursed sight. I have ignored it for so long it has faded to a faint imprint of something long removed. I thought Tye was dead and my secret buried with him.”

  So she does not know we are the same! I must strike hard and fast, crush any desire she may have to trust Tug, or to turn to him after I leave tonight.

  “We know you have the glitter-eyed boy,” I say. “The Prince sent Tye on business to the Hybourg. While he was there a Lyndonian commander roused his curiosity.” The lie flows off my tongue, as though somewhere in the depths of my consciousness I was prepared for this. “On further investigation, he discovered your commander was buying an Uru Ana boy.”

  Elise shakes her head. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

  I fix her gaze. Desperation to see Kel again writhes inside me like a beast I can barely control. But I must. I wait, still and silent, face to face, until she realizes her protests will not convince me of what I know to be false. She has Kel. I will make her give him back.

  When I see she has abandoned all pretence of indignation, I speak.

  “I'm not here tonight to harm you, Your Grace. This evening you came to my chambers and warned me about Prince Jakut. Now I must warn you if you keep the glitter-eyed boy you will gravely endanger your family.” I pause, weighing up how to present this.

  “I am offering you my help,” I say, ignoring the heat crawling up my back and burning into the top of my spine. “After what you have told me, I will not stay with Prince Jakut. I wish to leave the fort tomorrow, and I'm offering to take your captive. I do not wish to say goodbye to the Prince, so my departure will be a secret. My guardians will tell Prince Jakut I am sick and spending the day in my chambers. In order for him to believe this, Tye will remain in the fort until tomorrow evening. Then he and Brin will ride through the night and meet me in a safe location. The Prince will not be told about the boy.”

  Duchess Elise smiles tightly. “You flee in secrecy. Are you afraid of Jakut?”

  I look down so she cannot examine whether my words match my expression. “I am afraid of my heart,” I murmur. “If I say goodbye, I might let his soft words persuade me to remain by his side.”

  A cold tingling breaks across my forehead as I wait for her answer. I wish I could put a knife to her neck and demand she takes me to see Kel at once. My throat burns with the thought of him so close, yet still out of reach.

  “I will need a day to make arrangements,” she says finally.

  I give a quick nod of agreement. Anything more, and I fear I will give myself away. Hope and impatience pound through me—the promise of freedom, holding Kel in my arms, taking us away from all this!

  “I will deal with the boy,” she adds. “It would not be safe for you to take him with you.”

  “No.”

  Her eyes dart up, curiosity sparked by the vehemence in my voice.

  “He was snatched from the north,” I continue, grappling to hold in check my emotions, “and he should be returned to the northern forests near my home. You will take me to see him first thing tomorrow. I wish to ensure he is in a fit state for travel. Where are you keeping him?”

  “Why so much interest in the glitter-eyed child?”

  “Tye has a soft spot for rescuing shadow weaving orphans, Your Grace.” Even in the pale moonlight, I see the Duchess’s deep red blush. She disgraces herself by hoping to benefit from the use of a slaved Uru Ana child, when she will not risk using her own talent, and was fortunate enough to be rescued by Tug's family from the same ill fate.

  “In Delladea,” I continue, twisting the knife, hoping to injure her with my words, “we are not as prejudiced as the south. We do not believe the Uru Ana should be slaved, or killed, or stolen from their parents as children and used for political purposes. I'm sure you can sympathize with our position.”

  “I am not ashamed of the choices I have made.” She turns to face the fort's outer wall and unseen lake beyond. Auburn curls whip out around her in the night's breeze.

  “Tye convinced me to keep the boy's existence from Prince Jakut,” I say. I try to sound reassuring though her lack of remorse fills me with hate. “The Prince knows nothing of what we have discussed tonight. Nor will he ever know if the boy and I are escorted from Lyndonia at moonset tomo
rrow. Call for me early. You will show me the child, and you and I will spend the day together while you make arrangements.”

  She nods, then looks up at the star-streaked sky. Her silver pendant is in her fingers again.

  “Do you understand the terms of our agreement?”

  “Yes,” she murmurs.

  In the tunnel, spine pressed against the damp stone, I gasp for air. Oxygen flows into my body and the trembling abates. Elise does not leave the waterway to return to her chambers for another ten minutes. I wait. When Tug does not show, I start to believe she wasn't expecting him, after all.

  Perhaps my presence in the tunnel had not scared her, because despite never willingly using her sight, the Duchess had still recognized the shape of my mind. This could be why her shock only came when she saw a small hooded figure clad in men's hunting furs, instead of the girl she was expecting.

  Twenty-Five

  Duchess Elise calls four hours before the late-morning sunrise. The moon has not set, but I am already dressed in a cobalt gray robe, which buttons at the front. It is the only clothing the Prince has chosen that I can put on without help.

  By the paleness of Elise’s skin, and shadows beneath her eyes, I see I am not the only one who has slept badly. My head feels like packed snow from last night's wine. Sleep, when it finally came, was heavy and deep, and has left me groggy and exhausted.

  But even with the general muffle over my senses, I have the impression we are being followed. Of course there are the two guards who accompany the Duchess, and two more discreetly trail me, but there is someone or something else lurking in the twilight of the mind-world, plucking at my attention.

  We wind through the fort, down narrow streets and enclosed courtyards, passing arches that peek through to the empty market square. A passing patrol of soldiers bow to the Duchess. They show no surprise at the sight of her wandering before the fort has risen, and I realize she is a woman with free rein, accustomed to being among her people and going where she chooses, when she chooses.

  Up ahead, two lookouts in the bell tower keep watch over the northern side of the lake. She stops before a low, freestanding structure with closed shutters. I work the frosty air in and out of my chest in an effort to remain calm, already stretching my senses to glean Kel's whereabouts.

  The Duchess opens the door to a workshop. She casts a look behind as we enter, and again I have the sense of someone there, though my inner eye touches no minds other than the assigned guards.

  The pottery workshop smells of wet clay and earthen minerals, mixed with a trace of the Duchess’s sweet berry perfume. A pottery wheel stands on one side near a cushioned bench. Drying racks are stacked against the walls, littered with sandy, bone-hard figurines, glazed vases, and prettily painted bowls.

  The Duchess closes us inside, lights a lantern and goes to a second door in a crevice at the back. Before turning the rusted key in its lock, she pauses.

  “I have a daughter, Claudia.” These are the first words she has spoken since last night and her voice sounds as gray and troubled as the dark moons beneath her eyes. “She is twelve years old. My son, Jules, is seven.” Her lips rise in an unauthentic smile.

  Inside me, the uneasy bud of paranoia I have carried here, blossoms. “Jules is third in line to the throne. When we thought Prince Jakut had been assassinated—”

  “You were concerned your husband and son would be next.”

  We must move the boys. She was talking about Kel and her own son.

  “Jules will be eight this year and is summoned to the Ruby Court to continue his education. I have done what was needed to protect my family.”

  Did the Duchess intend to send Kel with Jules to the Ruby palace to protect her son? Or had the Duke and Duchess bought Kel to take their son's place at the royal court once they heard Jakut was missing, presumed dead.

  The Duchess knows Kel's age means it will not be long before his glitter eyes settle. An Uru Ana would be able to travel through Jules’s memories, learn his world, his life and be presented to the Ruby Court as the King's Lyndonian nephew. If this was her plan, she must believe the attack on her son's life is inevitable, and fatal.

  The Duchess pushes open the low door, hands me her lantern and a key. “At the end of the passage you will be met by a door. Lock it behind you. When you reach the stairs, climb to the second floor. You will see only one way in. The key fits both doors.”

  The narrow handle for the lantern slips between my clammy fingers. Until last night, she intended to throw Kel into the wolfish intrigue and dangers of the Ruby Court.

  “You will inspect him and come straight back. Do not get caught.”

  The damp passage smells of mould and lichen, and is so narrow I have to push through sideways. Terrible images flood me. They are of my own making, as I am too afraid now to reach for Kel's mind. I can only think of getting to him, and holding him in my arms.

  The passage twists and I am forced to hunch with the sloping ceiling. Half-jogging half-walking, it seems like an eternity when the crack finally opens so I can straighten up.

  I am facing a rotted wooden door, bloated at the sides, damaged at the bottom. The key clatters as I turn it in the rusted lock, then the latch clicks, and I push. The door doesn't budge. I thrust against it hard, panic blanketing my logic.

  What if she has tricked me? Trapped me here. Left me to die in a place no one will ever think to look. I lunge with my shoulder over and over, until the warped bottom scrapes and splinters on flagstone. When the gap is wide enough, I squeeze through, the waist of my dress snagging on crumbling brick. Powdery mortar stains the cotton, but there is nothing I can do about that now.

  On the other side of the door, steps spiral up the tower. They are narrow and steep. I realize I'm inside a secret escape passage, hidden inside the tower's thick walls.

  Afraid I will not be able to open the door from this side, I ignore the Duchess’s instructions to lock it. A child could barely squeeze through the gap, and clearly it hasn't been used in many years.

  I cannot go fast enough up the stairs. A metal rail welded into the brick steadies my ascent, so I do not trip. The lantern in my other hand offers a dim bloom of light to guide me.

  I pay no attention to the two minds behind the door on the first floor. But on the second floor, when I sense Kel, I have to set the lantern down. I must appear steady and controlled, not a hyperventilating wreck. If I want him to listen to me and cooperate with the plan, I will need to win back his trust. I cannot do that if I shatter before him in a blubbering mess.

  The strangling sob of emotion ebbs as I take deep breaths. The Duchess is waiting for me. I cannot afford to delay any longer. I push down the latch and enter.

  Gray shadow drapes around the two slit windows. Only the faintest traces of moonlight illuminate the circular room. I hold up the lantern, shuffling towards where I sense Kel, almost tripping on an empty mattress, and tumbling into a desk. My eye catches the faint shape of a chamber pot, and a large jug of water. The toilet must be emptied regularly because only the faintest smell of urine catches in the dusty air.

  Kel hides in the darkest corner of the tower room. I peer into blackness, knowing he is there but unable to see him. And then he opens his eyes, and tiny flecks of gold sparkle.

  “Kel,” I say, my voice breaking, despite my efforts to keep it steady. He doesn't move, but stares as though lost in a strange, monstrous twilight. He knows it's me. Even if he can't believe his ears, he must believe the mind he senses. He knows the feel of my mind better than my face.

  I step a little closer, careful not to alarm him. Then I crouch. My eyes burn with tears as I smile. “It's me,” I say again. “It's Mirra. I followed you here. Tug sold me to another nobleman who was coming here on his way to the Red City. He knew it was the only way to ensure I wouldn't escape and try looking for you by myself.”

  “She couldn't escape.” The flatness of his voice wrenches my gut. Flat, and dead, and hopeless. “She wasn't strong en
ough.” He turns away and my composure crumbles.

  “Look at me, Kel.” I edge forward. “Look at me!” I want to touch him, I want to hold him so badly I can barely take the strain, but I can see he isn't ready. “You promised me you wouldn't give up. And I promised I would find you, no matter how long it took. I'm here. If I could take you with me now, I would. But I can't. Not yet. Not until tonight. I'm getting us out of here.”

  He shifts, unwraps from his blanket cocoon, and crawls out of the hole beneath crisscrossed beams. His legs and feet are bare and dirty. As he moves forward, squinting, the dim crack of half-light illuminates his face. It is bruised purple and blue where he has been beaten. My fist squeezes against my chest to hold in the pain. But when he drops the gray cover, I gasp. He's wearing a pair of cotton shorts, skin hanging off his bones, as though not a scrap of food has passed his lips in the last eight days. While I am fatter than ever.

  I blink but the tears are too abundant to hold back. They run down my cheeks leaving itchy salt trails. His eyes find mine. I manage to hold them. Just.

  He seems barely aware of the way his body shakes as he staggers forward, reaches for my hand, pushes up the laced cuff. Though the sores of my wrists have healed, the faint blisters and redness are still visible.

  There is a glimmer of realization in his eyes and then he collapses, flopping to the wooden floor as though the strings holding him up have all been cut. I sink down with him, pull the cover around his back, and hold on as though he were dangling from a cliff edge. He doesn't sob. Doesn't move.

  I smooth his hair, fingers avoiding the bruises and cuts. It is all I can do to stop my heart from shattering. I do not know how I will let him go, leave this room, leave him alone again. I speak quickly, making promises. I would promise him anything. I need him to believe freedom is possible. How could the Duchess allow this to happen?