SHADOW WEAVER

by Claire Merle

  The Queen's lip twitches in a sarcastic smile. “He has not vanished. Search the hall!”

  Sixe is still keeping me abreast of the Queen's actions, relaying what is happening inside the throne room by delving into one of the soldier's minds.

  I turn to face the secret door, bumping into the Prince and elbowing him out of my space.

  “Fine, we will do it your way,” I mutter, running trembling fingers across the panel. I find a thick bolt of metal at the top and fasten it across.

  “Why aren't you resting?” the Prince asks.

  “I was,” I say, bending to check whether there is a second bolt at the foot of the door. “Until Lady Calmi poisoned me.”

  I find another lock and struggle to wriggle it from its stuck position. I grunt with the effort. Reaching and crouching both put strain on my injury. The Prince squats down to help and together we get the bolt across.

  “Lady Calmi poisoned you,” he echoes in disbelief.

  “Yes, she is well versed in the art of poison.” I straighten, lean back against the door to rest a moment. He stands up beside me.

  “It is my fault,” he says. “She is as rotten as her grandfather. And I was in love with her.” I do not see him reach out, but suddenly his cool hand touches my forehead. “You have a temperature.”

  I remove his hand. “It is imperative the Queen does not find you with me,” I say. “Stop this and come with us.”

  First, he ignores me in the throne room, and now he acts as though I'm the only living person in Ederiss. What is the matter with him?

  I startle at the sound of banging on the nearby walls.

  “They are searching the hall for a concealed passage,” Tug says. “If you have finished nursing Mirra, perhaps we can go.”

  In the darkness Tug cannot see how close the Prince stands, his arm brushing my side, but I flush.

  “You said I am yet to accomplish my most difficult task.” Jakut speaks, ignoring Tug entirely. “What task?”

  The thump of metal on the walls grows closer. Then there is a thud on the secret panel. Beyond the door a soldier shouts they have found something.

  “Jakut, please, we must go.”

  “Tell me, Mirra. Tell me what kind of world I live in that such evil could ever be justified.”

  “Lord Strik believes you have betrayed the Carucan army and your father to marry his granddaughter and become King. He has helped you because he plans to be your puppeteer and the true ruler of Caruca.”

  The door shudders against my back as men thrust against it. Tiny pieces of soil and brick crumble from the passage ceiling.

  “You need him to believe in your self-serving ignorance,” I continue, “and for him to think he has won. Then he will not suspect your true intention.”

  “And what is my true intention?”

  The door panel judders against my back and then the thumping abruptly stops. “To kill him,” I whisper into the silence.

  In the mind-world Queen Usas stands on the other side of the secret door. She runs a hand across an invisible seam.

  “Send for the palace architect,” she says to her officer. “I want to know where this passage leads.”

  “Yes, Your Royal Highness.” He calls to another soldier and sends him to fetch the architect.

  “What is the meaning of this?” she says to herself.

  At the far end of the throne room there is a clamour. She turns. The soldier sent for the architect runs down the hall. He bows to her but addresses the officer when he speaks.

  “The throne room doors are locked.”

  The Queen pales. Her hand moves protectively over her round belly. “How? Who has done this?” she demands.

  “Guardsman Astex says he saw Councillor Lucas accompanied by a dozen foot soldiers when we were all searching for the passage.”

  A hand squeezes my shoulder. “Mirra,” the Prince says. “Why is killing Lord Strik so important?”

  I blink into the darkness, disorientated.

  “The Queen and her entourage are locked in the throne room,” I murmur. We knew Strik had infiltrated the Ruby Palace, but I am shocked men from the royal army could turn against the Queen so swiftly, and without the Prince leading the uprising.

  “The Queen will think I have set her a trap.”

  “We must leave the palace at once.” Tug's voice startles me, rousing me back to my senses.

  “We cannot leave the Queen,” I say.

  “You must,” the Prince says. “It is too late to save her. Strik has five thousand men camped at the edge of the city, waiting for my signal. The note I showed you, I received it from him this morning. He means to kill Queen Usas and my unborn half-brother or sister.”

  “You must order her arrest,” I say, “Imprison her. Delay Strik's plans.”

  “What have I done?” His lamenting voice is muffled as though his face is buried in his hands.

  “There is no time for regret,” I say.

  “Strik has already sent men to attack Lyndonia, and kill my cousins. He will show no mercy to the Queen.”

  His words are like a punch in the throat. My mind rejects what he has said, refuses to believe it, while my body struggles to breathe.

  “It is in his letter,” Jakut continues. “He thinks I brought the Duke here to clear the way for a siege against Lyndonia. He plans to wipe out all heirs to the throne so no one can raise an army against me.”

  Kel! I thrust the Prince out of my way. We must leave!

  The Prince sinks into the wall. I elbow past him, tripping into Tug. Tug catches me and holds on. “Kel,” I whisper to Tug. “What if Elise uses Kel to save her son?”

  Forty-Three

  Tug's gravelly voice is an anchor, holding my mind, preventing the waves of panic from sweeping it away.

  “The Duke has not left his spouse and children,” he says, “or his people and his fort unprotected. And Lord Strik has not prepared this attack. He may take advantage of the Duke's absence, but it is unlikely he has many men up north, if an army five thousand strong gathers on the outskirts of the city.”

  His words are designed to rally me. They are no more a guarantee of Kel's safety than the paper lanterns released during the Carucan ceremony of departing will guarantee the King's safe passage among the stars to the Carucan gods. But his logic grounds me, sets my thoughts in motion. How many men could Strik have up north if the original plan was to bring them here? Pockets of hired mercenaries could hardly raise a successful assault against Lyndonia. And how long will it take the troops to muster?

  “Lyndonia is one of Caruca's most impenetrable forts,” Tug continues. “Difficult to access, difficult to scale. It could hold off an attack for weeks. We will send a carrier pigeon warning Elise, so that the Duke's army is prepared. You have kept your end of the bargain and she will keep hers. Kel will not be harmed.”

  I take a deep breath and nod. I have to hope his faith in the Duchess is warranted.

  A flutter of light deep in the tunnel catches my attention. Tug falls silent. A flame casts shadows through the darkness. A reedy figure approaches carrying a lantern. In the mind-world I see the passage opening into a dilapidated ballroom. Sixe has been checking our way out.

  “It is Sixe,” I say. “The passage to the ballroom is clear. Let's go.” Raising my skirt, I hurry through the damp tunnel towards Sixe. Tug jogs behind, followed by the light step of the Prince.

  We advance in silence. At the end of the passage, Sixe hides the lantern from wherever he has found it, and leads us through the labyrinth of corridors, stairways and bridges to my chambers.

  At one point we pass an enormous arched window. I glance out and see white flags waving from balconies and windows, tearing at their poles as though they sense the danger rumbling through the palace.

  Raised voices rebound and echo through the internal corridors. A soldier stops us on a narrow stairway, but when he recognizes the Prince, he steps aside, bowing.

  I knock on my chamber door so as
not to alarm Calmi. She opens with a collected, calm expression. But when she sees the Prince is with us, there is a shift in her cool blue eyes.

  “Mirra,” Jakut says, “please allow me to speak with you alone.”

  I nod. Tug and Sixe enter my chambers. I close the door so we cannot be overheard.

  “Lady Calmi,” I begin, “does not know about your condition. She was raised by Lord Strik, but you trusted her and now we must hope that you have chosen your confidante well.”

  “Who is Kel?” His voice cuts the air like shattering glass. I inhale, glance at the tawny gold ruffles of the dress I hurriedly put on before Tug and I left my chambers to find Jakut.

  The time has come for the truth. “Kel is my brother. I was not alone when Tug and Brin took me hostage in Blackfoot Forest.” I raise my eyes to meet the Prince. Has he known about Kel ever since that day in the Pit? Is this why he carries a sketch of him?

  His eyes narrow slightly, then his brow lifts a little. As though something has finally fallen into place.

  “I have discovered the truth about the attack on your escort and the betrayal of the Carucan army,” I continue. “Now I must get my brother home.” He stares at me until I look away. “I was never supposed to be part of your plan.”

  “Why would I hurt so many to kill Lord Strik?”

  “He is a dark force that will swallow up this kingdom if he cannot be stopped. Calmi will tell you more. Perhaps talking to her will help unbury your memories. I wish you luck.” I step back from him and turn towards my chambers.

  “I will never see you again—”

  A memory rears up in the mind-world halting my retreat. I see myself through the Prince's eyes. He is crouching in front of me, inspecting a cut on my neck. It is the day Tug and I followed him to the Hybourg inn and offered my services.

  Except in the Prince's memory, the contours of my face are softer, my eyes sadder. It is not how I appear when I look at my reflection. Then the memory is replaced by another.

  He is leaping from his stallion, drawing his sword, shouting as he runs towards a man with scales sewn into his skin. The bird-man sits on top of my prostrate figure, hands around my throat.

  Through the Prince's eyes I see myself struggling, face sunk in mud, feel the thundering of his heart, the odd pain in his chest.

  In the real world I reach for my neck, swallow down the lump in my throat.

  “If I kill Strik and return the Queen to the throne,” Jakut says, “will you come back?”

  I force myself to look at him. Since the night Tug and Brin snatched Kel, I have not considered what I will do when this is over. I used to imagine when Kel's eyes settled and my parents moved to an outskirt settlement, I would find my childhood friend, Asmine. I imagined joining my people in the Sea of Trees. I saw myself exploring the world. Now my future only stretches as far as Kel in my mother's arms.

  “I do not belong here,” I say.

  A clamour below my little cliff turret echoes in the halls. Four soldiers appear on my inner-eye, climbing a winding staircase. Suddenly, six other soldiers, bearing long knives, swoop into them. The attack is swift and bloody. Close combat and little space impedes the use of swords. The man whose mind Sixe has entered, cries out. He raises his drawn sword, blood pouring down his fist. Silver flashes before his eyes. A knife presses against his throat.

  “Where is the Prince?”

  The soldier stutters and shakes his head.

  Trembling, I open my chambers and push Prince Jakut inside. Tug is by the door, a sharp look in his eye that tells me he is ready for anything. Sixe stands in a corner, staring at nothing. Lady Calmi watches the Prince.

  “They are getting close to us in their search for you,” I say to Jakut as I hurry to my trunk. I throw everything out until I find my skin trousers and a tunic.

  “Who?”

  “Those working for Strik, or for the Queen, I don't know. They all wear the same uniform.”

  Calmi swoops towards the Prince as I bundle up trousers and shirt.

  “We must go to the departing ceremony,” she says to him. “Show them you are alive. You must stop the fighting before Grandfather gets here.”

  Tug stands with the door cracked open to watch the corridor. I loop my bundle over my shoulder and join him.

  “Ready?” he says.

  I nod. The hollering and rumbles of the palace are growing closer. The Queen's most trusted entourage may be locked in the throne room, but others still fight against the orders of Councillor Lucas and Lord Strik. I glance back and the Prince catches my eye. I am sorry, I whisper in my mind. But I have done all I can.

  Lady Calmi leans in and murmurs to him. I use the distraction to slip away.

  I do not possess Sixe's knowledge of the Ruby Court, so finding our way down the five levels of the palace to the external walls will depend on guesswork and luck.

  I lead Tug through a leafy garden to avoid four men headed in our direction. We cross a bridge, and climb over a balcony, keeping low until we reach an external stairway.

  “There is a guard at the bottom,” I tell Tug, twisting my knife in my sweaty palm as we descend. I gesture for him to wait, tuck the knife up the wide sleeve of my dress, and rush down the last of the curved steps.

  The guard spins round. At the sight of a sixteen-year-old girl in a pretty silk dress, he relaxes.

  “What is happening?” I ask, breathlessly.

  “Go back to your chambers and wait, My Lady.”

  “Is the palace under attack?”

  “Go back to your chambers,” he says.

  I move towards him. “But I'm afraid.”

  “You are safest in your chambers.” He reaches for the hilt of his sword but makes no effort to draw it. He is trying to scare me into complying with his order. I inch closer.

  “What is all the shouting?” I ask. When I am less than an arm's length away, I stamp the heel of my boot down his shin. He howls and lashes out to grab me. I dart from his grasping hands.

  Tug descends, bounding through the terrace. The soldier, in his panic, struggles to remove his sword from its scabbard. He is too slow. The punch comes fast. A bone-cracking noise pops the air. The guard’s head snaps to the side. He reels, tumbles to his knees, and drops forward onto a stone pot, knocking himself out.

  We don't need to waste time hiding the unconscious soldier. Sounds of fighting and shouting are now coming from all directions and levels of the palace.

  “Let me go ahead next time,” Tug says, stepping around him.

  I am exhausted, in pain and praying to the Gods there isn't going to be a next time. At least until we are away from the Red City.

  “We're going to get out of here, aren't we?” I ask.

  “Of course we are,” he says.

  Without thinking I reach for my lodestone necklace. Then I remember Kel has it.

  I am not abandoning the Prince, I tell myself as we move on. I am leaving for my brother.

  Forty-Four

  I thought I knew what death was. I had seen it over and over in my father's memories after he killed the mercenaries who stole Asmine. A soldier and three bird-men died during the attack yesterday, one right before my eyes. But this is different.

  In the mind-world the sky has cracked and the heavens rage. A storm of memories shake like thunder. Memories so vivid, so detailed, moving faster than an arrow in flight. As though in the last moments of death, every detail of the life lived is emptied out and left behind. I stumble after Tug, half-blind and overwhelmed by so much information.

  The first level of the palace is an open network of halls, libraries, galleries and reception rooms. Spaces are separated by Corinthian columns, arcades, and windows. Mirrors on the walls reflect light into the deepest recesses.

  Tug stops. The clashing swords and cries and shouts of the real world trickle through my awareness. I lean against a wall as he peers around it to check the arcade ahead.

  It's then I notice a soldier slumped against the oppos
ite wall. He has dragged himself from the fighting leaving a trail of red smears across the veined marble. His eyes are open, his breathing labored. His hand presses against his chest wound.

  As I stare, his body shudders and his hand slips slowly to his side. A fork of lightning passes through me. It takes only a second, but his whole life flashes on my inner-eye. Everything he has ever experienced. Each act of selfishness, cruelty, consideration, kindness. And not only from his own perspective, but the same events from the perspectives of all the lives he has touched for better or for worse. It is over in an instant.

  I come to myself, huddled on the floor. The soldier's empty eyes stare across the dim corridor. I gaze back in shock. Tug is speaking, but I cannot command my body to one place, one time, one viewpoint from which to understand the world. It is as though I have been spread across a thousand lives.

  “Mirra, stay with me.” I try to look at him but my eyes are locked on the soldier. “Mirra, can you hear me?”

  “He was Uru Ana,” I whisper. From the corner of my vision I see Tug's face shift to take in the dead soldier. “In death, he became Uru Ana.”

  Tug's large, strong hand wraps around mine, and he pulls me away from the carnage. Movement drives me back to my body, my heaving chest, the cumbersome dress, the weariness of my muscles, the ache in my ribs.

  A smell of burning oils and flowers wafts through the hall we have entered, replacing the scent of death. I grow more aware of our surroundings. The ceiling is vaulted, the windows pastel colored.

  “On guard!” I hiss, pulling Tug's wrist. He raises his sword. At the same moment two soldiers appear at the other end of the hall. Their uniforms are stained and tattered. Specks of blood color their pale cheeks. They jog towards us.

  “Whom do you fight for?” One of them demands.

  “The Baroness of Tersil,” Tug answers. I step out from behind Tug's huge frame.

  “Take her back to her chambers. The palace has been closed.”

  “Closed on whose command?” Tug asks.