Maylene considered herself lucky to arrive prepared this time. Fabric laced with perfume was stuffed up each nostril and long hair bound into a bun so tight her scalp ached. She lowered a sealed lantern onto one rock and settled vinegar-soaked cloth around her mouth, tying the fabric into place. Though not particularly pleasant, it achieved the desired result in warding the overpowering fecal stench. Maylene only prayed she could remove it fast enough if the urge to vomit arose.
Hoisting her lantern in one hand, she grasped stone bricks crusted with mold and hauled herself into the drain, smacking soiled boots through sloshing waste. Maylene wriggled fingers laced with fungus and wiped furry green residue onto her trousers. Breathing pungent, shallow breaths, she trekked onward into the underground maze. Orange flickers bathed walls smoothed by churning liquids over the centuries.
During initial reconnaissance, Maylene found herself hoping the drainage pipes were too narrow for a human to crawl through. Infiltrating the galen academy via this route did not appeal to her sensibilities. Though like everything else in Starwatch, the sewer system was engineered with grandeur in mind. She walked upright without scraping the curved ceiling and could stretch both arms outward yet fail to brush fingertips against slippery bricks.
Maylene discovered the first marking made by her hand earlier this month, scratched into bricks using chalk. The vibrant white shade faded much during the interval, and she feared a crucial turn might be missed if a rainstorm had washed one away entirely. As she discovered earlier, many passages had collapsed into rubble unable to admit anything larger than a scurrying rat. Holding the lantern before her eyes, she slogged onward at a sluggish pace.
Yellowed bones caked in slime bulged from turbid waste at her feet. Maylene wondered if creatures lurked in these narrow caverns, hunting unsuspecting prey. Certain species of carnivorous hraduls were rumored to inhabit sewers and abandoned underground tunnels. The last thing she needed was to blunder into a pack of the aggressive and oft poisonous canines. She lowered one hand until it touched a sweat-stained dagger grip hitched to her belt, poised to blindly slash iron when the first growl sounded.
Pale streaks etched onto walls led her through unfamiliar passageways, each looking indistinguishable from the others. Finally she reached the chosen entry point under Starwatch, silently thankful no surging waters had erased her handiwork. An awaiting rope dangled from the chute above, one curled end soaking in viscid fluids. Maylene secured the lantern to her belt and tested the line with a harsh tug. Seizing coiled hemp in both hands, she wedged boots into holes gouged through stone and ascended. Muscles burned within her shoulders and arms, screaming for respite through each grueling inch higher. An eternity languishing in agony passed within her mind until she reached the shaft’s zenith.
Maylene released the rope and slapped one hand atop a moist ledge, bracing her feet upon protruding bricks. She heaved despite anguish creeping through exhausted limbs until both forearms rested atop the edge and her head peeked over. Blinking sweat from squinted eyes, she glimpsed Kimiko waiting against a refectory table used by scullery staff. The girl noticed her plight and hurried closer, clasping small hands around Maylene’s wrists. She jammed her shoes against stone and yanked, tugging Maylene higher.
“Drag harder, damn it.”
“I’m…trying,” Kimiko groaned.
Rutted bricks scoured Maylene’s stomach and bashed into her thighs, shredding thin fabric and slicing tender skin across one kneecap. She flopped over the chute and Kimiko sprawled backward onto terracotta tiles stained in discordant hues. Maylene toppled into a graceless pile atop the girl and an onrush of air fled Kimiko’s lungs. Her lantern clattered against the floor, dislodging melted wax and snuffing its flame. Only an oil lamp brought by Kimiko kept darkness at bay.
Maylene ripped the rag off her mouth and plucked fabric from both nostrils. Rolling aside and gulping deep breaths, she climbed upright and unsheathed a knife. Maylene staggered back to the chute and sawed through knots Kimiko fastened, severing hempen rope to crumple amid forgotten waste below. She stabbed the dagger into its scabbard and turned around, still hampered by numbing muscles.
Kimiko stood nearby with a hand pressed beneath her nose, attempting not to gag and only partially attaining the aim.
“It’s worse down there,” Maylene muttered.
“I’d prefer not to know.”
Maylene hacked a dry cough, spewing soot outward like wispy clouds. Surfaces were dusted in pale ash and scarred by black scorch marks. Stoneware chunks littered tiles at her feet, having presumably ruptured from the heat. “Damn this place looks awful.”
Kimiko nodded while eyeing ruined surroundings, though chose not to speak.
“Thanks for starting a bonfire in here. Scheme worked like a charm. Don’t tell me part of you didn’t feel a thrill playing arsonist. Everyone loves fire.”
“I’m just glad no one was hurt.” She handed Maylene a lumpy cloth rolled tight, breathing loudly through her gaping mouth.
“Go wait for me in the adept residences. And remember, you help us pull this off and come tomorrow you’ll have enough riches to finish your studies.”
Kimiko nodded and pointed at one wall. “Make sure you stay quiet. The kitchen is on the other side. This is the only room we’re not supposed to be in.”
“I’ll be gone from here in another minute.”
She lifted her lamp and glanced over a shoulder. “You’ll be fine without light?”
“I live in darkness.”
Once Kimiko withdrew from sight, Maylene stripped naked and pitched foul smelling clothes and boots soaked in watery excrement down the chute. Wrapping her dead lantern in oilcloth from the sack to muffle noise, she lobbed it down next and stepped back. She wiped dirty hands on a spare cloth and unfurled the bag Kimiko brought, revealing a fresh wardrobe and padded moccasins. Maylene dressed in haste, finished fastening each button and unbound her hair. She looped a weapons belt around her waist last, the only possession to remain.
A subtle putrid aroma lingered, though that could not be helped. She tossed her cluttered haversack over one shoulder and set out for higher floors, bringing wonderful stenches as a souvenir.
*
Aryll sipped sweet plum nectar and strolled curving brick pathways. Twin moons illumined a clear night sky decorated in entwined constellations. Musicians serenaded attendees with sorrowful songs on stringed harps and zithers to symbolize bereavement following sunset. Livelier, celebratory pieces would come later in the evening, proclaiming faith in the sun’s everlasting rebirth.
Elsewhere acrobats performed to the delight of onlookers, whirling blades and torches while balanced on wobbly stilts. Though never a devout worshiper of Adonas, Aryll loved this festival. Her home community in Prydin’s Domain had nothing in comparison to the Eclipsing Radiance. This was her sixth year experiencing the Fete, and each seemed grander than the last.
“Learner Aryll!”
She halted to survey milling throngs and a hundred indistinct conversations. Finally an upraised arm snagged her attention toward three figures standing beneath the southern gate. A tower crowned by the rising sun emblazoned the surcoat worn by a guard, and beside him stood two familiar guests. Aryll finished her drink and placed the glass on a tray carried by one roving server. Making certain no liquid stained her lips, she sauntered through the crowds and approached Fendrel.
“Ah, lovely to see you again, my dear.” He cast a satisfied smirk at the sentry. “She’ll vouch for us.”
The guard arched an inquisitive brow. “Do you know this man and woman?”
“I do,” she said. “Fendrel Ornaen and his associate Blaer Sororssa.” Aryll turned to the other woman and felt her eyes widen at the sight of rough scars tracing over Blaer’s face. “Are you okay? What happened to you?”
“I decided to have one too many drinks several nights ago,” she answered. “Fell down a flight of stairs trying to reach my room.”
“Ouch.”
“Wasn’t my finest hour.”
The guard interjected by clearing his throat with a guttural hack. “I’m relieved to hear they’ve been honest with me. And their tale of a donation?”
“All true,” confirmed Aryll. “Their wealthy employer wants to give his collection to us before passing away. I helped catalogue the first shipment they brought.”
“And you’ve been asked to do the same for their second?”
“What? Not that I’ve heard. I didn’t even know they’d be here tonight.”
Fendrel reached within his jacket and produced an envelope. “I suspect these instructions were never adequately conveyed to you. An understandable oversight, given the preparations necessary to hosting a festival of this scale. Our task is a mundane one easily forgotten.”
Aryll accepted parchment, eyed a broken seal and unfolded the letter. Frustration boiled through her chest with each additional word. The world was conspiring to ruin her evening.
“What does it say?” questioned the guard.
“It’s addressed to Fendrel and signed by the Headmaster. After the usual formalities welcoming him back to Starwatch, Professor Chaereas is instructing me to extend the same courtesies as before and accompany their donations into the library.” She flicked green eyes beyond the sheet toward Fendrel. “Personally.”
“We found your company most agreeable,” he affirmed.
Aryll closed her eyes to banish mounting annoyance. However justified, insulting visitors would reflect poorly on her suitability as a student. Only when confident her voice would not sound angry did she speak. “Why does it need to be tonight? Come back in the morning and I’ll be happy to help.”
“I’m afraid we cannot. Blaer and I booked passage with a caravan departing at sunrise tomorrow. I fear our benefactor doesn’t have many days left and we can’t tarry longer. There are matters relating to his estate that must be dealt with before he passes on.”
“Then why didn’t you come yesterday?”
“Our shipment was regrettably delayed en route, owing to poor weather on the Amaranthine Sea. The crate only arrived earlier today. I was content to contact your order and instruct you where to retrieve the donation on our behalf, but the harbor master refused the suggestion. After confiscating the delivery, he was adamant I alone could claim our property and have it released.” Fendrel offered a sympathetic smile. “I understand this is a celebratory night you’re eager to enjoy. I would not impinge on your evening unless I had no other choice.”
The sentry folded arms atop his tabard and eyed Aryll. “What do you want to do, Learner?”
“Damn it.” She slapped the letter back into Fendrel’s hand and sighed. “I’ll take responsibility and escort them into the library.”
“As you wish.” The guard turned and beckoned with a gloved hand. In response his compatriot hauled one crate through the entry on squeaking wheels and dumped it alongside Aryll. “We’ll need to verify its contents.”
“By all means,” Fendrel responded. “We’ve nothing to hide.”
Starwatch guards lifted a wooden lid and leaned it against the crate. They reached within and pawed through tomes, scrolls and loose parchment, sifting deeper to uncover still more artifacts. Satisfied with their search, both guards latched the lid in place again.
One turned to his comrade. “Should we find the Headmaster and confirm if he wants the donation to happen tonight?”
“Not on your life,” replied the other. “He’s readying his welcome speech. I won’t be the one to disturb him with some petty question.”
“Neither will I. Guess that settles it.”
He offered a cursory nod to Aryll and they returned to their posts.
“Thank you for assisting us yet again,” Fendrel remarked. “And I am sorry for intruding on this night.”
“I’m only depositing your donation in the library,” she explained. “I don’t care what the letter instructs me to do, we aren’t sorting your books or wandering the floors. Not tonight. I’ll do it on my own tomorrow.”
“I mean no disrespect, but should you brush aside the Professor’s directions without consulting him?”
“When did you receive the letter from Headmaster Chaereas?”
“Eight days ago.”
“Then he didn’t anticipate I’d be forfeiting my time at the Fete to help you. He’ll be fine with my decision.”
“Of course. I understand.”
Aryll nudged her thumb at donations perched atop the trolley. “And guest or not, you’re lugging the crate this time.”
Fendrel smirked and wriggled fingers wrapped in ermine. “A fitting punishment.”
Shoving through swarms of revelers with a wheeled contrivance in tow proved maddening and languid. Aryll did her darnedest to move bodies aside, though few listened to a teenage student not wearing galen robes. She mouthed words of thanksgiving upon finally reaching Starwatch Tower itself. Attendees mingled among the artificial ponds and streams, sipping drinks and nibbling sweetmeats on arched bridges. Aryll cleared a route in less time and soon reached the lift, where Fendrel showed his letter to the sentries and gained admission. She grasped one velvet cord from a multitude and yanked, signifying to muscled servants stationed in the basement to commence hauling. Part of her felt guilty forcing these unnamed workers to labor on this night when they could instead be resting.
They ascended Starwatch to the sixth floor without conversing beyond strained pleasantries. Aryll felt no desire to be forced into a task that felt more like a punishment, and she suspected her disappointment was not lost on Fendrel and Blaer. Whether their silence indicated respect or embarrassment meant nothing to her so long as dialogue was stifled. She planned to finish this chore in haste, escort the interlopers back outside and return to enjoying her night. Like she should be doing now.
Once the lift groaned to a halt, Aryll unbolted the door and shoved it ajar, strolling into a deserted library. “Drag your trolley behind me and let’s get this over with.”
“I see we caught you on a bad evening,” Fendrel said.
“No, you caught me on the worst possible evening.” Aryll stopped alongside a shelf and massaged her forehead. “I’m sorry. I know our current debacle isn’t exactly your fault. And ordinarily I’d be fine doing this again. I actually enjoyed our time together before. But I look forward to this night all year long.”
“I understand our little detour is not something you wish to be doing. We’ll try to make it painless for you, if possible.”
“The Fete is an impressive spectacle from what I saw,” Blaer remarked. “Do you have a favorite element?”
Aware she was simply trying to be nice, Aryll smiled. “The decempraelium. It’s a choreographed fight between ten dancers in time with drummers. Trust me, there’s nothing else like it. You can always stay if you wish. The festival is open to everyone.”
“Perhaps we will,” replied Fendrel. “Though we shouldn’t remain long into the night if we hope to wake in time for our caravan tomorrow morning.”
“You won’t regret losing a little sleep to watch the display. It’s mesmerizing.”
“Sounds as though we may need to remain at least for this performance, if nothing else.”
“There’ll also be select readings from the works of admired philosophers and orators. You might enjoy that, Fendrel. Since you implied an appreciation during our last trip here.”
Aryll glanced over one shoulder when she no longer heard creaking wheels. Fendrel and Blaer stood atop an empty stretch of marble floor, leaning the crate’s lid against one desk. Blaer’s lantern perched atop its surface while Fendrel started retrieving contents from within the container.
Aryll clamped down on her tongue and strode closer. She was trying to be nice and forgiving. Caving to her budding anger would not solve this issue. She needed to be firm but calm, similar to the likeable professors. “I told you we aren’t cataloguing all your donations tonight.” Aryll bent down and retrieved a tome in one
hand. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t have the patience for it. Toss everything back inside and I’ll deal with this in the morning.”
“I’m afraid that won’t do,” Fendrel declared.
“What difference does it make—”
Aryll uttered a shrill cry as a hand gripped her hair from behind and wrenched backward. Razor iron pressed against her exposed throat and Aryll struggled to swallow. Her fingers crept apart, releasing the book to bounce atop unfurled scrolls. Warm breaths brushed over one ear as a shiver snaked down Aryll’s spine. A lingering stench of filth and decay wafted through the air.
“I wouldn’t choose to be skittish if I were you,” rasped a woman’s voice. “This edge is awfully sharp.”
Aryll shifted widening eyes to the others, dismayed to glimpse a lack of surprise on their unruffled features. “Fendrel…?”
“Doesn’t take directions from you. This is my show now. Fendrel, be a dear and bind the girlie.”
He stepped toward the lid and hammered one boot against its surface, smashing through wooden planks. Crouching on the ground, he ripped fragments aside and drew forth cord nestled within. Fendrel unrolled coiled rope, brushed off splinters and pulled her away from the unknown woman. He placed Aryll’s arms behind her back, knotting slender wrists together. “Sorry, lass. Do as you’re bid and there won’t be excessive unpleasantness.”
“Are…are you going to kill me?”
Fendrel turned her around gently and stared into her moistening eyes. “The plan is for no one to die. Yourself included. Cooperation and silence will keep you alive tonight.”
Aryll settled on the floor in a cross-legged position at his urging while Fendrel tied her rope to one desk. Pale moonlight peered through windows, mingling with a solitary lantern to illumine the unknown woman’s features. Black hair dampened by sweat clung to her flushed skin above hostile almond-shaped eyes.
Fendrel faced the strange woman and lifted his lips in a smile. “How was your entry, my dear? Invigorating, I’d imagine. If the smell is anything to go on, that is.”
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