Rosemarked

by Livia Blackburne

  I know I must return to Mehtap’s villa. My potions are there, as is Diadem, and I’ll have a much better chance of making it through anything if I have them both with me. Beyond that though, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t leave without Dineas, but I have no idea how I can help him.

  The shadowy walls of the rosemarked compound materialize in the darkness. Not for the first time, I wish more of Dineas could have rubbed off on me. I’ve never broken into anything in my life, and my gown isn’t suited for scaling walls. Still, I’ve seen him climb the compound walls before, and I remember some windows at the villa that never fully closed.

  I skirt the compound at a distance, trying to catch a glimpse of the guards. I’ve walked a quarter of the way around when I’m set upon by a flurry of wings. I bite down on an exclamation as a familiar weight settles on my shoulder. It’s Scrawny. Preener lands on the ground in front of me. And on my arm is…Slicewing?

  “Slicewing, where’s Dineas?”

  She stretches her wings at the name. I don’t know what that means.

  “Slicewing, find Dineas.”

  She takes off without hesitation, angling toward the city, and I call her back before she goes too far. And now, I start to feel a spark of hope. If her confidence is any sign, then perhaps I’ll be able to find him after all.

  A guard rounds the corner of the compound, and I freeze. He is not in a hurry, nor does he look particularly alert. My heartbeat quickens. If I want to scale the wall, then this is my opening. I gather my skirts as he nears the next corner. When he disappears from view, I run for it. The three crows take flight silently behind me. I whisper for them to scout, and they fan out to the sides.

  The wall is as high as my head, and my first jump isn’t enough for me to get a good grip. I back up and try again, and the second time I clamber over, scratching my already wounded arm in the process. In a few moments, I drop down onto the other side. There’s nobody in view, though I hear the occasional shout in the distance. I take off again, and the crows fly back and forth around me. At one point, I hear a caw to my left, so I turn right and continue that way for a while before circling back.

  Finally, I see the walls of Mehtap’s villa. I know there are guards at the door to the courtyard, so I circle around to the kitchen on the other side. There’s a window here with broken shutters that don’t completely close, and I feel around the edges for the telltale opening. It’s there. I give the entire shutter a push. It pops open with a crack that sounds impossibly loud, and I freeze, my heart in my throat. But no one comes running, and I scramble inside. I can hear the snoring of servants sleeping next door. I waste no time hurrying up the stairs.

  The door to my room stands ajar, and I see right away that someone has been through my things. My trunk is open, and my clothes are scattered all over the floor and bed. I go first to Diadem’s cage and breathe a sigh of relief when I see the moonlight reflecting off her scales. She stirs when I open the cage, and she crawls up my arm before I even whistle. I’ll have to feed her soon.

  But first, I turn my attention back to my belongings. Everything’s in disarray, although it doesn’t look like much has been taken. I find my bag next to my bed, as well as my blowgun and darts. My vials of potions have been moved around, but they haven’t been poured out. I’m stuffing it all in the bag when the creak of a door in the corridor catches my attention. I freeze and look around for a place to hide, but there’s nothing large enough to block me from view.

  I definitely hear footsteps now, and they’re getting louder. The glow of lamplight leaks under the door, and then my doorknob turns. Light floods in and I find myself face-to-face with Mehtap.

  She is still in her sleeping gown, and her hair is plaited for the night. Her mouth opens.

  I pull her in and close the door. “Make no sound, Mehtap. I have Diadem on my arm and I have nothing to lose.”

  Mehtap stares at me with a mixture of grogginess and surprise. “Zivah, how did you get out?”

  “Quiet.” I can’t have her alerting the guards. I’ll have to tie her up until morning. I must have rope somewhere….

  Mehtap looks at Diadem on my arm. “Would you really kill me, Zivah?” she says evenly. “Were you never a true friend at all?”

  Her words strip bare my hypocrisy. For the last days, I’ve been horrified at Mehtap’s betrayal when I’ve done worse to her, using her friendship and her trust against her father and her empire. “I’m sorry,” I say, and the words are heavy on my tongue. “We could have been friends, I think, if things had been different.”

  She searches my face. “But why? Why would you do this?”

  It’s a question that’s hard enough to answer in the light of day, much less in the middle of the night, surrounded by enemies. “The rosemarked are not the only people Ampara treads on,” I say. “I didn’t want to lie to you, but I had to help my people.”

  “And what will you do now? Are you going back to your people? Will you take Dineas with you?”

  I don’t answer. I’ve already told her more than I should have.

  Mehtap sets her jaw. “Answer me one thing. Why didn’t you tell my father that I killed Kurosh?”

  And here my breath leaves me. I’d wondered the same thing. “I don’t know. I suppose I just couldn’t do it.”

  And finally she falls silent. The urgency of our situation presses upon me once again, and I look around for something to use as a rope.

  Mehtap’s voice is sad when she speaks again. “If you’re trying to tie me up, I have cords in my room,” she says. “Or you could trust me, and I could help you.”

  I falter at her words. “Why should I trust you?”

  “You didn’t tell my father, and so I am indebted to you.” She lets out a frustrated breath. “Do you think I care whether you’re loyal to Ampara? Swear to me that you won’t hurt my father, and I’ll show you how to get into the palace, where Dineas is imprisoned.”

  Given what she’s done, I’ve no reason to doubt her lack of patriotism. Still, I can’t make that promise. “There’s to be a war, Mehtap. People will die on both sides.”

  “Yes, I know what happens in war,” she snaps. I wonder if she’s guessed my role in the Shidadi ambush, and if she blames me for it. “But swear on your Goddess you won’t raise your hand against my father, or let your friend Dineas harm him. Promise me that you’ll leave the city as soon as you can.”

  “And why would you trust me to keep my promises?”

  Mehtap lets out a sad laugh. “You’re the only friend I had in here,” she says. “I must trust you, otherwise I have nothing else to hope for.”

  I stare at her, and something twists within me.

  “I haven’t screamed for the guards yet, have I?” she says quietly.

  She falls silent, eyes fixed on Diadem as she awaits my response. And I realize that I understand what she means. It might not be the wisest thing to accept her help, but it is as she said. We were friends during my brief stay in the rosemarked compound. And if I can’t believe that bond was real, then I don’t know what else I could trust.

  “I swear on the honor of my Goddess,” I say. “If I can get to Dineas, we will leave the city. And I won’t harm your father, nor will I allow Dineas to do so.”

  There’s a space of one breath, and Mehtap nods. “Come with me to my room.”

  When I don’t move, she lets out a huff. “By the gods, Zivah. Put that snake on me if you must.”

  In the end, I don’t put Diadem on her, though I stay close to Mehtap as we file silently down the corridor. Once we’re in her bedroom, I close the door and lock it.

  Mehtap rummages through a box in front of her mirror and takes out a small jar. “It’s not exactly your skin tone, but if you use it at night, it should disguise your rosemarks just fine.” She drops it into my outstretched hand, and then she fetches the gown I borrowed from her for the equinox festival.

  “On the north end of the palace gardens is a small gate with a faulty lock. T
hey don’t fix it because the young aristocrats use it to sneak in and out. The guards turn a blind eye toward the occasional nighttime adventure. They won’t give you trouble if you look the part.” She presses the gown into my arms. Then she takes my hand in hers. “Please don’t remember the worst of me, Zivah,” she says. “I wasn’t always like this.”

  She pushes me into the hall and closes the door before I can respond.

  I stand outside the palace walls, staring at the wrought iron gate. It’s short and narrow, obviously a side entrance for gardeners or servants. If I hadn’t known better, I wouldn’t even have thought it was in use.

  A breeze blows by, and I pull Mehtap’s cloak closer around me. The silk of her gown brushes my skin. I can almost pretend that it’s the equinox festival, except this time it’s the middle of the night, I have a bag full of potions on my shoulder, and I feel the silk of my dress through a sticky layer of clay and oil. Mehtap was right about the ointment. Though it doesn’t match my skin completely, no one will notice at night. And now I must decide whether to believe the rest of her advice.

  Scrawny lands on my shoulder and sticks his beak into my hair. It pulls, but I don’t stop him.

  “I didn’t ask for this, Tal,” I whisper. But then, I suppose it was foolish to think I would simply come to Sehmar City and stay in the safety of what I know. I smooth down the folds of my cloak and don a pair of silk gloves. “Ready to go?” I ask the birds.

  The gate sticks a little, but then something gives and it swings open. I duck my head and glide through, telling myself that I’m not Zivah, rosemarked healer on a suicide mission, but a great Amparan lady, poised and self-possessed, on my way to a midnight rendezvous. As I pull the gate shut, I see a guard’s shadow in the corner of my eye. But nobody stops me.

  The gardens are magical at this time of night. I walk through clouds of fragrance, and the moon lights my way, both from its place above me and through its reflections in myriad pools below. I whisper to Slicewing to take me to Dineas, and she leads the way, a spot of ink cutting through the night. I follow her until the gardens give way to grand buildings—forests of stone columns and facades with bas-relief carvings that hint of men and animals. I pass the occasional slave or soldier and even a well-dressed official, but none of them give me a second look.

  After a while, I pass through to what looks like an outer circle of the palace. The buildings here are built of mud, and I see soldiers walking around. Slicewing slows here and flits from rooftop to rooftop until she finally alights on a squat building. It doesn’t seem much different from the others at first glance, though then I see that the walls are stone, and the windows are narrow. Two guards stand in front, and through the windows I see others in the anteroom beyond the door.

  This must be the prison. I duck out of view, shuddering at the thought of Dineas inside, and open my sack. I have five bundles of smoke herbs to burn, as well as a jar of fine wine laced with sleeping draft. Diadem is wrapped tightly around my upper arm.

  I will myself to think. There’s one good thing about this prison—the thick walls and small windows make it hard to air out. There’s a chimney near the front, most likely connecting to a fireplace in the anteroom. I take out two strips of cloth and wet them thoroughly. The first, I tie around my neck. The second, I hold out to Slicewing.

  “Slicewing, take this to the chimney.” I point as well as I can. Slicewing obediently grabs it and flies toward the prison, but simply drops the cloth onto the roof before circling back to collect her praise.

  I shake my head. “No, Slicewing, bring it back.” The bird cocks her head to the side and fetches the cloth again. I frown, trying to think how better to give the command. “The chimney, Slicewing. Take this to the chimney.”

  Again Slicewing takes flight, but this time, she drops it on the other side of the roof.

  I sigh, and order Slicewing to fetch the cloth back. Perhaps it’s too much to ask. I’m about to tuck the cloth back in my bag when Scrawny digs his claws into my arm.

  “What is it?”

  Scrawny stretches his wings in reply. I shrug. “If you want to give it a try…Scrawny, take this to the chimney.”

  The bird takes wing, flying high above the roof. I hold my breath, and then he drops the cloth right on top of the chimney. I almost laugh with relief, and scratch his neck when he comes down. “We don’t give you enough credit, do we? If only you three could fight guards.”

  But they can’t, and the rest is up to me. I take out two herb bundles, place them on small plates, and light them on a nearby torch. The leaves immediately began to smolder and smoke as I adjust Mehtap’s gown. The gown is light and airy, like those of the priestesses of Zenagua. It’s also more layered and ornamented than a priestess habit, but my cloak covers much of it and I’ll just have to rely on the darkness to hide the rest.

  “Goddess help me,” I whisper. “Let this work.”

  I circle the prison, stopping in front of every corner of the building with the smoking plate, making up some nonsense gestures, and speaking words into the air. I can sense the soldiers watching me, and I hold my head high as befits a priestess of Zenagua. I continue my stately march up to the door, praying that the soldiers do not notice my shaking hands.

  “Good evening, good soldiers. The gods smile upon your service.”

  They look at me quizzically as I lay the herbs on each side of the doorway. Perhaps the Goddess is with me, because there’s no wind, and the smoke from the herbs rises straight up around us. The smell is quite strong.

  The soldier on the left waves his hand. “What is this? It stinks.”

  “It is for the consecration of the palace,” I say. “It has been a month since the late emperor passed into the underworld. Tonight we bless the grounds.”

  The guard narrows his eyes. His suspicion is clear, but I also see his pupils dilating in response to the fumes. He shakes his head as if to clear it. “Under whose authority is this?”

  “The temple of Zenagua and Emperor Kiran.”

  The other guard steps to the side, probably to avoid the smoke.

  “Sir, wait,” I say. “I have something to ask you.” He stops, albeit unwillingly. “I…” My mind goes blank. The herbs are affecting me too.

  The first guard rubs his eyes. “I’ll have to check with my commander,” he says. But as he steps past me, he stumbles against the wall.

  “You’re not well, sir.” I take out my jar of wine. “Drink this. It will counteract the effects of the incense.”

  He takes the wineskin and drinks, though he stops mid-swallow, as if he’s remembered not to take drinks from strange women in the middle of the night. I quickly take the wineskin back and give it to the other guard. “Your friend feels better. You should do the same.”

  I use the same authoritative voice I’ve honed over years, but this guard steps back. “No.”

  He looks around as if to sound an alarm. Without thinking, I grab a dart from my pouch and scratch him on the arm.

  “What did—” he says. He stumbles against the wall and slides slowly to the ground as his friend topples over as well. I drag them into the doorway. They’re heavy, and the walls only partially hide them, but it’s the best I can do.

  The front door opens into a dimly lit room. Three guards sit around the table, and there is a fireplace on the far end. The guards stand when they see me, and I pull the door shut before they can notice that their friends outside are gone.

  The soldier closest to me wrinkles his nose at the smoking bundles. “What is this?”

  “Incense to bless the palace. To commemorate one month of Emperor Kurosh’s passing.”

  “Give me those. They stink,” he says. He grabs the dishes out of my hand and pushes them across the table, farther away than I’d like. Then he takes a closer look at me.

  “You’re not dressed like a priestess,” he says.

  Curse the room’s numerous oil lamps. If he looks carefully enough, he’ll see the ointment covering m
y rosemarks. “And who are you to say what a servant of Zenagua should wear?”

  “A lone priestess like you, wandering the grounds at this hour?”

  “My sisters are doing the same as we speak.”

  He glances out the window. “I don’t see them.”

  One of the soldiers at the table coughs. “Farbod, the smoke is foul,” he says, and grabs the herbs. I tense, thinking he’s going to take the dish out the door, but instead he puts them in the fireplace.

  Farbod glances back, then resumes his interrogation in earnest. “What order are you? Who is your mother priestess?”

  “I will not be questioned like a common criminal,” I snap.

  The soldier who’d moved the herbs into the fireplace coughs. “Chimney’s blocked.” He picks up the plates and carries them toward the door, but then he falls to one knee. One herb bundle rolls, still smoldering, onto the ground.

  Farbod’s eyes open wide, and he grabs me by the arm. His fingers dig into my cut. “Who are you?” he demands, and he drags me toward the door.

  “Let go of me!” But he’s too strong. I might as well be a sack of rice. Panic thrills through me, and I kick at his shins. He swears, and throws me against the wall. Lights explode in front of my eyes.

  “Vicious wench.” He grabs me by the collar.

  A slithering up my arm, a flash of scales, and then Farbod screams and grabs his hand. I had forgotten about Diadem.

  Farbod keeps screaming. The sound is like claws gouging the underside of my skin, and I stare in horror as he slowly sinks to the ground.

  “Stop there!” shouts the third soldier, and he runs toward us. My hand moves of its own accord, pulling my blowgun out and fitting it with a dart. I shoot him in the neck and barely duck out of the way as his momentum carries him into the wall.

  And then I’m the only person left standing. My head spins, and I pull the damp cloth over my nose and mouth. Farbod is still moaning from the snakebite. I see all the signs of the poison moving—the rash making its way up his arm, the bloodshot eyes. I could still save him with an antidote, but I don’t have one.