by Rose Reid
Lyom nods and calls his men to follow. Under the cover of darkness, we begin to walk to Zahlemia. While the capital city is not far south of Té’hasam, it takes us well over four hours to reach the gates of the village. By that time the dawn has broken over the nearby, green mountains and the gates of Zahlemia are open to travelers. Beside Zahlemia lies the Hook Gulch, a deep ravine with a harsh river that flows through it. There is a bridge that stretches across the gulch, rickety and old. It was on this bridge that Dominik and I narrowly escaped Adaaian forces on one of our first assignments in this empire.
Men and women of all ages file through the gates when we do, entering the capital city, which is bright with excitement for the coming Yaran festival, the start of which falls at sundown. Upon entering the village we pass through a marketplace where gifts, offerings, food, clothes, and jewels are being sold to the travelers entering Zahlemia to celebrate the Feast of Yaran. As we make our way through the marketplace, I snatch different articles of Adaaian clothing from the racks, throwing them back at Lyom.
Vendors and shopkeepers call out, clapping their hands to get the attention of the starry-eyed travelers that enter the gates of the village. Music lilts through the streets, fiddle and some sort of flute, along with the rhythmic beating of a wooden drum.
The Feast of Yaran celebrates the birth of Adaai’s favorite god. The festivities consist of dancing, singing, feasting, and shooting off colorful fireworks into the sky, among several stranger customs, like dressing up as demons to scare children in the nights. It is a time for every item in the marketplace to be drastically marked down to honor the false god, Yaran.
“I assume your men know what Dominik looks like?” I ask Lyom when he steps close enough to hear my whisper.
Lyom nods. “Yes.”
“Then split up. Search the marketplace. Perhaps we shall get lucky and find Dominik perusing the vendors’ booths.” I suggest. “We shall rendezvous at the blacksmith shop across the street.”
Lyom nods and I feel him split away from me, as do the other swordsmen. I pick up my pace but make sure that I keep my feet light, as though I am half dancing, half browsing what the marketplace has to offer. It feels strange but I stop to spin around a few times, pretending to take in the scents in the air when I catch some of the emperor’s guards watching me carefully. My red cape is bright enough to cause me to blend into the colorful Adaaian culture. In Evrallon and Lydovier, my cloak of blood red is recognizable and is meant to stand out in the crowd. Here in Adaai, I am like one of the commoners, dressing in my finest rags to come to the Feast
As I move, my gaze sifts through the crowd. Dominik will not be hard to spot; his dark silver hair would give him away in any crowd. It’s a strange color of silver — not the color of an old man or woman whose hair has lost its vitality, nor the course gray of someone who strives to stand out, to be something different, to be something that Dominik is. Dominik’s is bright, gleaming, and looks like silver taken straight from the mines of Kinecardine. In the light, areas of his hair are brighter than others, while in the darkness, his hair is a steely color of gray — a color no one can replicate.
My gaze catches on so many silver items — the necklace dangling at a woman’s chest, the one earring pierced into a guard’s ear, the ornate walking stick of an elderly gentleman — but no silver hair. I continue to walk quickly, keeping my gaze moving and my expression full of forced wonder.
I suddenly run into someone and whoever it is grabs me up in his arms, spinning and twirling me around. I groan inwardly when I realize what it is.
I’ve unknowingly stumbled into the group of happy dancers that move in beat to the music. The line dance that is being performed — and that I have now been drawn into — is fast paced and filled with enthusiasm. Thankfully, I know the dance and am able to keep pace with the young gentleman that grabbed me.
He twirls me around quickly and my feet nearly get tangled in my cloak but I manage to stable myself before toppling over. We both step back, clap thrice, and continue in the line dance. I use my new position as an opportunity to view more areas of the bazaar without causing unwanted suspicion.
Clap, clap, clap!
I continue to sway to the beat of the music, my gaze ever on the lookout for a spark of silver in the crowd. How many people can wear silver earrings or bracelets? I’m beginning to grow annoyed by the amount of silver in Adaai. Last I heard, Adaai had no silver in it at all. Evrallon is where I would have expected to see so much fine silver jewelry. Considering that Adaai and Evrallon have been on poor terms for the longest while, I would not be surprised if Adaai has not raided some of the Evrallonic trading parties before they could even reach the meeting point in the Menca Denu and stolen the silver goods from the traders.
“Looking for someone?” calls the gentleman over the sound of the violins. His voice is gruff, rumbly, like that of a sailor’s or farmer’s.
I look back at him and just smile, shaking my head quickly. “No, just taking it all in! The bazaar is beautiful.”
The Adaaian man laughs as he spins me in another circle, twirls me out, then rolls me back against his chest. “But this isn’t your first trip to Zahlemia, is it?”
I nearly stumble but smoothly transition into the next dance move, trying to keep my expression neutral while simultaneously gauging his. It doesn’t take me long to realize I recognize this gentleman. From where I do not know but I do recognize him. I immediately assume him to be a face I have seen in the contracts before; perhaps someone I considered killing?
It’s something about his dark hair, olive complexion, strong nose. His eyes are hooded, covered by the hat he wears to keep his dark hair hidden. Dark soot is smudged across his face, seeming to come from his hair, which must be covered in debris — a blacksmith maybe? Strange for someone supposedly traveling in to take part in Adaai’s most famous festival.
Perhaps I killed a relative of his on an assignment. An enemy of mine, for sure.
I try to quickly come up with a way to move him into a less populated area. Normally I would flirt my way into a corner with a man but he does not look as though he would be easy to flirt with.
The strange man chuckles, shaking his head. “You’ve got nothing to fear, Aerietta.” He winks. “I’m one of you.”
I balk, trying to decide if I believe the man’s words or not. It is feasible. It could be the reason I recognized his face. How possible is it that I saw him at the assassin’s Aerie? Quay could have enlisted him months before he left Lydovier and I could have seen him in passing.
“Oh?” I inquire. “And what would you be doing here?”
The man shrugs easily, looking up, dark eyes glinting in the new morning light. “Warning you.”
I try not to show my confusion. “Who told you I needed warning?”
The man just looks back down at me and grins. “Another assassin.” Before I can demand the assassin’s name, the man continues. “Watch your back. Someone has hired men to get you, and they don’t play nice.”
I frown, shaking my head. “Who?”
The assassin shakes his head. “Hell if I know! I was just told to take the message to you.” His hands come up to my face and I start to push them away but don’t. “I’ve missed you. And no matter what, I’ll wait for you.” He winks, leaning down and kissing me quickly on the forehead. It’s there and gone so quickly that I don’t have a chance to pound him into the ground for daring to do such a thing.
“Now I’m gone,” announces the young assassin, and just like that he backs into the crowd. I stand there, dumbstruck for the longest time before I gather my wits about me.
Who would have sent him?
Suddenly the entire bazaar feels staged. The dancing, frolicking people around me could have been placed in strategic areas to make me believe that I was safe, alone in my own world.
Who else here knows what the assassin is talking about? Who else here is an assassin hired by his employer? I remind myself that the assassin cou
ld have been hired by Quay long ago, speaking of the Evrallonic forces that were going to drag me back to the King, but how would the assassin have known where to find me?
“Aerietta,”
The voice snaps me back to reality and I turn around, finding Jamas standing behind me. He gives me a concerned look which only annoys me.
“You found Dominik?” I hope.
Jamas shakes his head. “Nothing. But the Swordmaster sent me to retrieve you; the emperor’s guards are growing suspicious. It’s time to leave.”
I nod my head, my annoyance tangible. Not only have I failed to find Dominik but I have been thrown off kilter by another assassin of the Cannon. I have let the fool’s words worry me. Reminding myself that it doesn’t matter who is after me, I follow Jamas out of the crowded bazaar, making our way to the blacksmith shop.
Lyom’s men are spread out around the old store, some speaking in fluent Adaaian to the women at the bazaar while others speak to the local shopkeepers about their stock.
“No sign of Dominik.” I admit. “He’s in Zahlemia; we just have to find a way to lure him out.”
Lyom nods in agreement. “Any suggestions?”
Jamas clears his throat and out of the corner of my eye I see the emperor’s guards watching us with heightened suspicion. Not taking my eyes off Lyom, who has recognized and assessed the threat as well, I slip my hands into his and pull him back towards the vendors as Jamas wanders off. This time Lyom follows quickly behind me, knowing my game.
“Is this always how you blend in?” Lyom inquires, a note of tightness in his voice. “It’s rather obvious.”
I pull him up to a booth, pretending to admire the fine silk scarves that have been draped over the racks, though I never let my guard down. I am still listening to the voices behind me, my gaze flickering up to watch the passerby to see if any of them are boasting a full head of dark silver hair.
“It’s worked so far, hasn’t it?” I say under my breath.
The vendor walks over to us, smiling. “Can I help you with anything today?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Dear?”
To Lyom’s good credit, he doesn’t wince. He shakes his head politely. “No, thank you.”
Pulling him along, I move him to another booth, hoping to shift the suspicion away from us.
“We need a way to draw Dominik out.” I continue.
He nods, standing close enough to my back that anyone from the outside could perceive us as a happy couple. I can’t fight the chill that coils around my midsection, snaking up my spine when Lyom’s hand touches my forearm either by action or intention. “Perhaps by showcasing your arrival?” he suggests. “If he fears for his life he may attempt a hasty escape and mess up.”
I shake my head, forcing myself back to reality. Get it together, I warn. You’re losing control around him. I can only imagine how any of the other assassins would look at me now.
“Too uncertain. And Dominik isn’t one to do anything in haste.”
“What does he want?”
“To blend in.” I answer.
He sighs. “Not what I was hoping for. Does he need a horse, supplies, shelter?”
“I’m sure he needs all of those things.” I reply. “But above all he needs to lie low. He won’t steal anything or kill someone for their horse. He’ll need a contact, someone who would understand his situation. And he’ll take on another identity, especially if he believes I’m here. He’ll have a disguise of some sort, probably something to change the color of his hair. Dyes, ash, or —”
No. Oh, dear heavens, no. I could not have been that foolish.
“Aerietta?” Lyom looks curiously at me.
“I’m a complete idiot.” I say, shoving past him.
Anger lights in my veins as I zigzag through the people in the bazaar, twisting through the dancing bodies.
How could I have been so foolish? I recognized him! His nose, his mouth, his height, his build! The hair and eyes had thrown me off, made me suspect him to be someone I had seen in passing while in the Aerie’s war room.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice …
I have never been so infuriated with myself. He has fooled me twice! Once in Lydovier, and now in Adaai. I saw his features, saw his height and frame. He kissed me on the forehead, the same as Dominik would always do, though I now realize was a kiss of mockery. How could I not have known?
I shove between the dancers, gaze ever watching for the fake assassin dashing through the crowd. My eyes catch on a flicker of movement and I latch onto it, spotting Dominik in the crowd of people. He moves quickly, glancing over his shoulder only once to see if I am on his tail.
I’ve got you.
I bound forward, rushing through the vendors and heading for Dominik. He turns the corner of a building, isolating himself. A mistake he will soon regret. I have just burst through the throngs of people when an arm comes out of nowhere and clotheslines me, knocking me onto my back.
The air rushes from my lungs. Instinct wants me to lay still, to not move, but when I see the fist coming towards my face, I lunge to my feet. The guard that stands over where I laid is large and muscular. He spins to look at me, practically sneering.
Oh, no, I inwardly groan. It will be this man that keeps me from apprehending and killing Dominik? I have already been at this for weeks, it seems. No, I think not.
The man throws a punch in my direction and I barely manage to catch it, driving my knee up into his gut once to double him over, then hook my leg around his neck and flip forward, using what little momentum I have gained to throw him onto his back. I begin to get up and follow Dominik but the guard’s hand thrashes out and catches me by the ankle. I fall, catching myself with my elbows on the cobblestone street. Sparks of pain fly out into my arms when I land but I manage to roll over and kick the guard in the face.
I leap to my feet, still attempting to get after Dominik, but suddenly find that I am surrounded by the guards of the emperor. Each are dressed in the signature colors of Adaai — blue, yellow, and green. Some are skinnier than others but in all I count twelve of them.
They could not have chosen a worse time to decide that I am a threat. Dominik is right around the corner! I had him in sight! He was close enough to me that if I’d had a bow I could have picked him off easily!
Think, think, think! I need another way out. Fighting them will result in my arrest, no doubt, and then I will be forced to kill several of the guards in order to escape their prison system. By that point Dominik will be long gone.
“Woman!” shouts one of the guards in Adaaian. “Put your hands in the air! By order of Emperor Yanlin, you are under arrest and are hereby property of the Adaaian Empire.”
I groan under my breath. Lyom won’t like that I have to kill most of these men. It isn’t that his conscience will catch up with him — he blatantly admitted that he has none — but it will cast even more doubt on he and his men. But Dominik has just slipped through my fingers and I am seeing red. I was so close to catching him, to completing my assignment, to being released from the king’s service. I cannot allow Dominik to get away.
“Woman!” exclaims the guard again. “On your knees.”
I glance around the crowd. Where is Lyom when you need him?
“On your knees now!”
My fists open and close. There are twelve men, each with a sword in their scabbard and several daggers on their belts. I have one dagger of my own. None of them seem to have bows on them so they will have to get up close to me to wound me. The first five will be easy to take down but after that it would be nice to have Lyom’s assistance.
My gaze flits over the crowd again. No sign of Lyom or any of the Evrallonic soldiers.
Where are they?
Knowing I won’t be able to take all twelve out on my own, I reluctantly drop my dagger. Sinking to my knees feels like complete defeat. I put my hands in the air as the soldiers have ordered. The fact that they find me dangerous makes me
believe they know who I am. Adaai would not fear a mere girl, but if the servicemen recognized me as the Queen of Crimson they would surely take precautions.
I was close. I was so close. I had Dominik — he danced with me! He kissed me on the forehead, had the gall to tell me he missed me!
My gaze goes up to the crowd again and I see Lyom standing in the midst of the bodies, his gaze as hard as ice. I try not to be annoyed with him but I’m failing miserably. He stands there while the Adaaian guards continue their shouting, approach me from behind, and hit me hard on the back of the head.
XIV
“Dead, your Majesty. Dead, my lords and gentlemen. Dead, Right Reverends and Wrong Reverends of every order. Dead, men and women, born with Heavenly compassion in your hearts.”
— Charles Dickens, Bleak House
My legs are perfectly fine and I am able to walk but I let the Adaaian servicemen drag me through the Sairaat Temple as if my legs cannot support my weight. It’s my only way of protest at this point. Remembering that killing the guards was not only counterproductive but also not something I’d be incredibly proud of doing, I allowed myself to be taken from the cell I was kept in all day yesterday, all last night, and most of the day today and to be brought here to the Sairaat, where I assume I am meeting with Emperor Yanlin.
Lyom had better have a good reason for not aiding me yesterday. Had he and the other Evrallonic soldiers helped, I could have easily broken free of Adaai’s grasp and found Dominik. Of course that all changed when Lyom’s swordsmen were a no show and I was forced to surrender while the Swordmaster looked on.
I fought the guards last night when they tried to shove me in rags and take my cloak away. Not only was I not about to part with my red cloak but I could not afford to let them undress me to find my Jezdah. Even here in Adaai it is known to be something of magic, and the emperor will surely know its meaning. If Lyom were to discover it …