In Her Shadow

by Boyle, Sally Beth

  "Last night I was attacked."

  "I know," she said. "I didn't think you'd come to me with something so petty, though. If you want them dealt with, however, I supposed that can be arranged. I know who they are. Sailors already put out to sea. Out of my reach for now, but if they set foot in the city again–"

  "No."

  The Abbess of Night's scowled, then faded back into a neutral smile. "I'm not used to being interrupted."

  "I'm not used to being lied to."

  The old woman scowled again, but there was something else there, something underneath the expression. "Lied to?"

  "Was the mugging meant to mask what happened later?"

  "Surely I don't know of what you speak."

  Another lesson the Disciples taught was that one must learn to see emotions in others. He'd never been great at it – few were – but hers were plainly etched among the lines of her face: confusion. Or was that a put on?

  "Plausible deniability?" he asked. "Is that the game?"

  "If you are trying to impugn my reputation as an honest and honorable woman–"

  "If you are an honest and honorable woman, then let us speak clearly."

  The Abbess of Night gave a slight nod. "Let's."

  "After I returned home, I was attacked attacked again by a masked knife-man. I killed him, but if I weren't so experienced with ambushes I would have died."

  "Oh my."

  Was her surprise genuine? Dux Lucius didn't care. "'Oh my,' indeed. And though he wasn't alone, only he assaulted me. The others, shall we say, faded into the night."

  The Abbess of Night's face vanished in the darkness. "This happened?"

  "Now who is accusing who of being dishonest?"

  There followed silence. He stood, alone in the dark, the only sound his own breath as he counted each inhale and exhale in even, calming beats. "Is there a problem?" he asked.

  "You know there is."

  "You didn't know about it."

  Silence.

  "You didn't know about it, and you know everything that happens in the city."

  More silence.

  "Someone has done something outside your control and you're angry."

  More silence.

  Dux Lucius took a step forward, chest out and chin high. "This city is changing, sliding out from between your fingers and you can do nothing to stop it."

  "Enough!" Her voice rattled the floorboards.

  "What are you going to do? Send men to kill me?" He stopped himself before going any further. That last sentence had been a mistake, and he knew it as soon as it escaped his lips. "I apologize," he said. "That was uncalled for. I'm not here to make an enemy of you, Abbess of Night."

  "Oh? And then why are you here?"

  "To make an ally of you."

  "We're already allies."

  Dux Lucius shook his head. "No, we're not. We're at peace, but we're not allies."

  "Then what do you suggest?"

  Now it was his turn to remain silent as he tossed around in his mind for something solid.

  "You haven't thought this through, have you?"

  "No."

  "You're an honest man, at least."

  "Thank you."

  "This is not a city for honest men."

  "It will be, Abbess of Night. That's why I've come here. Whether you like it or not – whether I'm here or some other Dux or Governor – the darkness that infests Ankshara is fading. You have a choice: help us and retain some semblance of your power, or be blinded when the empire banishes the last of this city's shadows."

  "Is that all?" the Abbess of Night asked.

  "For now."

  "Then leave." But there was no harshness to her words. Perhaps she too sought to control her emotions, at least in this diplomatic instance where revealing her true feelings might give Lucius an edge. It was hard to say.

  "As you wish," he said with a curt bow of the head. As he stepped out of the room, he found Weboshi standing off to the side. Had she been eavesdropping? A paranoid thought. Most likely she was the Abbess of Night's handmaid, always on hand to do whatever her abbess commanded. "Can you point me to where Britta might be?" he asked her, thinking it a poor diplomacy to stop by and not call on his future wife.

  Weboshi's jaw clenched. "I can point you out."

  "Hm. I can find my way out."

  And he did.

  Chapter 8

  Britta wasn't sure it was him at first, as she leaned against the window staring out into the darkness.

  "What was he doing here?" she asked herself in a little whisper.

  "Hm?"

  Britta turned as Weboshi set a tray of food down on her table. "Dux Lucius. I just saw him leaving."

  "Yes, he met with the Abbess of Night. Showed him there myself."

  "I wonder what they met about."

  "I couldn't say."

  "Did he ask about me?"

  "No," said Weboshi as she uncovered the tray of food. "Eat."

  Which Britta dutifully did, bite by bite, slowly, not really tasting the food as she chewed.

  "Is something wrong?"

  "No. I mean, I understand why he'd want to meet with her. I thought, though. . ." Britta sighed and shook her head.

  "'Thought' what, New Moon?"

  "The Abbess gave me a speech last night about leadership and learning to do things my own way. I thought – since he's to be my husband – she would have sent Dux Lucius to me to deal with." Britta pushed the tray away from her. "The Goddess wants me to lead in my own way? That's just what I'll do." She snatched her cloak from its rack next to the door and threw it over her shoulders.

  "Where are you going?"

  "To catch Dux Lucius and talk with him."

  "What?" Weboshi shook her head, eyes down. "New Moon, you mustn't."

  "Why? Because it's dangerous? We both know that isn't true. I proved that last night."

  "New Moon–"

  "What?"

  "Dux Lucius was attacked last night."

  "I know. I was there."

  "You don't understand, New Moon. He was attacked a second time, by assassins."

  Britta cracked the door. "All the more reason for me to go to him."

  "No." Weboshi grabbed Britta's arm.

  "What is your problem, Weboshi?"

  "Just because you stopped a group of muggers doesn't mean you'll stop a group of assassins."

  "And how would you know?"

  "Why shouldn't I know? The Abbess of Night didn't give the order to have him killed. That's what he was doing here. She's angry the citizens of this city acted without her order. And if they're willing to defy her, do you think they'd be afraid to kill you if you got in the way?"

  "The Abbess of Night–"

  "Had no idea. Heard it with my own two ears."

  "She's a master liar. . ."

  "Not if you've known her as long as I have."

  Britta's head swam. Someone had acted without the Abbess of Night's express orders. It wasn't just a blow to the Abbess's authority, but a blow to the worldview of every native of Ankshara. The city really was changing, wasn't it? Not just a shift in attitudes and mores, but all its old power structures too. Or was the attack to preserve those power structures? Had it become necessary in the minds of some extremists to destroy Ankshara in order to save it?

  "New Moon?"

  "I'm sorry. I'm just. . ." She pulled the door open and stepped out.

  "New Moon! Britta!"

  Britta swiveled around, her cloak flaring out as she rounded on Weboshi. "I have a duty to this abbey and the people of Ankshara. I'm not Abbess yet, but I still have a role to play. Dux Lucius is to be my husband. If there's a good man beneath that harsh exterior, I'll have to find it, even if I have to mine it out with a pickax."

  "Britta, his people–"

  "I know what they did to you, to us. You don't have to remind me. No one has to remind me. It breaks my heart, but it's over. The war is over. The Siege is over. I'm supposed to lead us into the futu
re. Well, this is how I plan to do it. Reconciliation. Isn't that what my marriage is supposed to represent? I'm not saying we have to forget what the Regnals did, what they took from us. I'm saying we have to move on, Weboshi, before our anger eats us up."

  Weboshi's lips quivered. "What purpose does going to him when he's in danger serve? The Abbess still lives. Your waxing could yet be years away. Why take on this responsibility, this weight, before your time?"

  "Because it's the right thing to do."

  Weboshi glared at the ground and shook her head. "May She hide you in Her shadow," she said.

  "May She hide you in Her shadow."

  ***

  Head down and cloak pulled tight, Britta slipped through the darkened street. She hoped to give the impression she was in no mood to stop to offer blessings, no mood to tell the men that might proposition her her gifts were not to be bought or sold. Unmolested, she passed by drunken sailors, merchants closing up their shops, her own sisters, pickpockets, soldiers making their lackadaisical way through a city that hated them. Would it hate her too? When she married the Dux, would its people revile her as a traitor? What about the citizens of the Regnal Empire? When they looked at her, was a foreign whore all they'd see? These thoughts hadn't occurred to her before; they were distractions keeping her from the task at hand. She shoved them deep down inside for further consideration later. Now was not the time to second guess. She'd made a decision to do her duty as the New Moon, and do it her way. So with a determination she hadn't felt before, she let no one stop her, slow her down, or even catch her eye. The crowd must have sensed her mood, because it parted for her, letting her move through it like a swallow through a storm cloud.

  It wasn't long before she came to the gate house of the Governor's manse. Unlike last time, the guardhouse at the gate was surrounded by soldiers milling about. Not the mercenaries the Governor usually employed either, but a proper Regnal cohort. They played cards, dice, laughed as they chattered. They didn't stop as she neared, either. Usually, a priestess approaching with her cloak drawn elicited quiet respect, but these men – foreigners all – payed her no mind until she was upon them, ready to pass them by.

  One, a tall slender man with a wicked scar across his nose, jumped to his feet and leaned his spear across the gate. "No you don't," was all he said.

  "I'm here to see Dux Lucius."

  "Too bad," the soldier said. "No one's allowed in. No locals, and especially no priestess of your whore-goddess."

  The soldiers laughed. Britta grit her teeth, narrowed her eyes. "I'm his intended."

  "So? You're not his wife yet. And that means–"

  A bell – or maybe an iron triangle – rang high and tinny from the porch in the distance. Not once or twice, not in any pattern that seemed like a code, but a long string of frantic reverberations. The soldiers grabbed their things, but didn't say anything, all straining to hear something else, as if expecting more.

  A young Regnal boy came running down the path, his feet kicking up dust behind him. Red faced, he bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

  "What is it, Valex?" asked the tall soldier.

  "Ava," the boy said between gasps. "The Dux's daughter. Someone has taken her."

  Britta gasped. She covered her mouth as every eye shifted from the boy to her – except the tall soldier. "You two," he said pointing to a pair of soldiers. "No one gets in or out of this gate. You two take the north edge of the wall. You two south. Search the perimeter until you meet in the middle."

  "What about her?" said one of the soldiers, thumbing a finger at Britta.

  The tall soldier grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her through the gates, heedless of her station or how rough he was being. "She's coming with me."

  He hauled her up the path and through the front door, the boy trailing behind them. For a place that seemed like it should be in a tizzy over the absence of a favored child, the ballroom was oddly silent. The soldier's fingers tightened around her arm. He pulled her up the stairs and down a hall that led, Britta assumed, towards the girl's room. And she wasn't wrong, mostly. It wasn't a child's room, but a soldier's with a little cot in the corner upon which rested a handful of stuffed animals and dolls. The Governor, the Dux, and a few others Britta didn't recognize, gathered around it in silence, as if each lost in his own thoughts, trying to figure out how this had happened, where Ava could be and what to do next.

  Dux Lucius was the first to notice Britta and the soldier's arrival. He swiveled towards them, his face as blank as ever. "Captain Marcus?"

  The soldier snapped his heels. "Dux Lucius, I dispatched men to secure the walls as soon as I heard."

  "Good. But why did you bring her here?"

  "She was at the gate when we heard the news. I don't know. I thought maybe. . ."

  "That I was involved?" Britta yanked free from the soldier's grasp. She'd had about enough of people jerking her around by that particular appendage, and was glad she'd left her dagger back at home because she was sorely tempted to gut the man.

  "I don't blame you for considering the idea, Captain Marcus, but I doubt she had anything to do with this," said the Governor. "Take her away."

  The soldier reached for her again but she stepped away. "I'm not leaving. I can help."

  "Help?" asked Dux Lucius, his voice cool, measured. How could a man whose daughter was missing be so restrained? If it had been her own, Britta knew she'd be up the wall with panic. "How can you help?"

  Britta furrowed her brow. "I don't know, but I want to."

  The Governor gave a little shake of his head. "Get her out of here."

  Britta threw up a hand. "Wait!"

  "What?"

  "I really can help. I can talk to the Abbess of Night, get her to marshal our forces. Between your soldiers and the abbey, we can find her."

  "Assuming you didn't take her in the first place," said the Governor.

  Britta's gaze swung wildly between the Dux and Governor. The abbey did bad things, yes, but only insofar as they controlled those bad things. People were going to rob, loot, and smuggle no matter what. The abbey controlled that, measured it, kept in and check. Britta would have wagered the abbey caught and punished more criminals than the Regnal garrison ever had. The implication they – and by extension, she – would be involved in the kidnapping of a nobleman's daughter was ridiculous and offensive.

  Britta stomped one foot forward then thought better of it. Mid-stride, cheeks burning with rage, she swiveled away from them. Someone grabbed her arm.

  "I swear to the Goddess, the next person who grabs me there–"

  The hand yanked her around until she faced the Dux himself. "Help us," he said, his voice firm, commanding.

  "Why should I?"

  "Please." Something about the Dux's voice shifted. Slight, nearly imperceptible, a ripple under the surface of a calm lake. "She's my daughter."

  Chapter 9

  Britta dashed through the streets. She'd opted not to go under guard – too slow. The soldiers didn't know the city the way she did, the divots, the back alleys, potholes and gutters, especially not at night. The Governor had tried to insist, but she rebuffed him for that reason and another: the political situation was tenuous. Did he know it? Could he feel it in the air the way she could? She didn't have to eavesdrop on the whispers and murmurs of the citizenry, she could sense it. The whole city knew, the Abbess of Night most assuredly did. In that, Britta wasn't bringing news to the old woman, but acting as an envoy. If she had soldiers with her, that might make the Abbess nervous, make the abbey think their New Moon had already slipped into Regnal hands. Britta knew that. If she wanted the Abbess of Night's help–

  Britta froze in place at the old gate leading to the abbey. A shiver shot through her. Of course the Abbess knew. She'd probably orchestrated it. Right? Was going to her a mistake? Not the sort Britta would be punished for, most likely. Assuming her suspicions were true, the Abbess had planned for this too. So should she play alon
g or what?

  Indecision was her only response. So she stood in the night air, counting her breaths as she considered the situation. Could the Abbess of Night have done this? Could – yes. But could have and would have were two different things. The second one was what vexed Britta. The old woman was sneaky, duplicitous by nature. Worse, she was grumpy, querulous. That being said, she wasn't stupid. She lived in a dubious political situation. This was the sort of pretext the Regnals needed to bypass their treaty and simply annex the city. They could skip all the formalities of power sharing, the slow absorption of Ankshara into the imperial fold. No, kidnapping Ava was much too dangerous for the abbey, for Ankshara. There was no way the Abbess would have risked giving the Governor the excuse he needed to crack down.

  Maybe that was it. Maybe it hadn't been the Abbess of Night, but one of the Regnals. Not the Dux. No. Perhaps she might have suspected him of such cold calculation before, but seeing him tonight, the split second where his practiced calm faltered and genuine concern for his daughter shined through, erased any of her doubts.

  The Governor himself, however; he might have. He barely knew the girl, most likely, having lived so far apart for so long. More, Regnals didn't value daughters as much as they did sons, and he might have seen her as the key to political expedience. Was he capable of that level of cruelty? To steal his own granddaughter to use as a pretext for conquest? Maybe. Britta didn't know enough to say.

  There also remained the possibility the girl had simply wandered off. But the Regnals didn't seem to be under that impression. Britta hadn't thought to ask why.

  Whichever of these things were true, it did no good to stand outside all night pondering. She had to act. Britta took the steps to the porch two at a time, and breezed inside, then up the steps of the main hall and down to the Abbess of Night's room. The door cracked before she could knock, and she stepped inside.

  "You've been to the Governor's manse," said the Abbess from her darkened corner.

  "Yes, Abbess."

  "And you rushed right here to tell me the Governor's granddaughter is missing."

  "Yes, Abbess. Well, no. I know you'd know already."