Even that didn’t last. Not long after she’d escaped the smothering attention of her staff, there was a knock at the door. Lacy didn’t anger easily, but her patience was wearing thin. She stomped over to the door and threw it open, expecting to find her maidservant, but instead found herself blinking in disbelief at the person standing in her hallway.
“Lacy? Is that you?” the young woman said, smiling with recognition. She was petite with pale skin, curly black hair, and slate-grey eyes.
“Evelyn?” Lacy said, unsure what to make of the sudden surprise. “Evelyn Ithilian? Is that really you?”
Evelyn threw her arms around Lacy and hugged her tightly. “We’ve been so worried about you.” She held her by the shoulders at arm’s length. “How long has it been since we played together as children?”
Lacy’s mind reeled. “It seems like forever. Come in.”
“Prince Phane went to great lengths to rescue you from Zuhl,” Evelyn said, looking at her room appraisingly.
“I’m sorry, what are you doing here?” Lacy asked.
Evelyn giggled with a shrug. “I came here for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“When my father learned you’d been rescued by Phane, he sent a small fleet to escort you home. He let me ride along so you’d have a familiar face to greet you. We arrived this morning. Prince Phane was gracious enough to let me surprise you with the news.”
“So you’re here to take me back to Ithilian?” Lacy asked. “And Phane’s all right with this?”
“Sure, why wouldn’t he be?”
Lacy shrugged. “No reason. He just said he wanted to wait until his armada was finished.”
“He’s satisfied that our fleet can protect you, so you’re free to come home with me,” Evelyn said with a wide smile.
Lacy sat down, feeling a little overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events. She so wanted it to be true.
“There’s just one thing, Lacy.”
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Lacy noted that her naiveté was beginning to fade.
“What’s that?”
Evelyn sat down close to her, leaning in to whisper. “You were sent for a box. Do you have it?”
Lacy got very still.
“My father says it contains a key to part of an ancient weapon we found on Ithilian. It’s the last piece we need to make it work. If we had it, Zuhl would be finished for good.”
Lacy could feel her heart beating in her head. She hadn’t heard this one before. It made her wonder if anything she thought she knew was real.
“Lacy, do you have it?” Evelyn asked, with just a hint of impatience. “If you can just open it, I’ll be able to send word home so my father can plan his attack.”
So many ‘what ifs’ tumbled through Lacy’s mind.
Finally, she smiled at Evelyn and said, “Do you remember that time we went camping when we were children? Conner caught ten fish that day. Somehow cooking the food ourselves made it taste so much better.”
Evelyn hesitated for a moment. “Yes, of course, I remember. It’s one of my fondest memories.”
Lacy stood, drawing her dagger.
“Who are you? Who do you work for?”
“You are becoming tiresome,” she said, the quality of her voice changing. “Open the box. Open it right now.”
“Rankosi,” Lacy said, shaking her head defiantly. “I’ll never open that box.”
The woman surged forward, transforming into a man as she moved, taking Lacy by the throat and wrist at the same time, lifting her from the ground.
“Open the box or I will find your brother and torture him to death.”
Lacy was choking, trying to get a full breath. She walked up Rankosi’s body, planted her feet squarely in his chest and pushed out of his grasp, falling hard. He stood over her, looking down with limitless contempt.
“He’ll die anyway if I open that box,” Lacy said, her voice cracking.
There was a knock at the door.
“Princess? Are you all right? We heard a commotion. Can we help with anything?” her maidservant said.
“You’ll all die anyway,” Rankosi said. “I’ll be watching. I’ll be waiting. And I absolutely intend to take my time with you.”
“Princess Lacy?” her maidservant said.
Rankosi left through the window, vaulting over the railing even though her room was on the third story.
“I’m fine, just clumsy is all,” Lacy said through the door.
She was anything but fine.
Chapter 8
“Will you look at that,” Hod said. “I’ve heard tell of the city before but I always thought the stories were a bit much … now I know different.”
Alexander sent his mind to Chloe to borrow her eyes. After a week on the road, his first glimpse of the Andalian capital city told him it was built with magic.
The city rested in a bowl carved out of the westernmost mountain in a chain of peaks that rivaled the Pinnacles for height, but were much broader at the base.
Steep cliffs rose a thousand feet, culminating in extravagant estates carved into the bedrock edge of the plateau and providing their owners with breathtaking views of the Andalian plains. The entire front half of the city was bordered by these estates, while the rear half was bordered by cliffs rising another thousand feet above the city, culminating in the Andalian palace.
A free-flowing waterfall poured out of the center of the semicircle of estates and fell to the lake below, spraying in the wind and casting a vibrant rainbow in the evening sun. From Alexander’s view, it would have seemed magical and idyllic if he hadn’t been looking at it through the bars of a cage.
“Impressive,” he said. And it was. He doubted that any army could conquer such a place … at least not without the aid of magic.
“It’s said that the city was here before men walked the world,” Hod said.
“How so?” Alexander asked, his curiosity piqued.
“It’s just a folk tale, really,” Hod said. “As the story goes, men found the city where it stands, abandoned and empty. Some of the buildings were worn with age but most were still intact, so people just moved in and made them their own. Always seemed far-fetched to me … until now.” He looked up at the half-ring of lavish houses lining the front cliffs and shook his head. “Seems hard to believe that men could build such a place.”
Alexander just smiled. He knew better, but it wouldn’t serve him to speak of it. The wagons rumbled up the road, through a fortress gate that looked rudimentary compared to the city itself, and into a wide tunnel cut into the bedrock of the cliff face. The well-traveled tunnel was dark and dank and appeared to be the road leading to the city above. It ran for several hundred feet, rising on a gradual grade, repeatedly turning back on itself as it continued upward. He counted forty switchbacks before they came to the final ramp leading to the surface of the city.
Finally, the caravan emerged onto a long straight road running beside the canal that fed the waterfall … and into a city from a fairy tale.
Alexander had wondered at the lack of gates until he saw the giant locks set alongside the river. Within minutes, the city’s defenders could divert the entire flow of canal water into the tunnel, flooding it completely and ending any chance of invasion by that route.
After marveling at the simplicity and effectiveness of the city’s defenses, Alexander started to take note of the buildings themselves. Their construction was unlike anything he’d ever seen, simple yet elegant, the grey stone seeming to flow like water in graceful arches that showed no sign of mortar or seam. It was a blend of artistry and function, beauty and purpose; the entire city seemed to form a whole, as if it had been planned in meticulous detail and then built all at once.
As he marveled at the architecture and wondered at the craftsmanship, he started to notice other things that were less inspiring. A signboard running for several dozen feet along the road was covered with wanted posters, most with sketches of people accused of crimes, some
with just a name. When he looked closer, he saw that most of the outlaws were accused of sedition or treason-crimes against the state rather than against other citizens.
The caravan rumbled past a man on a corner wearing a smock emblazoned with the crest of the House of Andalia. “Another child has gone missing,” he cried. “The bandit threat has reached into the city and the overseers need your help. Remember, it’s your duty to report suspicious activity to the authorities.” He paused to catch his breath and then repeated the message.
People stood aside as the wagons passed, some bowing their heads in fear or deference; most of those people were wearing collars like the one around Alexander’s neck. The better-dressed people openly watched them roll by, some jeering and taunting, others appraising the merchandise.
When a man wearing a collar stumbled and bumped into a man who was wearing extravagant finery, he apologized profusely, but the extravagantly dressed man shouted obscenities at him until two men in uniform approached. They talked for a moment, then the well-dressed man handed over a few coins. The men in uniforms turned to the man wearing the collar.
“Please, I just stumbled,” he begged.
Without a word, the two men in uniform beat him until he was broken and bloody. All the while, the man in finery watched with smug satisfaction.
“All hail the Emperor of Andalia,” another town crier shouted as they rolled past.
“How’s Jack doing?” Alexander asked Chloe in his mind.
“He’s riding on top of your cage, My Love.”
“Good. Tell him to get established in the city so he can walk around without being harassed by the authorities. I need him to start gathering information for me as soon as possible.”
“I will tell him,” Chloe said. “Send me your eyes again. I wish to show you something.”
Through her eyes, he saw the palace a thousand feet over the city perched along the top of the back cliff. It was built of the same flowing grey stone but with even more intricate artistry and beauty, especially with the evening sun shining off its walls. Cut in the center of the cliff was a channel guiding a torrent of water flowing from behind the palace into the canal running through the center of the city. Along either side of the waterfall ran a set of tracks. Alexander marveled as he watched a glass-encased carriage being pulled up the tracks by a set of stout ropes.
“That’s where the king will be,” he said.
“What’s your plan?”
“I don’t know yet, Little One. I need to gather some more information before I decide. For such a beautiful city, it’s inhabited by some pretty ugly people, and I suspect the ugliest of all live up there.”
As the caravan turned off the main road, several of the men in Alexander’s cage turned toward a commotion at the back of the wagon.
“What was that?” Hod asked.
Alexander just shrugged, smiling to himself as he watched Jack’s colors disappear into the side streets. A few minutes later, the caravan came to a stop within a walled square, clearly of later construction since it was made of brick and mortar. Once the entire caravan had entered, the gate was closed and the guards started opening the cages and ordering everyone out into the square. They were brusque and expected obedience but also took care to avoid harming the new slaves as they lined them up in front of a raised platform. A few minutes after the last of the slaves had been organized, a horn blew and the slavers demanded silence.
A man of slight build with a narrow face, oversized nose and angular features stepped up to the podium and surveyed the crowd before him. His short hair was grey and black, his neatly trimmed mustache was silver, and he wore simple grey clothes that would have been almost drab except that they were tailored to fit perfectly and made of very fine cloth. Mostly, Alexander noted the expansive colors surrounding the man. He was a mage.
“I am the Babachenko, the Voice of the King and the First Acuna. Whatever life you had before this day, it has ended. From this point forward, you will have the privilege and absolute security of serving the Andalian Empire.
“You no longer need to fear going hungry. You will never have to sleep in the cold again. All of your needs will be provided for by the generosity of the King. You need not fret or worry over the future because you no longer bear the burden of responsibility for your life. The King will carry that weight for you. You are free.
“So many misguided souls make bad decisions-decisions that lead to ruin for themselves and their families. You no longer need fear your own ignorance for you will be guided by the infinite wisdom and benevolence of the King. You can breathe easy knowing that all of those difficult choices that plague so many of the less fortunate in this world will be made for you, and with far greater care and understanding.
“The King, His Most Merciful and Excellent Majesty, welcomes you into his home and embraces you as his children. All he asks in return is loyalty and obedience, as any father should expect from his children.”
With that, he bowed and left the stage. Another man, this one heavy to the point of losing breath from the exertion of walking to the podium, shuffled up and wheezed a few times before speaking.
“Your guild representative will show you to your quarters and prepare your records and papers. Once those tasks are complete, you will be given a meal. Tomorrow, you will go to auction.” He paused, breathing heavily for several moments before continuing.
“Obedience is expected, and remember, the Acuna hears all.” With that, he shuffled off, wheezing.
Alexander listened to the entire thing with a sense of dismay and rage boiling in the pit of his belly. He could tell from the Babachenko’s colors that he didn’t believe a word of his speech, but what really had Alexander concerned was the number of people who seemed genuinely relieved to hear that all of their needs would be provided for … all for the price of their liberty-a price far too many of those around him seemed more than willing to pay.
Several men wearing official-looking uniforms began handing out tiles with numbers cut into them. Once everyone had a tile, one of the officials called for the slaves’ attention.
“Around the edge of the square are numbered tables. Go to the table with your number and wait to be called. Be prepared to answer questions about your skills and work history. The clerk at your table will prepare your papers for you. It’s vital that you safeguard your papers and keep them with you at all times. Any overseer can ask you for them at any time and you are required to present them or face immediate detention.”
What followed was an exercise in frustration. Lines formed amid pushing and shoving for position while disinterested guild representatives asked each person the same series of questions, writing down the answers with almost deliberate slothfulness.
Alexander picked Anja out of the crowd and made his way toward her. He approached the man at the end of her line, smiling amiably. “My sister is in this line and I have a number for that line over there,” Alexander said. “I’ll trade you numbers. The other line is shorter.”
The man frowned at Alexander suspiciously for a moment, looking from Alexander’s number to the line and back again before he held out his tile and took Alexander’s without a word.
Alexander casually walked to Anja and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned with fury in her eyes that melted into relief.
“Hey, no cutting in line,” a man behind her said.
“Never intended to,” Alexander said with a smile, motioning for Anja to follow him to the back of the line.
“I don’t like this place,” she said. “I don’t want to be a slave, even if they are going to take care of me.”
“I understand completely,” Alexander said. “I don’t expect to be here for very long, but we might be able to do some good while we’re here.”
Anja’s brow furrowed deeply, but she didn’t say anything.
“I need you to behave,” Alexander whispered. “Don’t draw attention to yourself. Do as you’re told. And whatever you do, don’t kill anyone.
Can you do that?”
“Maybe … it all depends on how they treat me.”
“From the looks of things, they actually value their slaves. Just do the work they give you and don’t draw attention to yourself.”
“I don’t want to be a slave.”
Alexander just looked at her until she frowned again, looking down at the ground.
“I know, I should’ve stayed at home,” she said. “But I’m glad I didn’t. When you decide it’s time to kill these people, you’re going to need my help … if I can get this stupid collar off.”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Alexander said.
“What do you mean?”
Alexander just smiled and gave her a wink.
“You mean you could have taken these things off before?” She was starting to get angry again.
Alexander nodded, putting his finger over his lips.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I decided that I have business here,” he said.
“What kind of business?”
“War,” he whispered.
That answer seemed to satisfy her. She fell silent for a while as the line slowly moved toward the table.
Then she asked, “What do you want me to do?”
“Mostly, I want you to avoid drawing attention to yourself,” he said again. “Aside from that, keep your eyes and ears open. Gather what information you can without getting in trouble. Chloe will pass messages to you. Jack is here as well. Just remember, he’s probably going to pretend like he doesn’t know you if he sees you, so act like you don’t know him either. And if anybody asks, your name is Anja Valentine.”
“Next,” said a very bored-looking older man seated behind the table. Anja looked back at Alexander, who nodded for her to go ahead.
He could see the frustration building in her colors as the man asked a series of questions, often making up answers for her when she failed to provide an answer that fit his preconceived idea of the available options. After checking and rechecking the documents, he handed Anja her papers and motioned towards the door.
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