“Ritter, this is your new bunkmate,” he said. Then he turned to Alexander and said, “Breakfast is at sunup. Don’t be late.”
Alexander nodded. “Got it. Thanks for the tour.”
“Well, close the door already,” Ritter said. “That’s your bunk, keep your mess on that side of the room.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Alexander said. “I don’t have much to make a mess with.”
Ritter’s colors were those of a man who’d lost everything except his bitterness-not evil, just broken and angry. Alexander could sympathize; the collar around his neck looked old and worn.
Ritter just grunted, glowering at Alexander for a moment before rolling toward the wall. “Turn out the lamp already.”
Alexander doused the light and lay down. In the darkness, he began to see the glimmer of light. Tiny points of magical color glowing in the dark, scattered haphazardly around the room, floating in the air as if suspended in time. He’d walked through several and had felt nothing. They were so dim that he hadn’t even seen them until the room was dark and then only barely. But they were there and they were magic.
Yet more questions.
It was nearing time to make his move. He’d been here for weeks, and while he hadn’t learned everything he wished to know, he’d discovered enough. He had two objectives: destroy the Crown and discover what lay in the depths beneath the city. He began thinking about a plan. Force wouldn’t do, at least not entirely. Stealth was his best option. Before he drifted off to sleep, his thoughts turned to Isabel. He was becoming more and more anxious to go to her, just to see her, but he knew that he had to wait until he was ready.
The next morning he and Ritter were assigned to retrieve a string of horses from the mine yard. Alexander tried to make conversation, but Ritter just ignored him. The morning was crisp, clear and calm. Alexander focused on his surroundings, soaking up all he could about the people. Most were just people, though more fearful and beaten down than Alexander had ever seen before.
Most of them shied away from overseers and nobles with practiced self-debasement, almost cowering, many with genuine fear. The powerful walked the streets as if they owned them and everyone nearby as well. Alexander followed Ritter’s lead, imitating him at every encounter with those who thought they were better than a lowly slave.
They arrived to find several slave wagons, all empty but still hitched to teams of horses.
“I wonder why they brought in a load of slaves,” Alexander said.
“Why’s that important to you?” Ritter said, eyeing him closely.
“Just seems odd since they closed the mine.”
“Stop wondering and get to work.”
As they guided their string of horses down the road on the way back to Grant Manor, a crier ran past them, taking his post on the street corner.
“The Crown Princess has been murdered!” he called out, catching his breath and shouting it again.
“That ought to stir things up,” Ritter muttered to himself.
They passed a crier on every other corner, all shouting the same thing. Alexander was quite sure that everyone in the entire city had been made aware of the development by the time he and Ritter reached the stables.
That evening, after a day of hard, yet fulfilling work, Grant came into the refectory, trailing another man in an official-looking uniform, though different from those worn by the overseers. The idle conversation over dinner died out quickly.
“You’ve no doubt heard the disturbing news,” Grant said. “New details have come to light that the Acuna feels are important to communicate to the people.” Grant stepped aside and introduced the man in the uniform with a gesture that was at once deferential and slightly dismissive.
“Thank you, Lord Grant,” the man said, turning to the crowd and regarding them with a grave expression. “The enemy is in our midst. We have reason to believe that the pretender himself is within our great city. He has poisoned the Crown Princess, murdering her and the unborn heir to the throne. As you well know, without the Crown to protect us and our enlightened way of life, we will surely be overrun by the enemy in his mad quest for total power.
“If you ever had any doubt of his power, let the heinous murder of our beloved Crown Princess set your mind right. He has penetrated our defenses and lives within our walls even as we speak, yet his powerful magic protects him from detection. It is for this reason that the Acuna comes to you with great humility. We need your help. The Babachenko can see farther and better than any man alive with the aid of his powerful magic and yet he is blind to this enemy, unable to find him even though he stalks our streets in the night. We come to ask for your eyes and ears. We come to beg that you will watch and report anything that seems suspicious.
“Such is the sworn duty of every Andalian subject, yet we all know that not everything that should be reported is brought to our attention. That must change if our children are to survive this war. Our King, His Most Excellent Majesty, has chosen to send the bulk of our forces against the enemy in faraway lands to prevent them from bringing this battle to our shores, but alas, war has come into our home and dealt us a grievous blow.
“But do not despair, our King is still strong and virile, he is committed to the future of our great country more than ever before, he has felt the evil of the enemy we face in the most personal way possible, and he stands firm, unwavering in the face of nearly impossible odds. I am here to ask you to stand with our brave King. Help us bring the murderer to justice and end this terrible war.”
He finished his speech with his head bowed in sadness, yet his colors revealed only a desire to put on a good performance. The man didn’t seem to have any interest in the truth of the words he spoke, only that he delivered them convincingly.
Alexander sat very still, scrutinizing the men in the room with his all around sight, looking for any indication that he was being singled out. He felt an almost uncontrollable urge to bolt, to run for his life before they could find him, yet he held still. The men in the room were busy discussing the news while the man from the Acuna stood near the door with Grant.
It wasn’t long before a stable hand approached them, speaking in hushed tones for a moment before pointing out another man in the room. Two overseers entered as if on cue and dragged the man away while he protested his innocence. A few minutes later another man stood and pointed out someone else, claiming that he’d been acting suspiciously. That man was dragged out of the room as well. Alexander sat quietly trying with all his might to be invisible.
Five men in all were removed by the overseers, each having been accused of various suspicious activities. Alexander could tell from their colors that the accusers were lying and the accused were innocent. Once five men had been rounded up, the Acuna and Grant exchanged pleasantries and left the rest of the men to finish their meal.
His appetite gone, Alexander left the refectory, going to a small balcony adjacent to the paddock that overlooked the plains a thousand feet below. He leaned against the low wall separating him from open sky and tried to process what had just happened. The evening was cool but pleasant enough, the sun having just set. He needed to think.
The Acuna mouthpiece had said that the Babachenko could see farther and better than any man alive. In his mind’s eye, Alexander compared the colors of Mage Jalal and the Babachenko to confirm his suspicion and his fear. While Jalal was a good man and the Babachenko was not, they shared the same calling: divination. Both specialized in magic that provided information.
Alexander knew he wasn’t immune to magical sight … Phane had spied on him often enough. The inescapable conclusion that sent icy chills up his spine was that the Babachenko knew who he was and where he was. Reason demanded it, yet he hadn’t been dragged off with the others-why?
“Alexander?” a voice whispered from the shadows.
He didn’t turn, but instead reached out with his all around sight to identify the source before confirming his identity.
“Hello,
Anja, it’s good to see you.”
She raced out of the shadows and hugged him. “I’ve done like you said. I’ve obeyed even though I want to eat some of these people.”
“Good. I’m proud of you.”
“They know we’re here,” she whispered urgently. “They just told us that you killed the crown princess and they’re looking for you.”
“They’re lying,” Alexander said, focusing on his all around sight, looking for any sign of magic or people before continuing. “They know exactly where I am.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I can only guess that they want the Stone and they know I don’t have it, so they’re trying to flush me out, force me to make a move.”
“Wouldn’t they just torture you?”
“If the Babachenko is what I think he is, then he probably knows why he can’t find the Stone, and he also knows that torture wouldn’t work.”
“So what do we do?”
“Nothing. Just be ready. When it’s time to move, we’ll have to be quick about it.”
“I’m ready right now.”
“I know. Oh, and thank you.” He kissed her on the forehead.
“For what?”
“For getting me reassigned to the stables.”
“But I didn’t. I wanted to say something to Lady Grant but I was afraid it would draw attention.”
“Huh, that’s interesting. One more thing to think about.”
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Anja said. “Jack will be singing for Lady Grant tomorrow evening. He seems to be making a name for himself.”
Alexander chuckled. “Why doesn’t that surprise me. Let him know we need to talk, and keep doing what you’ve been doing.”
She stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek before melting back into the shadows. He waited for a few minutes longer, leaning against the railing, trying to decide how to proceed, when two men came into view behind him, crouching behind the bushes that bordered the little balcony. He slowed his breathing and focused on the threat, waiting for them to make a move. Their colors were calm and steady, eager even, those of men accustomed to violence, though thankfully, neither showed any trace of magic.
They started to move, very slowly, never rustling the bushes any more than the occasional breeze might have. One of the two wrapped a length of rope around each hand as he crept up behind Alexander. The second stopped ten feet away, waiting for his companion to strike. Alexander inventoried the nearest man’s weapons: sword, dagger, boot knife. He studied his colors and scrutinized his face without providing even a hint that he was aware of him. The moment seemed to slow as the enemy drew near, and then he saw the attack unfold in his mind’s eye … in that timeless place where his magic lived, Alexander watched the man loop the rope around his neck and pull him over backward.
When the man moved, Alexander ducked under the rope, grabbing it with one hand while lunging into the man’s midsection with his shoulder, quickly removing the dagger from his belt before grabbing him by the legs and tossing him over the wall. The second man was so surprised by the sudden turn of events that Alexander had him flat on his back with the dagger to his throat before he could react.
“Who sent you?” Alexander whispered.
The man stared back in blank surprise, still too shocked to process what had just happened. Alexander pressed the flat of the blade to his throat.
“Tyr … Lord Tyr sent us.”
“What were your orders?”
“To capture you alive and bring you to him.”
“Where is he?”
“Here, in the city.”
“Do the Andalians know he’s here?”
“Yes, he’s an ally of the king. He has a house just down the road.”
“What were you supposed to do if anyone caught you?”
“Kill them. Leave no trace.”
“Good. Get up,” Alexander said, hauling the man to his feet and walking him toward the balcony wall with the blade still to his throat. The man’s eyes went wider until he was staring at Alexander with nothing but the fear of death. When he reached the wall, Alexander grabbed the man by the belt and tossed him over without a moment’s hesitation. He considered keeping the dagger but decided it was too great a risk, so he threw it over as well.
He returned to his room and went to bed as if nothing was out of the ordinary, deciding to wait until he talked to Jack before he chose his first target. He wanted to make a move against the king, but he knew he would have a far better chance if he could use all of his magic to plan his attack first, and that would take some time-time spent without the slave collar.
That left the mine.
“Chloe?”
“I’m here, My Love.”
“Can you go to the mine for me?”
“Of course,” she said. Several minutes later she touched his mind again. “I’m here, My Love.”
Alexander looked through her eyes down the tunnel. Black scorch marks marred the wall, but it remained intact. Three magical circles had been inlaid in silver into a slab of stone laid near the wall. Each circle overlapped equally, creating a space within the center that was protected by all three. Around the three was another circle. Alexander had never seen magical circles arranged in such a way, each lending strength to the others. Six overseers stood guard at the entrance to the tunnel, but otherwise it was empty.
“Looks like they’ve been busy,” Alexander said.
“And yet, they haven’t gained entry,” Chloe said. “Maybe they won’t be able to get in.”
“From the looks of those circles, I bet they break through tomorrow.”
Chapter 11
Alexander had just started his work the following morning when Grant entered the stables with Tyr and his wizard.
“I have many fine horses, Lord Tyr,” Grant said. “For the right price, I would consider selling any of them.”
Tyr scanned the room, locking eyes with Alexander, rage boiling in his colors. He tried to remain calm, struggled to contain his anger, but it seeped through into his voice and bearing.
“I’ll take those two,” Tyr said, stabbing his finger toward two horses without really even looking at them. “And I’d like to buy a slave to care for them. He’ll do.” Tyr pointed at Alexander like he was aiming a weapon.
“Come now, Lord Tyr, you know as well as I do that the slave trade belongs to the Babachenko. Records must be kept, fees must be paid.”
“Formalities,” Tyr said. “I’ll give you gold.”
Grant held up his hands in a helpless gesture, shaking his head. “Lord Tyr, again, you know as well as I do that all transactions must take place with Andalian silver crowns. Gold is strictly forbidden.”
“Don’t play with me, Grant,” Tyr nearly growled.
“I mean no offense, but our laws are dear to me,” Grant said. “Only through the careful order of Andalian society can all be assured equality and prosperity.”
Tyr’s bald head started to turn red. Alexander went about his work, pretending to ignore them while watching the exchange with his all around sight. Tyr walked away, breathing deeply and deliberately, then turned back and stalked up to Grant, his hand resting on the hilt of the Thinblade.
“Name your price.”
Grant regarded him thoughtfully before smiling amiably. “Perhaps I do have a slave or two that I’d be willing to sell without all the official hassle. Why don’t we go take a look at them?”
“No,” Tyr said. “I want that one.” He pointed at Alexander again.
“Fancy that one, do you?”
Tyr glowered at him.
“I’ve just acquired him,” Grant said. “If I sell him so quickly and the Babachenko finds out about it, I could be charged with illegal slave trading. That’s a very serious crime.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “But I do have two men outside without proper documents on record. I’d be happy to sell you either of them.”
“I! Want! Him!” Tyr shouted at the top of his lungs.
Several privately employed guards armed with crossbows entered the stables a moment later, all of them looking to Grant for instructions. He forestalled any action with a gesture, but they fanned out around the walls, just in case.
“I believe it’s time for you to be going, Lord Tyr,” Grant said.
Tyr started shaking, then spat at Grant’s feet before storming out, cursing with every step. Alexander kept working as if nothing had happened.
Later that morning, Rollins pulled him aside. “I told you to avoid attention.”
Alexander just shrugged.
“Lord Grant wants to see you in the riding stables. Right away.”
Alexander nodded, heading toward the much smaller but better-built barn.
“Be ready, Chloe. We might have to move fast.”
“Yes, My Love.”
Alexander stepped inside.
“Close the door,” Grant said from the shadows.
“Yes, My Lord,” Alexander said.
“Can you tell me what that was about this morning?”
“No, My Lord.”
“You’re not a very good liar,” Grant said. “After Tyr threw his tantrum, I did some looking into you. It’s really quite odd. My wife told me that your sister, her new maid, recommended you, and yet your sister denies it. Normally, I would conclude that your sister is a liar, yet I detected no guile in her when I questioned her, so I enquired further. It seems that your sister was in the kitchen at the very same moment that she was also speaking with my wife about you. Now Tyr shows up demanding to buy you. Who are you?”
“Just a cowhand that got pressed into slavery,” Alexander said.
“So you say,” Grant said, eyeing Alexander the way a cat eyes a mouse. “You’re reassigned as my personal valet. I want to keep an eye on you.” He stepped into Alexander’s space, close to his face. “I will learn the truth of you.”
“As you wish, My Lord,” Alexander said, bowing his head and averting his eyes.
“Come with me,” Grant said. Alexander followed without a word. Grant led him toward the main house, but stopped suddenly when the city shook. A loud crack reverberated through the stone beneath their feet, followed by a rumbling that slowly diminished over the span of a minute or so.
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