by Amy Raby
He frowned at the rug that covered his trapdoor into the hypocaust. Why had he not sealed that secret passageway years ago? He couldn’t make effective use of it, not with his missing leg. But his father frightened him just enough that he liked the idea of having a way out in case of disaster. He could not easily crawl through those subterranean tunnels, but if sufficiently desperate . . .
What a fool he was. Someone had sneaked into his room, almost certainly through that trapdoor, and rifled his things. That person had looked through a document containing important and very secret military information. With Florian’s idiotic attack on Sardos imminent, the stakes were unusually high.
There was a spy at large in the Imperial Palace, probably a Sardossian shroud mage. Now Lucien understood the bizarre incident in Florian’s office. Augustan had tripped an enemy ward, yet his interrogation had come up clean. Important papers had gone missing that day. The event should have been followed up on, but then Rhianne had gone missing and all available resources had been allocated toward her recovery. An invisible spy must have entered the room at the same time as Augustan, triggering the ward so that the blame fell on the legatus. Then the spy had grabbed the papers. Clever bastard.
Lucien rose from his chair and shouldered his crutch. He limped into the sitting room. “Hiberus,” he called to his door guard. “Send me a warder right away. And get me on Florian’s schedule. I need to speak to him.”
• • •
The spy ship was late. Three nights in a row, Janto had made the long trek out to the seaside cliff and signaled the ship, only to stare into the darkness and wait for a return signal that never came. He had, unknowingly, sent the ship on its relay mission just as the Kjallan fleet had been returning from Mosar. His ship might have sailed into that fleet and been destroyed. There was no way he could know its fate for certain at this point. But with the intelligence he possessed about the planned attack on Sardos, he could stand around and wait no longer. Somehow he had to get out of Kjall.
In the harbor, the Meritorious, bound for Mosar, rode at double anchor. One of its boats was at the dock, half loaded with casks labeled BEEF. Janto liked the look of that boat. He could more easily hide himself amidst cargo than among men, since cargo didn’t notice when you bumped it.
Lots of guards, he commented to Sashi, who rode atop his shoulder.
Sashi’s hackles rose. Kill them?
No. Too many. Janto felt the ferret’s disappointment through the link and smiled.
Increased security at the docks was one of the side effects of Rhianne’s disappearance. Some of the guards weren’t in uniform and milled about in the crowd. With their erect, soldierlike posture, they were laughably easy to spot. The others were in uniform, and they stood before every boat tied to the docks, including the one Janto meant to sneak onto.
He needed a diversion to get past them. Something simple.
Shrouded, he trod along the wooden planking, dodging individual sailors and looking for a suitable group of three or more men. He would shove one of them while no one was looking, and masculine pride ought to take care of the rest. He spotted a likely-looking quartet on a spur just across from the Meritorious’s boat.
Just as he stepped forward to reach them, fireworks crackled in his ear, and he froze in terror. Fingers of orange and green lightning twined their way up from the ground, all around him. Gods! He’d tripped an invisibility ward.
He broke into a run. Men shouted and ran toward the ward, converging on his position. They couldn’t see him, but they knew where he’d been a moment ago. He wanted to turn and make his path unpredictable, but the dock was straight with only a few spurs angling off it, none of which led anywhere but into the water.
He shivered in horror. He was pounding toward a dead end! He could go into the water, but he could not swim invisibly. His best chance was to turn around and go back the way he’d come—toward the guards.
He turned and ran back, ducking his shoulder as he dodged between the first pair of guards. His boots slipped on wooden planks he hadn’t recalled being wet. Up ahead, a guard flung a bucket of seawater across the docks.
His stomach tightened with dread.
Something cold and wet struck him. He looked in the direction it had come from and saw an empty bucket in a guard’s hands.
“There he is!” someone cried.
He extended his shroud, taking into it the water droplets that covered his body. But the ones that streamed off him could not be hidden. Another bucket of water hit him.
Someone collided with him from the side. He flew through the air and landed on the hard planks, wincing at a sharp pain in his knee. Sashi screamed as he was thrown clear. Janto tried to get up, but a heavy weight fell atop him, and another.
Run, Sashi, he commanded.
The ferret wriggled through a gap in the wooden planks and splashed into the water.
“We’ve got him! We’ve got him!” his captors were yelling.
Janto struggled, but the guards held him fast. His hold on the Rift and his shroud slackened, and he grasped at it mentally. Sashi?
If I go any farther I’ll break the link, the ferret reported.
Through the link he sensed fear and exhaustion. Are you still in the ocean?
Yes.
Break the link, he ordered. Get to dry land.
Getting Sashi free was the best he could do—Janto was finished. He tucked his chin, scooping his necklace of glass beads into his mouth. He bit hard on one of the beads, cracking it open. Bitter liquid seeped onto his tongue. He gagged at the taste but forced himself to swallow.
He felt Sashi leave his range. He lost the link and the shroud and popped into visibility. The guards holding him down shouted in surprise.
“Hey!” A guard tore the beads off his neck and examined the one he’d bitten. “I think he took poison.”
Another guard stood up and yelled. “We need a Healer here, right away!”
Janto’s throat tightened. His vision narrowed around the edges and faded. Then he let go.
25
Janto woke disoriented. He swallowed with difficulty, finding his tongue thick and his throat swollen. He opened his eyes and for a moment wasn’t sure he had opened them, since he saw only darkness, but as he shifted on his hard pallet, he located a broad rectangle of faint light halfway up the wall. Bars slashed across the rectangle. Prison bars? He tried to rise, but he was too weak. Also, something impeded his movement. Something heavy on his wrist.
A manacle.
Memories of the dock flashed through his head. His desperate run, the buckets of water they’d thrown at him, the poison he’d taken. How was it he still lived?
They’d called for a Healer.
He reached for the link to his familiar and, in a rush of relief, found it open and available. Sashi?
You’re awake! the ferret crowed.
Where are you? How long have I been out?
Days, said Sashi. I’m in the hypocaust.
Janto could sense his ferret’s position relative to him, now that more of his mind was awakening. You’re not below me. You’re beside me. Not in the same room, though. There was some distance.
You’re in the prison, below ground, said Sashi. The hypocaust doesn’t go beneath the prison but runs alongside it. I’m as close to you as I can get.
I see. He was in the palace prison. This was extraordinarily bad news. They would have saved his life only in order to interrogate and torture him before staking him. He’d swallowed the poison to avoid such a fate.
They’re going to kill me, he told Sashi. You should get to a safe place—to the woods. His death would not kill Sashi, but it would extinguish the fragment of his soul embedded within his familiar. Sashi would become an ordinary ferret.
You are mine and I am yours, su-kali, said Sashi. I am with you until the end.
; • • •
The next day, Janto heard voices outside his cell door. He was strong enough now to sit up. The door to his cell was solid iron from the ground to about waist height. From there to the ceiling it was iron bars through which he had some visibility, but he was chained into a corner where he couldn’t get much of a view. He stretched to the full length of his chains, trying to see out.
“Is that the one? The spy we caught at the docks?”
Gods curse it, he couldn’t see who was speaking. That was a new voice, male, and it sounded vaguely familiar. In the short time he’d been conscious, Janto had learned most of the guards’ voices.
“Yes, that’s the one.” That was Janto’s guard, the one who’d brought him breakfast.
“When’s he scheduled for interrogation?”
“A few hours,” said the guard.
Janto shivered. Interrogation in a few hours. Lovely.
“I want to see him before you mess him up,” said the new voice.
“As you please,” said the guard.
The key rattled in the lock. Janto stopped contorting himself in an effort to see and retreated to a more natural position on his bench. The door opened. Lucien, the Imperial Heir, limped in on his crutch, looked at Janto, and did a double take. He turned back to the guard. “He’s not Sardossian.”
“No, he’s Mosari,” called the guard from outside the cell. “You didn’t know?”
“I do now,” said Lucien. “He’s a shroud mage, isn’t he? Where’s his familiar?”
“Never found,” said the guard. “It jumped into the ocean, and since he became visible while the guards were holding him, they think it drowned.”
“You can’t assume that. It might have gone out of range, or he may have made himself visible on purpose. He could have his magic right now, and if he does, he can make the familiar invisible. Send for a dog and search his cell. Search the entire prison. In the meantime, bring me a chair. I’ll speak to him.”
The guard gave a hoarse laugh. “Good luck getting anything out of him, Your Imperial Highness. He’s silent as snowfall. You want him to talk, wait a few hours and we’ll light him up for you.”
Lucien’s eyes bored into Janto’s. “I can be persuasive.”
Janto stared back impassively.
The guard brought a wooden chair into the cell. Lucien turned the chair backward and straddled it. After the guard had left, closing the door, Lucien said, “I know you.”
Janto said nothing. He saw no reason to offer this man information for free.
“I wasn’t expecting to find you here,” said Lucien. “I need to think about this.” He rested his chin on the chair back. His eyes went distant. After about a minute, he lifted his head and spoke. “You’re facing interrogation in a few hours. You can’t be looking forward to that. They call it interrogation, but it’s actually torture. You know that, right?”
No response.
“Here’s what I’d like to know,” continued Lucien. “Rhianne conspired with you on something relatively innocent—this plot to punish the slave overseer for his abuse of the slave women. But did she know she was working with a Mosari spy?”
Janto continued his silent stare. Why would he incriminate Rhianne?
“You think you’re clever by not talking to me,” said Lucien. “Here’s why you should rethink that strategy. I’m a powerful man, and I can stop your interrogation from happening. You and I are enemies—we need not pretend otherwise. But in one matter, I believe our interests are aligned. We both care about Rhianne. Am I correct in that assertion?”
After a long pause, Janto said, “Yes.”
“That was quite a trick you played on Augustan, with the enemy ward. I congratulate you.”
A clumsy attempt at building rapport. Janto ignored it.
Lucien rolled his eyes. “I hate one-sided conversations. So, in the matter of Rhianne’s welfare we are allies, and I will share with you something concerning her that you do not know. She is about to be captured. We’ve narrowed the search radius to a fifty-mile area in central eastern Kjall, and I believe she will be in the hands of the authorities within the next forty-eight hours. You may think fifty miles is a large area, but believe me, with our resources it is small. And Rhianne is making mistakes. She’s giving away money to the village children, and we’re tracking her through that.”
“Rhianne has a big heart.” It pained Janto that her generosity should be her undoing.
“I love her, but sometimes she lets her compassion override her good sense.” Lucien rested his chin on the chair back. “If it were up to me, I’d let her go. I don’t want this marriage for her any more than you do. But my power doesn’t extend that far. All I can do is minimize the harm that will befall her when she is captured. Do you follow me?”
Janto nodded.
“If, in the course of your interrogation, it comes out that you and Rhianne conspired together, and that she knew you were a spy, that is going to be an enormous problem for her because that would be treason. I personally don’t care if Rhianne committed treason, because I know that Rhianne is a woman of compassion and integrity. If she did such a thing, however ill-advised, it was because she believed it was right. The emperor . . . would be more concerned about it than I, but he’d still prefer to cover it up. He wants to marry Rhianne off to Augustan, not bring her up on treason charges. However, if the rest of the palace finds out—and they will, if you confess it in your interrogation—neither Florian nor I will be able to protect her from the scandal that will follow. If that’s the situation we’re dealing with, the only way I can protect Rhianne is to prevent you from being interrogated. So I think it’s in everyone’s best interest—mine, the emperor’s, Rhianne’s, and especially yours—if you start talking to me.”
Janto swallowed. Did he trust this man? Perhaps he should. Rhianne trusted him, and Lucien was making sense. “Rhianne knew I was a spy, though it was never her intent to commit treason. She threatened repeatedly to turn me in if I didn’t leave the country.”
“But she never followed through,” said Lucien.
“No. She didn’t want to see me tortured to death.”
“Typical Rhianne. That’s all I needed.” Lucien rose from his chair and picked up his crutch. “Congratulations. Since your testimony would incriminate her, you just got out of your interrogation. But I can’t save you from execution.” He headed for the door, then stopped midstride, his eyes widening. “You know what? Maybe I can. Don’t get excited—I don’t know if it will work.” Opening the door, he called for the guard. “Has his writ been sent up?”
“No,” said the guard.
“Alter it,” said Lucien. “Cancel the interrogation. This man is not to be questioned under any circumstances. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly, Your Imperial Highness.”
“As for his execution, put it on hold. I’ve a potential use for him. Just keep him here for a while, and I’ll be in touch.”
• • •
Rhianne was resting her horse, letting him walk on a long rein, when she heard the rhythm of hoofbeats approaching from up ahead. Three horses came over the rise at a trot, each carrying a man in military dress. Their bridles and saddles were trimmed in white, and the soldiers wore the insignias from White Star battalion, but no blood marks. They were enlisted men, which meant they had no magic and were no threat.
She touched each man’s mind in turn and dropped a suggestion: I am not interested in the traveler ahead. Each man’s gaze drifted away from her and back to the road.
Her tired chestnut gelding ambled along. Rhianne was hot and cold at the same time, sweating in the places where she was in contact with the horse while her ears and nose had gone numb from the morning’s chill. She eyed the three riders as they passed alongside her.
Then the far rider broke ranks and cantered toward her. In a p
anic and uncertain of the soldier’s intentions, she projected more suggestions at him. I am not interested. I don’t even see that woman. I’m in a hurry to get to my destination.
Her suggestions weren’t taking hold. He just kept coming! The other riders pulled up their horses, looking confused.
Rhianne snatched up her reins and kicked the gelding, hard. He surged into a startled gallop, but the other horse had momentum and caught up quickly. Her attacker seized her gelding’s reins in one hand and her wrist in the other.
“Imperial Princess?” He smiled wryly. “There’s quite a price on your head. Men!” he called to the other riders. “Get over here and help!”
“I’m not interested . . . ,” one of them began uncertainly.
“Yes, you are! Get over here, and that’s an order!” He turned to Rhianne. “Your tricks work on them. But they don’t work on me.”
“You’re not wearing a blood mark,” said Rhianne.
“It seems I forgot to wear mine this morning,” said her captor as the other riders trotted their way.
• • •
The prison guards came with a dog, which sniffed around every corner of Janto’s cell. After that, Janto’s days bled one into the other, a shapeless mass of close confines, inactivity, prison rations, and a knot of dread he couldn’t dislodge from his gut. He began to understand why prisoners scored the walls to mark the passage of time. He’d already become a little confused about whether it had been five days since Lucien’s visit or six.
He had Sashi to keep him company, at least some of the time. The ferret stayed in the hypocaust during the day. At night, he left the sterile tunnels through one of many rat holes he’d found to hunt rodents in the palace’s storerooms or gardens or sometimes all the way out in the woods. This involved putting enough distance between him and Janto that the connection between them was lost, temporarily disabling Janto’s shroud magic. But with Janto locked up, there was no alternative. Sashi insisted he was stealthy enough to travel without the shroud, especially at night, and this appeared to be true since by morning he was always back in the hypocaust, regaling Janto with his tales of adventure. Then he would sleep most of the day.