Pelya couldn’t stop herself from jumping in surprise. She stood and turned to see the spooky eyes peering out from her shadow-hidden face. “That’s . . . a bit scary.”
“Very scary. Sometimes they look for me, but rats distract them.” Erma came close. She had to look up because of her hunched posture and shorter height, but it unnerved Pelya anyway. “Rats like you, say you’re decent to them.”
Pelya shrugged. “They’ve always been decent to me.”
Erma thought about that for a moment. “I like you too. Come with me.” She took Pelya’s arm again and led her into the darkness. Pelya looked to her father for guidance, but he just shrugged and followed with the lantern in hand.
It was hard to see as they traveled along ancient streets filled with crumbling stones and rubble. Each of them was excellent at sneaking around in places they weren’t supposed to be in, so they made very little noise. The darkness held unknown mystery. In some areas, walls closed in as though they were in a long forgotten alley and in others, the light didn’t reach anything. Pelya suspected they were plazas or once beautiful parks.
It was cooler underground, though still humid. Water from condensation dripped wherever they went. Occasionally, the sound of decaying stone or the rumble of a beast would echo in the distance. Pelya recognized a few of the beastly sounds from past experiences, but others were new to her. The scents were strong and varied. She could smell waterlogged stones, droppings from various creatures, and aromas from plants that thrived in the damp, dark environment.
After a short while, they saw torch and lantern light ahead. Erma stopped at a corner behind some crates and whispered, “Stay close, keep quiet.”
Pelya didn’t have a choice but to stay close as Erma was still holding her arm with a powerful grip. There were voices ahead and she began to get excited again. Erma had Frath extinguish the lantern and put it on the ground in a corner. The moss-covered buildings surrounded a larger one that rose to the ceiling high above. Scattered empty barrels and crates bordered the edges of the encampment.
They hid behind some of the crates as two alert guards in yellow tunics with three black stripes walked by with hands on their weapons. Pelya squatted in a patch of mushrooms and hoped the guards didn’t hear her squish one of them under foot. It was nerve wracking, but the men were looking for monsters in the dark, not people sneaking around.
After the guards went around a corner, Erma snuck to a large building very close to the one connecting to the warehouse. A murky entry was unguarded and she pulled Pelya in there. Frath followed and didn’t seem alarmed.
They ducked and looked out a window facing the building. Four of Blavoci’s men sat on benches outside wooden double doors that were much newer than the building. Food cooked in a pot over a firepit and two tents were set up nearby. Lanterns on poles lined a large avenue extending in the distance to the west.
Erma pointed at the road and spoke in whispers. “Slaves in wagons go that way. More slaves come back. Tall souls with musical voices go that way too.”
“Tall souls?” Frath asked, also in a whisper.
“Not human souls, high off the ground and sing in many voices. Not important.” She pointed at more dark buildings in the distance then back at the four men around the tents. “Two more guards out there. Kill guards and rescue slaves in building.”
“No,” Pelya replied, matching her volume to theirs. “I don’t want to kill anyone.” The excitement turned to panic. She did her best not to show it and mentally kicked herself for saying it in front of her father.
“I agree,” Frath whispered without even looking at her. He was intent on studying the scene. “This is going to be difficult though and we may have no choice. My biggest concern is whether or not any wagon trains are coming up that road.”
“There are not.” The words came from above and behind them, spoken simultaneously by two voices.
Pelya turned in her crouch and put a hand on hilt, looking for the people who were speaking. Frath rolled to the side and drew his sword. Erma scurried back into a corner, a dagger in her right hand.
The melodic voices came from the top of a partially collapsed staircase. Pelya could see violet irises in upside-down teardrop shaped eyes. “It will please you greatly that I am your friend. The young human woman and her associate enabled my escape for which I am thankful.” It was the creature she and Pelya had released from the prison under Blavoci’s first warehouse.
“A tall soul,” Erma whispered in fear. “Did not see it through stone, very quiet.”
“Pelya, do you know what it’s talking about?” Frath spoke quietly, but he was inching forward, ready to fight if it attacked.
“Ebudae and I unlocked its cell door and left it a knife when we rescued Jovias. I think it’s safe to put your sword away, Daddy.” Pelya was certain of it. The creature was odd, but there was something noble about it.
“I am not an ‘it’, I am Rojuun,” the creature insisted as Frath sheathed his sword. Carefully, the Rojuun made its way down the broken rocks of the stairway. “My name is Zaan Thurrrn. I heard you speak of rescuing human slaves. You will be pleased to assist me in rescuing Rojuun prisoners as well.”
Zaan Thurrrn looked much healthier than he had in the cell. Pelya noticed Ebudae’s knife on his belt as well as three others. Somewhere he had found clothes and taken time to bathe. His pasty white skin was clean and his black hair was pulled into three thick braids that fell past his shoulders.
“What in the world are you?” Frath asked in awe.
Instead of answering, Zaan asked Pelya, “Is your father person stupid? I just said that I am Rojuun. Perhaps he is deaf?”
“Hey, I’m not stupid,” Frath said louder than he should.
Pelya motioned for him to keep his voice down. She didn’t like Zaan insulting her father, but everything about the Rojuun creature was odd. “He’s never seen a Rojuun before, but he’s very smart and not deaf.” “My name is Pelya, my father is Frath and our friend is Erma.”
“Greetings to all of you. You are pleased to meet me.”
“We are?” Frath asked. Pelya raised an eyebrow and felt a corner of her mouth rise in amusement. The Rojuun had a superior way of speaking.
“Of course. Humans are the servant race and are always pleased to be of assistance to their Rojuun masters.” Zaan said it as though to think otherwise would be stupid. At seeing their incredulous expressions, he crossed his upper arms and sighed. “It is obvious that this has not been explained to you. Perhaps you are offended by the inevitable. So be it. I will pretend to treat you as . . . equals for now.” The word equals came out of his mouth as though it tasted badly.
“How gracious of you,” Frath replied sarcastically. Pelya was just glad he was keeping his blade sheathed.
“Isn’t it though? I find that I handle humans rather well. You are grateful for that.” Zaan looked proud of himself in the dim glow of the torchlight through the windows.
Pelya couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. “You said you want to rescue Rojuun prisoners. We want to rescue human prisoners as well as any slaves, so it makes sense to help each other, but we’re not sure how to get past the guards without killing them.”
“You are a smart feju. I shall cast spells to put them all to sleep. It is easy enough.” His voices wove through each other as he spoke. It wasn’t loud, but there was something beautiful and entrancing about them.
“You just called my daughter a feju. What does that mean?” Frath asked threateningly.
“You are an impertinent human, but I shall answer. Feju means female. Meju is male.” Zaan rubbed his chin thoughtfully with one of his upper hands. “I must admit that I have forgotten the human terms for male and female, so I use our Rojuun words. It is not difficult to understand your human speech, but you have unusual terminology for many things and I do not have time to waste on them.”
“You said you could cast spells to put the guards to sleep. Why haven’t you done that and rescued your friends al
ready?” Pelya asked, ignoring both her father and the lofty attitude of the Rojuun. She glanced out of the window to make sure the guards hadn’t noticed them talking.
“I do not know how many more humans are inside,” Zaan explained logically. He sat on a crate and crossed his legs while putting his lower set of hands on a knee. With his upper hands, he used gestures to emphasize his words. “It would be difficult for me to fight many humans even though I am a skilled warrior. In addition, I do not know spells to open your locks and finding keys would consume time. Lastly, it has taken time for me to recover and I am still weak, though I hesitate to mention that in case you might not be an ally. My instincts tell me you are however, and I will take the chance.”
Pelya found his eyes and voices to be fascinating. Zaan was interesting and she wanted to know more about him. “My father and Erma probably don’t trust you, but my instincts tell me that you are an ally too. If you put the guards to sleep, I can unlock the doors. Daddy is the best warrior I know and I’m good with a sword too.”
“I know your words to be true because I saw you fight after you released me. The honor you showed in giving mercy to the meju guard you defeated earned my respect as did punishing your associate when he murdered the meju guard.” Zaan lowered his head approvingly.
Pelya blushed at the compliment. “Thank you, Zaan. I’m glad we released you. The fact that you’re a wizard makes it even better.”
“I am not a wizard.” He was offended. “Magic is natural and inherent to the Rojuun unlike humans. None of your wizards match Rojuun in power and skill.” Zaan held his head high.
“I apologize. I’ve never met a Rojuun, so I don’t know anything about your race.” Pelya didn’t mean to insult him, but she wasn’t about to feel guilty for not understanding. Plus, she was sure Ebudae could handle this Rojuun or any other.
“I don’t mean to interrupt the conversation, but if we’re going to do this we should get started,” Frath said.
“You are hasty, Frath Human, but correct in this instance.” Zaan stood, towering above them. Frath frowned at having to look up at someone, a sensation that was rare for him. Pelya turned toward the window again and jumped when Erma reclaimed her arm. The rat-faced woman hadn’t said a word throughout the conversation and didn’t seem inclined to now.
“I will cast the spell and the guards will sleep for hours. A slight adjustment will cause it to jump to the patrolling humans as well.” Zaan moved to the window. His gestures were different from Ebudae’s. The four graceful hands moved in a dance as he spoke words of power. Pelya noticed that the supernatural winds of magic affected him just as it would any human wizard.
She looked out the window just as he released the spell and braced his feet to compensate for the wind hitting him in the back. All four guards near the tent fell to the ground in instant slumber. She couldn’t see the patrolling guards, so had to take Zaan’s word that they would be asleep too.
Frath was the first out with sword drawn, followed by Erma who dragged Pelya yet again. Zaan moved silently as he followed them to the building and the locked wooden doors. Frath searched the unconscious bodies for a key and found one. By the time he got to the doors with it, Pelya had just finished picking the lock. She slipped the picks back into their pouch and put it away into her tunic.
“Where did you learn how to do that, young lady?” he challenged with eyes narrowed.
“Uncle Bobbell taught me.” Pelya prayed he wouldn’t take the picks away. A pained look crossed his face at the mention of his childhood friend and he let the matter go.
“Everyone ready weapons or spells. I don’t know what we’ll find in here,” Frath told them. He looked impressed when Zaan readied knives in his lower hands and set his upper hands in position to cast. The Rojuun was an odd addition to their group and Pelya was surprised by how they were including him out of necessity when they would normally act with more suspicion given adequate time.
Frath opened the door and dashed inside, followed by the rest. A guard stood up from a table in surprise. He tried to grab his sword, which was lying on the table, but Frath closed the space and knocked him in the back of the head. The man crumpled to the ground unconscious. Frath grabbed a ring of keys off the table. “These may come in handy.”
Pelya stopped just inside the room and stared at the horrible sight that confronted her.
Chapter 20
Someone was shaking Ebudae’s shoulder yet again. “I need sleep. Why doesn’t anyone understand this?” she whined.
“Unnn!” Tina urged Ebudae to wake up while shaking her even harder. Ebudae opened her eyes and sat up. Tina backed up a step and pointed to the bedroom doorway. “Unnn!”
There was no one in the doorway, but her servant was obviously upset. “Something’s wrong? Ebudae asked, getting out of bed.
“Y, y, yes,” Tina stuttered. She pointed at the door again.
Ebudae was hungry again, but not overwhelmingly so. She was also sick of eating and her jaw was sore from chewing. Tina didn’t have a dress out, but the one Ebudae had worn previously was still on a chair and she put that on with her servant’s help.
Three members of the Guard, one male sergeant and two female privates, were waiting outside her bedroom. The two women stood with hands on the hilts of their swords while the sergeant had his arms folded and a disapproving expression on his face. “Lady Ebudae Pallon?”
Ebudae put fingers to her temples. The booming voice pounded her skull and contributed to the beginnings of a headache. The fact that members of the City Guard were in her room was disconcerting. She cleared her mind as much as possible, mentally sweeping the cobwebs into corners and under a rug. Ebudae didn’t know why there was a rug in her mind, but didn’t have time to figure it out. “I am.”
The man took a step forward and asked in an accusing tone while pointing a finger, “Lady Ebudae Pallon, did you murder your grandmother?”
The words didn’t register right away. Ebudae tilted her head, trying to discern out what they meant. Then the meaning became clear. It hit her like a sledgehammer and Ebudae’s knees buckled, hitting the floor hard.
“Lady Ebudae Pallon, you murdered your grandmother. Confess!” The sergeant loomed over her angrily, determined to get the answer he wanted.
Her grandmother must be dead, but it didn’t make any sense. Ebudae was certain the miserable woman would live forever.
“You will confess to the murder,” the sergeant demanded. He grabbed Ebudae’s arm and yanked her to her feet.
“Ow!” His cruel grip felt as though it would crush the bone underneath and the way he jerked her nearly dislocated the shoulder. Ebudae scampered to keep up with him as he dragged her out of the room with Tina and the two privates following. He didn’t become any gentler as they headed down the grand stairway.
Visions of her grandmother lying dead in a pool of blood crossed her mind. Ebudae wondered who had killed the old hag and why. More importantly was how they had gotten to her. The Pallon Estate was magically fortified. No one but the two of them knew that the squirrels on the estate were magical golems that watched for any intrusion, nor that those squirrels could trigger supernatural defenses that would destroy any trace of an intruder.
When they got to the sitting room, the sergeant shoved her through the door, causing her to fall to the ground. She got to her feet and backed away from him. Tina dashed to her side and held onto an arm, whether for support or out of fear, Ebudae didn’t know. “I’ve brought the murdering little wench,” he sergeant snarled.
“That’s enough, Sergeant.” Pelya saw the speaker, a balding, brown-haired captain of the Guard. He stood near the front window of the room by the fireplace. Lady Pallon’s wing-backed chair was turned toward the window and all Ebudae could see of her grandmother was an arm hanging over the edge. Two Healers of the Guard and a Guard Wizard were around the chair. Other Guardmembers were around the room, examining it for clues.
“You killed her!” Mary shrieked from
near the fireplace where she was talking to a Guardsman. She pointed at Ebudae with every muscle in her arm and neck tensed. Blood vessels stood out in the woman’s head from fury. “You murdered her with your evil sorcery.” Then she smiled a wicked smile and crowed triumphantly. “Not everyone in the City Guard believes that your little friend is so wonderful. Captain Vulayn hates Pelya, so you can’t hide behind that.”
The captain in question snorted. “Shut up, woman. I hate you too.”
“Yeah. Captain Vulayn hates everybody,” the sergeant said.
“You can shut up too, Sergeant Oxlen!” Captain Vulayn barked in irritation. “In fact everyone just shut up!” The man was six-foot tall. He was whip-lean and corded muscle wrapped his arms. Pelya had explained to Ebudae that men like Captain Vulayn tended to be faster and have greater endurance than men with thick muscles, making them more dangerous.
He walked over to Ebudae, who was desperately trying to organize her mind and get out of the shock she was feeling. The situation was too dire to let any sort of emotion overwhelm her. Putting the death of her grandmother aside, she concentrated on the man in front of her.
Captain Vulayn stood far too close. He leaned over and put his nose an inch in front of hers. Everything he did was an attempt to be intimidating. “How did you kill your grandmother?”
He obviously thought her a nitwit. Pelya had explained that the best way to get a confession was to unnerve someone and then ask them how they did the crime. Ebudae was intimidated. This officer was not friendly to her and that made him very dangerous. She let out a slow breath and forced her muscles to relax. “I did not kill my grandmother, Captain,” she said firmly and confidently.
“You did too, you evil little b . . .”
“ENOUGH!” Captain Vulayn interrupted Mary with a bellow that rattled the windows and made her and everyone in his squad jump. Mary practically climbed over the Guardsman who was asking her questions in an attempt to get away from the glaring officer. The captain straightened his tunic and popped his neck in each direction. “Let’s tell the truth now, little girl. You killed Lady Pallon with magic to make it look like a natural death. There’s no good that will come in denying it.”
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