Nica flipped through the pages, counting under her breath. She scanned the seventh quatrain and a chill raced up her arms. “Listen,” she whispered.
“A war continues, destined to repeat
Until two daughters royal born do meet
The time has come to heal the past
That which is hidden can be found at last.”
She looked up at Jaaniyah with wide eyes. “It’s the quatrain Becknah recited when he discovered there were two of us.”
“I don’t believe it.” Jaaniyah leaned closer and stared at the words for herself. “What does the quatrain for E say?”
Nica flipped back two pages. “Here it is.” She pointed. “On a page with two entries.” They read the first quatrain together:
“The power within a stone now lies
For one to live, many will die
An ancient promise marked with a seal
A clue long hidden, waits to be revealed.”
“That’s where we need to start,” Nica said. Her eyes glowed. “Where an ancient promise is marked with a seal. Any ideas?”
“Well, it’s written in Jarisan, so I guess we need to start in Jarisa.” Jaaniyah walked across the room, deep in thought. “The Ancients created a doctrine back when they divided the continent into countries. I’ve heard that referred to as the Ancient Promise.”
“What did the doctrine say?”
“That empathy and friendship must be the common thread that governs each state.”
“That didn’t work out so well, did it?” Nica muttered.
Jaaniyah ignored her sister’s comment. “They created a seal that represented the three Ancients: Getheas, Juneedika and Celestica and they stamped the seal on every official document as a reflection of this doctrine. They still do it today.” She looked at Nica. “Don’t you remember? Didn’t you learn about this in history?”
Nica shrugged. “I remember something about it but I was never terribly interested in Jarisan history. Didn’t they create a statue or something when they all agreed?”
“Yes.” Jaaniyah’s voice was faint, her eyes far away, seeing things not in the room. “They erected a statue to Getheas and the other Ancients but that’s not where the seal is. The doctrine and the original seal are on display at the Museum d’History.”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s in Our Lady of the Light,” Jaaniyah said, a note of awe in her voice. At Nica’s blank look, she added, “The cathedral. On the far side of the palace grounds.”
Nica could hardly contain her excitement. “Then we need to go there tomorrow.”
ica couldn’t sleep. She stared through the dark shadows at the wavering light cast by a lone candle. The flame flickered and danced as if with a life of its own. She could hear Jaaniyah’s heavy breathing from the bed. Her sister was asleep, yet thoughts of Toppen and Becknah, of the Getheas Stone and Mosaba kept Nica’s mind from letting her rest.
Shanks had visited, though he had looked exhausted. Jaaniyah had pummeled him with questions which he had tried to answer patiently but he’d seemed worried and distracted to Nica. Jacoby was still too ill to travel. His wounds were no longer life-threatening, but he had developed a high fever and a hacking cough. Mosaba had men moving in many different directions, making it difficult to track his location. Their conversation had centered mostly on Becknah’s strange disappearance to which there seemed no explanation. Shanks had departed after only a short visit.
Nica tossed and turned, trying to push unwanted memories from her mind’s eye. Where was Toppen? Had he returned to Sartis? Was he delivering wine to Ravensfell again?
A soft noise from the outer chamber caused her to jerk upright on the sofa. Had that been the door opening? Was someone coming to check on Jaaniyah? The maids had not been happy they’d not been allowed to clean the room. The sound of muffled steps in the antechamber made Nica jump from the coach and race silently to the other room.
She couldn’t be seen.
In a panic, she glanced around, looking for a place to hide. In a nearby wall, there was a small door that lead to the flues, the tunnels connected to the fires that heated the palace. Desperate, she yanked the door open and hoisted herself onto the jamb. Pulling her nightdress above her knees, Nica crawled into the space and pulled the door closed.
The space was cramped and tight. She braced her back against one wall and her feet against the other and slowly walked herself up the chute to where the tunnel ran along the ceiling of Jaaniyah’s rooms. Nica flipped over onto her stomach, unmindful of the black soot that clung to her, and pulled herself into the tunnel. She pulled her skirt up around her waist and crawled on her hands and knees to a grate that looked down into her sister’s bedchamber. Holding her breath, Nica peered through the shadows into the room below, praying she had imagined the noises.
A swath of moonlight cut through the room below and Nica covered her mouth with her hand as dark figures crept into view. Someone was in Jaaniyah’s rooms. Nica leaned close to the grate, trying to make out who was below. She counted three shadows.
In a flurry of silent activity, the men moved as one. One man reached forward and yanked Jaaniyah’s head back as he tied a black cloth in her mouth as a gag. At the same moment another yanked the covers off and trussed her ankles. A third spread what looked like a horse blanket on the floor. Nica barely had time to blink before a black hood was pulled over Jaaniyah’s face. Her hands were tied in front of her and the two men picked her up by her shoulders and ankles and laid her roughly on top of the blanket. The third man rolled her up like she was a piece of dough. From above, Nica could barely hear her sister’s muffled cries
One of the dark shadows kicked the end of the roll and there was an abrupt silence. He leaned forward and with a grunt, heaved the blanket containing Jaaniyah over his shoulder. Just as quickly as they had arrived the three shadows disappeared from Nica’s view. The entire sequence had taken less than thirty seconds.
Nica sat back so fast she cracked her head with a meaty thunk against the stone ceiling of the small tunnel. With a muffled groan, she clutched her head and rolled on her side. A combination of pain and panic made it hard to breathe.
They had Jaaniyah. A thousand questions cartwheeled through her mind. Someone had kidnapped the princess of Jarisa. Like an eerie echo, Mosaba’s warning she’d overheard from the window ledge that night she’d spied on his meeting reverberated in her ears: ‘Jacoby’s daughter, Jaaniyah is now the prize I seek. I want her captured and brought to me alive.’
Mosaba had captured Jaaniyah. Nica pushed herself to her knees. She needed help, but who could she trust?
Shanks.
She needed to find Shanks.
Nica crawled furiously back through the tunnel, barely conscious of the hard stone bruising her knees. She clamored down the chute and opened the door a crack, listening. Her heart pounded as though it might burst through her chest as she crept back into the room and ran for Jaaniyah’s closet.
She jerked open the lower drawer and dug through the clothes to find the garments she had worn when she arrived in Jarisa. Breathing heavily, she slipped into the black breeches and tugged the sweater over her head. She ran to the mirror and tied the black scarf over her head – tucking her hair underneath. Instead of her own reflection, she saw Jaaniyah. She wasn’t alone anymore. She had to save her sister. She wouldn’t let Mosaba hurt her too.
Nica grabbed a thick black cloak with an oversized hood from Jaaniyah’s closet and forced her arms into the sleeves. She yanked the hood up and hurried for the door.
She stopped. The book of quatrains was still by Jaaniyah’s bed. She wasn’t going to leave it unguarded. Nica retraced her steps and grabbed the book then raced for the door. She paused long enough to calm her breathing, slowly inhaling and exhaling. She needed to appear calm. With a deep breath, she pulled the portal open a crack and peered outside. Her eyes dropped to a dark crimson puddle on the stone floor where the guard usually stood. Blood.
She slipped out and pulled the door closed behind her. Nica ran silently down the hall, holding her hood in place over her head. She didn’t know how to find Shanks. She didn’t know where his rooms were located but she couldn’t waste any time. She needed to alert someone before those men left the palace with Jaaniyah. She raced downstairs and headed for the Great Hall. Someone there would know how to find him.
The babble of voices could be heard through the two large doors that led to the Great Hall. Many of the soldiers stayed up all hours drinking and talking of war. As Nica neared she could see one of the large doors was ajar. Alone in the hallway, she peered through the crack into the Great Hall. Her eyes locked on a tall, thin man, his shoulders covered in furs. Versonga Blacksmeer. Nica recognized him in an instant. Mosaba’s friend. The man Heathron suspected was a bounty hunter.
She backed away from the door. She didn’t dare show her face for fear she would be mistaken for Jaaniyah—or worse—as herself.
Nica turned from the doors and rushed down the hall toward another exit. She yanked open the big door and slipped outside into the shadows of the courtyard. Torches burned along the perimeter wall, casting a soft glow against the night. Guards and soldiers moved about, unaware of the danger among them. Nica slowed to a hurried walk, pulling her cloak tight about her shoulders, careful to keep her head down, the hood covering her face. Maybe someone in the stables would know where to find Shanks, or perhaps she could ask one of the guards.
Suddenly a strong arm wrapped around her waist from the side.
“Hold, my friend.” A voice spoke low in her ear. “I’d like to know who’s working so hard to shield their identity. Who are you and where might you be headed?”
Nica was engulfed by the strong odor of whiskey on the man’s breath and the smell brought back a primal fear. Mosaba had always been his cruelest when he drank. She jerked her head back to see her captor, ready to fight for her freedom when she caught her breath.
“Sebande, oh thank the Ancients, it’s you,” she cried.
The soldier’s big arm dropped away as though burned. “What?”
Nica grabbed his arm and pulled him out of earshot of three men who stood nearby, waiting for him. “Sebande,” Nica whispered hurriedly, “I need you to take me to Jonn Shanks right now. It’s an emergency.”
Sebande shook his head. “I can’t do that.” He hesitated, then leaned closer and said very low, “You’re the other one?”
“Yes. Take me now,” Nica said with unusual ferocity.
Sebande glanced over his shoulder at his comrades who stood watching them with bemused expressions before he turned back to Nica. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Now, Sebande.” Nica gritted her teeth. “I command you.”
Sebande hesitated.
“As you wish, M’lady,” he said with a clumsy bow. “I’ve an errand.” Sebande called to his friends with forced heartiness. “I’ll meet you at the tavern in a bit.”
Chortles and catcalls followed his pronouncement.
“Who’s your friend, Sebande? Can’t you share?”
“Aye, does she have a sister?” Drunken laughter followed but Sebande took Nica’s arm and led her away, ignoring their comments.
“We need to hurry,” Nica said. “It’s a matter of life or death.”
“M’Lady,” Sebande started, then stopped. He took a deep breath and started again. “Shonn has been traveling extensively.” He slurred Shanks and Jonn together and Nica wondered how much the man had had to drink. “I cannot account for his condition.”
“I don’t care,” Nica said. “I need to talk to him now.” She skip-walked next to Sebande’s long legs as they wound through a maze of hallways in a side building. The tall young man finally stopped before a set of double doors.
He turned to face her. For the first time he looked her straight in the face. His gaze was intent. “It would be better if you could wait.”
With a start, Nica realized that Sebande was much younger than she thought—even close to her age. His height and broad shoulders had made him appear older. And, she thought grimly, she’d never had a chance to look at him properly.
“This can’t wait, Sebande.” Nica motioned at the doors. “Are these his rooms? Is he in there?” A sudden thought occurred to her. Maybe Shanks wasn’t alone. Maybe he was entertaining a woman friend. A sick feeling twisted in her stomach but there was no time to lose if they were to catch the trail of those who had taken Jaaniyah.
“It doesn’t matter. Let me in there now.”
With a sigh, Sebande knocked on the door. There was no answer. His eyes tested Nica one more time.
“Go on.”
“Wait here.” Sebande opened the door and walked in. Nica followed on his heels.
“Jonn?” he called softly. There was no answer.
They walked through a small sitting area. Nica could see the wavering flicker of light in the room ahead. She’d expected to hear the murmur of conversation but it was oddly quiet. Maybe Shanks wasn’t in his rooms, after all.
They reached the open door to the bedchamber and Sebande stopped, putting his large arms on each side of the door jamb as though to block Nica from seeing what was on the other side. Her heart fluttered in her throat as she ducked under his arm and peered into the room with a mixture of curiosity and dread.
The room was warm from the heat of the fire that burned heartily in the grate. Something white caught her eye and she turned toward it. Jonn Shanks was shirtless, stretched across his mattress. A white cloth was wrapped tightly around his ribs. Fresh blood seeped from a wound underneath, a large red splotch staining the fabric. He was still wearing his dark breeches and boots, one foot on the floor, the other stretched out on the bed. His tousled head was turned to one side with an arm thrown over his eyes to block the light; his mouth slightly ajar as he slept.
“He’s wounded,” Nica whispered, looking up at Sebande in horror. “You knew. What happened?”
“He needs to rest.”
For a moment, Nica had an unreasonable urge to cry. What else could go wrong? She shoved past Sebande, knocking her hood back and kneeled next to Shanks. His silver earrings glittered in the candlelight and she could see the lines of pain and weariness etched across his face. Afraid to touch him, she let her eyes trace his wounds. She was shocked by the number of scars marking his chest. Two especially large scars crisscrossed in the center to form a crooked V that disappeared under his wrapping. What had happened to him?
“We gave him something to help him sleep,” Sebande said. “He needs to rest.”
As though sensing their presence, Shanks dropped his arm from his face and turned his head toward Nica, but he didn’t wake from his medicine-induced slumber. Nica tilted her face to stare into his.
An unfamiliar feeling flooded her as she gazed at the long eyelashes that shielded his eyes. Her gaze traced the prominent lines of his cheekbones, the strong cut of his jaw, covered with stubble. Little wisps of blond hair lay against his cheek and for a second she longed to brush them away.
It was a shock to see him so unguarded, so vulnerable. A strange, bittersweet ache filled her. Oblivious to Sebande’s watchful gaze, she reached up with tentative fingers and smoothed Shanks’ hair from his brow, wishing she could smooth away his pain as easily.
She bent forward and placed her hands gently on each side of Shanks’ face then kissed him on the forehead as she would a child. “Be well,” she breathed. His eyes opened and he looked at Nica with a glassy stare.
“Jaani?” His brow knotted in confusion before his eyes rolled back in his head and he slept again.
Her cheeks burning, Nica pushed off from the bed and stood up. Shanks was not her friend nor did she mean anything to him. Why couldn’t she remember that? She hurried back toward Sebande, refusing to look at him. Without a word the young man led her back to the main entrance. He opened the door for her to exit and said, “I’ll notify you, M’lady, when he’s in better condition.”
Nica nodded. “Thank you.” She would have to take a chance. “Sebande, there’s one more favor I need from you this night.”
ica crouched, hidden among the dark shadows of the bushes and eyed the imposing structure of the cathedral. In the woods, twenty meters away, she’d tethered her horse. At first, Sebande hadn’t believed her when she’d told him that Jaaniyah, and possibly Becknah, had been kidnapped. But the blood on the floor outside Jaaniyah’s now unguarded rooms was enough to convince him. She’d told him of her suspicions about Blacksmeer and Tarantu and her fear they were taking her sister back to Sartis.
The young soldier had sworn to her that they would find and rescue Jaaniyah. When she’d made a request for a horse of her own, however, Sebande’s willingness to help had vanished. It was only under threat of arrest, knowing he couldn’t reveal her true identity, that the young man had acquiesced, and only after he’d given her a stern warning not to leave the palace grounds.
“I’m only going to the cathedral,” Nica had lied.
“Then walk,” Sebande had replied gruffly, but he’d met her as requested with a saddled mount.
NICA STARED UP at the majestic towers that rose on each side of the entrance to the cathedral. Jaaniyah had mentioned that the Abbot lived in the back rooms and Nica prayed the man was asleep at this hour.
The church was an impressive structure. Shadows swayed across the magnificent arches and columns that decorated the front of the building almost as though other-worldly beings stood guard.
Nica pushed herself out of a crouch and ran on her toes toward the entrance, where she paused in the gloom of the arched doorway. The shadows were so deep she had to run her hands blindly over the ornately carved door to find the handle. The metal was cool to her touch as she tugged hard and pulled the massive door open to slip into the cathedral.
A vaulted ceiling stretched three stories above her head. Torches lit the passage down a long nave, huge arching columns supporting the painted panels above. Far down at the other end of the building she could see an altar with a wall of stained glass windows backlit by the light of the moon.
The Midnight Spy Page 12