by A. C. Cobble
Ben didn’t have anything to say to that, so he hurried after the rest of the party.
8
Storm the Palace
“So, how are we going to do this?” asked Prem later that evening.
They’d taken rooms in the inn Rhys had suggested and slept most of the morning. In the afternoon, Amelie slowly circled the Street of Thorns from the islands surrounding it, sensing for wards. She’d found none on the street but was able to feel that the palace which housed the Veil pulsed with passive energy. Either the women inside were constantly manipulating a steady amount of energy, or they’d layered wards all around the structure. They assumed it was the latter.
“I might be able to drain the energy from the wards, but they are certain to realize it’s happening,” said Amelie. “I couldn’t tell the nature of any of them from afar, but based on the types of defenses I’m aware of in the Sanctuary itself, I don’t think any of it would be fatal. There is too much traffic of their own people in and out to risk that.”
“How certain are you?” asked Ben.
Amelie shrugged.
“I wish my father was here,” said Prem.
“We could contact him,” suggested Amelie.
Prem shook her head. “You could send him or some of the other guardians what you felt, but I don’t think it will be enough to understand the details we need to know. I’m afraid he won’t be of any help through a thought meld. What about Hadra?”
“She’ll be even less help. She doesn’t have the sensitivity of your father. We’d also risk alerting the Veil to our presence,” added Amelie, toying with a plain, wooden cup filled with wine. “Any significant manipulation of energy close to the place is almost certain to trigger some of the wards.”
“How many wards do you think there are?” asked Ben.
Amelie sipped her wine before answering. “It will be impossible to tell until we’re walking in. For me to sense them from a block away, we can assume it’s a lot.”
“How long do you think it would have taken them to put that in place?” asked Ben, frowning in thought. He’d borrowed a blank sheet of parchment from the innkeeper with plans to sketch out a strategy, but so far, the sheet was blank.
“There are a dozen mages, we think,” said Amelie, her brow furrowed in thought. “Though, even that we are not sure of. With twelve skilled women, it might take a day to put defensives like that around the palaces we’ve seen near the Street of Thorns. Could be longer, depending on what they’ve done, how big the area they warded, and how skilled the practitioners are. It’s highly possible, Ben, that there is no way for us to enter without triggering those wards. Each one of those mages has more experience at this than I do.”
“We could draw them out,” suggested Rhys. “Set up some sort of distraction that would get the mages running.”
“Like what?” asked Prem.
“We could set the building on fire?”
Amelie snorted and rolled her eyes. “I think you’re forgetting something, Rhys.”
“Right, Towaal is inside. I forgot.” The rogue sipped his ale, looking unapologetic.
“Did you?” asked Amelie.
Rhys grinned at her.
“Twelve mages, a day worth of effort for each of them,” said Ben. “Why would they do that?”
“Could they be afraid of us?” wondered Prem.
“More likely afraid of Avril,” said Amelie. “Even though the Veil believes Avril will hunt for us first, she won’t take any chances with her own safety.”
“She won’t take any chances…” said Ben, speaking slowly, allowing his thoughts to develop. “Why is she here then? She hasn’t left the Sanctuary grounds for, what, centuries? I understand why she traveled to Whitehall to help protect the Alliance and further her goals. Does being in Fabrizo help with that? Saala isn’t here. The army isn’t here… What is she doing that is worth the risk when she knows Avril is out there and is going to come for her sooner or later?”
Amelie frowned.
“You’re right,” admitted Rhys. “She could have made it to the City just as quickly as she made it to Fabrizo. It would be safer for her to wait there, and she doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to do anything here. Madam Crimson said she’s been sitting in that palace for days. There has to be something she’s planning to accomplish in Fabrizo.”
They sat back, looking silently into their drinks, mulling over the possibilities. All around them, the common room bubbled with the sound of conversation, the thunk of ale-filled mugs on tables, and the sizzle of fat dripping into the fire from a roasting hog.
A man stumbled into Ben, his elbow smacking Ben’s shoulder and his full mug sloshing a dribble of ale down Ben’s tunic. Ben yelped.
The man grinned at him, showing a dark gap where his two front teeth used to be. “Sorry. Damn uneven boards in this place, ey?”
The man weaved away, bouncing into patrons, tables, and chairs, offering hasty apologies and losing half his ale before he settled down at a crowded table. Ben watched him go, muttering and wiping at the spilled ale.
“I wish we could have gotten a private room or a table in the corner,” complained Ben. “You never know who’s going to come up behind you out in the open like this.”
“Coulda been worse,” said Rhys. “The Veil, that thief Casper, men from the Alliance, the Coalition…”
“And don’t forget Avril,” added Amelie. “She’d do more than spill her ale on you.”
Ben frowned.
“What?” queried Amelie, seeing the look on his face.
“Lady Coatney let us go because she thought we’d draw Avril, right?”
Amelie shrugged. “You’re the one she talked to.”
“She said she was certain that Avril would track us down and try to enact revenge,” said Ben. “She told me she didn’t care who won, only that we stayed out of her way long enough for her to get the war started and to finish what she’s been planning. But, when we escaped Whitehall, we came here, the same place she is.”
“You’re the bait in a trap,” declared Rhys with a groan.
“I asked her if we were bait, and she said no,” protested Ben. “If we were the bait, wouldn’t she… I don’t know, wouldn’t she capture us to make sure we stayed near her?”
“She said no, and you believed her?” said Rhys, leaning forward. “Not to mention, we are near her!”
“I-I… She tried to keep us in Whitehall, remember? She knew we’d eventually get away, but we could have gone anywhere!” argued Ben. “If she was setting a trap, she wouldn’t risk us going to... somewhere else. It doesn’t make any sense unless—”
“Unless she knew where you were going to go and went there ahead of you,” argued Rhys. “Fabrizo is the only logical way we could travel to reach Saala. Even if we decided to bypass Saala and go straight to Lord Jason, this would still be the quickest route. She took Towaal with her, too, as extra incentive for us to come here. Damnit, all along she’s known exactly where we’ll go!”
“She said we weren’t bait,” muttered Ben, reaching for his ale.
“Well, if she said it, who am I to argue?” Rhys asked, sitting back and grabbing his own ale.
The two of them drank deeply, locking eyes over the rims of their cups.
A moment passed. Then, Ben set down his mug. He admitted, “I’ve been stupid. We are the bait.”
“You and the rest of us, Ben,” comforted Amelie. “We were so proud we slipped the net, none of us considered that we’d be walking into her trap, again.”
“What kind of trap?” asked Prem, her eyes darting around nervously.
“Last time the Veil and Avril faced each other,” said Ben, “they were on Avril’s chosen ground. This time, they’ll be on Coatney’s terms.”
“Why would Avril be tempted with something like that?” questioned O’ecca. “She laid in wait for years and years in Ooswam. If she’s that patient, then surely she’ll just retreat into the shadows and try again when she can
gain an advantage.”
“No,” said Ben, shaking his head. “Lady Coatney hadn’t left the grounds of the Sanctuary in centuries, remember? Evidently, Avril was unwilling to directly attack her there. Her entire plan in Whitehall was about drawing Coatney away from the Sanctuary.”
“As a former Veil,” added Rhys, “Avril would know more about the Sanctuary’s defenses than anyone. Trust me, those women have steered me through the brambles more than once. The defenses around that place are powered by the might of a First Mage. That’s something even Avril would be hesitant to challenge.”
“The only window she’s ever had to directly confront Lady Coatney is still open,” concluded Ben. “The Veil knows that Avril will come for her here. The question is, why did she release us?”
“She knew we’d come to Fabrizo, and Avril would go to her,” declared Amelie. “The Veil still means to use us to help finish Avril. Think about this. If Avril attacks us here, she’ll alert Coatney to her presence. If she attacks Coatney first, then we’ll know where she is.”
“If she wants the advantage of surprise, she has to strike both of us at once or choose one target over the other,” surmised Prem.
“My guess,” said Ben, “the Veil connected the dots even before we woke up in Whitehall. She’s set the board by kidnapping Towaal, ensuring we’ll be in the same place she is. She knows Avril will want the advantage of surprise and will want to catch both of us at once. Coatney is trying to ensure it will happen. Both women will be counting on one strike to eliminate their opponents. Unless they have the ability to demolish the entire city like Avril tried in Whitehall, there’s only one logical place either one would spring their traps.”
“The palace where Towaal is held,” said Amelie. “The Veil is staying there, and Avril knows that’s where we’d have to go to recover our friend. The Veil hopes that Avril will follow us in, and she can catch both of us in her snare.”
“But, Avril must suspect it’s a trap,” argued Rhys, scratching his head. “She knows Coatney too well and knows Coatney would not do something as stupid as exposing herself without taking precautions.”
“Both women are intelligent and cunning. They’ve spent ages plotting against each other. There could be layers of depth to their machinations, but the fact remains, unless they can devastate the entire city, which they could have already done, then they can only strike all of their enemies at once if we’re in the same location.”
“Even if they didn’t plan it,” said Amelie. “If we go into the Veil’s palace, we’ll make an irresistible opportunity for both of them.”
“Should we not go in?” wondered Prem. “In the forest, we were always taught not to poke the bear. Going in there is certain to stir things up. We might be wrong about Avril, but we know there’s no way we could walk in without confronting the Veil.”
Ben drummed his fingers on the table and sipped at his ale.
“What do you think, Ben?” asked Rhys. “We could be at Murdoch’s Waystation in two weeks and meet Saala there. We don’t need either one of these women to stop the war between the Alliance and the Coalition.”
“You saw what Avril attempted in Whitehall,” challenged Amelie. “She was prepared to destroy the entire city, and she almost did! A million people, all so she could kill one woman. In good conscious, we can’t let her go if we have a chance to stop her. Millions might die in the war, but who’s to say those women won’t kill even more trying to get at each other? And once one of them finally wins, I don’t want to imagine what they’d do unencumbered by fear of the other.”
“A confrontation in the heart of Fabrizo will be dangerous,” warned Prem. “It’s far from certain we can defeat either one of them, let alone both.”
“We don’t have to defeat them,” stated Ben. “We just have to get them talking.”
“Hadra?” asked Amelie.
Ben nodded.
“I also have an advantage they won’t be aware of,” added Amelie. “The power of the storm.”
“You’ve held it?” wondered Ben.
“Not all. Not most, even, but some. Enough, I think, if I can deploy it and surprise them.”
“The choice is obvious,” responded Ben. “Just like the Veil and Avril trying to kill two birds with one stone, this may be the only time we know they are both in the same location. We have the same incentive they do, and we need to finish this now.” He tipped up his ale, draining it, and when it thudded back down on the table, he declared, “Let’s poke the bear.”
“This is a bad idea,” grumbled Ben.
“It’s your idea,” reminded Rhys.
“He’s right, Ben. You are the one who suggested we do this,” added Amelie.
Ben scowled at them. “Maybe we should back down and think about it.”
“It’s too late for that,” reminded Rhys. “You already sent the message to the thieves.”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” said O’ecca, her voice bright with excitement. “I figured there would be magical battles, maybe some demons, but thieves? I didn’t suspect that at all. No one’s going to believe me back at court!”
“If you get back,” said Ben under his breath. Speaking a little louder, he recommended, “Just be ready with that naginata. Things are likely to get a little hairy, and we’ll need all the help we can get.”
“Keep your will hardened as well,” advised Rhys. “When the fireworks start, those women are going to be indiscriminate on who they blast with energy.”
“How do you harden your will?” asked O’ecca.
“I… ah, just duck,” said Rhys, shooting a worried glance at Ben.
“Stay behind me,” suggested Prem. “Close behind. I can extend some protection, but… just be very close.”
“Are we sure this will work?” asked Amelie nervously as they stepped off the bridge onto the Street of Thorns.
“No,” said Ben. “I just said I thought it was a bad idea.”
“Why are we doing it then?” questioned Prem.
Ben shrugged. “No one else said anything.”
“If the thieves didn’t get our note…” worried Amelie.
“Amelie, it’s time to let Hadra know we’re moving into position,” said Ben, trying to sound reassuring. “If the thieves didn’t get the note, we’ll find out soon enough.”
“We’ll find out when it’s too la—"
“It’s too late now,” declared Rhys, nodding ahead of them where a hulking stone edifice loomed over the street. “There it is.”
Outside of the building, a dozen men wearing white tabards stood guard. They wore the customary broadswords of the Sanctuary, bright chainmail underneath their tabards, and carried tall, steel-tipped halberds. As Ben and his friends walked by the front of the Veil’s palace, the guards all stopped speaking and turned to watch them. Ben nodded congenially, gave a short wave, and tried to not break into a run.
“They’re not following, yet,” whispered O’ecca, glancing behind them. “They are watching us, though.”
“Just a little bit longer,” said Ben, flexing and unflexing his hands.
He paused in front of a gate, waiting on Amelie. After a moment, her eyes flicked open, and she placed her hands on the thick iron bars that stood outside of the thieves’ guild. She released a steady breath. Then the lock clicked, and Amelie hauled the heavy gate open.
Ben went up the stairs and grabbed a black-iron knocker that hung at shoulder level on the polished mahogany double doors. He bashed the knocker, sending booming crashes through the marble hallway on the other side.
“The guards are meandering over here,” warned Prem.
Ben risked a look over his shoulder and saw several of the Sanctuary’s soldiers walking down the street. The men were eyeing them suspiciously. O’ecca blew one of the soldiers a kiss.
“Is that necessary?” growled Ben.
The knocker was yanked out of his hand when the door was flung open. A man stood on the other side. He wore a billowi
ng, white, silk shirt half-tucked in snug black britches. A jewel-hilted rapier hung on his hip, and his feet were bare. The man’s eyes took in the scene in front of him before fastening on Rhys.
“You!” he exclaimed. Then his gaze swung back to Ben. “You!”
“Are you aware the Veil is guesting next door to your secret hideout?” asked Ben.
“What are you talking about?” said the man, his hand drifting to his rapier.
“I believe those guards behind me have orders to kill us, but even worse, the former Veil, believed to be assassinated centuries ago, is about to spring a trap. She will also attempt to kill us. The Veil and the dozen mages she has with her will respond of course, trying to kill her predecessor – and us. I know that is complicated, and I apologize I didn’t have room on the paper to write it all down, but it’s important you know what the stakes are.”
“I-I… What are you talking about?” snapped the man, sliding a hand-length of steel out of his scabbard.
“Casper,” said Ben slowly, “two of the most powerful mages on this continent are about to start a magical battle right next door to you. Not to mention the hundreds of armed men I suspect will begin to pour into this street. We need your help.”
“My-My help,” stammered the man, taking a cautious step back. “I-I warned you that if you ever returned—”
“You’d kill us. I know,” said Ben. “I remember, but as I mentioned just now, there are already a number of people in line to do that. Now, will you rouse your fellows before you, this house, this block, and I’d guess every important thief in Fabrizo is destroyed in a battle unlike anything this city has seen since the Blood Bay War?”
Casper’s jaw hung open.
“There’s more of them, and they’re looking antsy,” called O’ecca, watching the guards approach closer. “A dozen of them just came out of the palace next door, and some have drawn weapons.”
“We don’t have time for this,” growled Rhys.
He stepped by Ben and punched Casper in the face, snapping the man’s head back and sending him sprawling on his back, landing on the thick carpet that ran the length of the foyer. Rhys stepped over the thief’s form and strode into the hall, the companions following on his heels.