“Shadow!” came a shrill voice.
The shouts of the crowd turned to panic cries.
A lane of ghostly figures parted before Aeryn, providing just the opening she needed to duck into an alley. The towering buildings to either side provided barely enough shelter from the sun for Aeryn to see her hand in front of her face.
Limping along, always aiming for the lightest sections—the darkest for anyone not Drifted—she concentrated on moving forward, always forward.
Staring out the window of his study at the afternoon sun, Merek sighed. Isabel had been in the ground a month before that bloody woman had started scheming away. She simply refused to take a hint. Instead of being cordial in the beginning, he should have slapped her and been done with it. The nerve! And now she was ingratiating herself with Aeryn, no doubt to use the street girl as one of her pawns.
At the thought of the slender street girl, Merek laid down his quill, and after sprinkling sand over his carefully worded letter, set it aside to dry. He had never heard of anyone learning as quickly as Aeryn. She had picked up things in the last month that had taken him years to master. Then again, she was the first street urchin with whom he had had any significant contact. Surely her hard life had something to do with how fast she picked up things. Merek had no illusions that on the streets, unless you attached yourself to someone bigger and stronger, you either learned fast or died fast.
That was not to say that Maerilin’s Lords and Ladies lived a carefree life. They had a knife poised over their necks too. The difference was that for the nobles the knife sat, waiting with the patience of snow piling up atop a mountain crest. The biggest problem was that very few recognized the knife’s true form. In any case, the result of the avalanche breaking free was the destruction of the noble and his house. It was every bit as spectacular as a gleeman performing in front of a band of minstrels and dancers.
Merek knew he had to keep that in mind as he decided his next move. He had plans in motion, gears grinding away that would utterly destroy him and all those he held dear if he was not light-footed enough. Despite the risks, he had little choice. The time to hide in the shadows—he laughed at the irony—calculating and plotting, was rapidly drawing to a close. He supposed he should thank Aeryn for opening his eyes to that.
Merek made up him mind. If he did not move now, he might not get another opportunity. Picking up the quill, he scribbled three more letters. Stopping the inkbottle he organized his desk and thoughts as he waited for the ink to dry, then tucked them under his arm and strode from the study.
Reeve seemed to have a sixth sense solely devoted to anticipating his needs and bustled up alongside him before he had gone twenty steps.
“Should I bring the carriage around, my lord?” Reeve asked.
“No,” Merek said, pulling the letters out. He frowned. It would take a few hours for them to reach their destination; a few days for the final one. “On second thought yes, do bring it around. I could the fresh air.”
“Very good, my lord. And those?” Reeve inclined his head at the letters.
“I need you to see these delivered.”
“Yes, my lord, I’ll send for Rulf—“
Merek held the chamberlain’s eyes. “No. I need you to see to them personally. No pageboy, no courier. Except,” he held up the final letter, “for this one.” He could not afford to have Reeve gone for as long as it would take to personally deliver that letter.
Reeve frowned, clearly mulling over whether he should protest or not.
Thankfully, the chamberlain knew when to ask questions, and when to stay quiet and do as he was told, discretely. Merek would not have retained the crusty chamberlain for as long as he had otherwise.
Handing over the letters one at a time, he started with the first one he had penned. “This one goes to Lady Mareen. To her hand only,” Merek added. “After you deliver that one, tell Lady Alys I wish to dine with her tomorrow evening. This,” he handed over the second, “is a list of items I need you to gather for me.”
Reeve opened the page and scanned through quickly. “Some of these will be difficult for me to obtain. If I use Melanie’s girls, it’ll be much easier and raise fewer eyebrows.”
“Use your best judgment. Just make sure no one knows too much.”
“That won’t be too hard. I’ll stagger the purchases, have some crafted, buy the others in a large lot, the pull the rest from the storeroom. The others?” Reeve asked, with a glance to the final two letters.
“Is my monthly tithe ready?” Merek asked.
Reeve nodded. “The clerks are just putting it together now, my lord. It should be finished before the day is out. It is not scheduled to be sent out until next week, however.”
“Send it out as soon as it is finished. Include this,” Merek handed over the third page, “with the tallies.”
“Very good. And the final letter, my lord?”
“That one goes to Gerald.”
Reeve raised his eyebrows. “Anything else, my lord?”
Merek shook his head.
“Then if you’ll excuse me,” Reeve held up the pages, “I’ll see to these. Your carriage will be brought around at once.”
Watching the chamberlain disappear, Merek walked to the front door, mind whirling. It had been years since he had moved so openly, so boldly. And the master stroke was yet to come. He hoped it was so obvious that no one recognized it for what it was until it was too late.
As the sun began its descent hours later, Merek rapped on the carriage roof.
A head peaked around the side. “Yes, my lord?” asked the driver.
“Pull over up here. I wish to walk the rest of the way and enjoy the fresh air.”
“Walk, my lord? Are you certain it is safe? There were rumors of a Shadow prowling about earlier—“
Merek cleared his throat loudly. Reeve questioning him was one thing; having every driver and maidservant do so was quite another. In hindsight, he had given the chamberlain too much leeway in front of the others.
The driver reluctantly pulled to the side of the street. He opened the door, though stayed rooted in place, blocking Merek from stepping out. “Are you quite sure my lord? I could send for someone to accompany you.”
“I’ll be quite safe. After all, we’re only a few blocks from the house.” Merek sighed when the driver’s face turned down in a frown. Yes, he would definitely have to address this lack of obedience, but not now; too many tongues would be wagging already. He could not afford to be any later than he was already. He laid his hand on the driver’s shoulder. “What is your name?”
“Rulf, my lord.”
“Well Rulf,” Merek said, “how about this. Go take the carriage back to the house. If I’m not back in a candlemark, you can wake whoever you need and come looking for me. Until then,” he dug into his purse, pulled out a gold coin and pressed it into the driver’s palm, “how about we keep this as our little secret? We wouldn’t want to worry anyone unnecessarily, now would we?”
Rulf’s eyes gleamed every bit as bright as the gold coin reflecting the moonlight high above. “One candlemark, my lord.,” He climbed back into the seat.
“One candlemark,” Merek repeated, and started walking toward the house.
As soon as the carriage was out of sight, Merek turned and ran down a side street, ducking away at anything other than perfect silence. A dozen blocks and double as many minutes later, he rounded the corner and slowed. He tried to do the same with his breathing.
“I was worried you weren’t going to show.”
Merek turned to the darkness where the sound had come from. “Who’s there?”
A Shade stepped out into the moonlight, his features barely discernable. “It isn’t like you to be late. Or running. Or communicating ahead of schedule. Or so openly.”
Unable to Drift in his silk clothes, heavily embroidered and laced, Merek saw nothing but a misty black form. It did not matter; he recognized the voice.
“We don’t hav
e much time,” Merek said. He stole a glance at the moon. He would be cutting his candlemark closer than he felt comfortable. He could not afford Rulf to send out a search party.
“That is no reason for carelessness. The Voices just informed us of an attack by a Shadow in the square outside the Lord’s Gate. A woman is dead, stabbed by a rusty knife, and a dozen others have been bludgeoned. I’m on my way there, now. If you were seen. . .” he let the implications hang in the air.
“I had no choice. Recent events have accelerated our plans.”
“Then you should disappear while I get a grip on them. We need to slow down and bide our time. Already, attacks by Shadows are growing more frequent. We cannot let events dictate our pace. Our goal is too important to risk failure because of shortsighted haste. Or has it been so long, are you so old now, that you have forgotten?”
“I have not forgotten,” Merek growled. “We will not slow. If we pause, even just to look over our shoulder, we will be trampled. We must continue moving. It is the only way.” Merek took a deep breath. He did not mean to be so gruff with Asher. “In any case, I am leaving for a time. Not from fear, but because it is the only way forward.”
“Very well.” Asher stood quietly in thought for a full minute. “You have changed much this last month. I’ll see what I can do. You are sure she will be ready?”
“That,” Merek said, conviction heavy in his voice, “is the only thing I am sure of.”
Asher nodded. “Don’t contact me again except in the direst emergency. I’ll let you know when it’s safe again.” He turned to leave, paused, and then twisted his head back. “We’re stoking the furnace, now.” With that, Asher Drifted until he blended with the night and disappeared from sight completely.
“That we are, my dear boy, that we are,” Merek said. He turned, glanced at the moon’s passage and began running. His candle mark was would expire before he returned. Hopefully Rulf was not overly eager to rouse the estate.
8
Flight
Stay here,” Aeryn said, her hand held up, palm out, before Jynx.
Walking to the mouth of the alley, she Drifted until the gray-black world returned to all its bright, vibrant colors. Merek was right about one thing: light was the enemy. Drifting beneath a full sun was as good as blindfolding yourself before a knife fight.
She did not see she had another choice; an all but naked girl—even if frequently mistaken for a boy—drew too many stares. And if Jins and his gang found her. . .he would ensure the next blackness she saw would have nothing to do with Drifting. She had to make sure they did not cross paths again.
A quick study of the market lined street and she ducked back into the shadows.
“Thirty paces forward, sharp right turn, three paces forward, waist-height, middle of the table,” she whispered to herself.
Jynx tilted his head up with a questioning expression.
“I thought I told you to stay put,” she said.
Jynx rose from his haunches and gave a low growl. He had not left her side for the past week. Not for a minute. He clearly did not intend to break that streak now. It was a good thing she had decided not to go to Merek’s today; a draven attempting to pass the Lord’s Gate—even one scrawny enough to pass for a hound—would create as much commotion as a Voice coming to speak to a gathered crowd.
What she was about to do would not be any better, but it was necessary. As an added bonus, it meant that she stood virtually no chance of running into the corpulent Lady Mareen. She would not mind seeing Lady Alys again, but Lady Mareen? She practically retched at the thought.
“Fine,” Aeryn said with a sigh, “you can come. But stay next to me. I want to be in and out as fast as possible.” She tried not to think of the consequences of dallying out there.
The draven sat back down and yawned, showing his gleaming white fangs. Whether or not he had understood, his solid presence was comforting. Without him she would not be standing here right now. Though the days were growing fiercely hot, the nights, with the chill breeze that blew in from the sea, were still cold. That went double when you were dressed only in smallclothes, as Aeryn was. Curled up together for warmth, Jynx’s body heat had kept her from freezing. Additionally, every time someone poked a head down an alley she had crawled into, he stood over her, fur raised in a razor line across his back, snarling until they dashed away in search of easier prey.
Though her ribs and gut still ached with every step, hunger and thirst had gotten the better of her. Drinking the small, rank puddles near where she had lain and trying to stomach the occasional rotten fish or putrid chunk of meat had actually made her feel worse. Hard to do given her current state. Thus, her choice boiled down to getting up and moving forward, or staying put and dying. Choosing the former had led her here.
“Forty paces forward, sharp—”
Wait! That wasn’t right.
Aeryn poked her head around the corner and recounted.
“Thirty paces forward. Thirty. Thirty. Thirty,” she repeated, ingraining it into her head. Forty would take her to a useless bauble vendor.
Her stomach growled. Jynx’s echoed hers a moment later. It was time to go.
“Ready?” she asked.
Jynx rose. Flattening his ears, he lowered his head and Drifted. That had been a quite a surprise. Somewhere in the back of her mind she had known the truth of how the draven hunted and stalked, especially after how well he blended into the night, but seeing it firsthand was something else altogether.
Aeryn followed his Drift, stopping when he became clearly distinct.
“Now!”
Counting her steps, half-limping, half-running, and with one hand pressed to her ribs, the other outstretched for balance, Aeryn burst out of the alley into the milling crowd. Jynx loped alongside.
“Shadows!” came the first shriek.
“Nameless help us!” the second.
A wave, like a mountain loosed from its moorings to tumble into the sea, rippled through the crowd. Scores of heads turned and repeated the cry, which in turn drew even more. Many people bolted, running into another in panicked confusion in their attempts to get out of the way. Just as before, a path opened, and despite the near pitch-black world to Aeryn’s eyes, not a single soul impeded her progress.
Thirty. Aeryn spun on her heels and Drifted, bringing the world back into light. In the seething crowd, nobody would look twice at a street urchin wearing naught but smallclothes. Good thing too, since she would not have been able to remain a Shadow for another moment anyway; she could barely focus on keeping her feet underneath her.
Three steps forward and she scooped up a pair of freshly baked meat pies, one in each hand. Turning, ribs aching just as much as her stomach, she dashed back to the alley across the way from the one she had emerged. Jynx stayed glued to her heels the entire way.
Five blocks later and Aeryn stopped. Panting, she slid to the ground, back against a house whose mortared joints were turning to dust—likely because the owner gave every spare copper he had to the Voices for protection, rather than giving it to a stonemason. She laid out the still-steaming meat pies, one for her, one for Jynx. They were picked clean in a minute. Unfortunately, now that her stomach had been revived and reminded of its purpose, it gurgled and growled louder than ever.
Jynx licked his empty tin, sliding it across the cobbles. Yowling softly, he scratched at it with his front paws and nudged Aeryn’s shoulder.
“I know, I know,” Aeryn said. She stood. “Come on. Let’s go find some more.”
Jynx’s eyes flashed and he hopped away.
“Wrong way,” Aeryn called, moving the opposite direction they had come. Jynx was at her side in an instant. “If we go back there, we might as well bait, set, and trigger the trap for the Shades. We have to keep going forward.”
Over the course of the day, Aeryn, with Jynx at her side as always, repeated the snatch and grab process a good half-dozen times, each five, ten, or sometimes twenty blocks apart, picking the di
rection at random to throw off anyone on her trail. Each time she filled her and Jynx’s belly a little more. The amalgamation of plain, undyed wool clothes she managed to gather along the way felt almost as good as the food. Though not quite full, she stopped while she was ahead: before Jins, a Shade, or Voice, found her.
Slinking carefully through the alleys and less populated streets, Aeryn kept her eyes relentlessly searching in all directions. Knifeless, penniless, and now limping more often than not, she stood no chance against the first person that meant her harm. After all, she had already received one more chance than most who lived on the streets.
“Aeryn! Praise Nameless you’re alive,” was the first thing Ty said upon seeing her just shy of a week later. “I’ll clear out a space in the workshop for you to sleep. As long as you don’t make too much noise and come in after dark, Master Luggard will never know you were here,” was the second.
Aeryn grabbed Ty’s arm to keep him from doing just that. “I’m alright,” she said. “Besides, even if I did stay here, there is no place for Jynx to sleep.” Aeryn was not willing to let Ty die for her. That was exactly what would happen if she was discovered with him.
Ignoring her and surveying the cramped, oppressively hot workshop, Ty started to clear away the underside of a bench. “I might be able to—“
“Ty, I’m fine. Really.”
“But the streets are overrun with Shadows. It isn’t safe.”
“Safe? Since when were the streets ever safe?”
“You have me there,” Ty said, frowning. “But I’m still not letting you get killed by Shadows.”
Aeryn sighed. “Ty, it was me.” His head jerked up. “Well, me and Jynx, anyways,” she corrected.
“What was you?”
“Haven’t you been listening to yourself? The Shadows.”
“But—“
Aeryn rolled her eyes. After a quick glance around to make sure no one was within earshot—Master Luggard was out making deliveries again now that the brunt of the “assault” had passed—began her version of the events of the past week. The real, unpolluted version of events.
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