A Sharpened Axe

by Jill M Beene

  Aster nodded brusquely. “But... you will be safe? You aren’t... visiting anyone, are you?”

  “Visiting someone?” Samiris frowned.

  She was going to visit someone...two men, whose names and locations she had bought from a page boy with a plate of eclairs she’d snatched from the kitchen.

  “A... a man?” Aster said, blushing deeply. “A lover?”

  Samiris laughed. “No, nothing like that.”

  “Very well,” Aster said, as if placated by Samiris’ obvious amusement at the question. “The dress of mine was too short. It was fine for a few minutes in the castle, but in the city...it would show your ankles, leave you open to unwanted attention. But I have a friend in the kitchens who can come up with something.”

  “You have my word that they’ll never hear of her help from me.”

  Aster nodded solemnly and left, returning with a basket of clothing.

  “I thought you could use this as part of your disguise,” Aster said, holding up the woven container. “It will give you a look of someone on a late errand, instead of someone where they shouldn’t be.”

  “Thank you,” Samiris said, gratefulness swelling in her chest.

  Though Teymara was safer than most, it was still a large city, with neighborhoods, alleys and bars full of strangers who might mean her harm. She didn’t want to look like easy prey, or like she was somewhere she didn’t belong.

  “Also,” Aster said, straightening her spine, “I’m coming with you.”

  “Like hell you are,” Samiris snapped, then tried to revise her tone. “I don’t want you to get into any trouble.”

  “You are my lady, and won’t be leaving the castle without my assistance.” Aster said, her chin jutted out in an unusual display of stubbornness.

  “And you are my servant, and will not come with me, and that’s final.” Samiris crossed her arms over her chest.

  “It’s far from final,” Aster said. “Do you even know where you are going?”

  “Yes. I asked a page.”

  “I mean... do you even know how to get where you are going?”

  Admittedly, this was a flaw in her plan that Samiris had acknowledged. However, in her imaginings, she just walked up to the first trustworthy person she saw, and they gave her clear directions.

  Sensing potential weakness, Aster added, “Do you know what alleys to avoid? How to spot a pickpocket? What fair prices are for whatever you are planning to purchase?”

  Samiris lifted her chin. “How do you know I’m planning on buying anything? Maybe I just want to see the sights?”

  “I’ve seen you counting those coins this week, deep in thought. If you’re not meeting a man, you’re buying something,” Aster said. “I may be a servant, but I’m no idiot.”

  “I never said you were.”

  Aster was right. She didn’t know where she was going, not really. Asking strangers for help at night in a dark city was something she really hadn’t thought about. They might give her correct directions, or they might send her into a bad part of town, skirt around, and attack her when she was vulnerable. Aster watched her closely, as if she could read every thought running through Samiris’ head as clearly as the lines in a book.

  “How do I know that you won’t tell anyone?” Samiris finally asked.

  “Because I am the one who would get in real trouble, not you,” Aster said, her expression grim.

  Samiris took in her down-turned mouth, the stubborn set of her shoulders, her crossed arms, and relented.

  “Fine,” Samiris said. “But this has to remain a secret. No matter what you hear tonight, no matter how much you want to tell others, you can’t.”

  “I promise,” Aster said with a regal nod. “Let’s get you into peasant clothes.”

  It was night, and the gate to the castle was shut firmly behind them. The guards had been no problem, used to the constant comings and goings of servants, as steady and inexorable as the waves on the distant shore. Samiris had kept her head down when going through the gate, as if she were shy of the men who guarded it. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself, didn’t want them to recognize her.

  One guard had made direct eye contact with her when she had dared a glance, but there was no shock of recognition, no question or uncertainty in his eyes. Aster had done her job well; Samiris was a servant tonight.

  That’s the only difference between me and Aster, Samiris thought, dully. Cloth and jewels. Underneath, we’re all the same.

  The thought made her even more determined to see her plan through. Samiris shook away the final little doubts that nagged at her like a swarm of mosquitoes as they strode forward into the night.

  The night was quiet, save for the distant sounds of muffled revelry leaking from a bar down the street in odd-spaced drips as the door opened and closed. A breeze ruffled the long braid of Samiris’ hair, smelling of the muck of a nearby alley, the cooling cobblestones beneath their feet, and faintly of brine.

  When she told Aster their destination, the girl had looked at Samiris with a crinkled forehead for several moments, then nodded. Aster led the way deftly. Samiris was glad she had demanded to come along; in minutes, Samiris was helplessly turned around. There was no way that she could have found her way; she would have been turning in circles for hours. This part of the city was not the perfect grid that it appeared. Little alleyways and byways transversed the main streets like capillaries from veins.

  It took them a half hour of brisk walking before they arrived at the address that Samiris had scrawled on a piece of parchment. Samiris knocked on the door with more confidence than she felt. The door was wrenched open nearly immediately by a gangly youth of about sixteen. He took one look at Samiris and Aster and his face turned a dark maroon.

  “Hello,” Samiris said to the boy, who was now studying the details of his bare toes. “We are looking for Bernard Gaffey.”

  Wordlessly, he turned and opened the door wider, inviting them in. They stepped over the threshold and were hit with a wall of heat and the smell of warm stew. A family of eight sat at a sturdy but worn table; the one place that was vacant obviously was for the boy.

  “What’s this now?” the large man at the head of the table said.

  He was red-headed, broad in the shoulders and the arms, and tall. Although he was past forty, there was an obvious strength and vitality in him. A plump, kind-faced woman sat at his elbow, dishing out ample ladles of stew to the five large teenage boys and the youngest child, a pretty girl of around ten.

  “Bernard Gaffey?” Samiris repeated.

  “Aye, that’s me,” the man said, jabbing a redundant thumb into his meaty chest.

  “May we have a word with you about a job we need done?” Samiris said.

  His eyebrows raised and he appraised them carefully. “A job, you say? Why are servants of the palace coming past nightfall to ask about a job?”

  Samiris’ lips pressed together in a firm line. “Some privacy, sir?”

  He pushed himself up from the table and lumbered over, following them back out into the night, shutting the door behind them.

  “I’ve heard you are a talented builder. I have a job that I need done,” Samiris said crisply, diving right into the issue. “I need it done well, quickly, and with secrecy. If you do well on this first job, there will be more to follow. Is that something you can manage?”

  “For the right amount of coin, there is little that I can’t build,” he said, his confused gaze darting back and forth between Samiris and Aster. “What needs to be done?”

  “I want a flood wall built on the edge of the Sands,” Samiris said.

  Both Aster’s and Bernard’s mouths dropped open.

  “Can it be done?” Samiris said.

  “Of...of course it can be done,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But that will take at least a week,
and many cartloads of timber.”

  “What price would cover the cost?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

  Bernard thought about it, then said sheepishly, “Three hektes should be enough, to cover the materials and the labor from me and my boys. I know it’s a lot, but the task isn’t an easy one.”

  Samiris raised her eyebrows and looked at Aster. Aster nodded, and Samiris said, “Throw in a platform around the well, and you have a deal.”

  Bernard’s smile was as strong as his handshake. “Deal.”

  “One more thing,” Samiris said. “And this is perhaps the most important. If you are questioned as to who ordered the sea wall built, say that it is a nobleman who wishes to remain anonymous. Don’t tell anyone it was me.”

  “That’s easily done,” he said with a wink. “You haven’t told me your name.”

  It was hard for Samiris to maintain a professional facade as she hammered out the details of the arrangement with Bernard. She wanted to grin, but was afraid he would raise the price if she wasn’t stern. As they left it, Bernard would receive one hekte now, another midweek, and one upon completion.

  Within the hour, Samiris had completed her errands, meeting with a purveyor of gravel and handing over another hekte for his word that he would spread four inches of gravel over the muck that the Sands called a main road. Samiris couldn’t hide the smile that overcame her face as the gravel man closed the door behind him.

  As they made their way back through the convoluted path to the castle, Samiris was grinning like an idiot. She felt giddy, light. She was finally doing something. And even if it was the wrong thing, at least it was action. It felt good.

  Aster, in contrast, was walking head down, deep in thought. It was perhaps this inattention that led them the wrong way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “Hey!” a coarse voice called out from an open doorway to their immediate left. “Who ordered company for the night?”

  Loud jangling music and a purple-colored, sickly sweet smoke billowed out from the doorway.

  Aster’s head jerked up, and she looked around as if coming to from a thick dream.

  “Oh no,” she murmured, grabbing Samiris’ sleeve and tugging her to get her to turn around.

  They turned and quickly walked back the way they’d come. But the voice followed them, now joined by two others.

  “Slow down there, lovelies,” a man crooned, far too close for comfort.

  “Run,” Aster said.

  Samiris grabbed Aster’s arm and sprinted forward into the gloom. Heavy footfalls of pursuit drummed behind them. Without looking, Samiris swung her heavy basket up and back toward the men. She was rewarded with the sound of a dull impact and a muffled curse.

  Samiris was far faster than Aster, even in her skirts. Samiris pulled the girl along roughly by the arm. She yanked a stack of crates over behind them as she ran, then they turned two more corners. Samiris chanced a glance behind her and saw no one. She couldn’t hear sounds of pursuit over the rushing in her ears and her heavy breathing.

  They ducked into the nearest open doorway, closed the door behind them, and found themselves in a nearly lightless stable. The crunch of hay underfoot, their gasping breathing, and the shifting of warm animals were the only sounds as Samiris led Aster over to the far end, into an empty stall, where the darkness was as thick as tar. They crouched together, somehow finding their fingers entwined in a fierce clasp. Whether it was Aster or herself clinging so tightly, Samiris didn’t know.

  For long, tense, timeless moments, they waited, taking silent gulps of dank air that smelled of hay and horse dung, and trying to calm their breathing. Samiris felt that time was tricky in this dark place where they squatted. She didn’t know if it had been a minute or ten since they had ducked into this dank stall for shelter. Just when she was beginning to feel hope, fanning that small ember of hope with her thoughts until it nearly took fire inside of her....footsteps.

  Samiris went rigid, as if her body had been submerged in an icy pool for several days. Her breathing hitched, then stopped, her heart rate pounded within her head, and she squeezed Aster’s fingers so hard she was sure that one of them wouldn’t have use of their hand for a week...if they survived this.

  “Was this meeting place really necessary?” A cultured male voice, closer than Samiris liked, said. “It smells of animal piss.”

  Samiris relaxed her bone-crushing grip on Aster’s hand. This was not the voice of the man that had yelled at them from the darkness. That man’s voice had been rough and slurred. This voice was collected and calm. Samiris sighed a little, and began to push herself off her numb haunches.

  “You really want to plan a murder somewhere else?” another voice sneered. “Maybe in one of those fancy salons, at the table next to someone who knows your face?”

  Samiris froze again, awkwardly hunched somewhere between squatting and standing. She didn’t dare move. Murder.

  “You’re so dramatic,” the first voice said, and Samiris heard the unmistakable slapping of a leather glove against a hand. “We don’t know if any of the girls have to die. We haven’t had to step in yet. He takes care of the lovelessness, all on his own, the blubbering idiot. Do you know what he said to them, when he met them this year? He told them about his inventions.”

  A chill skittered down Samiris’ spine, as if someone had dropped a bug down her dress. They’re talking about the Crown Prince, about the Chosen... Samiris thought with a slight gasp. Aster tightened her fingers around Samiris’ in obvious warning.

  The second man sniggered. “Can’t blame them for not loving him, can you?”

  “It almost makes our task easy. But tell me what you know, anyways,” the first man who was obviously in charge, demanded.

  “Most of them won’t be any problem at all,” he said. “We’ve done our best with this lot, the usual motivations to come to court....attention, money, an advantageous marriage. Two of them are secretly engaged, another three have serious beaus at home, are still writing them regular letters. We only have a few wild cards.”

  “Tell me.”

  “One bought her way in, not quite sure why. Can’t get a read on her, and her maids are either loyal, scared, or don’t know anything.”

  “She bought her way in?” he said quickly. “How did that happen?”

  “Not sure. We don’t own everyone on the council.”

  “Find out what she wants,” the first man clipped. “Continue.”

  “The two odd ones we were worried about shouldn’t be a problem. The one would light his face on fire with her eyes if she could. The other barely looks at him at all.”

  “Forget about the angry one. Keep eyes on the second.”

  The second man continued, “Everyone after that is nothing new, nothing to be concerned about. The only problem we have is if he wins one of their hearts the normal way.” Then he chuckled, like he had made a great joke.

  “It came close, too close, that once...” the first man snapped. “The fact that we dodged that blow is nothing but luck. Everyone thought that she would be the end of it.”

  “Thank goodness for lovely little liars,” the second man agreed.

  “Keep me informed. I want to hear of anything interesting.” Here there was a muffed jingle, as if a pouch of coins had been handed off. “And pick a different meeting place next time. These boots are ruined.”

  Samiris and Aster listened to the crunching of hay as it receded, as the door to the stables swung on its rusty hinges and slammed back against the frame, causing Samiris to jerk, and leaving them in total darkness.

  When several minutes had passed with no sound but their unsteady breathing, Aster said, “Come. We have to get back.”

  Samiris’ heart was hammering a hard rhythm in her chest. She nodded, even though Aster couldn’t see her, and followed her to the door.

  Th
e cool air that met her face as they ducked back into the night was welcome. They saw no one on their quick march back up to the castle. Samiris didn’t relax until the clang of the castle gate sounded behind them. Samiris never thought she’d see the day when she couldn’t wait to get back inside the mammoth structure, but she had been tense as a guitar string since the men had yelled at them near the marketplace, and she could feel the soreness setting into her neck and back.

  “That was...” Aster started.

  “A terrible idea,” Samiris said. “I know.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say,” Aster said, gently. “It was very generous, what you did tonight. I thought...”

  Samiris watched her from the corner of her eye as they climbed the steps to a back door. “What? What did you think?”

  “I thought you were going to meet... someone.”

  Samiris laughed. “Who on earth would I be meeting at this time of night? I don’t know anyone in Teymara.”

  “Regardless, what you did tonight was wonderful. Really. And the fact that you don’t want anyone to know, don’t want any attention for it... that’s rare.”

  The sincerity in Aster’s voice, as pure as a fresh snow, caused Samiris’ throat to thicken with emotion.

  “Thank you for saying that,” Samiris finally managed around the lump that hindered her voice.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m sorry that I disappointed your high hopes for a clandestine rendezvous, however,” Samiris teased.

  Aster raised her eyebrow. “Oh, this evening held more excitement than I ever could have wished.”

  They hadn’t said a word back on their heart-pounding scamper back to the safety of the castle, but now, Samiris wondered what Aster thought.

  “Do you...” Samiris began. “Do you think that they were talking about the Chosen?”

  “Not until we’re in your chambers,” Aster mumbled as they passed several closed doors. “This place has more leaks than a colander.”

  The door to her apartments shut behind them, the final safeguard. Samiris took a deep breath and released it slowly.