“I should be going,” she said. “I have intruded upon your time long enough.”
“It was no intrusion,” said Theren. “You could stay if you wish.”
“I … I have studies,” said Lilith, looking down in embarrassment. “Jia requires a dissertation from me. Mayhap another time.”
She stepped out between the armchairs—but as she did, Theren raised a hand, and Lilith took it on instinct. They held each other only a moment, but their fingers dragged against each other as they parted, as though reluctant to let go.
That night, the streets of the city seemed filled with a heightened tension–or mayhap it was only the fear in the hearts of Ebon and his friends that made it seem so. Oddly, Ebon was calmest of them all. Mayhap it was because he had faced so much danger already that he was growing inured to it.
They breathed a heavy sigh of relief when they caught sight of Leven’s tavern. Together they entered as quickly as they could and tramped the snow off their boots in the doorway.
At the bar stood a broad man hidden beneath a black cloak, his hood drawn up. He turned at the sound of their entrance, though no one else seemed to pay them any mind. Ebon saw the flash of Mako’s eyes beneath the cowl. He came to join them at their customary table, a bottle of wine in one hand and four cups clutched in the other.
He wasted no time on pleasantries. “Darkness take this mindmage sow,” he growled. Theren sat up straighter, but he only sneered. “Not you. I mean Isra. I can find no trace of her.”
“No trace but the corpse, you mean,” said Kalem.
“Which we already know is not hers,” said Mako, growing angrier still. “I can deceive the eye when I wish and remain unseen when I must. But even I cannot conjure my own corpse out of thin air, nor hide from every prying eye upon the Seat. When at last I get my hands on her, I will flay her slow just for the inconvenience she has caused me.”
“Is it possible you are jealous?” said Theren lightly. “You seem frankly obsessed with her skill at deception, Mako.”
The way the bodyguard’s jaw clenched, Ebon feared he might lash out at her. But he only tightened his fist around his cup until Ebon could hear its wood squeaking.
“I find her cunning as troubling as you do, no doubt,” said Ebon. “But we have another problem. We told the faculty that we saw her in the kitchens, and so the three of us have fallen under suspicion. I worry what that will mean for us, though of course we are innocent when it comes to Isra.”
“Innocent?” said Mako with a cruel grin. “That is an odd word for it, and not one I would choose.”
“We did not kill her, is what he means,” said Kalem, as Ebon flushed and lowered his gaze.
“Well, only catching her will prove that,” said Theren.
Mako pounded a fist on the table. “Yet that seems impossible, though our watch upon the Academy has been ceaseless, except for last night when I summoned my fighters to the sewers—but we know she did not infiltrate the Academy last night, for we saw her below. She is not in any of the Yerrins’ usual hiding spots, and she is nowhere else upon the Seat, for I have eyes in every cranny.”
“Mayhap she has used mindwyrd to send false tales to you?” said Ebon. “One of your spies might have seen her but been charmed into telling you they had not.”
Mako’s eyes rolled so far back that Ebon thought the bodyguard might faint. “Oh, how clever of you to think of such a thing, Ebon. If only I had thought of that immediately and taken precautions to prevent it. You should be the family’s master of spies, and not I.”
Theren leaned over. “I believe he means to say that he has taken precautions against such a ruse.”
Ebon scowled into his drink. “It was only a suggestion.”
“I do not need your suggestions,” said Mako. “I need your lover.”
A chill stole up Ebon’s spine, freezing him in place. He glared at Mako. “Do not speak of her to me. She has nothing to do with this.”
“Not yet,” said Mako, glaring right back. “But she must, or we are lost. Go to her. Tell her we need help beyond our own means.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“To you? Nothing.” Mako threw back his cup of wine and stood. “But the words will carry weight with her. Send them along, little Ebon. Go tomorrow night—I and mine will watch your path along the streets and ensure you come to no harm. Send word to me afterwards as soon as you can.”
He walked to the door and vanished into the night. Kalem and Theren stared at Ebon in wonder.
“What was that about?” said Theren.
Ebon said nothing, but only stared into his wine, his heart thundering with fear.
EBON WOKE WITH GUILT ROILING in his gut.
After seeing Mako, he had wrestled long into the night with his feelings. The last thing he wanted was to involve Adara again. His kin had brought her enough dangers already, and though she always reassured him that her contacts in the guild of lovers would not betray her, still he worried. Though he did not understand the message he was supposed to relay, he did not doubt he would feel even more uncomfortable about it if he did.
His thoughts were in turmoil all morning. But at last, just before the bell rang for breakfast, he fetched parchment and a quill and scribbled a note to Adara, sending it along with Mellie at the front door. Isra’s corpse still lay in the Academy, and the investigation would not stop simply because he wished it to. If they did not find Isra, surely it would only be a matter of time before the faculty found out about the amulet, and then they were all lost.
The day’s studies went by in a blur. Ebon managed to keep up appearances well enough that Perrin did not bark at him for his wandering attention, and of course Kalem and Theren mostly left him alone in the library, for their thoughts were just as preoccupied. After dinner he set off into the streets for the second day in a row, but this time alone. He looked all about him, hoping to catch a glimpse of a black-clad assassin haunting his steps. But he saw nothing, and wondered if that should make him feel better or worse.
Though the troubles that burdened him seemed crushing in their weight, he still felt a wash of relief the moment he stepped across Adara’s threshold. She came to Ebon before he reached the top of the stairs, and he heaved a great sigh as she took him into her arms. The last of his anxiety washed away like soot stains in a downpour.
“My love,” she murmured. “I was overjoyed at your message, but now I wonder at its purpose. I can see that a great many things weigh heavily upon you.”
“You do not know the half of it,” said Ebon, “but I can fix that. Come. There is much to tell.”
As quickly as he could, he informed her of all that had transpired since last he had seen her. She listened attentively, stopping him sharply when he left out a detail and threw the tale into confusion. And when he reached the end and told her what Mako had said, he saw her olive skin go a shade lighter.
“He used those words, did he?” she muttered softly. “Darkness take that man.”
“What did he mean?” said Ebon. “I hear no special truth in the words, but he seemed to think they held one, and now it seems you feel the same.”
“Oh, he does not speak in some code,” she said. “Yet he knew that I would know what he meant. How did he learn …” She shook her head and stood, going to the cabinet where she kept her wine and her mead. “Never mind that. I need something to wet my throat.”
“Do not—that is …” Ebon paused, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Might I try some of your mead, instead of wine?”
She arched an eyebrow and gave him a little smirk. “Are you certain? It is an acquired taste. I doubt you will like it.”
He raised his hands. “How will I ever acquire it if I do not try?”
Adara studied him for a moment and then shrugged before bringing the bottle of mead over to the table. First she poured into his cup, but only a little splash, and then nudged it towards him. “Try it. I would not waste a whole cup on you if you do not enjoy it
.”
Ebon lifted it to his lips and took a sniff. It did not smell … bad, exactly. But neither did it make his mouth water. He tilted the cup back.
The taste that slid down his tongue and into his throat was both familiar and foreign—like honey without the sweet. Too, there were herbs and spices aplenty; as a Drayden, he could not help but pick some of them out. It was not entirely unpleasant, but neither did it set him at ease the way the first good swig of wine often did.
“Acquired, mayhap,” he said. “But not awful at first blush, either.”
Adara seemed impressed despite herself. “Indeed? Mayhap I should have expected as much from a man whose tastes are as cultured as yours.” She smirked to let him know the words were playful and then filled his cup nearly to the brim before doing the same with her own. Ebon’s second sip was better than the first, and made the more pleasant when Adara settled herself sideways across his lap, draping an arm about his shoulders as she met his gaze.
“Now, tell me what hidden meaning I have brought from Mako’s lips to your ears,” said Ebon. “I do not like that my family’s man knows something of you that I do not.”
“Oh, but there are so many things you do not know about me, Ebon—and so many more things I look forward to teaching you.” Though her words were light, and her tone more so, he could see the concern lurking in her dark eyes. It soon came out in a sigh. “Your man has learned—though I know not how—of a certain … friend I have. A friend who owes me a favor.”
Ebon’s jaw clenched, though he tried to hide it. He inspected his cup carefully, feigning nonchalance. “Is your friend a guest?”
She let out a slow breath through her nose, and he could hear her trying to hide her annoyance just as hard as he had tried to hide his interest. “They are not. In fact they are not interested in lovers at all, for coin or otherwise. But they are … well, I did them a favor once, long before I came to this life. I have waited many years for sufficient reason to ask that that favor be returned. But I wonder that I did not think of it before, for certainly I think they could be of help.”
“I would not have you waste your one chance on me,” said Ebon. “After all, I hardly think they could be more useful in finding Isra than Mako has been.”
“You do not know my friend,” said Adara, giving him a grim little smile. “You have said before that if anyone can find the girl, Mako can. That is not true. The truth is that if anyone can find the girl, my friend can.”
“But that is all the more reason you should not waste such a chance on me,” said Ebon. “I may not even need such help.”
“Yet you may,” said Adara. “And if things go ill for you without such a favor, it could mean your life. That is something I cannot allow.”
She rose, leaving Ebon’s lap suddenly cool. From a cupboard she drew parchment and a quill, and when she had scribbled a message she sealed it with wax using a seal Ebon had never seen before. But he could not catch a glimpse of its design before she whisked it away and down the steps. He heard her sharp whistle as she flagged down a messenger, and then in a moment she reappeared in the room.
“I must get dressed for a walk,” she said. “And so must you.”
“Now?” said Ebon. “Surely you cannot mean to see your friend tonight. How can you know your message will find them?”
“It will,” she said. “And they will come at once. Have no fear of that. You must not be dressed in Academy robes when we see them. I have some other garments that will do.”
She undressed quickly and made Ebon do the same. When his hands wandered towards her, she smirked and slapped them away. She then bundled herself up in winter clothes and gave Ebon an outfit of his own, one that was elegant without drawing much attention. As soon as they had laced up their boots, she went to him and pulled him down for a quick peck on the cheek.
“You must promise that you will not stare overmuch, nor act out of turn,” she said. “And you must not ask me any questions. Do you understand? Mayhap one day I can explain. But not now.”
“Very well,” he said.
She caught his cheek and turned him to face her. She stared at him for a long moment. “Promise me.”
He frowned. “I promise. Why? What is wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” she said. “But … well, things are about to become very different. For both of us.”
With one more kiss, she drew him out and into the snowy night.
The afternoon now wore on, and the days were shorter besides. Adara hurried as she led him along winding streets and alleys, for it would soon be dusk. Every so often he would take her hand—not out of the need for guidance or the fear of losing her in the crowd, but simply so that he could feel the warmth of her skin on his own.
They were making east now, in nearly the same direction where lay the Drayden manor. But after a time they turned off the main road that ran from the western gates to the east. They had long passed the Academy to the south, and the High King’s palace loomed close above them when Adara turned aside and led him north a ways, through streets and alleys that grew narrower with every step. Soon they reached a little shop with a large red door, where Adara paused. From its chimney wafted the smell of coals and the sharp, bitter tang of molten metal. But this was no ironsmith—in the windows of the shop were set little trinkets and dishes of silver.
“Around back,” Adara murmured. “It would not do for us to be seen entering the front door—and my friend would prefer it that way as well, I think.”
To the shop’s rear was a small door of plain, unadorned wood. Upon this Adara tapped thrice, and then twice more after a pause. In a moment Ebon heard scuttling footsteps within, and then the door creaked open. Into view came a thin little man, wild grey hair sticking out in all directions. Though the day’s light waned, still he blinked at them as though a bright torch had been thrust into his eyes.
“Little Adara,” he breathed. “Sky above, girl, but it is good to see you.”
“And you, Aurel,” said Adara. She bent to give the wizened man a kiss upon the cheek. “Are we expected?”
“I should say so,” said Aurel, shaking his head. He stepped inside, waving them after him. “Between this and all the goings-on before the attack, I will be amazed if my heart does not give out before its time.”
Adara took Ebon’s hand and drew him inside. It took Ebon’s eyes a moment to adjust to the dim. When they did, he saw a small sitting room with a stone floor, warmed by a hearth with a metal grate for a screen. Mayhap a pace from the hearth was a low, modest table with three stools. One of the stools was occupied. Aurel glanced at the figure who sat there and then at Adara and Ebon before he withdrew from the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
The figure rose. He wore a cloak of plain brown, but its unremarkable color could not hide the fine weave of its cloth, nor the work of the expert hands that had sewn its hem. The cloak covered no armor, but there was a sword at his waist—a fine thing, not the plain blade of a soldier. He lifted his hands to throw back his hood. Well-tousled, sandy hair showed a few strands of grey, and his eyes were keen as they took in Adara and Ebon. There was something intensely familiar about him, but at first Ebon could not place it. Then he saw the brooch that pinned the cloak together. It bore the royal seal. A palace guard, he thought—but then the truth came to him, and his limbs shook. He fell to one knee and bowed his head.
“Your … Your Highness,” he gasped, his throat a desert.
Lord Prince Eamin, son of the High King and presumptive heir to the throne, took a step forwards and inclined his head. But Adara did not kneel, only gave a deep curtsey, and to Ebon’s shock, Eamin did not seem surprised in the least.
“Well met, son. But come, and treat me no different than you would your friend Adara. Kneeling is all good for the ceremony of a throne room, but it seems a little grandiose for Aurel’s little parlor, would you not say?”
Bright teeth flashed in a grin, and Ebon matched it without thinking. Hi
s heart stopped when Eamin held forth a hand. They clasped wrists, and the Lord Prince pulled him to his feet. Then, to Ebon’s growing wonder, Adara stepped forwards. She kissed one of Eamin’s cheeks, and then the other, the way an Idrisian greeted their close friend, or mayhap lover—though she had said that was not the case, he reminded himself.
“Your Highness,” she said. “My heart is glad to see you again.”
“My own mood is as I said it would be the last time I beheld you,” said Eamin. “Though I am pleased to be in your company, my thoughts are solemn, knowing you would not have called except at the utmost end of need. What troubles you, Adara?”
“The same thing that troubles my friend here,” said Adara, inclining her head towards Ebon. On instinct, Ebon ducked his head. The Lord Prince could not have gotten a very good look at him beneath his hood, and if Adara did not wish to speak his name, he would not speak it either. He knew nothing of the Lord Prince’s politics, but would not be surprised to find that Eamin, like most of Underrealm, held no high opinion of the family Drayden.
“Well? Speak on, son,” said Eamin. “We have all three of us wasted enough of a night that might be spent in merriment.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” said Ebon, bowing still further. His mind raced, wondering where to begin. “I … I imagine you know something of the Academy murders?”
Eamin’s countenance darkened at once. “I do,” he said softly. “Though Her Majesty was quick to send her guards to the citadel, I wish we could have done more, and more quickly. But the killer is dead now, or so they say.”
“They say wrong,” said Ebon. “She is alive. I do not know how. But she is alive and plotting further evil upon the Seat.”
“A corpse was found in the Great Bay,” said Eamin, his frown deepening. “How can she be alive if we know where her body lies?”
Ebon quailed, for he could hear impatience in the Lord Prince’s voice. But then Eamin put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Do not quiver so, son. You have not raised my ire—only if what you say is true, it is very troubling, and it has darkened my thoughts.”
The Academy Journals Volume One_A Book of Underrealm Page 71