Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  The climb to the Keeper’s Tier took nearly thrice as long as the descent. The incline made for slower going, especially as Issa was forced to wend her way through the tombs, mausoleums, and sarcophagi to evade the patrols. She had no way to mark the passage of time deep in the mountains, but she guessed that sunrise lay less than an hour off by the time she spotted the corridor that led from the Dhukari tombs into the Citadel of Stone.

  She let out a sigh as she spotted the open gate. It was unguarded, no sign of any Keeper’s Blades.

  I made it.

  Her relief died stillborn a moment later as a figure stepped out of the shadows.

  Fear drove a dagger of ice into Issa’s gut. Hykos.

  A frown creased the Archateros’ face and his eyes were dark. “Where in the Keeper’s name have you been?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Evren ground his teeth and forced himself not to growl in frustration as he strode along behind Lady Briana’s palanquin. This servant job is taking up time I should be spending hunting down the Blade of Hallar.

  Samall had kept him running all afternoon, preparing the ornate palanquin for the journey to the Palace of Golden Eternity for some celebration or other. Now, he’d been given the unenviable task of hauling a wooden chest—filled with garments in case the Dhukari girl wanted a change of clothing—to the palace.

  Now there’s no way I’ll get away to talk to Killian, at least not tonight.

  He risked a glance to the attendant supporting the other half of the wooden chest—the same one he’d seen talking with Samall earlier this afternoon. Wherever the man had gone on his secretive errand, he’d managed to return in time for the evening departure to the palace.

  Evren’s one consolation came from the knowledge that Samall’s plan—that it was devious, he had no doubt, or else why all the furtiveness?—would take place tomorrow night. He had until then to figure out what it was and how to keep Hailen out of harm’s way. If he could stop the Arch-Guardian’s daughter from being harmed, that would earn him favor with his new master.

  But first I’ve got to get through tonight.

  The thin leather sandals with their knee-high leather straps that chafed his legs were the worst part of it, though the clothing—a heavy, colorful stole over a thick woolen tunic ornamented with a gold-plated necklace and bracelets to match—came in close second. He’d always hated the long, flowing robes and multiple layers worn in Vothmot, though he couldn’t help admitting that the silks popular in Voramis felt wonderful against his skin. Still, Shalandran garb had proven utter torment.

  Worse, he’d been forced to relinquish all but one of his daggers. The sleeveless tunic meant he couldn’t wear his wrist brace and he had no boots to conceal his blades. He had just one throwing knife tucked into the gold-and-blue sash worn atop his shendyt. His twin jambiya lay tucked beneath the wool-stuffed mattress he’d been given in the dingiest, dustiest room in the servants’ quarters. He’d have to rely on his wits and fists if he found himself in trouble.

  Not for the first time, Evren found himself grateful for the years he’d spent bare-handed fighting—first in the Master’s Temple, then on the city streets of Vothmot, then training with the Hunter and Kiara. He’d actually managed to land a few good blows during his sparring sessions. Given that the Hunter had the impossible speed, stamina, and strength of his Bucelarii heritage, that was something to be proud of.

  Thankfully, the journey to the palace from Arch-Guardian Suroth’s mansion proved far shorter than he’d feared. From what he’d learned, there were just two entrances to the palace: from the huge temple to the Long Keeper he’d heard called the Hall of the Beyond, and at the top of Death Row, the avenue that ran along the eastern side of the city. Suroth’s mansion stood a few hundred yards from Death Row, so they had less than a mile to travel to reach the palace.

  Damn, that’s a big wall! Evren let out a quiet whistle as their company approached the huge wall of golden sandstone that ringed the sixth and highest tier, dominated entirely by the palace and its grounds. Fifty serious-looking Indomitables bearing the marks of officers—three or four silver bands through the blue ring around the forehead of their flat-topped, spike-rimmed helmets—held guard at the enormous wrought-iron gate. Yet another obstacle Evren would have to get past to reach the Vault of Ancients.

  The Palace of Golden Eternity stood on the far side of an enormous open-air plaza, with an ornate balcony where the Pharus could make an appearance before the people gathered in front of the palace. The plaza was covered by white marble tiles that shone brilliantly in the light cast by the lanterns hanging from the front of the palanquin. Black tiles—made of shalanite, Evren guessed—had been interspersed to produce beautiful rosettes in a symmetrical pattern across the square.

  The Palace of Golden Eternity was carved from the same golden sandstone as the rest of the city, but its entire surface was decorated with gold, silver, and black shalanite leaves threaded together in ornate mandalas and rosettes. The palace’s main building—a structure of solid stone pillars and columns supporting high, crowned arches and a balcony that circumnavigated the outer perimeter of both the second and third floors—spanned fully half of the uppermost tier. Evren caught a glimpse of gardens circling the eastern side of the palace and smaller buildings to the west.

  Unlike the Hall of the Beyond, the Palace of Golden Eternity had no spires or lofty towers to draw the eye heavenward. Instead, a face had been carved into the stone above the uppermost dome of the palace. A solemn face, hard and scarred, with a stern expression and eyes that seemed to fix on Evren as he drew closer to the palace. The face of Hallar, Shalandra’s founder, watching over his city even in death.

  The peak of the mountain Alshuruq ended in a sharp tip a few hundred yards above Hallar’s head, but the mountain was sheer, the climb impossible for any but a very experienced climber—or the Hunter, Evren thought.

  He studied the palace as he followed the palanquin toward the grand front entrance. No way I’m getting in this way, that’s for sure. Anyone trying to enter through the front would be visible to the Indomitables guarding the gate and patrolling the plaza.

  Then there was the matter of the warriors standing guard. They carried two-handed swords nearly as tall as him, with strange flame-shaped blades made of midnight-colored Shalandran steel. Their armor was the same black as the Indomitables’, but the spikes protruding from the elbow, shoulder, and knee joints added to the snarling lion helmet to give them an air of deadly menace.

  He stopped as the palanquin halted in front of the grand entrance. The six slaves—indentured servants, Samall had emphasized the distinction—lowered the palanquin to the ground and stepped aside. Sweat streamed down their faces. They alone of the Shalandrans wore no headbands; the mark of their servitude, he guessed.

  Evren struggled to stifle a snorting laugh as Hailen emerged from the palanquin. His pale face had been painted bone-white, with dark lines around his eyes and bright lipstick to emphasize the redness of his lips. He looked absolutely ridiculous in his fancy gold-threaded shendyt, long-sleeved tunic, and gold-and-green stole. Even from five yards away, Evren could smell the thick perfumes—a potent mixture of ambergris and musk—that hung in a thick miasma around the younger boy.

  If only the Hunter could see him now!

  Hailen shot him a furious glare, then turned and held out a hand to the young Dhukari woman within the palanquin.

  Lady Briana was pretty, with skin a deep golden mahogany, oval-shaped face, and arrow-straight nose that reminded him of the young women of Vothmot. Her petite frame brought back memories of the few times he’d roamed the Ward of Bliss, Vothmot’s pleasure district. She wasn’t too stuck up, either. She’d actually thanked Hailen when he helped her into the palanquin the first time, and nodded to Evren and the other footmen. She was pretty decent compared to most of the nobility of Vothmot and Voramis that he’d had the misfortune to meet.

  In the few seconds that he’d been able to c
atch Hailen alone, Evren had asked about his duties. The young boy had rolled his violet eyes and shook his head. “They’ve got me fetching things for Lady Briana and her new bodyguards. Not a bad job, but if I wanted to do that, I’d have stayed in the House of Need.”

  “At least no more of those lessons, eh?” Evren had said with a grin.

  Hailen shrugged. “The food’s better, too.” His expression had grown excited. “But wait until you see what I found in her fath—”

  The tinkling of a bell had cut off Hailen’s words, and they hadn’t had a chance to speak again.

  At least he’s been treated well. That was more than he could say for himself. Samall had come dangerously close to ordering him whipped when he discovered the slop water stains on Evren’s clothing. Evren wouldn’t have allowed the stocky attendant to strike him, so he’d been relieved when the order came for them to prepare for the journey to the Palace of Golden Eternity. A reprieve from the inevitable confrontation. Samall would take his role as Evren’s superior too far, and he’d earn himself shattered teeth for it. Sadly, that would be the end of Evren’s short-lived career as a footman—and set back his plans to get close enough to the Blade of Hallar.

  That’s already easier said than done, Evren thought. Let’s just hope there’s a side or back way in.

  The last two members of Lady Briana’s retinue dismounted from their horses and took up guard positions beside the young woman. One was a fierce, exotic-looking young woman with impressively strong arms and a short spear, the other a young pale-skinned man Evren guessed was roughly the same age as him. Evren couldn’t decide if the fellow hailed from Praamis, Malandria, or Voramis—most southerners looked alike to him—but he had a strange, almost familiar confidence about him.

  The two were Lady Briana’s bodyguards, and they looked capable enough. The young woman, in particular, seemed like the sort of opponent he’d avoid tangling with at all costs. Though, given the familiar ease with which the young southerner carried his sword, Evren guessed he’d be a competent fighter as well.

  Let’s just hope they’re enough to stop whatever Samall has planned.

  He’d contemplated telling them about what he’d overheard but decided to wait until he had more concrete proof. The fact that Killian had pulled strings to get him and Hailen employment with Arch-Guardian Suroth probably meant that the blacksmith had eyes and ears among the serving staff. He’d want to know about the servants’ whispers that the abduction of Lady Briana had been an inside job, and he could offer insight on what Samall and his companion had planned.

  If Killian proved a dead end, Evren would go to Nessa or the bodyguards. His evidence might be tenuous at best, but he’d risk it if it meant Hailen was out of harm’s way.

  Evren made to follow his new mistress into the palace, but Samall stepped in his way with a glower and shake of his head.

  “You, stay with Kuhar and watch the palanquin,” Samall growled at him. “You’re nowhere near ready to serve Lady Briana.”

  Evren ground his teeth and bit back an angry retort. “Yes, sir.” The words came out harsher than he’d intended, but Samall had already turned to accompany Lady Briana and the others inside.

  The bare-headed slaves lifted the palanquin and carried it toward an arched gateway on the western side of the palace. There, he found himself amidst a sea of equally luxurious palanquins parked in another massive, albeit less ornate courtyard. It seemed the people of Shalandra preferred the slave-born litters with their plush cushions, silk curtains, lacquered paintwork, and gold-and-bronze finials over the comforts of wagons and carriages. Given his experience riding on Brother Modestus’ wagon from Voramis to Shalandra, he couldn’t fault them.

  To his surprise, when the litter bearers set down their poles, they were ushered into a side entrance. Evren overheard the words “wine and meat” as the bare-headed, broad-shouldered men filed inside. He, however, had to content himself to wait out here with Samall’s co-conspirator, far from any sustenance or refreshments.

  Well, isn’t that a kick in the bollocks! He hadn’t eaten more than the small flatbread he’d managed to filch from beneath the cook’s nose. I can already tell tonight’s going to be a real treat.

  “Stand guard at the front, I’ll take the rear, where I can keep an eye on Lady Briana’s chest,” the man, Kuhar, told him in a curt voice. By the half-sneer he shot Evren, he shared Samall’s disdain for the new hire.

  Evren nodded. “Got it.” He strode around to take up a guard position at the front of the palanquin. He pretended nonchalance, his stance relaxed, but he kept one wary eye on the man.

  Back in the mansion, Samall had said that their presence here provided “the perfect opportunity to plan tomorrow’s strike.” If the attendant intended to slip away or try anything duplicitous, Evren would be watching and waiting.

  Time seemed to pass at a slow crawl. Evren had developed the patience required to be a successful thief, but even he grew bored after an hour. He occupied his time studying his surroundings. The courtyard was likely the equivalent of the carriage yards common in the homes of Voramian nobles, though thankfully with far fewer horse droppings. The few attendants that had remained in the courtyard were clustered together a short distance away and speaking in voices too low for him to hear.

  Solid sandstone walls flanked the western and northern sides of the courtyard, though the eastern side opened onto a cluster of smaller buildings. Doubtless they were the ancillary structures common to palaces: stables for the Pharus’ horses, storage rooms for his food, chambers where his laundry was washed, and so on.

  Over his years as a thief, Evren had learned that these places tended to be the weak spots in any building’s architecture. The Pharus likely preferred his servants to come and go through side and rear entrances, keeping the grand front entrance clear so as to impress his guests. No one would marvel at the stunning architecture if it bore the dust of rugs beaten on the walls, and the black-and-white-tiled courtyard would steal fewer breaths covered in horse droppings.

  But those weren’t the only vulnerabilities. Evren scanned the second- and third-floor windows and balconies for any way he could get in unseen. Unfortunately, the western side of the Palace of Golden Eternity was as damned-near impenetrable as the front. Black-armored guards patrolled the balconies and kept a close eye on the courtyard. The only place not guarded was a small archway on the northwestern corner.

  He shot a glance at the man at the rear of the palanquin. I doubt he’d let me slip away to do a bit of exploring.

  Just then, Evren’s ears perked up at the sound of a low whistle coming from the direction of the palace. He made no move, gave no indication he’d heard it, but his eye snapped toward his fellow servant. The man had straightened and was glancing around the courtyard.

  “You awake, new guy?” Kuhar called.

  Evren responded with a grunt.

  “Gotta relieve myself right quick. You think you can keep an eye on things for a few minutes?”

  “You got it.” Evren gave a disinterested wave. “Just snag me something from the kitchens on the way back, yeah?”

  “Will do,” the man replied almost too cheerfully.

  Evren pretended to turn away, but tracked the man’s movements out of the corner of his eye. The attendant slipped between a pair of silk-curtained palanquins and disappeared from view.

  A few seconds later, Evren abandoned his post and slipped in silence after the man. He moved parallel to Kuhar, keeping watch on the attendant from the corner of his eye. As he’d expected, Kuhar was moving in the direction of the whistle, which had come from that archway on the northwestern corner of the courtyard.

  His muscles tightened as he caught a glimpse of Samall standing in the archway, framed by the light of the lanterns burning behind him. As Kuhar hurried forward, Samall beckoned for him.

  Evren caught Samall’s low whisper. “This way.”

  The two men disappeared through the archway, and Evren followed a few s
econds later. Let’s see where you’re off to, eh?

  The arch opened onto a short corridor broad enough for two wagons, which gave way onto a smaller courtyard of simple sandstone tiles. The smells wafting from the open doors and windows told Evren that this was the way into the palace’s kitchens.

  Evren clung to the shadows of the stone corridor, silent as a wraith. The Hunter had honed his skills of fighting, but years spent living on the streets had trained Evren to move without a sound.

  Samall led Kuhar away from the kitchen door, and instead to a metal grate set into the ground level. The two men crouched before the grate, studying it, and Samall spoke to Kuhar in a low voice.

  Evren pricked up his ears in an effort to overhear the hushed conversation.

  “…soon as you can, you must get word to our brothers,” Samall was saying to the man. “Harol has found us our way in through the storerooms.”

  Thank you, Samall! Excitement thrummed through Evren’s chest. The treacherous attendant had just showed him the perfect way to get in. I’ll still have to find a way through the palace and into the Vault of Ancients to get at the Blade of Hallar, but it’s a damned good first step.

  On the other hand, the fact that Samall was planning something in the palace meant he—and whoever his “brethren” were—had something far larger than one simple kidnapping in mind. People only snuck into palaces with the intention of killing monarchs and rulers.

  Killian needs to know about this. Perhaps the blacksmith could send word to whomever in the palace handled security, have them lay an ambush for Samall and his fellows. Doubtless that would earn Killian a great deal of favor with the right people in the Palace of Golden Eternity—favor that would trickle down to Evren.

  But that didn’t help Evren keep Hailen out of harm’s way. He needed to find out more about whatever Samall and his fellow traitors had planned so he could make his own plans to protect Hailen.