Tower of the Arkein: Kan Savasci Cycle Book 2, page 12
“I’m here to see the archduchess,” Aeden said.
The guard looked at the taller one and smirked.
“Announce yourself,” he said in a mocking tone.
Aeden didn’t understand. Instead he held up the letter from the Jal.
“I’ve a sealed letter from the Purser of Sha’ril.”
The scarred guard laughed. The taller one smiled and looked down at Aeden, slowly shaking his head.
“And I’ve an invitation from the king,” the tall guard replied.
Aeden slowly put the letter away. His anger grew deep in his belly.
“What’re you going to do boy?” the guard missing part of an ear taunted from the other side of the metal bars.
The tall guard rested a hand on the hilt of his sword and took a half step closer. The smile slipped from his face. He was now all business.
“Don’t make a mistake you’d regret,” the first guard now said in a lower and menacing tone.
Aeden looked back at him, his eyes were now cold.
“I’ve made it a habit not to spar wits with unarmed men.”
The smile fell from the scarred man’s face and Aeden walked away. Impatience trailed him down the street in petulant hues of animosity.
Chapter 26
“Planning is important, despite the complete unimportance of planning.” Rhetoric, Logic, and the Importance of Rational Thought – Library of Galdor
The palace of the First House of Bodig rested in spidery shadows under the watchful glare of a partial moon. Along the street, tucked in an alley, resided a darker more obscure shadow. A warrior trained by the Thane, shaped by life, and sharpened by the teachers of the Purser of Sha’ril. The dark figure pulled the hood of his midnight cloak about his head. It was time.
Aeden had spent the last few days surveilling the palace complex. He had learned the rotation of the guards. He learned about the movement of servants in and out of the complex. He uncovered the different methods of entry. He had studied the layout and he had formulated a plan. He only hoped it was as solid as he had dared believe it to be.
The guards were changing shifts. He had to move or lose his window of opportunity.
Aeden slipped through the night like a shadowy knife. He cut through the street, lurking in pools of inky darkness. The end of an alley abutted against the red sunstone bricks, which were now nothing more than a muddy brown in the wane light of night.
The blackness swallowed him in silence as he glanced back once more.
With a few skilled movements, he climbed the side of a building and jumped to the roof. He squatted, his dark cloak billowing about him in a masquerade of obscurity. He glanced across the small courtyard that rested idly on the other side of the wall.
It was empty.
Aeden crept toward the wall and jumped. He landed and rolled to a nearby bush and paused.
Silence.
He peered across to the compound. A door opened and a guard stepped out.
Tugging slowly on the cowl of his hood, Aeden sank lower into ambiguity.
The guard turned right and moved out of his line of sight. Aeden moved swiftly to the door, not once looking in the direction of the guard. He slipped inside like a revenant. The corridor was dark. The space was cast in the drab tones of an unlit tomb.
Aeden carved a path to the nearest set of stairs and paused. His heart pumped heavily. His ears strained for sound.
Nothing.
Stillness had cast its weary net.
Cutting free from his alcove of passivity, he entered the narrow stairs. He whisked up the winding confines like a cat stalking its prey. At the head of the stairs he paused. He listened for movement.
Voices stretched across the corridor to his ear.
Sinking low he pulled a small reflective plate. He used it to peer down the corridor. The second door on the right was open.
The voices grew louder as they approached. They stained the corridor with their transmuted tones.
Aeden slipped the mirror back into a pocket. He had made his decision. He swept across the corridor toward the approaching voices and slipped into the open room. Silvery strands of light cast the sparse furniture in hues of grey. Aeden glanced about and hid behind an overly large dresser.
“We need more allies before we proceed,” a soft male voice said.
“We have the strength of the Church, and we are steps from Benbow himself, what more would you council before our enemies take what’s rightfully mine?”
The second voice was stronger, more aggressive.
“Your holiness, I beg prudence and patience…” there was a pause, “at least until we seek council with the king tomorrow night.”
“Patience is the coward’s siren call that too often leads to inaction…”
The voices trailed off, as they entered the stairway and moved beyond earshot. Aeden’s heart slowed and his breathing came under control. He now studied his environment more carefully. He was on the second floor, a quarter of the way to the opposite side of the palace. He should be close.
Large windows stood closed, opposite the doorway. A balcony rested just beyond the tall windows. He unlatched the windows and opened one of them. It creaked uncomfortably. He looked back. The doorway and hallway remained empty. He slipped out onto the balcony and closed the window behind him. It creaked closed. His heart thumped audibly in his ears in a rushing ebb and flow.
Aeden remained hidden in shadow, waiting for the call to action, waiting for guards to raise the alarm and for arrows to clatter off the walls. Instead, silence greeted him like an old friend. A smile curled at the edges of his mouth.
He moved to the edge of the balcony and looked over. There was a guard below.
Aeden looked up and noticed another balcony above him. He looked down once more, before climbing onto the lip of the railing and reaching for the lower edge of the balcony above. His fingertips gripped the edge and he hefted himself up. He hoisted himself onto the balcony railing and onto the balcony.
There before him, sitting in darkness, was the archduchess. Aeden froze like an animal caught by firelight, in the dead of night. It was a foolish response, for she had clearly seen him. A stupid expression momentarily painted his features in youthful impropriety.
She regarded him oddly, but made no move to shout. Surprisingly she did not look overly alarmed. Her expression was a mask of disbelief and studied contemplation.
Aeden pushed back his hood and smiled goofily. He had no idea what to say.
“I know you,” Alina said, breaking the silence.
Her voice startled Aeden. It was soft yet filled with strength. He hadn’t expected it to play out like this. Words escaped him.
“You were a monk, weren’t you,” she continued, as she puzzled together a small mystery. “Not a particularly bright monk if I recall.”
Aeden nodded dumbly.
“Wait,” he said as his mind began to catch up to the moment, “Not a bright monk?”
“You had an altercation with an Inquisitor and caused my uncle and me quite some upset.”
Aeden didn’t know what to say. He simply smiled, not fully understanding what she had said. She had remembered him. She had known who he was all along. His heart sang.
“My lady?” a male voice called up.
“I’m just repeating some lines from a play,” she shouted down to the guard.
Aeden backed away from the railing into the relative darkness. Alina gestured for him to enter the room. Aeden entered without thought. What if it was a trap? More guards? He didn’t care, he was finally with the archduchess.
There was nothing but a large bed, a dresser, a candelabra, and a wash basin, with a wide archway leading to a dressing chamber.
“Are you here to kill me?” she asked, standing at the threshold of the balcony.
She looked so beautiful in the faint light. The combination of her physical appeal and the blunt question threw Aeden off guard. How was she disarming him so easily with words? He was confounded, intrigued, and slightly angered.
“No, my lady,” Aeden replied, “I’ve come with a message.”
“You could have had a courier deliver it,” Alina replied.
Again, she cut through him. Aeden fell onto the defensive.
“I was tasked with delivering this message directly to you,” Aeden said, followed with “my lady.”
The pontification felt strange, and he said it a touch more strongly than he intended.
“Were your directions to come in the dark of night, and climb onto my balcony?”
Aeden shook his head.
“I had tried the gate, but was denied entry.”
“And for good reason too,” the archduchess replied.
She fell silent. The archduchess now regarded Aeden with a new set of eyes. Her dark hair was braided and hung over one shoulder. She wore a light silken gown over a thin night tunic. She, however, seemed more interested in what Aeden had in his hand, than what propriety demanded.
“Give me the message and leave,” she said with authority in her voice. “You shouldn’t sneak around in the dead of night,” she added for good measure.
Aeden stepped forward and held out the Jal’s letter.
It was only then that Aeden could see the slight shake in her hand. She was scared and doing her best to hide it.
Alina took the letter and moved to the candelabra on the other side of the room. The soft yellow light played with her features and gave pause to Aeden’s departure.
Alina’s small fingers deftly cut through the wax seal and opened the letter. She then let it fall and looked to Aeden. Her face was serious, angry even. Aeden was taken aback; the last thing he had expected or wanted was to anger her. Every expectation he had, was falling apart like untreated wool.
“Is this a joke,” she asked loudly.
Aeden glanced about fearfully. What if the guards heard? Were there guards outside her doorway as well? Control of the situation had slipped through his fingers, despite a multitude of well-intentioned thoughts.
“No,” was all Aeden managed.
“It’s in Adhari, I don’t read Adhari,” she said flatly.
“I do,” Aeden replied softly.
He wasn’t sure why, but he felt powerless around her. His words came slowly. His mind worked overtime. His heart was beating far too fast to be normal.
“May I,” he said.
The archduchess merely nodded. Aeden stepped closer. He could smell a hint of flowers, honey, and a spice he couldn’t identify. It was intoxicating.
He watched briefly as her breasts rose and fell with impatience, pressing against the soft fabric of her tunic, and silhouetted by the candlelight. He tore his gaze free and reached for the letter. Alina stepped to the other side of the room. Strangely, Aeden already missed her presence.
“Who sent you,” Alina asked, clearly trying to understand why a dark-cloaked man had climbed into her room.
“Jal Isa Sha’ril, the Purser of Sha’ril, and if I am to surmise correctly, future Caliph of the A’sh.”
Alina’s gaze took in Aeden once more. Interest lingered in her eyes. She was curious.
“You’ve an accent, Heortian isn’t your native tongue,” she said as if she had just noticed.
“I’m not from here my lady.”
Alina scowled slightly.
“Then where is it you’re from?”
Aeden wasn’t sure how to answer. He knew that those from the Gwhelt were looked down upon by the populace of the Three Kingdoms. He could safely assume that nobility thought even less of the wild lands to the east. Yet, for some reason he felt compelled to tell her the truth.
“I’m from S’Vothe,” he finally said.
“You’re of the Thane?” Alina asked in surprise.
“You’ve heard of the Thane Sagan?” Aeden replied incredulously.
Alina nodded her head and took a tentative step forward. She now examined him the way a child would a potentially dangerous, new toy.
“It was the Thane that stopped the northern march of Caliph Rajah,” she said from memory, “The Thane had been used by Emperor Denot the Mighty to squash the Heretics of Gemynd.”
She fell silent for a moment as her mind worked through what she knew.
“The Thane are supposed to be the best warriors in all of Verold,” she paused, “or so say some historians.”
A tiny smile cracked Aeden’s lips, as he puffed out his chest slightly. If he had been thinking slowly before, his mind now moved with glacial purpose. He could think of nothing to say in response. He hardly believed the Thane were the best in all of Verold. But to admit that would be to destroy her image of his people.
“But you’re not what I imagined,” she said thoughtfully, almost mockingly, “I thought the Thane would be bigger, taller,” she paused as if thinking of the next word, “and scarier.”
Aeden’s temporary confidence deflated and he looked to the ground momentarily as if looking for a response in the stonework. The mightiest of the Thane brought down by the words of a young princess.
“Do you wish me to read the letter,” Aeden asked, gripping the paper tightly, seeking a distraction.
“Go on,” she said, waving a hand at him, a strange look settling upon her face.
Aeden leaned toward the light and looked at the finely written lettering of the Jal.
“My dearest lady, Alina Cynesige of the Second House of Bodig, Holder of Keys, I send you my most favored student and former possession, the Kan Savasci, Aeden of the Gwhelt. Along with this gift I send word and humbly beg audience, for with your eye upon the throne and my hand upon the Caliphate, unwritten futures could meld past hardships.”
Aeden turned the letter over. That was it. He had stumbled slightly, but otherwise felt proud of his ability to translate from Adhari to Heortian.
“Interesting,” was all Alina said.
Aeden stood there for a moment. He glanced at the archduchess. She had moved back to stand before the balcony. The moonlight fell through in slender fingers of light. They served to highlight her figure.
Aeden swallowed hard.
Alina remained at the threshold of the balcony a moment. A slight breeze tugged at her tunic and played with the silken fabric of her blouse.
Aeden wished he was the wind in that moment, just so he could have the opportunity to caress her skin.
The archduchess looked back toward him with purpose in her eyes.
“Come back here tomorrow at the same time,” the archduchess commanded.
There was finality in her words.
Aeden merely nodded. He pulled his cloak about him and slipped back out in the lurid darkness of night. The feeling of being swept up by the hands of fate overcame him as his heartbeat finally fell under control.
Chapter 27
“All speak the virtue of patience, but few can endure the agony of waiting.” Canton of Sawol
The following day dragged by with all the intensity of a boulder. The image of the archduchess in her night gown was imbedded within young Aeden’s mind. The thin fabric was a veiled curtain of privacy that he wished to violate. Every curve of her body played out in a loop within his adolescent brain.
He sought solace walking the streets of Bodig, yet only managed to get lost. The wind played its own game, subtle and sweet. It played with his hair and fondled his skin, but Aeden was in no mood. He needed a place to think on the night prior. And so, he happened upon a small park.
As he sat, he replayed every word of their conversation. He attempted to glean meaning from words and thread nuance from her mannerisms. He relived every line of her face. He could even smell the lingering scent of perfume that hung about her like a cloud of enticement.
Aeden then began to imagine their meeting that night. What would he say? He imagined climbing up to her balcony and sweeping her into his arms, kissing her and holding her close. It was nothing but the ridiculous dreams of an adolescent on the verge of manhood.
With a breath, he let go of his incessant thoughts and glanced across to a gathering of mixed-age children. They were playing a game of sorts. Curiosity tugged at him and he moved toward them. Distraction was his only savior.
The aroma of sweat and the proximity of humanity was oddly comforting. It reminded him of his bouts of wrestling as a boy in S’Vothe, and his time in the monastery before everything had fallen apart.
Aeden stood behind the group and glanced down at the two boys seated on the ground. A look of intensity was writ upon their faces. Upon the cobbled stones were painted bones. The nearest boy would throw one up into the air and try to snatch as many from the ground as he could.
It was a simple game. Once he understood its rules his mind began to drift like a stray cloud in an otherwise blue sky.
Before he knew it, night had descended. A blanket of stars cast their weight upon the Red City and declared it eventide. The streets grew empty and Aeden grew restless.
It was time.
He picked his way back to the residence of the First House of Bodig. The Red City had several districts as Aeden discovered. Presently, he was in one defined by large houses and luxury shops.
Aeden crossed the street and walked next to a row of buildings before cutting down the familiar alley adjacent to the palatial complex of the archduchess. His heart was in his throat as he thought on seeing her again. A single flower was in his cloak. He had plucked it earlier, hoping to give it to Alina. Now he wasn’t sure if the idea was romantic or just plain stupid.
It was strange, the first night he saw her, he had only been mildly anxious. Tonight, however, he had great difficulty focusing. Butterflies danced in his stomach as ferries played upon his brain. Images of the archduchess in various stages of undress vied for his attention.
He waited for the guards’ shift change before jumping over the wall into the courtyard below. Excitement and a sense of urgency marked his actions in detrimental overtones. Aeden had mistimed his jump and landed poorly. Pain shot up his leg in a cascade of stars. Instinctively he rolled to dissipate the energy of his fall. He had reacted too slowly.
