The Nightblade Epic Volume Two: A Book of Underrealm, page 71
The smuggler’s eyes narrowed. “Five percent.”
“You remember what happened the last time we bartered,” said Annis. “Do not toy with me.”
Wyle spread his hands with an easy smile. “What was it you said to me then? I accused you of haggling for scraps, and you told me you were only trying to maintain your reputation as a merchant’s daughter. I am trying to maintain my standing as an honest businessman.”
“You will wind up an honest corpse if you do not aid us,” snarled Jo.
Wyle eyed him uneasily. “Three percent,” he muttered.
“Done and done,” said Annis. She relaxed into her chair and drummed her fingers on its arm, smiling.
“You seem to have bartered on my behalf without consulting me,” said Jun, though his tone was not very severe. “You speak of repayment—yet how am I to repay Wyle? I will still have no coin in my treasury, and I cannot raise such a heavy tax so quickly. There is enough instability in the kingdom as it is.”
To Loren’s surprise, Prince Senlin leaned forwards to speak. “Yet you will have the throne, Father. That is the only thing that truly matters. You, unlike Wojin, are loyal to the High King. Once you have reclaimed your seat and rallied Dorsea to her side, I am sure she will compensate us for our loss. Especially if the Nightblade should speak on our behalf. It is a small price to pay for having the might of Dorsea on her side again.”
King Jun sat silently for a long moment. He drummed his fingers on his chin, deep in thought, but he did not look at any of them. His gaze was far away, seeing something Loren could not. Mayhap he imagined the future, thinking through the advantages and disadvantages of such an arrangement. Frankly, Loren’s head spun at even the limited discussion they had had here in this room. She did not think that hers was a mind for the politicking of the nine kingdoms, and once again she felt an enormous wave of gratitude for the presence of Annis by her side.
“Very well,” said Jun at last. “We shall follow the plan of the daughter of Yerrin.” He inclined his head towards her.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” said Annis, standing to bow in response. Loren thought that was a bit of a joke—she was helping him, and not the other way around. Annis should have been the one to receive gratitude.
Jun excused himself from the room, taking Senlin with him. With a forlorn expression, Gem watched them go. Jo stood as well. But rather than leave, he fetched a map from a cabinet across the room and spread it on the floor between them. Loren studied it for a moment, but could make little sense of it without being able to read the words.
“This is the palace,” said Jo. “This building here is the treasury.” He pointed to a building drawn on the palace’s northern side. “There is no entrance but the front door. There are windows, but they are very high. I do not know if you could sneak in that way.”
“We will see when we get there,” said Loren. “I am quite good at getting into places when people do not want me to.”
“And how often have you had to sneak into a well-guarded palace?” said Jo.
Loren fixed him with a look. “I once strode into the middle of a mercenary army and stole a horse I liked, then set the rest of their mounts to stampede. This seems a small feat by comparison.”
Jo grunted. “Very well. But we have not been in the palace for some time. If the Yerrins are not keeping their supplies of magestones in the treasury, we have no way of knowing where they would be.”
“They will be close at hand,” said Annis. “My mother would not risk letting the stones out of her sight.”
Loren thought back to Cabrus. There, just before she had fled the city, she had infiltrated the apartment Damaris kept at one of the inns. There she had found the woman’s magestones, all kept together in a great wooden chest with a lock. It had been one of her first thefts—though she had not stolen the stones at all, but had destroyed most of them and scattered the rest for others to find, bringing the King’s law down on Damaris’ head. That move had been meant to remove Damaris’ threat forever, though of course things had not worked out that way.
“She will have them wherever she is staying,” said Loren. “I am sure of it.”
“Her apartments will likely be here.” Jo tapped the map with a thick fingertip. “Those are the chambers where guests of state reside.”
“Then that is where we will go first,” said Loren. “Sneak into Damaris’ apartments and steal as many magestones as we can, and then bring them to the treasury.”
“It seems a bold plan indeed,” said Jo. “Audacious, as you said.”
“But you have never seen us work before,” said Gem, grinning. “Or rather, you have never seen the Nightblade in action.”
“Oh, leave off, Gem,” said Loren.
But despite herself, she felt a growing excitement. When she had spoken against Wojin, she had seen Damaris’ face. The merchant had been furious, yes. But she had also been surprised, and that surprise had been delicious to see. After weeks spent dodging Loren, predicting her every move, the merchant had finally been caught unawares. Loren’s plan was too unpredictable, too unbelievable, for the merchant to have considered. This felt very much the same. Rather than try to draw Damaris out, Loren meant to go in. Why should Damaris expect them to come after her magestones? She knew Loren had no wizard by her side. And though she might know the treasury was one of their targets, she could not possibly guess that they would destroy its wealth rather than take it for themselves.
For the first time in a long time, Loren felt hope swell in her heart. This was going to work.
She was even able to ignore the voice in her mind. Duris’ voice. Never again will Jun sit the Dorsean throne.
DAMARIS PACED HER APARTMENT. TWO pewter goblets of wine sat on a table against the wall, untouched. Gregor sat in a massive chair—it had been brought in especially for him, since all of the room’s normal furnishings were far too small.
The bodyguard studied his mistress with worry. Damaris’ steps were calm and measured. She was not breathing heavily, and there was no flush in her cheeks. But anyone who knew her would know that she was seething, and no one knew Damaris better than Gregor did.
“This means nothing,” he said softly. “The girl’s theatrics only make her an easier target. Someone must have seen where she went. My agents will find her.”
“Will they?” snapped Damaris. “You have said that for days now. Yet we have discovered nothing.”
“These things take time,” said Gregor.
Damaris stopped short. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then lifted a hand to her forehead. “I know they do. I know it, Gregor. Yet we have no time. That was never true before. All these long years together, we have been able to take as long as we wanted. Or at least I thought we could. But now with the war, and with the Necromancer—”
The candle on the table guttered. Gregor looked at the room’s door. A gust of wind? Most likely. But a thin sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead.
“They understand,” he said. “They have told us they understand. After all, the brutes were no more help against Loren than we have been. The Nec—the Necromancer is more tolerant than we once feared they would be.”
Damaris smiled at him, as though she could sense his heart skip as he said the word. “You have never named them before.”
Gregor’s jaw worked. “Forgive me. It is a foolish superstition.”
“You are many things, my friend, but you have never been foolish. Indeed, in fearing them, you show your wisdom.” Damaris sighed and leaned on the back of the chair opposite Gregor. “It will be all right. We will find Loren, and King Jun as well.”
She looked up, across the room and right into Loren’s eyes. “Duris will tell us everything.”
Loren jerked, suddenly aware of her own presence.
When had the dream taken her? She had watched the conversation without even realizing she was there. Now she whirled about, looking around the room. Where was she? She had not seen this place before.
But the door was right beside her, and Damaris and Gregor were across the room. She threw the door open and ran through it, pounding down the hallway outside.
Behind her, Gregor’s voice rang out. “You cannot run from me, girl.”
Dark below take you if I cannot, she thought, and kept going.
A hand seized the back of her collar and hauled her around.
Loren screamed, drawing her dagger in an instant. She slashed. But the man who had grabbed her stepped back, easily dodging the blow.
It was not Gregor. It was the man in black. He gave her a sardonic smile from beneath oddly glowing eyes.
“Sky above girl, control yourself. I am not here to kill you, so do not give me a reason to. Come.”
He took her arm and hurried her along. Now she recognized where they were: the palace of Danfon. Loren knew these halls well enough by now. But he did not take her where she feared to go: the hallway, and the dining room, and the secret passage leading back to Gregor. Instead he led her to the broad front hall, and then through the wide main doors to the courtyard outside.
The sun was high in the sky, and for a moment its light blinded Loren. When she could see again, she realized the man in black was leading her north. Soon she saw a small building ahead, and the man made right for it.
The treasury, she thought. This is where the map showed it would be. But where are the guards?
There were none at the front door, which opened easily under the man’s hand. He led her inside. The torchlight struck her eyes, reflecting off gold, and for a moment it was as blinding as the sun had been. Senlin had not lied about the size of their hoard; before her, Loren saw more wealth than she had imagined could exist in all the world.
It struck her dumb for a moment, and she barely noticed as the man in black headed to the back of the room. But at last she followed him there. A large tapestry hung on the wall. Loren did not recognize the scene it depicted, but a man stood with hands raised to the sky. Storm clouds seemed to flow from his fingers, and they rained lightning and thunder down upon the foes who stood before him. With a start, she realized that it was the same man as the statue in the square, where she had spoken against Wojin before the crowd. His pose in the tapestry was almost the same as the statue’s.
The man in black pulled the tapestry aside. Behind it was a blank stone wall.
Loren froze. “What …?” she said.
The man grinned at her. “My job is to know the secret ways no one else knows about.”
He knelt and stuck a finger into the wall. For a moment Loren thought he must be an alchemist. But then she saw that there was a little nook there, cleverly hidden unless one looked for it carefully. The man’s fingers disappeared inside, and then he pulled something. Loren heard a click, and two stones in the wall swung open. It revealed a passageway large enough to crawl through.
“In, girl,” said the man. “They are coming.”
“Who?” said Loren. But a sound answered her. She heard the door to the treasury burst open. Turning, she saw Kal rush in, Mystics at his heels. They saw her and screamed a battle cry as they charged.
Loren fell to hands and knees and crawled into the hole. But the man with the scars did not follow her. Instead, he swung the door shut behind her. Loren crawled on, listening. She expected to hear screams as the man died, the way Niya had inside the palace. But there was nothing—only the sound of men pounding uselessly on the stone outside.
The passageway went on for what seemed like forever. First it went down, and then it twisted left and right, and eventually it climbed again. Loren felt the walls as she went, but there was no way to turn left or right. And after a time, the passage ended.
She felt the wall with her hands. There was no knob, no lever. No way to get out. She began to panic. Loren did not fear tight spaces the way Annis did, but she was still trapped in the walls of the palace, and she had no idea how to get out.
Slowly, she drew three deep breaths. Then she remembered how the man had opened the passageway in the first place. Loren fumbled, trying and failing to keep her fingers steady.
At the top right corner of the wall before her, she found a chink in the stone. Her fingers sank inside, and she felt a lever. She pulled.
The wall swung open. Loren crawled through, and she was back in the palace again.
Quickly she rose to her feet and ran on. A moment before, she had known the layout of the palace, but now she was lost again, as though she had never been there before. So she kept running, guessing which way to turn every time she came to an intersection. Loren had grown up running through the forest, and her endurance had not lessened during all the long leagues she had traveled across Underrealm. But even still, eventually her legs and lungs began to burn. She was trapped here. She would never leave the palace. She—
Loren turned the corner and found herself before the dining hall. There it was, empty and clear. Beside her was the small iron door that led to the secret passageway.
“You know where you have to go, girl.”
The voice made her spin. There was the man in black again. He leaned on the wall, his arms folded, his lips twisted in a smirk. But there, too, was Niya. She stood with hands at her sides, and her eyes were sad as they beheld Loren.
“It is the only way,” said Niya, her voice soft.
“Darkness take you both,” said Loren. “I am here for Damaris. Gregor is nothing, and he can stay in that room and rot for all I care.”
Loren leaped into the dining hall. Niya cried out and reached for her. Even the man in black tried to seize her. But she slapped their hands away and ran. No one else moved to stop her. She reached the other end and flew through the open door. There, just a span away, was the open gate that led into the city. She was almost there. She was almost free.
An arrow pierced her chest.
Loren stumbled and fell. Her mind whirled back to Yewamba. She had been shot there, too. She remembered the shaft protruding from her chest, the fletching soft under her fingers.
No, not the fletching. Now the arrowhead was in front. It had slid straight through her ribs. A drop of her blood fell from its tip as she watched. She had been shot from behind.
Loren managed to roll on her back as she sank to the ground. She looked up. There was the balcony. The one where Gregor always waited. In his hands was a massive longbow of yew, at least as long as Loren was tall. He wore an evil smile as he looked down at her.
All ways lead to Gregor.
She understood now. She understood. She could not escape Gregor. No matter what she did.
The dream released her.
Loren woke in the night, shivering and shaking. The terror of her dreams had begun to lessen, but this was different. This time the dream had not ended with Gregor moving towards her, looming in the darkness. This time he had killed her. She thought she had been clever to avoid him, but it all ended the same. She could not escape her fate.
Except that it was only a dream.
Annis lay peacefully on the other side of the bed. Loren shook her, and the girl’s eyes snapped open. She sat up at once, drawing up the blanket. It was unnecessary—she and Loren both slept mostly clothed, for the girl was terribly modest.
“Loren?” she whispered. “What is it?”
“I have had a dream,” she said. “Two, in fact, and I forgot to tell you of the other one. Let us fetch the others.”
They went to the room that Chet and Gem shared. Uzo was on watch when they emerged, but if he thought it strange to see them awake, he made no remark. He only nodded as they passed, and then leaned back in his chair by the door of the common room. Together, Annis and Loren woke Chet and Gem, and they gave the boys a moment to collect themselves. Then the girls sat at the foot of the bed while the boys sat up against the headboard, and Loren told them all that she had seen.
When they had finished, Gem sat frowning. “I … I do not understand,” he said lamely.
“Nor do I,” said Loren. “It seems my visions are not meant to be understood.”
“Except when they are,” said Chet quietly. “Why, then, do we bother ourselves with them?”
Loren looked at him sharply. “Would you rather I did not tell you? If I had warned you of the dreams I had in Ammon, we might not have gone to Yewamba.”
Chet shook his head. “I would rather we ignored them entirely—and that means you as well. You cannot still think there is nothing odd about this, Loren. Whatever brought these visions on—whether it is the Elves, as we first guessed, or something else entirely—it is using you, not helping you. For weeks you saw nothing, and now you have had three visions in only a few days.”
“Even if I am a tool in the hand of some greater power, I am being used to achieve the ends I wish to accomplish,” said Loren. “Whatever brought the dreams is helping me, whether or not that is the intention.”
“Oh?” said Chet. “What exactly has it helped you accomplish?”
Loren spread her hands. “We seek Damaris. The dreams have helped us find her.”
“You seek to capture Damaris, not pursue her. And the dreams only show you just enough to keep you always nipping at her heels.”
“That is better than losing her entirely.”
“You can say that now, because you do not know the end of this road.”
“Nor do you,” said Loren. “Nor does anyone. It is just as likely as anything else that the dreams are leading us to the end we seek.”
Chet dropped his gaze. “I think you are being drawn along on that hope. For our road has led us to several ends already, and we sought none of them.”
Loren fell silent, for of course she had no answer to that. Gem and Annis looked uncomfortably at each other.
“Yet … yet it all must mean something,” said Loren. “To ignore the dreams would be to give up. There must be a meaning within them. Or why would I continue to see the same thing, over and over again?”
“Mayhap the answer is not in what is the same, but what is different,” said Gem slowly. “Things change from dream to dream. Might we look for clues there?”
