Cobweb Empire (20 page)

The midnight clocks had stopped striking
several long minutes ago, and in the profound silence she sat,
listening to her own heartbeat and waiting.

At last there was a soft knock on her
door.

She had heard no footfalls, so whomever
Grial had sent must have been silent in their approach. Percy went
to the door, opening it carefully, and peeked outside into the dark
Palace hallway.

Whoever stood there suddenly took her hand
above the wrist in a light grip of a much larger hand. Percy
stifled an exclamation and then saw a tall black shape of a man,
which in a moment resolved itself when the glow from her fireplace
cast its last illumination upon his face. It was Lord Beltain
Chidair.

He remained in the hallway, put his other
hand up with a finger raised to his lips. His eyes glittered black
and liquid in the near-darkness.

Percy had time to notice he was fully
dressed, covered in a long midnight cloak, and underneath it,
wearing most of his black armor, missing only a few plates and the
helm. And belted at his waist was his long sword which she did not
remember seeing him bring into the Palace, as it was inappropriate
for anyone but Royal guards to bear arms indoors before the King.
When and how did he procure his sword?

“Come . . . quietly.” He
barely mouthed the words. Feeling her heartbeat lurching, Percy
nodded and stepped forth into the hallway, shutting the door behind
her.

He continued holding her arm above the
wrist, pulling her—or better said, maneuvering her—after him, and
he walked with amazing swiftness yet without making any sound.
Percy realized he had strategically placed pieces of cloth between
the largest armor plates so that there was no clanging of metal,
and his fine mesh of chain mail was worn over a soft additional
undershirt in a silencing layer.

In order to keep up with this long stride,
Percy had to nearly run behind him, feeling meanwhile his grip
through her sleeve like a warm vice, which for some reason
burned.

They passed through what seemed like a
myriad corridors, most in darkness and a few with low-burning lit
candles in sconces that had been left unattended by some servant
who forgot to snuff them in his rounds. Several times they had to
drop back and walk in a different direction to avoid Palace guards
on night patrol, or occasional servants going about urgent night
tasks. At the end of one narrow hallway in a remote portion of the
Palace, there was a small spiral stairwell leading down. They took
the stairs with care, hurrying down and yet treading softly upon
freezing stone to cause no echoes.

At last, they emerged in the darkness on the
ground floor near the kitchens, where the air was warmer from the
constantly burning ovens, and furnaces—for despite the implications
of the siege outside the walls the Palace staff was working
non-stop in preparation for the Royal Funeral and Interment the
next night and then Coronation feasts in the coming days. While the
old deceased Queen lay in state upstairs, while the new King and
Queen slept or sat keeping wake at her side, here was plenty of
servant traffic. Cooks and assistants scurried about from kitchen
to pantry, carrying bunches of onions, dried marjoram and thyme,
sacks of old harvest grains, rounds of cheese, and other foodstuffs
unaffected by the stopping of death. No one paid particular
attention to a cloaked knight and a mousy servant girl in their
midst. Before proceeding, the knight let go of her arm, adjusted
the folds of his cloak to cover his sword, and Percy fell in line
behind him, walking with her head lowered and holding her shawl as
a bundle. Moving with casual confidence past the kitchen servants,
Beltain eventually located an unguarded hallway and a scullery door
to the outside.

The black knight opened the door a crack,
and immediately a blast of icy night air came at them. Outside, the
sky was pitch-black in spots but mostly colored by cotton-shapes of
grey storm clouds that filtered the faintest shadow of the
moon.

Making certain there was no one outside, he
then pulled Percy after him into the winter night.

Chapter
10

T
hey exited the
main building of the Winter Palace on the side closest the filigree
metal fence, and from the back, where it was darkest. However there
was no other gated entrance here, and short of having to climb the
fence, it was hard to imagine another way out of the Palace grounds
except through the guarded front parade gates at the far end of the
long driveway approach.

It occurred to Percy suddenly that the bells
that had been tolling all day had stopped.

Their constant echoes were replaced with
wind and silence.

Percy shivered from the freezing cold that
struck her, and realized she had forgotten her outer coat
somewhere. . . . Her burlap and wool dress was
hardly adequate. She thought she might have removed the coat in the
servants’ quarters when they first arrived at the Palace that
morning. At least her shawl was in her hands.

Beltain released his relentless grip on her
arm as they paused just outside the door, letting her wrap herself
up the best she could in the thick quality wool, and pull the shawl
over her head.

“Ready?” he asked, and pulled up his own
tight coif hood over his head that was part of his woven chain mail
hauberk. He still spoke softly but not so much as before, since the
wind came in frequent moaning gusts around them and created
sufficient noise cover. “First, we will be walking for a little
while.”

“What about the others?” Percy stared at him
in new discomfort that was caused by his presence, without anyone
else being there to dilute the sense of overwhelming intimacy. “Her
Highness . . . and Grial, and—”

“They are not coming,” he replied, with a
blank, unreadable expression. “I am here, because it is the will of
the Grand Princess that I take you away from the Palace.”

“So you’re not here because of Grial?”

“Grial has something to do with it, yes, and
she has indeed orchestrated your escape—but it is not her will that
I serve.”

“But why, My Lord? Why are
you
doing
this, and not someone else?”

In the faint illumination of the night, she
could see a light come to his face, breaking for a moment its
gravity with a flicker of energy for which there were no proper
words.

“Because Her Imperial Highness has
instructed me. She believes I can protect you better than anyone.
And it is her will entirely that you continue your—
journey
on behalf of Death.”

“I am—honored . . .” Percy’s
words came in a whisper.

“You ought to be. Her Imperial Highness has
taken it upon herself to remain in the custody of the King of Lethe
in order to facilitate your escape, and to dispel any blame on your
behalf. That is how important she believes you to be. Meanwhile, I
leave behind my men, and we travel lightly, you and I. As only two
people, we can go in the most inconspicuous manner possible.”

“What about Grial? And how do we get out
past the city walls? And beyond—”

But he took her hand again, this time
pressing it lightly with his larger one, so that she felt the
blessed flow of his warmth envelop her icy fingers, and with it a
strange comfort. . . .

“For now, stay silent and ask me later.” He
started walking, his long cloak whipping about him in the wind,
pulling her firmly along. “No more time to waste in talk.”

“Where are we going?” she persisted, moving
rapidly at his side, her feet periodically slipping on the hard
ground that was once snow slush, now frozen to dangerous ice in the
night.

“Right here.” They had approached the metal
fence in the darkest spot, and Percy saw with amazement that a
whole section of the fence, at least five feet across, was simply
missing
. In its place was an opening, a narrow gap through
which two or more persons could easily pass.

“Grial told me about this spot,” said the
black knight under his breath. “It disappears in the twilight, then
comes back with the dawn. No one knows or has noticed it yet.”

“Just like those missing streets!” Percy
exclaimed.

“Yes, hush!” He squeezed her hand to
emphasize, and Percy felt his warmth course through her like a
scalding thing of fire. She was holding hands with
fire. . . .

Stop thinking this, foolish girl!
she
told herself in the frantic instants as they passed through the gap
made by the shadow-stolen missing portion of fence. In an instant
they emerged outside in the greater square, unguarded in this
spot.

Beltain walked with determination, moving
forward into the open square, with Percy clutching his hand. A
hundred feet away, several military companies passed in loose
formation, crunching on snow, and suddenly there were foot-soldiers
everywhere, sword-and-buckler corps, and the two of them were now
walking as part of the hive of humanity, ignored by the
soldiers.

His grip on her arm was like iron, until
they passed through the surging military crowd, then emerged on the
other end of the square closer to the outside, where the many
twisting streets began, all leading variously to the outer gates of
Letheburg.

“Where do we go now?” Percy whispered,
struggling to catch her breath and inhaling the scalding cold air.
Despite the heat generated by having almost run for many paces, her
teeth were starting to chatter.

He paused only for a moment; noticed her
shivering condition. “Grial is meeting us a few streets down, at a
crossroads. She will tell you more. Come, before you freeze!”

And nodding, Percy resumed her running after
him, as they entered the streets of the city.

I
t was strange to
be walking after midnight through silent sleepy streets of
Letheburg, with its twisting alleys and balcony overhangs that put
the portions of the streets closest to the buildings to permanent
shadow even in full moonlight.

Snow had blanketed the city a few days ago,
but there had not been a new snowfall since, and thus everything on
the ground and cobblestones was frozen slush, while the roofs and
tops of lampposts were capped with crystalline whiteness.

The moon rode mostly behind a thick cloud
mass, but occasionally it would show itself and paint the snow with
iridescent sparks, casting blue shadows.

Whenever it happened, it seemed to Percy
that some buildings around her started to take on a peculiar
transparent nature. It was a pale, otherworldly winter ice-mirage,
and the air itself shimmered—but only for as long as there was
moonglow. The moment the moon hid again behind the cloud haze, and
shadows rushed in, the buildings took on normal
solidity. . . .

Percy blinked, clearing her vision, as
though casting away a veil similar to the death shadow illusion.
Yet it was something
else
.

“Only another street more,” Beltain said,
walking ahead relentlessly, and Percy ran along, unused to such a
pace. “There. . . .” He motioned before them, as
they followed the curving narrow street onto a crossing where it
connected to a much larger boulevard.

They had been walking for half an hour,
keeping to the smaller streets, in order to avoid the passing
troops that continued to make their way to the walls. The subdued
noise of their passing, the orders shouted by commanders, the
clatter of heavy cavalry, made it easy to avoid the larger
thoroughfares and move in the shadows. Very few civilians were out
on the streets in this cold, and the lonely figures they did
encounter mostly kept out of the way of the large armored knight
and his small companion, and quickly hid in doorways. An old dead
woman sitting stiffly, half-buried in the snow before the wall of a
house gifted Percy with a watery gaze of eternally fixed eyes,
appearing phosphorescent in the flickering glow of the nearby
streetlamp. . . .

A few city militia guard patrols moved past
with lanterns. In order to avoid those encounters, Beltain in turn
would push Percy ahead of himself into the shadows of the nearest
alley to wait until they passed.

And now here they were, at the crossroads of
two streets, as described by Grial.

At the corner house, parked in the shadow of
an overhang, was the familiar cart with Betsy, and next to her,
Jack, the huge warhorse belonging to the black knight. Grial,
wearing a wide brimmed winter hat with scarf flaps, sat in the
driver’s seat and waived merrily to them as soon as they appeared
in view.

Letting go of the knight’s hand, Percy ran
forward, feeling an immense sense of relief. “Grial! You’re here!
Oh, thank the Lord—”

“You mean, thank Betsy! Because she’s the
one who got us here right on time, and we’ve only been waiting for
a quarter of an hour! Hah! But oh, you made it, dearie! So good to
see you! I’ll be sure to tell Lizabette and Niosta and Marie that
you are safely out of the Palace—Did I mention, the girls will be
staying with me while this military mess is going on and Letheburg
is on lockdown—” The older woman spoke in a torrent of familiar
mannerisms, pitching her usually ringing voice in a loud whisper.
In the cold, her breath escaped in puffs of vapor. She leaned
forward and took Percy in a partial hug with one hand while with
the other she held on to Betsy’s reins. Her dark eyes glittered
with intensity in the faint filtered moonglow. “And very fine to
see you too, Lordship!” she added, smiling at both of them.

“So you managed to bring my Jack,” said the
knight, coming up to his warhorse immediately and testing his
saddle, blanket, and bridle ties. “An impressive feat, Mistress
Grial. Did you inform my men, as we agreed?”

“Jacques showed himself a true equine
gentleman, so leading him was a pleasure, Your Lordship. As for
your fine soldier fellows, yes, yes, of course, they know exactly
how to behave and what to do while you are gone. Keeping guard for
Her Imperial Highness is an admirable assignment!”