Prince of the Blood (47 page)

When they were all standing, Borric turned and made his way across the plaza. Wending their way through the crowd, they reached the boulevard, which was still roped off and guarded to prevent the denizens of the lower city from entering the street, which would again be used the next day for the morning procession. Borric peered across the now-empty boulevard and saw dozens of buildings with lights burning. Many had their doors open wide. A man hurried across the street, and a guardsman moved to intercept him. They spoke briefly, then he waved the man on. The man continued toward a door, which he entered.

Suli said, “Those buildings built into the face of the plateau are actually part of the palace itself—groups of apartments housing the lowest of the trueblood, but still trueblood. And many of those apartments have tunnels up to the higher levels.”

Borric glanced around, seeing several more guards stopping those attempting to cross the street. “There’s a little too much activity around this street. Let’s find another way.”

As Ghuda followed the Prince he said, “Another way what?”

“You’ll see,” answered Borric.

“That’s what I was afraid you would say,” Ghuda answered.

Borric followed the edge of the boulevard as it bordered the gigantic plateau that put this quarter of the city into dusk a few hours after noon. Where another large street intersected, Borric saw what he was looking for. “There!” he said, indicating with a motion of his head.

“What?” said Ghuda.

“Over in the far corner, warrior,” answered Nakor. “Can you not see?”

In the far corner, a large open passageway into the plateau could be seen, with no guards in sight but with several servants hurrying through. Borric glanced in both directions and ducked under the rope. He hurried across the street, expecting someone to shout, but his dark armor must have convinced the other soldiers a half-block away that he was one of them. His companions were only a step behind, so it looked as if he escorted them.

Entering the large doorway, they saw a ramp leading upward into the dark, with torches spaced along the walls every hundred feet or so. Ghuda said, “Now what are we doing?”

“We are walking into the palace,” answered the Prince.

“And how do we do that?” asked Ghuda.

“I feel like an idiot for not thinking of this sooner. Just follow me and whatever else you do, look as if you know exactly where we’re going. One thing I know about is palaces and their servants. Servants don’t want to know anything. That includes those guards put on duty throughout.”

He glanced in a side passage about a story above where they entered and saw nothing. “When you are where you don’t belong, you gawk about, looking this way and that,
and you stand with shoulders round, and to anyone who does belong, you look out of place. If you walk with eyes forward, erect, and purposefully, servants and guards assume you know where you are going. They are not about to stop you and interrogate you, for fear of being punished for interfering with someone who is where he is supposed to be.

“It’s officers and lower-level officials you have to be cautious of. The officers are likely to halt anyone they don’t recognize—though with the influx of several thousand strangers, that’s unlikely. What could get us caught would be a minor official, full of himself, who is anxious to prove he’s somebody important.”

Ghuda said, “Sounds good, Madman. But then so did your idea about contacting the thieves.”

Borric halted. “Look, I’m here, and if you’re so fearful of your life, now, after all we’ve been through, why don’t you head back?”

Ghuda seemed to think upon it for only an instant. “I’ve got both the Imperial Inner Legion and the thieves of Kesh looking to put me in a very deep hole, thanks to you, Madman. I’m as good as a walking corpse. So, I can go back and wait for someone to recognize me, or get caught here. But there’s always the chance the impossible is happening and you’re finally doing something right, in which case I might survive and get my money. That’s why I’m still here.”

Borric glanced back along the tunnel as the echo of distant footfalls came toward them. “Suli? Do you want to leave now?”

The boy was frightened, but shook his head. “You are my master and I am your servant. I will go with you.”

Borric put his hand upon the boy’s shoulder a moment, then looked at Nakor. “And what about you, wizard?”

Nakor’s grin widened. “Fun.”

Ghuda looked heavenward and mouthed the word
“fun,” but said nothing aloud as Borric signaled they should continue up the passage.

Borric had never seen anything to compare with the palace of the Empress. As big as a large town, the traffic in the broad corridors was not that much less than a busy city boulevard on trading day. The hurrying stream of people down nearly every corridor they passed helped them avoid detection. So far, Borric’s assertion that they would go unchallenged if they but looked the part of people who belonged there had proven correct.

The problem proved to be that none of them had a hint as to where they were going. To ask directions was to risk discovery—for anyone who was there by rights would certainly know where he was bound.

They had been in the palace over an hour now. It was getting close to midnight and while the Keshian business day had ended only a couple of hours earlier, it was well past the time when most honest citizens were in bed.

Borric led them toward an area that seemed less congested, then down a side passage toward what appeared to be private quarters. Expecting any moment to be challenged, he was relieved when they turned into a small garden, presently deserted. Ghuda knelt at the edge of a large fountain and drank. Sighing, he looked up and said, “What now?”

Borric sat down on the edge of the fountain and said, “I think I need to scout around, but not until things have quieted down a little.” He removed his cloak and his leather armor, saying, “If I’m going to move around the way I want, this is going to have to stay here.” He glanced around the garden, noting a stand of deep shrubs and ferns that bordered one wall. “If you hide over there, you’ll only be noticed if someone comes looking for you.”

Ghuda was about to reply when a gong reverberated in the distance. “What was that?”

Within a few seconds, another sounded, then another. Suddenly gongs were ringing close by and the sound of people running down the hall could be heard. Grabbing his armor, Borric raced for the hedge and half dived into it. Hunkering down with his companions, he said, “Damn! I wonder if they’re looking for us?”

Peering through the sheltering hedge, Ghuda said, “I don’t know, but if they start combing this little patch, we’re found, and there’s only that one exit.”

Borric nodded. “We’ll wait.”

Locklear sensed movement before he heard anything. He sat up and his eyes sought out some hint of what had brought him out of his doze. Princess Sojiana lay sleeping soundly next to him. Their lovemaking had been passionate and protracted; in the Princess, Locklear had finally met his match.

Then he saw it, a dark shape in the gloom. “Who’s there?” he asked, not keeping his voice down. The Princess stirred, then awakened.

From out of the murk shapes appeared. Locklear moved quickly, knowing something was wrong. He swung his legs over the side of the huge bed and as his feet touched the stone floor, a figure loomed up out of the dark. Locklear’s sword lay atop his clothing, in a pile only three feet away, but before he could take a single step, a massive fist slammed into the side of his head.

His senses reeling, Locklear went to his knees, clutching the bedcovers as the Princess sat up and shouted, “What is this?”

As Locklear tried to stand, another blow sent him crashing to the floor. As he struggled to keep his wits about him, someone lit a lamp. Five men dressed in the black of the Inner Legion stood ringing the Princess’s bed. Sojiana screamed, “Guards! To me!”

In concert, Locklear heard her voice stop with a gurgling, choking sound and a boot slammed into the side of his head. The world turned upside down and the last sight Locklear saw was the dark face of General Beruck, and the last sound he heard was the General saying, “Take him.”

Erland and Sharana both came awake instantly when the gongs began to ring. They hadn’t really been asleep, but rather were lost in a soft, warm doze that came quickly after their lovemaking. Despite her soft appearance, the girl was young, healthy, and fit, and challenged Erland, leaving him exhausted when they were done. But it was a wonderful exhaustion and he could not imagine anything he would wish for more than to have it last for a very long time.

But her reaction to the sound of the gongs banished that mood in an instant. “What is it?” he asked.

Sharana leaped out of the bed, the servants drawing aside the curtains for her, and said, “Court dress!”

As Erland fumbled to recover his own clothing, the servants had the Princess’s kilt and vest for her in moments. As she fastened the clasp that bound her kilt, she said, “It’s an alarm. It’s a command to seal the upper city. It means that something is very wrong.”

Erland hurriedly finished dressing, and when he was done, they both left the garden and entered his quarters. A mixed company of trueblood court guards and men in the black of the Inner Legions waited for her. They bowed and the officer in command said, “Your Highness. Your servants informed us you were here when we called at your quarters. The Empress commands us to bring you to her.”

Sharana nodded, and as Erland moved to come with
her, one of the black-armored legionaries said, “We have no orders regarding this one, Highness.”

Sharana spun and almost spat as she spoke.
“This one!”
Pointing at Erland, she said, “He is Heir to the Throne of Isles! He is royalty!” Her voice was powerful, commanding, and her face flushed with rage. She almost screamed at the man when she shouted, “You will address him as you would my uncle, for he is Awari’s equal in rank. That is
my
command!”

Erland was astonished at the anger in the girl’s reaction to the slight, and the ferocity with which she expressed it. He half expected her to order the man to abase himself, but instead she simply motioned for the company to depart.

Erland noticed the officer was pale and perspiring and felt no envy for him this night. But as they rounded the corner, Sharana’s voice was once again honey and wine as she said, “I suppose it may be something to do with this unfortunate business of your father’s army. I doubt it could be anything really dangerous. Not in the upper city.”

Erland tried to reconcile the sweet and smiling girl who walked beside him now to the shouting one who had dressed down an officer only a moment before, and he couldn’t.

They entered the wing of the palace that contained the Court of Light, the formal hall of governing. Erland had not been inside it before, even when called before the Empress. Always before, they had met in the Empress’s audience hall.

But now he entered the seat of Kesh’s government, the place where darkness never intruded, for the hall was constructed with a thousand chandeliers, each with a score of large candles. Light bathed the room. As bright as day, the hall was almost devoid of shadows, for where sunlight came from only one direction, here light came from
twenty thousand sources. Even as the business of the court continued, teams of workers lowered chandeliers and replaced guttering candles almost spent, for never was darkness allowed in the Court of Light.

Down the long entranceway they hurried, past assembled court officials and Imperial Legion officers. At the foremost of the crowd stood the general staff officers of Aber Bukar’s Dog Legions. Upon a throne leafed over in gold sat the Empress, resting on cushions made from material of woven gold thread.

Around her on rising seats, tier after tier climbing upward in a semicircle, sat the assembled rulers of Kesh in their Gallery of Lords and Masters. And even as Erland approached the throne, more were entering the hall, hurrying to their places.

The room was humming with quiet conversation and it took no seer to sense the tone of the meeting was fearful. Something terrible had occurred and the room echoed with the most apprehensive speculation.