CHAPTER 13: Cinnamon upon a Pillow
It came to him in a dream, of course. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Mother Nistra stood over him while he recited the Edda of Derndra, staring at him with her dragon’s eyes.
And Derndra conceived his third grimoire
To be written in the blood of Aerth
An ink too great for thrice cursed vellum
Fresh virgin skin it could not burn
So lifted he his Wirmen progeny
Rattus eyed and fingered hand
Bred in filth with demon's milk
Sinews formed for thievery
The call to newborn flesh inculcate
He sat up in bed, fully awake. Yes. That was it. The Wirmen. They had been created to steal infants in the dead of night. He struck a light, tiptoed downstairs to wake Aiyan, and found him already awake.
He was dressed in his field clothes, and in the process of loading the double-barreled pistol.
“Something has happened to Teodor.”
“How do you know?”
“We are bonded by the secret fire. Look, we have no time for conversation — get dressed quickly and bring weapons.”
Kyric ran upstairs and was back down in two minutes.
“It’s half past four o’clock,” Aiyan said. “There will be no cabs out at this hour. We will have to run.”
The streets were empty and Aiyan set a steady pace that they could sustain for a while. It was over two miles to the royal residence.
After the attack in the harbor, Aiyan had decided to keep a surreptitious watch on Princess Aerlyn. He told Kyric and Teodor that he would slip over the wall once darkness fell, but Teodor had said, “I can see the fatigue around your eyes — you’ve been on the run for over a week. Allow me to do it. I feel well rested, even after what happened today.” Aiyan had agreed, no doubt grateful he didn’t have to bring another lodger back to Sedlik.
Kyric had a stitch in his side and was struggling to keep up by the time they reached the estate. Something indeed had happened. Torches stood on poles at the gate, illuminating guardsmen standing with bayonets fixed. Kyric could see lights moving around the house and out on the grounds.
An officer, the same one who had been there that morning, had just reined his horse to a halt as Aiyan ran up to the gate. He shook his head in confusion.
“The Princess commands you to be admitted should you . . . happen to come here,” he said uncertainly. He climbed down from his mount. “Here, you can use my horse.”
Aiyan leaped into the saddle and hauled Kyric up behind him. They galloped to the house. A butler quickly ushered them through the fine marble entryway, past ornate tapestries, and up a mahogany staircase to the royal suites. Aerlyn stood at the open window of a child’s bedroom, still in a night robe, her hair disheveled. Kyric could hear Kaelyn speaking to someone in the next room.
Aerlyn turned to them, her eyes wide and her face pale with shock.
“Aiyan,” she said. “They’ve taken my son. They’ve taken Eren. I — ” She tried to say more, but her voice caught and she stood there helpless, her mouth moving silently, until at last a sob escaped, then another, then another. And for all her wealth and all her influence, Kyric thought, he had never seen one so destitute.
Aiyan went to her and took her hands. “We will find him,” he said. “We will find him.”
“I heard a cry,” she said, catching her breath. “When I came in the window was open and he was gone.”
Kyric looked out the window. The drop to the garden below was fairly long. The wall was unblemished stonework and there was no trellis or drainpipe or anything that could be climbed, but broad spots of moisture ran from the windowsill to the ground like little footprints.
“What kind of man,” Aerlyn demanded, “can come into my house unseen and carry away my child?”
“It may not have been a man,” Kyric said.
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind,” said Aiyan, staring daggers at Kyric. “For now we must search the grounds for subtle signs your people will not know. I will return to you shortly.”
Once outside with a lantern in his hand, Aiyan led Kyric into the darkness. “We must find Teodor first. If he is alive the flame will guide me to him.”
He took out his locket and opened it. A blue-white flame burned there, the same spirit fire Kyric had seen on the edge of his sword. Aiyan held it up like a compass, and the flame drew strongly toward the south. They went in that direction, and walked all the way to the wall before they found Teodor behind a thick hedge. He sat against the wall, a torn shirt tail wrapped around his upper thigh as a bandage.
Next to him lay the bloody carcass of some foul creature.
“I thought it best to hide and wait for you,” Teodor said.
“No sense in drawing undue attention,” said Aiyan. “Can you walk?”
He shook his head. “I can’t put any weight on this leg.”
“We need to get you over the wall before the dawn comes. You and this.” He held the lantern over the carcass.
It was the size of a small woman, with the rough skin of a hairless dog, hands with tiny claws that were as much human as rodent, and legs made for both walking upright and bounding on all fours. Set in what was more of a snout than a face, round eyes of solid black reflected none of the lantern light. It was the long black whip-like tail that gave it the appearance of a rat.
“A Wirman,” said Kyric.
“They were fast and silent,” Teodor said. “I didn’t see them until the first one came out of the window with the boy. I thought there were only two. I killed this one and had the kidnapper up a tree when the third one hamstrung me.”
He held out an arm, and they helped him up to stand on his good leg. “Aiyan,” he said softly, “I never felt them in the realm of power. I sensed no danger when I was attacked from behind. They are invisible to the spirit eye — how could that be?”
“We will ponder it later,” Aiyan said, “but now we need to go.” He suddenly stopped. “None of them were wearing a collar or other kind of ornament were they? A bracelet or bangle perhaps?”
“No,” said Teodor. “They were all as you see this one.”
“Hmm.”
With a leg up from Aiyan, Kyric pulled himself to the top of the wall, and together they managed to get Teodor up and over. They passed the carcass of the Wirman down to him then headed back to the main house. Aerlyn, now fully dressed, met them at the entrance.
“They have fled,” Aiyan said to her. “Was there anything left behind? A note perhaps?”
She nodded, her eyes closed tight. “A sprinkle of cinnamon on his pillow. I know what that means.” She clutched at his arm. “Aiyan, if I vote with them, will they return my son unharmed?”
He took her hand. “That will not be necessary, Princess. Because I will go and get him this very day. Did you by chance save a lock of his hair when he was a baby?”
“No,” she said, a quiet teardrop slipping from one eye. “Why?”
“I need something that, ah, has many layers of his scent upon it, more than the clothes he wore yesterday.”
“My master of hounds had already taken the dogs around the grounds. They have scented nothing that they could follow.”
“That may be,” said Aiyan, “But I know a dog that can find anything if he has the scent. I need something that was almost a part of Eren — a ring he always wore, a hat, a penknife he always carried.”
“I know what,” she said. She ran upstairs and returned with a leather bag.
“These are his favorite toys,” she said. “He plays with them almost every day.”
Aiyan took the bag from her. “I will find him, Aerlyn.”
“I know you will try,” she said, unable to meet his gaze.
He looked deeply into her eyes, forcing her to look into his, to see his unshakable resolve. The eastern sky had begun to lighten, the stars there f
ading away.
“I will find him, Aerlyn. I swear by the name of my sword and upon the secret fire that I will return him to you before you see another dawn. I swear it.”
They left her there, and followed the driveway back to the gate at the run, silent but for the sound of their footfalls against the gravel. Teodor waited for them, away from the street at the far corner of the wall. Kyric helped Teodor hobble along while Aiyan dragged the carcass of the Wirman. They searched the southern length of the wall until they found the slimy footprints they had seen at the house. These led them back to the streets and to a storm drain. The grating that should have covered it was gone.
Aiyan dropped the carcass into the drain opening. “No point in trying to follow the Wirmen. They will have already taken the prince to Morae, and I doubt he is anywhere in the sewers.”
“What now?” Kyric asked.
“Pitbull.”
“Ah,” said Teodor, “the dwarf magician.”
They limped eastward along Veleriand Boulevard as the sun rose, at last seeing a cab as they came to the Way of Kings. Aiyan whistled it down and gave the driver directions. The city was slowly returning to life after its day of rest, the streets running with the aroma of bread wagons as they hurried by.
It turned out that Pitbull lived on a narrow street by the river, only a mile from Sedlik’s house. It was a sprawling neighborhood of squat, stucco-covered houses. They found him standing in his vegetable garden behind a short rickety fence, water can in hand. Kyric heard him curse under his breath as they pulled up.
“Aiyan, I haven’t even had my breakfast yet.”
Aiyan threw a full kandar at the driver as he leapt from the cab. “I need you now my friend as I have never needed you before.”
Aiyan explained everything to Pitbull, handing him the bag of toys. When he was done Pitbull said, “Take my wagon and go get all you need. I’ll purify Teodor’s wound — no telling what kind of filth or poison those creatures leave with their bite. By the time you return I will have cast a ritual finding.”
Pitbull’s son, Rellen, the teenage boy who had driven him the morning of the archery tournament, hitched the donkey cart and brought it around for them. Aiyan drove while Kyric squirmed impatiently. “This isn’t any faster than walking,” he said.
“That’s alright,” Aiyan said. “We will need all our strength before this day is done.”
A hay wagon had overturned in the avenue, so Aiyan made a detour through some side streets. When they finally arrived at Sedlik’s house they parked on the street and went in the front door.
“You must keep the doors locked at all times,” Aiyan called, slamming the door behind him. “How many —.“ Then he saw Jazul Marlez sitting with Jela in the parlor, sipping coffee from a delicate porcelain cup.
“Join us,” Jela said cheerfully. “Jazul is leaving tomorrow and came to say good-bye.” She paused and looked at them more closely. “What is the matter?”
Aiyan hesitated, and Kyric thought he was about to lie to them. “Prince Eren has been kidnapped,” he blurted out, deciding against deception. “A few hours ago.”
“What?” shouted Jazul, leaping to his feet. “How?”
Aiyan quieted him with a wave of his hand. “Jela, I need you to quickly make a breakfast for us. A large one that will hold us all day. Kyric, there’s some scraps of linen in the cellar. Tear them into strips for bandages. And bring the axe up as well. The keg of gunpowder too. I’ll gather all the firearms and see them freshly primed. Don’t let me forget to clean the frizzens as well. Please forgive us Marlez, but we are making ready to mount a rescue.”
Jazul looked insulted. “Not without me,” he said, throwing out his broad chest. “A child has been taken. Be he prince or beggar, I will not let that stand.”
“What we are going to do,” Aiyan said softly, “will be terrible.”
Jazul stood like a great figure of stone. “Before I was a showman, I fought in the pits of Javian. I know what to do with bad men.”
They each fell to their tasks, Jazul helping Aiyan with the weapons. When Aiyan offered him the blunderbuss, Jazul said, “I’d rather have a heavy blade,” so Aiyan fetched him Sedlik’s shortsword.
“Where is your father?” Aiyan asked Jela when they sat down to eat.
“He went to oversee a delivery at the warehouse. Then he has a meeting at a coffeehouse. He won’t be back till afternoon.”
Having no time to prepare anything, Jela had simply laid out bread, cheese, fruit, and leftover potato pie. Aiyan ate quickly, taking huge bites and choking them down with little thought of chewing. Kyric could do little more than nibble, thinking that he may soon be lying in agony with a bullet in his gut.
When he was done, Aiyan stood, his fists upon the table. “Time to go.”
Kyric excused himself and ran to the privy, thinking that he would throw up. He stood bent over for a time, but nothing happened. When he came back out, only Jela was there.
“They’re waiting for you outside,” she said. “Are you sure about this?”
“No,” he said, “I’m not. I’m scared out of my wits. But after what Jazul said, how could I stay behind?”
“Aiyan wouldn’t think worse of you if you did.” She went to him and took his hand. “Nor would I.”
“Thanks.” He gave her hand a little squeeze. “But from the moment I first met those two kids they spoke to me like they knew me, and I felt like I knew them. . . . “
He lost what he was trying to say. He shook his head, trying to force a smile, but he feared he only grimaced.
She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Go then. Hero.”
They returned to Pitbull’s and found Teodor behind the house, sitting at a weathered table beneath a canvas awning, his leg tightly wrapped from the knee to the hip and propped up on an old box. Before him lay an herb garden embroidered with winding stone paths. Beyond that, the river.
“He’s still inside,” said Teodor.
“How long?” Aiyan asked.
“Maybe half an hour.”
They waited, watching river traffic creep along the shore. No one said anything. Jazul drew Sedlik’s shortsword, cutting the air a few times. Kyric sat and examined each of the arrows he had left. Aiyan went to a tree behind the garden and cut a forked limb for Teodor to use as a crutch.
When Pitbull finally came out of the house his face was grim. He tossed the bag of toys onto the table, and a few wooden figures spilled out — a firebird, a unicorn, a dragon, a knight in plate armor. He looked at Aiyan and shook his head.
“There’s no bond with the toys?” Aiyan said. “Perhaps his hair brush would be better.”
“No,” said Pitbull, “his touch and his spirit are strong upon these figures. A concealing essence has been woven over the boy, a hot black smoke that obscures the scent and burns my fourth eye. I can’t penetrate it.”
Aiyan stared at Pitbull in disbelief. “The princess . . . Pitbull, I have sworn by the secret fire.”
“I have tried, Aiyan. I’m sorry, but I cannot find him.”