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
They 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.
It 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 m
ass, 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!”
“Good.” Beltain paused his examination of Jack to glance inside the cart. “My helmet, shield, gauntlets, and the rest of my plate armor?”
“All accounted for!” Grial pointed to several bundles. “And also a nicely hefty money-purse, with some additional coin from her Imperial Highness, unbeknownst to His Majesty who naturally granted it to her.”
He reached into the cart and lifted out a long plain soldier’s battle shield of beaten iron over wood, with no insignias. “It will do,” he said, after a brief examination. “My own shield has been left behind at Chidair Keep, since I don’t bother taking it on a patrol, only to battle. Unfortunately I will have need of a shield tonight.”
“What is happening, Grial? How do we get out of the city?” Percy asked nervously, feeling a surge of excitement rising in her like a tidal wave. While she spoke, she watched Lord Beltain Chidair remove his long cloak and fold it in a bundle, attaching it to the back of the saddle. Next, she watched him pull the rag stuffing from underneath some of his armor plates that he had worn in the Palace for silence of movement, and toss the rags in the cart. He tightened his armor pieces around his body, and put on additional ones round his sides and legs, and tied several pieces around Jack’s flanks.
“Well, pumpkin, the way you’ll be going is rather simple actually. A few more pesky streets between here and there have disappeared, clearing the road for you. So what you’re left with is this—” And Grial named half a dozen street names, making Percy repeat them twice, to make sure she remembered. “And then, even if you forget Goldiere and Admiralty and Rowers Row, you will still know to keep heading thataway—” Grial pointed in the general direction of the southern walls.
“But how do we get out of the city? It is fortified on the inside, and outside, the dead wait—”
“Hah!” Grial exclaimed. “It’s the same way you escaped the Palace grounds. Even now, the insurmountable Letheburg walls have acquired a number of very unfortunate breeches and gaps that appeared when twilight came and stole away portions of stone upper parapet on the battlements, and quite a few support boulders of granite below at ground level. You can thank the shadows for it! You can also bet that neither the dead on the outside nor the living on the inside have noticed these anomalies just yet, else the city would be crawling with the enemy by now.”
“Oh, no!” Percy whispered. “Then Letheburg might fall overnight!”
“Well, we’ll see about that!” Grial announced cheerfully. “Now, put on this coat, which I’ve brought for you, dumpling, else you’ll freeze off your behind—and then be on your way south, both of you!”
“My coat!” Percy grabbed her familiar old straw-lined wool coat and pulled it on, then replaced her shawl over the whole affair, feeling much warmer immediately.
“And your mittens!” Grial handed her the woolen pair.
“Oh, bless you, Grial!”
“And bless you, child! Remember, once you move forward from this crossroads, you will only have your own clever mind and heart to guide you. The roads all go on forever, but you must make the effort to follow the right ones, especially on this night!”
“Then,” Percy said, “we will walk with great care!”
“No.” Beltain led Jack forward. Setting one metal-booted foot up in the stirrup, he mounted the saddle of his warhorse with one easy powerful motion. “We will not be walking. We ride!”
And before Percy could say a word, the black knight and his great warhorse were before her, and he reached down with one gauntlet and took hold of her by the scruff of her coat, like a kitten. With the other gauntlet he grabbed her round the waist, and she was lifted up and deposited sideways before him in the roomy saddle, with her back next to the fastened shield.
Percy made a small stifled sound, then pushed with both hands against what turned out to be his metal breastplate. She remembered the last time the world tilted in such an exact same way, and how she had been lifted by him—
Apparently he harbored the same thought.
“This time,” he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, his warm breath on her cheek, “no skillet. . . .”
They started out at a measured walking pace, riding slowly down the street in order not to draw attention to their movement.
Percy, sitting sideways in the saddle before the knight, pressed against his cold iron breastplate, watched Grial waving farewell to them, until the shadows and the curve of the street took them beyond sight.
Underneath them, Jack’s mons
trous great body was a moving mountain, and she could feel the swaying power of his muscles with each measured step, and the soft jangle of metal plate on the flanks.
The moon appeared and slid away again into the clouds. Percy watched the streets and alleys recede on both sides, and tried with all her being not to think, not to sense the iron-clad body of the man pressing against her. . . .
The black knight’s upper arms, clad in armor rerebraces, then vambraces on the lower parts, ending in great gauntlets, surrounded her, because in order to manage the reins he had to keep her in a kind of metal embrace which did not constrict but created a strange illusion of being pressed in on all sides. Beltain wore his helmet but his visor was up, and when she briefly looked at his face, she could see the angled shadows of his cheekbones and stubble-covered jaw and the liquid sparkle of the moon’s glow reflect coldly in his eyes.
They were so black, his eyes . . . so strangely black in the night, with not a trace of the blue that was their real color.
“Watch the streets,” he said suddenly, speaking so close to her ear that Percy could hear the baritone of his voice reverberate in her bones.
“I am,” she retorted, looking pointedly away from his face. “There is Cane Street, there, right past that alley, see the shingle sign, we turn to the right—”
In answer, he snapped the reins and Jack responded with a sharp lunge forward.
And in the next breath, they were flying. . . .
Percy stifled a small sound, as the world tilted suddenly, fell away from her in a burst of vertigo. Then the shadows sped on both sides, while underneath, the horse that was a mountain sank and rose like a tall ship on monster swells of a black ocean with each great leap and bound. . . .