How could I possibly get away with it?
“Why do you carry that blade?” His voice splintered my thoughts.
I looked down, surprised to see the curved knife still clutched in my hand. “The prisoners,” I croaked. “Dejain wants me to kill — ”
“Ah. So now she wants you to countermand my orders. Give it to me.”
Silently, in utter, bone-shaking relief, I stepped forward and handed it to him.
He took the knife, frowned down at it, and then tossed it onto the desk with a clatter.
“I don’t like those kinds of daggers,” I said stupidly. By now it seemed as if someone else spoke from my voice, had taken over my brain. “Impossible to throw.”
“You did well to come to me first,” he said. “I don’t like my orders countermanded. It makes me angry. I shall speak to her directly.”
Every word was a threat, and I felt each aimed at me.
He sat down, spoke into his communications device, then he rose, picked up the dagger and walked out. I watched him disappear down the street, his customary quickness undiminished by the heat.
He was gone!
I could be quick too. A few seconds later I’d bucketed out, across the street, and into the jail.
Eleven
When I passed the guards I looked up. The one on the right was an older teen, and she looked at me with an unblinking impassive stare that reminded me of Rel. The man on the left — older, short beard bristling — frowned slightly.
But they didn’t speak, and neither did I. Of course they’d tell Alsaes, but I couldn’t help that. They wouldn’t right away, and Kessler was gone, so unless they had orders to sneak in and listen, at least I could get some time with the boys.
So I ran in, skipping by the cell with the two brothers in it; a glance in and I saw them both asleep. Down to the dungeon I went.
“Hey, splatbrains,” I called softly. “Tell me when to stop.” I stretched my hands out.
“Stop,” Puddlenose hissed.
His voice — even whispering — held more strength than I remembered during all our previous conversations. Recalling all those bruises from the execution day, revealed in the bright sunlight, I also recalled Dejain’s comments about Alsaes’s little hobbies with the prisoners. My insides squeezed.
“You’re just in time,” Puddlenose said with fake cheer as picked the lock. “We just finished morning naps, and are about to start afternoon ones.”
“Ah hah,” I said, knowing why Puddlenose had been sleeping so much. But I pretended that nothing was different, because I knew just how much he’d loathe any mentions of it — or even worse, pity.
“I have something to tell you,” I muttered quickly, and then I looked back at the inky doorway. “Do they ever listen? The guards, I mean.”
“Alsaes can’t make ’em,” Puddlenose said. “They’re under Kessler’s direct orders.”
Rel said, “And Kessler trusts you.”
It was a warning, but as usual I was looking for criticism and didn’t heed him. “That’s right, remind me of what a hypocrite I am,” I whispered angrily. “In case I’ve managed to forget in the last ten seconds.”
Rel said nothing.
“Look, guys, something very weird and creepy happened, and I have to figure it out. And I can’t talk to the girls — they’re watched constantly. Or, I talked to Dhana, but she has no idea what to make of it. Oh, but first, this — ” I told them about the close call with Dejain.
At the end, Puddlenose and Rel remained silent. Christoph snickered. “Me, a mystery! But she might get me permanently sent from this world. I never heard that ghosts, or whatever I am, get another chance in the same place,” he added. “Or even any chance to be in a body again.”
His words were so far outside my experience I didn’t know what to think, except to be relieved he didn’t sound too worried. What a change!
I said, “Listen, we’re running out of time. Tomorrow night’s got to be it. I think I can get the spell to free you from Dejain’s.” I said all this in a low whisper, and in Mearsiean, thinking how weird it was that other people were indeed down there, but not once had I ever heard them. “I don’t dare tonight because I believe Kessler will be keeping an eye out, in case I get into that thing I fell into last night — ”
“Thing?” Puddlenose asked.
“I don’t know what to call it. From it I got a riddle, and a nice black diamond.”
“Rich,” Puddlenose said. “What’s the riddle?”
I told them.
After a short silence, Puddlenose said, “That’s impossible. We’ll go insane trying to figure that out — even though I would have pestered you to tell us!”
“I know,” I said, snarkling. “So ... anything new and exciting happen down here?”
“Just wait,” Puddlenose said grimly. “Next time you get into a mess — and that’s a guaranteed — ”
I heard a small noise from Rel, just the faintest laugh.
“ — I’ll get you with that same cheery question.”
“I shudder at the thought, o fungus-face,” I cracked back. “Oh. That reminds me. I got someone who says he’ll help. I think. I hope. Gonna meet him at dusk — if I can get away from you-know-who.”
“You think?” Christoph asked.
“Well, his plan is to break into the jail and let you guys out, and all of us together can go squelch Alsaes and Kessler and Dejain. But I have to get the spell book and the weapons first.”
“Won’t work,” Rel said.
“You’d say that even if it was a sane plan,” Puddlenose said with a weird laugh. “What do we have to lose? I’m in.”
“Me three,” Christoph said promptly.
“Rel?” I asked, annoyance making my voice sharp.
“If you succeed, I’ll do what I can.”
“Good. So — no insights about that place or the riddle?”
“We’ll think on it,” Christoph promised. “Who’s the ally?”
“Some guy from Imar. Big enough to attack guards — I can’t expect the girls to do that, even if I could get them free to help, which I can’t. This guy seems somehow to have more freedom, I don’t know why.”
“Imar... we’ve been there, right, Christoph?”
“Probably. Half the time I don’t know the names of the places we splat through. Rel?”
“Mmmp.”
“He can’t either,” Christoph translated — though I suspect now that he was wrong, and Rel (alone of all of us) had a pretty good map of the world in his mind. But he wasn’t going to admit to it.
“Said it’s a big country, though who knows? One thing, the guy sure does brag a lot — almost as much as he cusses. But at least he had a plan, and I haven’t come up with one.”
“Except you’re doing all the hard work,” Christoph pointed out. “Can’t get the girls to help?”
“I will if I can — but meantime, supposedly I have the most freedom.”
“And the most spies,” Christoph muttered.
“Be careful,” Puddlenose added, for once not joking. And then, in his fake-cheer voice, “So what’s the weather like up there?”
“Killer heat. Even worse than the last time you were out,” I said, unlocking the cell. Had too much time passed? Would Kessler be waiting, leaning in the door of the jail?
He trusts you.
I was scared, and hustled toward the stairs. If only it wasn’t such a relief to talk to friends!
Up in the first cell, the brothers were awake. And the door was closed.
I whispered, as softly as I could, “Might be a break tomorrow night. Want to help?”
“Yes,” the bigger one answered, his word no louder than a breath but somehow it carried a wealth of fervency.
The other said, “We want to thank you for — ”
“Welcome,” I muttered and scrammed.
Back out into the heat and glare. I braced myself, looked at Kessler’s window — empty.
The stree
t was empty as well.
o0o
I killed time until dusk, then retreated to the previous spot, taking a very long route to make certain I wasn’t being followed or spied on.
The red-haired man came quickly down the street, sidling looks around in all directions — he obviously felt the same.
He hustled around the corner of the supply building, and whistled in obvious relief when he saw me.
“Got a question,” I said.
“What?” He was instantly suspicious.
“What’s your name?”
He snorted a short, exasperated sigh. “‘fraid of that. Promise not t’laugh.”
“Huh?”
“Promise!”
“Okay. I promise.”
“My name,” he said heavily, “is Ichabod Pibidi Rasmusan. Call me Rasmusan.” It sounded kind of like razzmatazz — clearly the first two names weren’t the problem, it was his last name.
He waited suspiciously, obviously watching for the least sign of merriment.
I didn’t laugh — though I mentally saved his name for sharing with the girls some day when the world was sane again. “Okay, Rasmusan,” I said. “I know someone with a worse one. Right here — in the jail. His name is one long insult.”
“Eh?” Rasmusan looked fascinated.
“Prunebaldeggbrainaddlepate ...” I rattled off Puddlenose’s full name, ending, “And his middle name is Decrepit!”
“Well, bless me mother! And @#$! the #&%! what named him!”
“Uh, Rasmusan, are there sailors in your family?”
“Why, yes! How did you know?”
“Oh, it was just a wild guess. Now, about our plan. I know what book the spell is in, and I think I can get the practice knives, if I can get to my friends in the barracks. We’ll do it tomorrow night.”
“Fast worker.” He looked skeptical.
“We only have two more days!”
“Well, glad I came up with a good one.” He puffed up.
“Yup,” I said, thinking: you’re a sap, but you’re all I have to help.
“So tomorrow night, we meet here at midnight. I’ll have the stuff, and then we break into the jail. That’s your part.”
“I can handle any two o’ them strutters Alsaes picks.” A thumb jerked jailward. “Midnight,” he repeated, rubbing his hands.
We parted, he going down the street and me bucketing around the corner.
When I got back Kessler was there, and he decided that we would dine together.
“Two more days,” he said — no doubt his idea of pleasant dinner conversation. “Two more days. I look forward to facing Shnit again.”
My insides quaked. “You said you were going to knife him, right?” I said it — and was appalled. Gee, I wonder why that came out of my mouth?
And of course good old Kessler could be counted on to make things even worse. “I’ve contemplated that,” he said, giving me his usual weird stare. “But I’d rather do it with my own hands. The steel would rob me of the satisfaction of feeling his life dwindle into darkness.”
“Well,” I said, my nerves zinging like an angry bee swarm, “Shnit certainly deserves it.” At least that was true.
“You would not be contemplating betraying me, would you, Cherene?”
The bees had transformed into red-hot pins.
“Eh?” I squawked, nearly choking on a sip of water. I managed not to cough, though my nose burned.
My being completely surprised seemed to reassure him. At least he didn’t seem quite so threatening as he said, “I know little about magic, but I do know that foreknowledge is difficult — if not impossible to obtain. Dejain would have me believe that the yellow-haired boy among your friends plans her death, as you do mine. Do you want to kill me?”
“I don’t want to kill anybody,” I protested, wondering what I had done or said to make Dejain suspicious of me. But I guess a person can’t live 100 years without gaining some fairly formidable insights.
“So I believed,” Kessler said.
The girl ran in with the food and set the trays down, then ran out. Kessler murmured something about the kitchen’s efficiency, then Mountain Mouth had to pop out with, “Scared enough.”
“What?”
“She certainly is efficient,” I hypocrited.
“Cherene. You didn’t say that.” He was staring again — assessing me.
“Scared enough. Of being late. Sure sign of efficiency,” I blathered.
Kessler was now drumming his fingers on the desk.
Now I can — kind of — appreciate what he must have been going through. At the time, I only thought he was weirder than ever, because the pattern he drummed was the same slow, deliberate beat used on that execution day. Here he was, two days — hours, really — from launching the main purpose of his whole life, and his magic assistant manages to introduce doubts about the person he’d picked as his heir. The person he really, truly believed had the background closest to his — and the most to gain from his Plan. The one he wanted to adopt in a kind of little family, all based on a weird combination of merit and past hatreds and what he saw as justice, but what everyone outside of the Chwahir would call vengeance.
“I will not permit Dejain, or Alsaes, further access to the prisoners,” Kessler said finally. “In particular those three.”
“Oh,” I said, knowing it was not for any good reason.
“After the takeover, one of your first orders will be to command their execution, if you have not persuaded them to declare their loyalty to you,” he said. “An effective demonstration of the benefits of loyalty.” He looked at me with bland inquiry.
“Well,” I said, bracing myself with the memory of Razzmatazz’s plan to be put through on the morrow. “That’s after the Plan.”
He nodded once — approval. “We will discuss the specifics of your part tomorrow,” he said.
Dinner passed in this manner. It was the first time we’d eaten together — proving that he did eat like normal people, even if he didn’t have to sleep. But did that non-sleep spell eventually take its toll, like other dark magic? I have a feeling he was feeling the pressure of weeks of steady labor, unceasing, day and night. Dark magic forces changes, distorts them until they either become something else — or break.
At the time, all I could concentrate on was not saying anything further that would stupidly get me into trouble. This was hard — me, CJ Sherwood, whose lifetime habit of yakking first and thinking afterward — if at all — made this situation especially dangerous.
Kessler went on with lighthearted table talk — in this case, the pluses and minuses of cavalry and infantry, punctuating it with cozy questions about strategy, resource evaluation, and defense.
The awful thing is, he had overthrown the prejudices of his Chwahir upbringing in picking me. Just because girls usually weren’t as brawny as boys, the war-minded Chwahir had little use for them except as shopkeepers and farm-managers. And of course mothers of future soldiers. Shnit especially hated girls and women, and considered it a personal insult when he found one in any position of authority. Kessler had overlooked gender when picking his army, and there were plenty of dedicated girls and women in his group. Girls who were glad for this chance to earn their way up on merit. Girls who probably would have loved to be in my position. But I got picked because I was a Mearsiean, I was an enemy of Shnit, I had learned magic — because I had black hair and blue eyes. Because I was an heir, and heirs hate their rulers, don’t they?
And there I was, hating Kessler, his Plan, and his war talk with every breath I took.
I tried hard to look like I was listening, and when he asked questions to dredge back in memory and gabble back his own words from earlier tutoring sessions. But inside my head my inner voice yammered angrily about how boring it was.
The only positive idea I could find at the time was, better boredom than outright threat.
Finally we were done. I jumped up and said, “I guess I’ll take a walk!”
/> And Guess Who said, “I will go with you.”
And so out we went.
About all I got from that walk was how the streets looked at night. Everything was dim, except for the cool bluish pools of light cast by glowglobes inside the buildings. The air was very hot, the sky covered by a thin sheet of little turtle-back clouds; through one corner of the sky the moon glowed with pale light. Kessler continued to talk — always about the Plan, and the latest exercises. I listened to half of it, concentrating mostly on making appropriate noises and not bursting out with the wrong response.
Finally the walk was over, and I retreated to my room, and fell into a sound sleep. I vaguely remember a noise, and the flickering candle, at my door, but now that I knew the reason why Kessler always came and checked on me, I slid right back into sleep. I couldn’t imagine why he thought I’d want to know any more about that creepy place — but one thing I did know. No one was getting me to make a second visit.
Twelve
When I woke up, the first thing I did was pull out the black diamond.
As I handled it, I strongly sensed magic on it. What, or why, I couldn’t begin to imagine. But powerful magic clung to it, making my fingers tingle.
The morning air was thick and even more intense than the day before. My hair was damp, and I hadn’t ever had a blanket in that place.
I replaced the diamond with care, then left the room, feeling briefly better when the cleanup spell zapped away all the grime. The hallway was empty, so I retreated back into my room, closed the door gently, and pulled out the papers from beneath my cot, where they had lain untouched since the previous morning.
I needed to write to the girls, and I couldn’t be caught doing it.
My first job was to get the knives. Every time I’d gone to the practice area — which was the only place I knew where weapons were stashed — there was a class, if not at least a tutor hovering about. They even practiced at night — all night, according to Dejain. Glowglobes would make the practice areas, which were on the other side of the compound from me, as bright as day. It was too late for a night raid anyway. Razzmatazz’s plan was to be put into effect that night.