The music stopped. The world was utterly still. The cries of pain had ceased. Kerigden crept into the kitchen; a moment later, he emerged with Arre's lute case and a wrought iron key. He locked the kitchen door.
They went upstairs. By the light of a sconce of candles set in the wall they saw that several doors opened off the hallway; all were silent, all shut. As the two men hesitated, there was a heavy thump against the nearest door. Moved by some instinctual reflex, Cithanekh sprang forward and yanked the door open. Two fighting men spilled into the hall: a stranger, with Elkhar's fingers gripping his throat; as they tumbled, the stranger rammed his knee into Elkhar's groin. They struck the ground rolling. Cithanekh, with strength born of desperation, aimed a punishing kick at Elkhar's head. The Ghytteve crumpled.
"Quick, quick, quick!" That was Ferret's voice. She had a half-conscious Sharkbait unbound and nearly to the door. "Get Arre." She stared at Kerigden and Cithanekh for an instant, then smiled. "Well met; let's move."
Kerigden scooped up Arre while Cithanekh helped the stranger to his feet. "Out through the garden. The Imperial Guard are there. We left Donkey and Squirrel to delay them."
Ferret swore as the implications sunk in. "Go! Get out!"
Cithanekh hesitated. He doubted he'd killed Elkhar, and if he hadn't, the man would cause trouble; but he wasn't sure he could kill him in cold blood.
"Cithanekh," Kerigden hissed. "If the Imperial Guard come, Khethyran will have a Council House war on his hands. Move!"
They moved. The scruffy party burst through the garden gate just as the last of Donkey's stalling tactics failed and Commander Bhenekh had drawn breath to order his men to break the door down. Commander Bhenekh took them all in train and set a rapid pace back to the Palace. Somehow, halfway between the Ghytteve's house and the Palace gates, Ferret's accomplice almost magically eluded his escort and vanished into the night.
"I should go, too," Cithanekh said to the Commander. "I am not skillful enough to escape you, but why give Ycevi Ghytteve something to use against the Scholar King?"
"That Ghytteve bitch is guilty of treason," he growled.
"Do you honestly think, Commander, the other Council Houses will support a trial for treason over something which is—from their point of view—as commonplace as breathing? If Arre had been murdered, the Emperor might survive such a move. Might. She's not even seriously injured. As for Sharkbait, to the Council Houses' way of thinking, he's riffraff—and they do what they please with riffraff."
"Thank you," Sharkbait commented, acidly.
"I'm speaking as a noble, cousin," Cithanekh retorted with a glint of sardonic humor.
"I can tell," Sharkbait jibed. "Commander, it's sense. Our best course is to forget this incident. Send Cithanekh off into the night. If it gets out that he was in the custody of the Imperial Guard—however briefly—it will make trouble."
"What if Elkhar saw him?" Ferret asked anxiously.
Cithanekh looked bleak. "There's no help for it. Believe me, Ferret: it will be worse if I'm found with the Imperial Guard."
"The damage may be done already," Commander Bhenekh said grimly. "My men are solid—but money's money; and intrigue's a way of life. Even if I order this night's work forgotten, it may not stay secret."
Cithanekh nudged Kerigden. "Might not 'forget' work as well as 'sleep?'"
The Windbringer's High Priest smiled slowly. "Now that's brilliant. It should. Go—and good luck to you. And Commander? When we get back to the Palace barracks, do you think your men would enjoy a little music?"
Chapter Thirty-one—Aftermath
Having utterly exhausted his inventiveness, Owl retreated into passionate hysterics. When everything failed to calm him, one of the bodyguard was sent to fetch Cithanekh, but Ycevi remained with her slave. Owl hoped it was enough. Prolonged hysterics were tiring. He had resorted to mere gasps and sobs in response to intermittent queries or slaps when the bodyguard returned with Cithanekh.
The young lord took in the situation with alarm. "What's wrong with him?"
"He had one of his dreaming fits," Myncerre replied. "I don't know what's the matter, now."
"Owl!" Cithanekh hugged him. "Stop! Whatever frightened you: it's just a dream. Never mind." And then, knowing the risk but needing to reassure his friend, he breathed into his ear, "They're safe: Arre and Sharkbait. Safe."
Owl nodded against his friend's shoulder and began to ease out of his hysterical performance. Not too suddenly, he knew, or they'd be suspicious. Cithanekh was safe. He took a deep breath which ended in a tiny, almost soundless sob. Safe.
The Lady watched, one eyebrow raised speculatively, while Cithanekh calmed the overwrought boy. Then, with a sniff of disdain, she gathered her bodyguard with a gesture. "Shall we go see what Elkhar has for us, now?"
As she spoke, the door to the library crashed back on its hinges. Elkhar—bruised, rumpled and raging—stormed in. "They've escaped: Antryn and the Emperor's foreign witch!"
"Escaped?" the Lady cried. "The Emperor's foreign witch?"
"Yes. We found her snooping on the street—but no doubt it was part of some larger ruse. My whole complement of extra guards were sound asleep—five locked in the kitchen, and the sixth on duty in the garden. It reeks of heathen magic."
"Report in an orderly fashion," Ycevi demanded.
Elkhar clasped his hands behind him and recounted events in a clipped tone. "Antryn's capture went smoothly. We returned with him to the Upper Town house. Once he was secured, I ordered the others to guard the perimeter. Some time later, the guards brought in the Emperor's foreign witch. She had been lurking in the street. She appeared unconscious—but perhaps that was, as I suggested, a ruse. In any case, I had the guards leave her, bound and unconscious as she was, with me and the other prisoner. They posted one guard in the garden and returned to the kitchen. A short time later, two intruders interrupted my interrogation of Antryn: a girl—probably Ferret; and a better than competent grown man. There were two other accomplices in the hallway, one of whom was (I think) the Windbringer's High Priest—at least, he had that unnatural hair. The other (not the priest) kicked me in the head, and when I came to myself, they were gone."
"The Emperor's foreign witch," Ycevi repeated, her fierce eyes searching Owl's face. "The Emperor's foreign witch and the Windbringer's High Priest?" Ycevi's voice shrilled with outrage. "Was that hysterical taradiddle true—or was it purely intended to delay me? Owl?!" Then, in a manner reminiscent of Elkhar at his most terrifying, the Lady's anger was replaced by deadly calm. "Haven't I made it clear to you, brat, that it is dangerous—perhaps even fatal—to lie to me?"
Owl pressed his lips with his good hand and nodded.
"Wait," Elkhar purred, matching his Lady's frightening coolness. "I haven't told you the best thing: the one who kicked me? It was Cithanekh."
***
Mouse delivered Owl's warning. Without delay, the Scholar King called out the Imperial Guard. Then, he sent a servant to fetch Venykhar to the Imperial Apartments to await word of their friends. Though it seemed like years, it was less than an hour before Arre, Sharkbait, Ferret, Squirrel, Donkey and Kerigden—some looking a little the worse for wear—filed in and collapsed into chairs to an eager chorus of greeting.
"So what happened?" Mouse demanded.
"And where's Commander Bhenekh?" the Scholar King added.
"As to that," Kerigden offered diffidently, "I fear his report would have been rather garbled. I took the liberty of clouding the memories of the Guards; we thought this matter might best be forgotten."
Mouse, Venykhar, and the Emperor exchanged glances at this, and then said, together, "So what happened?"
It took some time tell all sides of the tale. By the end, Khethyran looked troubled. "You were right; this matter is best forgotten. But I fear for your friends in Ghytteve hands. What chance, truly, that Cithanekh's blow killed Elkhar?"
Sharkbait groaned. "It will take silver weapons and a spell to kill that bastard."
/> "So I'd wager," Ferret put in. "And unless he's dead, he'll have seen and recognized Cithanekh. So the question is: what now? Happen we canna send the Imperial Guard to the rescue, but I'll not sit idly by wringing my hands."
"Hear, hear!" Squirrel affirmed. "But what shall we do?"
"Into the walls, I think," Ferret said softly. "Happen we'd best get Cithanekh and Owl out of Ycevi's power—and soon. From all that's been said, I dinna believe she's one to accept the kind of meddling Cithanekh's done."
"Ferret, they know we know about the secret ways," Donkey reminded.
"True, but Squirrel escaped, so they'll know that we know that they know—and they'll not expect us to risk it."
Venykhar laughed. "That makes sense—or rather, it sounds like Ycevi's reasoning, which isn't the same thing. But not all of us, surely, Ferret. Won't too many become a danger?"
Ferret nodded.
"If you think to leave me behind, my sweet thief, think again," Sharkbait warned.
"You're hurt," she said, but he raised his eyebrows.
"I know my limits," he told her, and she nodded.
"So," she began, "Sharkbait and I will go." She scanned the others, plans roiling in her head. "And Donkey?" She touched his gaze, watched him nod. "Mouse?" The girl nodded vehemently. "And Squirrel?" He jerked his head in assent.
"Mouse?" Venykhar protested.
Before the girl could bristle, Ferret explained. "For messages. She can draw; Owl canna read."
"What about the rest of us?" Venykhar asked. "Do you have some plan for us?"
"Actually, Ven," Kerigden put in, "I have a plan—unless Ferret has something in mind? No? I could use your help, Ven—and yours, Arre, if you feel well enough."
As they murmured agreement, the Scholar King spoke ruefully. "Leaving me—as always—to await word in safety."
Arre responded, as though to an old argument, with a pained smile. "If you insist on being useful, Kheth, get Rhydev Azhere drunk."
The Emperor kissed her palm. "As you wish. Or rather, I'll do my best. That man can drink a soldier under. Are you set on drunk—or will it do if I just keep him out of the way?"
"Keep him out of the way," she said. "He seems to think it will advance his position if he can persuade the Ghytteve to murder me. I finally remembered where I'd seen that informant before: one of Rhydev's sneaks."
"Come on, troops," Ferret said. "Let's move."
"Squirrel," Kerigden asked. "Do you still have that stone?"
The boy nodded. "You want it?"
"No. But if you have the chance, give it back to Owl. I've a sense he may need it."
***
"Cithanekh," the Lady repeated. She stared at him as though she could flay him with her gaze. "No doubt you'll try to convince me you were safeguarding my interests."
"He was," Owl insisted. "I dreamed it: if Elkhar had killed Arre—and he would have killed her—the Emperor would have had you executed for treason, Lady."
Ycevi gave a short, outraged laugh. "Executed for treason over a foreign whore? Don't be ridiculous."
"He loves her," Owl persisted. "Don't you understand? He doesn't weigh the costs the way you do."
The Lady lapsed back into silent scrutiny. After a moment, she gestured to Elkhar. "Take the boy to the gallery; there's no sense in staining a perfectly good carpet. Bind him to a chair." Two of the men restrained Cithanekh while Elkhar took Owl away. Ycevi studied her kinsman as though reading secrets in his eyes. "You are of no use to me unless you are malleable, Cithanekh. You do understand that, don't you?" She spat the words with vicious precision.
"Yes, Lady."
"Then why do you persist in flouting me? Do you think I won't kill you?" At his headshake, she narrowed her eyes. "Do you think I won't harm your boy?"
"You've made it abundantly clear that you will!" he cried desperately.
"Then why? Why involve yourself in this? You must have known it would anger me."
"Lady, I trust Owl. He told me Khethyran would destroy you if the woman Arre died."
Ycevi glared at Cithanekh in disbelief. "Do you think I'm stupid? I know perfectly well you'd dance on my grave—both of you. No. If you saved that woman Arre, it was for your own reasons; and I will know what they are!"
"I told you," he insisted.
"Very well: be stubborn. You won't enjoy this—my solemn word on it, Cithanekh." She gestured with her head. "Take him him up to the gallery and bind him. Myncerre? Fetch my case of implements—the one with the tongs—and the supply of ymekkhai from the stores; and have the servants bring a brazier to the gallery."
Worry marred Myncerre's impassive face. "Lady, what—"
Ycevi rounded on her savagely. "No questions: just do it!"
The steward bowed and went out.
***
Rhydev Azhere set the note down on the silver salver and motioned the servant out. He turned a frowning visage on his uncle. "Now, this I do not like, in view of other—mmm—considerations."
Zherekhaf inclined his head. "Oh?"
"An Imperial invitation—nay, command—to a game of khacce tonight."
"Oh."
"Is that all you can say?"
The Prime Minister shrugged. "It's all that's warranted, surely. My dear Rhydev, you're thinking like a conspirator. In your position, there's nothing more dangerous. Chances are, the Emperor's invitation is completely innocent; and even if he has some suspicion, he'd hardly invite you—in writing and before witnesses—to your own assassination. Go, my dear boy, and don't keep His Majesty waiting. I'll find my own way out."
***
Donkey led, for he knew the hidden ways best; and Squirrel took the rear, his keen ears straining for the sound of pursuit. Mouse, with her drawing case tucked firmly under her arm, gripped the back of Donkey's tunic with sweaty fingers. Sharkbait kept a hand on Ferret's elbow, but whether to support her or steady himself, not even he could have said.
The Ghytteve complex seemed strangely empty. No guards loitered in the kitchen or their common room; in the light of the lone table lamp, the ysmath bones lay silent and neglected. A half-finished khacce game graced the board in the library, but no one was there. They crept carefully past all the usual haunts of the Ghytteve, and found no one worth watching until they came across the steward, Myncerre, in her Lady's dressing room. The woman was seated at Ycevi's dressing table, a lamp at her elbow, her steepled forefingers against her lips, and a look of tremendous abstraction on her face. Ferret studied the scene through the spyhole. On the table before the steward lay an ebony case, open; nestled in the dark silk lining were silver implements with carved wooden handles. The thief suppressed a shudder of recognition. Beside the open case was a squat stoneware jar with a large round of cork shoved into its mouth. Suddenly, the steward unfroze. She stirred the tools in the case with her fingers until, with a faint sigh, she withdrew a stiletto knife. She pilfered two ribbons from the clutter on her Lady's dressing table and strapped the blade to her left forearm. She fussed with her concealing sleeve; then, taking the case and retrieving the jar and lamp, she went out the door opposite the spyhole.
Donkey cursed softly. "Canna follow, now," he explained on a breath, "without going into the room—which is unwise."
"Never mind," Ferret replied. "Just keep looking. Happen we'll find them, late or soon."
***
When Venykhar, Kerigden and Arre arrived in the safety of the Ykhave apartments, the old lord turned to the priest. "What, exactly, do you have in mind, Kerigden?"
"A form of mind work," Kerigden replied.
"I thought you said you needed me," the flute-maker said a little reproachfully.
"We do. I want you to play while we work. We need an anchor."
Worry knit Arre's brow. "Kerigden," she protested. "Work with an anchor is beyond—" She broke off as she remembered the feel of his mind: banked coals; power waiting for some enlivening touch. "I cannot balance you," she whispered, painfully. "My gifts are not as strong as y
ours."
The High Priest touched her shoulder gently. "Trust me. I will not hurt you; but I need your help."
Venykhar looked from one to the other, mystified. "What are you talking about? What are you planning to do? How dangerous is it—and, gods above and below, what good will it do? Arre, you're as brave as a lioness; if you're afraid of whatever Kerigden has in mind, it must be dangerous." As the priest turned toward him, he added, waspishly, "And don't just say: 'Trust me.' I do trust you, but I want to know."
Kerigden sighed. "My Lady Windbringer has some interest in the outcome here. She required me to help; she appeared to Owl in a dream and gave him a warding stone; and she aided me with the Ghytteve and the Imperial Guard. But there is more she wants, more at stake—and I need to know what! When she appeared to Owl, she mentioned a wager and said perhaps she had nothing to fear from her brother. It puzzles me; and it makes me tremble. You know the histories of the gods. My Lady Windbringer has not always fared well in the company of the gods; perhaps in this matter, she is in some danger, or facing some threat. Owl told me he summoned her, that he used the focus Arre and I taught him and called Talyene. With a human anchor instead of merely a focus stone, Arre and I might be able to do that, or to read more fully the future, using Arre's Sight Gifts, or—possibly—to link with Owl and persuade him to summon the Windbringer."
Venykhar looked uncomfortable. "Wouldn't she tell you if she wanted you to know?"
"Only if asked, I think," Kerigden replied.
"Very well. And how dangerous is this?"
"There is a risk," Kerigden admitted. "Not as much for you, Ven, as for Arre and me. But there are also possible benefits. By our asking, my Lady Windbringer may be empowered to act directly, to help us save Owl and to defeat Ycevi. It seems to me that is worth a considerable risk."