The Bone Mask Trilogy: (An Epic Fantasy Boxed Set), page 94
“We’ll move swiftly,” Danillo said.
He led them through the streets, whose cobblestones glistened with a faint rain. It beaded on her hands as she flitted after him. At an intersection she paused to check on Emilio and Alcina, who were keeping pace but were back a little ways.
“Father.”
He looked to Emilio and Alcina then nodded, waiting within a doorway while they caught up.
Footsteps echoed along an intersecting street.
Sofia froze. Her father waved for Emilio to hide; the Captain pulled her into an alley as a blue-cloaked figure strode beneath a torch. The white of the man’s Greatmask was bright. His hands were lined in white also, as if he wore gauntlets of bone, and as he turned into another street his cloak opened enough to offer a glimpse of his breastplate – that too, of bone.
Even from a distance, the power in his bones was clear.
Her father waited a little longer then he was moving again, crossing the street and heading up a curling staircase of steel that led to the second storey of a building, half of which had been reduced to rubble.
Again, he took the lock in hand and a click followed, then he was opening another heavy door to admit them to a clean room lit by uneven moonlight from above. Two beds lay against a wall. No windows but a store of provisions rested upon a stove. The only exits were the skylight above, cloudy glass thick and grated, and the door her father was locking as Emilio led Alcina to one of the beds.
“We are very fortunate this half of the building survived the attack,” Father said. “Sofia, would you light the stove? Everything you need will be behind it. We can dry our clothing and enjoy a warm meal.”
“Did you see all the bones?”
“Yes. And thank Argeon who concealed us.”
Sofia’s stomach rumbled as she knelt by the stove and found a tinderbox, and within the stove, wood stacked for a fire. She worked the tinderbox until flame bloomed then sat back, holding her hands out to the as-yet feeble warmth.
After a time she blinked. Had she started to drift off? The flames were larger now.
Emilio crossed the room. “My Lady, I will cook something.”
She stood. “That would be wonderful.”
“Wait until you’ve tasted it before you say that,” he said with a smile.
Her father sat on the free bed, a slight glow coming from Argeon.
“Father? Is it time?”
“It is.” He gestured to the bed beside him. “Sit and we will finally break through to Osani – this time we will succeed.”
Chapter 23.
When night fell and the lights of the city began to wink on, warm yellow patches in dark stone, a knock sounded at Seto’s door. He turned from the window, a hand sliding to where a knife – one of many – once lay.
Only, he’d long-since been divested of weapons.
Corvus.
Chelona’s presence swooped in around him.
Seto strode to the door and opened it. Corvus and another Ecsoli stood flanked by a pair of Tonitora – it made for a cramped hall. No sign of the Tonitora who’d been guarding his room either.
“Quickly,” Corvus said. He held up a long blue cloak. “Keep this closed.”
He stepped into the hall pulled it over his shoulders. It was too big, but that was fine – it covered his tattered royal robes. And with Chelona, he’d probably appear as an Ecsoli at a glance. It would have to be enough.
“Holindo and Mayla?”
“Both en route to a safe place near the harbour.”
“Good. And the message?”
“Delivered as promised. It appeared to have come from Casa Leo, we now pray Marinus takes the bait.”
“The false acor?”
“More ‘Lions’ assisted Marinus’ men with the loading of the ‘acor’ at a time when my men were known to be ‘out drinking’.”
“Even better.” Without Marinus assuming he’d soon have the upper hand – Corvus on the water with nowhere to turn and a hold full of acor – the prince probably would have swooped down on the smaller Raven forces in a brutal attack much earlier, as the man had originally planned.
Everything hinged on Marinus believing that the Ecsoli who helped him were truly from House Leo and that the acor was truly acor. The first Seto worried about, the second he did not. The Ecsoli would not be able to tell the difference and he’d been able to sprinkle just a touch of real acor to seal the illusion.
Seto kept pace between his herd of invaders, passing the occasional harried-looking servant in the halls, which were becoming wider and better-lit – closing in on the main hallways.
“Not this way,” he said.
“What?” Corvus didn’t slow.
Seto peered over the shoulder of the man. Ahead lay twin tapestries depicting Ana rescuing Anaskari settlers, her arms outstretched where she rose from the bay, sheltering their ships from a storm. Behind the second, an entry into the ways.
“Behind that tapestry of Ana, there is a passage that will take us to the kitchens. From there, another passage to the palace grounds. It ought to be wide enough for the Tonitora – they may have to sacrifice some skin, however.”
Corvus paused.
“It’s his palace, Corvus – he’d know the way out,” the other Ecsoli said, a raven on his chest too.
The man grunted. “Not anymore it isn’t.” But he turned to the wall and gestured to Seto. “Lead on, then.”
Seto lifted the tapestry, the fabric worn beneath his grip, and slid the stone across. “Stay close,” he said, moving into the dim passage. It sloped down, soon coming to a sharp turn, which he warned his as yet unconfirmed rescuers about before heading deeper into the dark.
Worry not, Little Oseto. Corvus has only one desire – to leave with bones so that he might defend his city.
But would it stay that way, if something went amiss?
No need to let his guard down.
Chelona’s amusement radiated from within the mask.
Complaints followed the longer they walked, the more they paused, took sharp turns and struggled to keep contact with one another, the passages often a tight squeeze for the Tonitora, just as he’d feared. But he pressed on until a sense of heat slipped through the walls. The kitchens – the bank of cavernous ovens rested against the wall he touched.
“We’re close,” he said.
“And what is your plan should the kitchens be packed with my countrymen?” Corvus asked.
“Back into the ways – none will find us, none know them as I do.” He paused. “Unless you can track each other by your Greatsuits?”
“It is indeed possible to trace our movements via the novatura,” Corvus said, placing emphasis on the word. “But I have taken precautions against that.”
The kitchens are clear – for now. Chelona said.
“The way is clear,” Seto said and strode forward. Light appeared ahead, glowing beneath a stone. He hit the lever and the stone slid open, revealing the back of a cabinet, which he pushed open on silent hinges.
Stepping into the warmth of the kitchen, a haze of scents, roasted lamb with rosemary and stews bubbling away, he could have stopped. But one of the girls dicing vegetables gave a shout, dropping her knife. Murmurs filled the kitchens, from one end to the other, audible over the crackle of flame and thump of tools.
“Return to work and say nothing of this,” Seto said, speaking Anaskari.
The cooks resumed their preparations and he led the small group to an opposite cabinet, stuffed with spices and herbs from top to bottom, and depressed a switch worked into the blade of a carven swordfish.
The case swung open and then it was back into the ways.
“We should have taken a torch,” someone said.
“No matter,” Corvus replied. “How much longer, King Oseto?”
“This passage will circle around and exit in a private garden near the west wall. We will reach it soon enough.”
“And Marinus?”
He is moving as we speak – he does not suspect. Chelona said.
“Playing his role as expected. He has taken to his ship – but if your men did their job, then Marinus will receive a surprise.”
“Only if you’re right.”
“What does your own Greatmask think?”
Corvus grunted.
Seto grinned in the dark. “I take it he concurs with me.”
“In part. Domaso cannot locate Marinus.”
“He’ll be there. He thinks he has all the cards.”
“For your sake – and mine – that had better be true.”
“So long as your men are now aboard your own ship, everything will work as I have planned,” Seto said.
“There’s still a flaw in your plan; what if Marinus knows?”
“You’re here aren’t you?” Seto slowed for a turn, then a slight misstep – even though he’d be expecting it – as the slope began. He warned the others; soon enough the passage would take them beneath the palace wall and into the gardens – exiting in an enclosure dedicated to Lorseda, Scholar King from Casa Falco.
By the time the path – long since turned to blackness – evened out and climbed again, only to end at a ladder precisely one-hundred steps later, Seto’s stomach was beginning to shrink. How long since he’d eaten? At least he’d not grown faint yet.
“Watch the ladder – let me unlock the hatch first,” he said.
“Be swift,” Corvus said.
Seto climbed in the dark – six rungs and then his hand reached the hatch, cold against his palm. And there was the lock and heavy bolt. He paused. And the key, still hidden in his now Ecsoli-occupied rooms.
Worry not – allow me. Chelona’s voice echoed in his mind and a deep ‘click’ followed. He gripped the bolt, straining against the old steel. Fragments of rust filtered onto his face and he blinked, finally sliding the bolt free with a muttered curse.
Then he pushed the hatch open, stepping up into cold night, holding the lid as he did so. Best not to have it slam. Once free of the tunnel, Seto moved aside and glanced up at the moon, visible between the edges of lemon trees. How quickly the clouds had drifted away. He stepped into the shadow created by one of the trees where it grew against a high stone wall – protecting them from the palace and gate.
Corvus and the other Ecsoli climbed from the opening, dislodging more dirt and leaves – and there were plenty around; few people visited the cowled statue of the scholar-king, an open tome in his hand, sword in the other, especially of a night.
“Will the Tonitora be able to free themselves?” he asked.
Corvus motioned to his second. “Achet?”
“Stand back a moment,” the second Ecsoli said. He bent by the opening and placed his gauntleted hands above the edge. He repeated his command to the Tonitora. Shuffling from below. A faint glow emitted from his hands and a grinding sound followed as stonework began to shudder and move. The hard line of the opening began to curl up and out, like a flower opening – a process which quickly doubled the size of the opening. Several pieces of stone fell into the darkness but the new opening remained in place. “There.”
“Impressive,” Seto said.
Rudimentary, came Chelona’s reply.
Achet nodded to Seto. Then he stood back as the Tonitora exited – still a tight squeeze for them.
Corvus moved to the opening in the wall that admitted entrance to the enclosed garden and looked out across the lawns. “About this flaw, King Oseto. It continues to trouble me. How can you guarantee that Marinus will be fooled by the dummy acor you have made? He may know – his mask is older than Domaso, surely he will see through the ruse?”
Tell him I will distract Rael – he is quite enamoured of me. Again, Chelona sounded amused.
“Chelona will take care of Rael.”
He gave a slow nod. “And Marinus himself?”
“There we must rely on his arrogance and your men.”
“They were not discovered.”
“Good,” Seto said. “Then let us leave the palace and get you onto your ship.”
“Very well.”
Corvus led them across the lawn, grass damp underfoot, Seto once again surrounded by the other members of the party. The gates loomed ahead, two pair of Ecsoli leaving the guardhouse as Corvus drew near, torches in hand.
One moved across, bearing the way. A wave symbol crossed his breastplate.
“Open the gate,” Corvus demanded.
The Ecsoli grunted, eventually moving back and gesturing to two Tonitora from the gatehouse to unlock and heave at the winches to open the gates. Once the way was clear, Corvus took them into the streets of the Second Tier and into a pair of coaches, lamps hanging from their eaves. One was drawn by an Ecsoli, the other an Anaskai man who appeared to have been pressed into service.
“Convenient,” Seto said.
“And they will cloak us from more curious eyes,” he said as he entered. “Your disguise may not hold up under more sustained scrutiny.” Seto followed, settling himself across from the man as Achet joined them. The Tonitora took the larger carriage and the driver cracked his whip.
“Worry not.” Seto said. “The guards will report your movements to Marinus, who will believe everything turns according to his plan.”
“Unless he knows what we have done and is waiting for us. Or has switched your false acor for true powder.”
“Then be ready for that possibility too,” Seto said.
“Easy for you to say – you won’t be sailing off with a hold potentially full of death.”
“True. But I do have a city full of invaders to deal with.”
Corvus barked a laugh. “I hope you’ve got more than one mask for that, Your Majesty.”
He frowned, but said, “Is that an offer?”
“Hardly.” Corvus drew a blade from his sleeve and began to toy with it. “But I will tell you something about Marinus, for as you will have observed, there is no love lost between us.”
“I would welcome that.”
“There is a desperation to his coming here.”
Achet turned his head. “Corvus, are you sure you wish to share this? It concerns us all.”
He flipped his knife back into the sleeve. “Saving Ovaneus is all that concerns me now, Achet. And we’re probably just as desperate, aren’t we?”
The man gave a nod and sat back.
“How is Marinus desperate?” Seto asked.
“He seeks something stolen. An artefact – his family’s Crucible, from which novatura and masks are crafted.”
“It is here?”
“Yes. His younger brother, Vinezi has stolen it, no doubt in order to create his own suit – he is a Carver only and has long been passed over for the novatura.”
Ah, being passed over. There was a familiar slap – and no wonder Vinezi was such a worm. But it further explained his lust for bones. “And Marinus must have the Crucible back?”
“Not only for crafting, but in order to retain the role of prince, yes. Without it – and bones from the Sea God for that matter – he can no longer maintain his grip on the Council of Seven Houses while his Father, the king, slips further into his dotage. All know that in order to have risen above his older brothers, he bought the support of many with his great store of bone.” Corvus shrugged. “All of this is decades past now. Yet even that had to end, more the fool that he never saw it. If he does not return with the Crucible and bones, his own House will devour him.”
“Yet you pursued him here?”
“Of course. The promise of new bone – I could not afford to miss it. The Os-Vento – creatures of bone – that attack the white walls of Ovaneus are relentless. Long have they threatened us, but such numbers were unknown in even my grandfather’s time, as best I can discern.”
“Then Marinus is vulnerable in his desire for the Crucible.”
“Find Vinezi, find the Crucible – and if you can keep it – you will own Marinus. With it, you could channel more power than any single mask is capable of using. It is a relic of the past, when our people were vastly more powerful.”
“Thank you,” Seto said, suppressing a slight shiver. The idea that Corvus felt his people were no longer powerful was disconcerting indeed.
The carriage rattled to a halt. Beyond, the dark of the streets was quiet – only the water lapping against stone.
“My seconds?” Seto asked.
“At this location.” Corvus opened the carriage door. Seto followed into the street, the chill air biting at his hands. No lamps lit the way, only the big moon above, like a circle of bone caught in the black.
Had Marinus truly fallen for the ruse?
Even now he waits in his ship, watching Corvus’ vessel with anticipation. Chelona informed him. He believes that what he stowed in the Corvus vessel is truly acor.
That was well – so long as it was false anticipation. If the man had grown wise to the ploy, the prince would simply take the bones by force. Or seek to at least; Corvus seemed a man unwilling to simply yield.
The leader of the Raven House went to a nearby door of a soot-stained building and knocked once. When the door opened they were admitted by another Ecsoli. Seto crossed the dim room to a figure sitting beside a second who lay stretched out on a cot.
“Holindo.”
The man stood. “My King.” His face was lined with a weariness that looked as though it might have crippled a lesser man. But the Captain stood tall in his blood-stained orange tunic, a bruise fading along his jaw.
“It is good to see you free,” he said, laying a hand on the man’s shoulder. Would that he’d been able to free more from the palace. “How is Mayla?”
“She sleeps. Marinus has worked her to exhaustion, healing his men.” He lowered his voice somewhat. “Many seem to suffer from a strange ailment.”
“The quoiss. A translation would be ‘bone-sickness’ though that is not entirely accurate,” Corvus said. “But the illness is common enough.” He gestured to the man who’d stood guard over Holindo and Mayla. “And now we will discover what Marinus has in store.”
Seto followed the man into the dark street. “Thank you, Corvus. Farewell.”
“And you, Your Majesty.”
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