Shadow Blade, page 20
Bauti cursed and leaned over the windowsill, feeling the burned wood sag under his weight. Down below, a hair-lipped Royal Guard sergeant named Bryston—one of Bauti’s best leaders—had ringed the building’s front with another ten soldiers, and citizens were gathering to watch the excitement.
“How in Death’s name did they know we were coming?” Bauti hammered his fist on the wood, making it crumble.
He knew, though, that they didn’t necessarily have to know he and his men were coming. Ashai was smart, and had probably guessed that moving before dawn would be their best chance at avoiding capture. He doubted the Denari Lai would stay in one place longer than a few hours.
He was about to turn away when he caught sight of a boy standing in an alley across the street. He was a young lad, maybe eight or nine, dressed in rags and tatters, with dirt on his face and a nose upturned like a teapot spout.
What caught Bauti’s attention, though, were his eyes. More specifically, the way he used them, taking in the entirety of the Royal Guard forces, concentrating so hard his forehead wrinkled.
He was counting. Counting soldiers.
The boy’s eyes brushed briefly over Bauti, then snapped back and locked eyes with the captain. He held Bauti’s gaze, then took off down the alley.
“Get that boy!” Bauti shouted to the sergeant. “Down the alley, there!”
Bryston and three men sprinted off after the child, as Bauti ran from the room, bounded down the stairs, and burst out the open front door.
The sergeant marched from the alley, grinning under his pale eyes, as his men dragged the boy out between them. He had the look of a captured deer, eyes wide and darting about, searching for an escape route. He struggled against his captors, but his skinny arms were no match for the strength of the soldiers.
They dragged him to his feet before Bauti, and the boy looked up into the captain’s eyes. His own eyes were a defiant green, as if green flames licked behind them, and for a moment, Bauti thought the boy might spit on him. He seemed to think better of it, though, and simply wrinkled his nose.
“I ain’t tellin’ you anything,” he said, puffing his chest out. “I’d rather die.”
Bauti studied him, then shrugged and turned away.
“Kill him and burn the body in the street,” he told the guards. “Make this urchin an example for anyone else who thinks to defy us.”
Behind him, the boy swallowed audibly.
“You wouldn’t kill a child.” His voice was peppered with fear now, undermining the affected defiance.
Bauti turned back around and looked down at the boy.
“I killed a child just a few months ago, or did you forget? You know, the fool of a thief who tried to rob my princess?”
This time, the boy paled. He’d obviously seen the incident, and no matter how bad Bauti felt about it now, he’d do it again to protect his princess. Or to find her.
“What’s your name, son?” he asked, softening his voice in hopes the sweet cake would look better than the morning star.
“Chaster, my lord.” A look of shame crossed the little man’s face. He was betraying someone and he knew it.
“Well, Chaster, you know who I am, so you know who I’m looking for, right?”
Chaster nodded.
“Well then, why don’t you save both of us some … discomfort and tell me where she is?”
For emphasis, Bauti ran his finger along the edge of his sword, drawing a tiny droplet of blood. Chaster swallowed again, but shook his head.
“They’ll kill me,” he said.
Bauti leaned down next to the boy’s ear and whispered, “So will I.”
Without hesitation, Chaster replied, “It’ll last longer with them. And hurt more.”
Bauti stepped back and thought about this. Someone had taken in Ashai and Makari, someone of whom this street urchin was terrified. And yet someone Chaster knew, and who knew him in return. Someone brutal enough to use a child for spying. Only one group in Dar Tallus fit that description.
“So the princess and her betrothed are in the hands of the Sixth Guild?”
The boy put his hands up in front of him and tried to take a step back. The guards held him tight.
“I never said that,” Chaster spurted, confirming Bauti’s suspicions. “But I don’t think they’re betrothed anymore.”
Bauti narrowed his eyes. “Why’s that?”
Chaster looked around the group, as if expecting help to arrive. None did.
“You’ll let me go if I tell you?”
Bauti admired the boy’s pluck. “If what you tell me is of value.”
Chaster motioned for Bauti to move close, and his eyes took on a conspiratorial look.
“She’s mad at him because he’s an assassin, too. He’s trying to protect her, but she doesn’t care.”
Bauti’s heart jumped into his throat. She didn’t love him anymore! He gained composure and focused on the boy.
“You’re certain?”
Chaster nodded. “When their help arrived, I was watching. The man with the princess had a fancy dagger. It was black as night, and he almost killed the one who came to help them. I’ve never seen someone move like that. So fast. But I recognize the knife from the tales about the wedding, where the king was killed.”
Bauti’s throat tightened. His doubt washed away—Ashai was Denari Lai. If he didn’t find her soon, she’d be dead, too.
“Look, Chaster,” he said, putting one huge hand on the boy’s shoulder, “do you love the princess?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “We all do. She’s good to the poor people.”
“Then listen well. If we do not find her, Makari will die. That man is responsible for the king’s death, and will cut her throat in a heartbeat if he thinks it in his interest.”
The boy considered, scratching his chin. “I don’t think so. She was mad at him, but I’ve seen the way he looked at her before from men, and it doesn’t mean he’s mad. He loves her.”
“What does a child know of love, Chaster?”
“More than most soldiers.” He winked. “You see a lot of things, living on the street.”
Bauti smiled, despite the knot in his gut. “How long ago did you see all this?”
“Not long before you and your men got here. Maybe ten minutes.”
“Let him go,” Bauti told the guards.
They released Chaster’s arms and the boy was gone in a blink, sprinting down the alley behind him.
Bauti turned to the sergeant. “You heard him. It sounds like they couldn’t have gotten far without us seeing them. I want every Royal Guard and Capitol Watch member down here, searching. Cordon off this entire part of the city. No one leaves. Period.”
With a nod, Bryston started deploying his men.
They searched until the sun had dipped low over the Slevonian Forest to the west, and the city’s citizens turned from the business of light to the follies of darkness.
Bauti leaned against a brick wall, watching Bryston and his men question an old baker woman with deep wrinkles and milky eyes. He couldn’t hear what she said, but the way she kept shaking her head told him all he needed to know.
He’d expanded the cordon by a half-mile in all directions, searched every room of every building. They’d questioned hundreds of people, but still they’d found nothing. No sign of the princess or Ashai.
Nor of the Sixth Guild, though that didn’t surprise him.
He knew in his heart they’d let Makari slip through their fingers. She’d be dead by sunup.
The thought stabbed at his heart, a piercing pain that nearly brought tears to his eyes. He couldn’t lose her. He’d failed her in so many ways already, from failing to see Ashai’s true nature to letting his feelings for her blind him. He should have been in the chapel where he could have protected the king and Makari, but his foolish heart had made him write that letter, had affected his judgment and biased him in his duties.
He’d known he was too old and too common for Makari, but he’d allowed his dreams to fester, to spread like an infection through his heart and his soul. He knew he was at the end of his usefulness as a soldier, he supposed, and had been looking for someone to put their faith in him again. Someone to love him as the man he’d once been.
Never mind that he’d guarded Makari as an infant, seen her grow up and blossom into the beautiful young woman she’d become. He’d hoped his loyalty would be enough, that she’d love him as a protector and thus as a man.
He’d been wrong, and it would likely cost her life.
Bryston broke away from the old woman and strode to Bauti, saluting as he approached.
“Report, Sergeant.” Bauti didn’t really need the report, but the sergeant was a stickler for procedure.
“Sir, I believe the assassin has managed to slip Her Highness out of this sector of Dar Tallus. We should expand the search to the surrounding areas.”
“Agreed. Double the cordon and search areas. Search all night. Time is not on our princess’s side.”
“We will need more men, Captain.”
Bauti frowned. “I will request regular army troops from General Celani.”
He didn’t trust regular foot soldiers. They were too easily bribed. He’d hand-selected every member of the Royal Guard, and he knew Rogroy ran a tight group with the Capitol Watch, but using the regular army for internal situations was unwise. They were trained to take and hold land, destroy things, and kill people, not to exercise caution and protect citizens.
Bryston shared his concerns, judging from the look of doubt that crossed his face, but he nodded nonetheless and marched off to carry out his orders.
Bauti spent a few more minutes seeing to the arrangements, then set off on his own down a narrow side street, walking west into the setting sun. He needed time to clear his mind, to make sure he was focused on the task at hand. Bauti had never been one to dwell on the mistakes of the past, but this failure bothered him more than most. It was selfish, an adherence to his own desires rather than those of the people he served. In thirty years as a soldier, twenty in the Royal Guard, and eight as its commander, he’d never let his own needs rule. Until this incident.
Maybe he was getting too old to command.
He wandered for what seemed like an eternity, dusk’s grays and blues and purples fading to the pitch black of night. He passed numerous patrols, all of them offering salutes and salutations, which he acknowledged, but he tried to keep to the darker streets and alleys, not wanting attention, needing his solitude.
It was in one such alley, ripe with the stench of shit and the stink of rotting food that the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He’d felt himself being watched many times. It was an instinct borne by most seasoned soldiers, one you didn’t survive long without.
He’d learned not to ignore it.
Keeping his pace, Bauti let his eyes wander to the shadows around him, looking for even the slightest motion or glint. Controlling his breathing, he listened for anything out of place in the sounds of the city, tiny noises that might tip him off to someone coming for him.
He sidestepped a trash heap, wove around a stack of crates, and found himself at a dead end, the alley ending at the back of a building, a single wooden door at its base.
He was reaching for the door handle when the cold kiss of steel jabbed at the base of his skull and a hand clamped over his mouth. He froze.
“I can kill you with one thrust.” Ashai’s voice was hushed, barely more than a whisper. Bauti marveled at how silent the man had been, kicking himself silently for not hearing his approach. “But I don’t want to. Do what I say and you’ll live to see Makari.”
Taking a calming breath, Bauti nodded.
“Keep your hands out in front of you and open that door slowly.”
He obeyed, wincing as the door creaked through the alleyway. The interior was even darker than the street, but Ashai pushed him inside, where he removed Bauti’s sword belt and dropped it to the floor. Next came the dagger on his right hip, followed by the one he kept in his boot. Unarmed and blind, Bauti felt naked and vulnerable, as helpless as a child.
Ashai shoved him against a rough, cold stone wall, then removed his hand from Bauti’s mouth. The knifepoint slid down to rest between two vertebrae in the small of his back.
“One wrong move and you’ll never walk again.” Ashai’s voice crawled hot across Bauti’s neck. The tip of the blade pierced skin, drawing a trickle of warm blood to emphasize his point.
“I understand.”
“Light it,” Ashai said.
Behind them, someone rustled and the sound of flint striking broke the silence. Sparks flew, and then a warm yellow light filled the room. Bauti could see only the speckled gray of the stone wall, but the next voice that spoke made his heart leap.
“Captain, I order you to not harm this man.” Makari’s commanding voice was unmistakable, even with his back to her. “He has done me no harm. In fact, he likely saved my life more than once. Hear him out.”
Trembling with anger at the minister, Bauti could only nod.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Your word, Captain,” Ashai ordered. “I’ll have your word before I release you.”
Bauti reigned in his anger, took another deep breath, and nodded. “I give you my word that so long as the princess commands it, I shall not harm you.”
The blade eased away from his back, and Ashai released him.
“Turn around and see that she is unharmed.”
Hands in front of him, Bauti turned.
Makari stood against a stack of beer kegs, wrapped in a plain, gray cloak, her hair chopped short in uneven swipes. Dirt marred her perfect features, but her ice-blue eyes stared out at him, from red-rimmed lids.
He nearly passed out with relief. His princess was unharmed. Instead, he fell to one knee and bowed.
“Highness, how may I make up to you my failure?”
For a long moment, Makari didn’t move or speak, and Bauti kept his head down, afraid of what he might see if he should look up. Then she stepped forward, and Bauti felt Ashai stiffen, ready for anything.
But the princess put her hand on Bauti’s head, warm and soft, and spoke.
“If loving me is a failure, Captain, then fail all you want. I should have trusted you.”
Tears stung his eyes, and Bauti squeezed them shut. He would not let Ashai see him weep, but the burden lifted from his heart was so immense, he barely kept his composure. Makari forgave him. Nothing else mattered.
“Rise now, Captain.” She stepped back. “We have much to discuss.”
Bauti stood and faced Ashai, hate boiling up in his throat. He eyed his weapons on the floor a few feet away, but the Denari Lai shook his head.
“Not until I know I can trust you.”
“I gave my word,” Bauti growled back. “Perhaps one of your kind doesn’t understand how binding that is.”
To Bauti’s surprise, Ashai lost his composure for an instant, doubt clouding his eyes. But he recovered in a heartbeat and masked his emotions.
Of course. That would hurt him. The man had betrayed an oath to his God, an oath to kill Makari, and instead he protected her. It would be a sensitive subject, and Bauti tucked it away in his mind for use later.
“So you’re Denari Lai.” He did not phrase it as a question.
“I was. No longer. The Order now seeks my death as well as Makari’s.”
“So you’re really just protecting yourself, not her.”
Ashai tensed, and Bauti readied himself for a strike. No doubt the man could kill him before he could even reach his sword, but the attack never came. Ashai took a deep breath, uttered something in Nishi’iti, and shook his head.
“I am protecting someone I believe should live and rule this nation. If you know about Denari Lai, then you know we swear not to harm innocents. I believe, despite what my God has told me, that Makari should live.”
“Then why are you dragging her around the streets of the city instead of keeping her safe in the palace?”
He stepped forward, fists bunched. Did Ashai think him a fool?
“Because her father was not safe in the palace, so why would I believe she will be?”
This time, Bauti let emotion flicker on his face, the guilt at having failed Abadas punching through his mask long enough that he knew the assassin had seen. He expected a cruel smirk or at least a sadistic grin, but Ashai did neither. He just stood and stared, face impassive.
“Captain Bauti, the palace is compromised.” His voice was softer than Bauti expected, almost comforting, as if Ashai knew the pain he felt. “Even the entire Royal Guard cannot protect her if she goes back there right now. Out here at least she has a fighting chance.”
Bauti wanted to argue, to scream that he was wrong, but the princess didn’t give him the chance.
“He’s right, Marwan.” Her use of his first name made his throat tighten. “Right now, the best way for me to stay alive and have some hope at assuming the throne is to stay hidden until you can find and kill the other Denari Lai. If he doesn’t know where I am, he cannot kill me.”
Bauti fought down all the protests that jumped to his tongue, knowing they were all moot. Makari was right, and he could not let his personal feelings put her in danger. Not again.
Sighing deeply, Bauti inclined his head to his princess. “Of course, Princess. I suppose I should call you Queen now.”
Ashai held a finger to his lips. “Let us not dwell on titles for people trying to stay hidden.”
Irritated as it made him, Bauti knew the assassin was right again, though he would not let the man know it.
“Who rules in my absence?” Makari asked, ignoring Ashai’s warning to be careful. Bauti grinned as the Nishi’iti rolled his eyes.
“Minister Tan rules by royal decree. Your father signed a writ before his death naming Tan Protector until you return.”
Ashai raised an eyebrow and the princess narrowed her eyes.
“Something sounds wrong about that,” said Ashai.
“I agree.” Makari nodded. “My father never trusted the Minister of Spies. He told me so many times. Why would he appoint him Protector instead of someone like Celani or Renard?”
