Dark Legion Page 24

  Ferran led us to a grand old building that was covered in stone relief work. Above the door was a large crest depicting an eagle perched on a branch. Ferran knocked on the door, which was quickly opened by a wiry old man in a flowing white toga. I had seen several men wearing togas since entering Morwynne. They looked ridiculous, like they were wrapped in bed sheets. The old man gestured behind him, and five slaves came running out to grab our bags.

  Marcus, Neysa and I walked into the foyer of the inn, if one could call it an inn. The Shady Oak was an inn; this place was something else. The high ceiling was covered in frescoes. Morwynne had a thing for tall structures, and I had yet to see a single-story building. We followed the old man to a large desk that lined one wall, and our footsteps echoed on the marble tiles. The old man sat himself down behind the desk and adjusted his spectacles, with the slaves waiting off to the side.

  “Do you have a reservation?” he asked.

  “We do—it’s under the name of our business, the Bleeding Wolf,” I said.

  “Ahh, the purveyors of the fine ale that I have been hearing so much about. Let me see,” he said running his finger down a ledger. “Yes, here you are. I have you down for three grand suites. Follow me,” he said, and led us up a spiral staircase.

  A long climb later, we arrived at our rooms at the very top of the stairs, and I wondered how the old man managed it with seeming ease when Neysa and I were short on breath. Marcus never seemed to tire. The old man gestured to three doors set to one side of the steps, and I could see another three on the other side. “Your bags will be up momentarily,” he said. “I bid you goodnight. Do not hesitate to call on me should you have any need.”

  I opened the door closest to me and walked through. We walked in to find that the grand suites were aptly named. My suite was not limited to a single room, but had its own foyer, dining room, sitting room, two privies, a dressing room and two bedrooms. Each of the rooms were far more spacious than necessary and lushly furnished. The suite was larger than our family’s summer home had been.

  “By the Gods,” Marcus said. “Why do we need three of these?”

  “I love it!” Neysa said, clapping her hands.

  “This is going to cost us a fortune,” I said. I opened a door leading from the sitting room onto an expansive balcony and leaned on the railing. The city of Morwynne lay below—or mostly below. Many of the buildings were still at eye level, even though I stood at a great height above the street. Yet, the palace towered over all.

  While the city was beautiful, and it truly was, I could not help but feel it was also sterile. It reminded me of the hospital I’d worked at when I was young. They had decorated the place with flowers and paintings to help the patients feel more at home, but it utterly lacked the feeling. This city felt the same to me.

  The slaves soon knocked on the door and, once the bags were routed to the correct suites, were sent away with a request for food. After we shared a delicious meal together, Marcus and Neysa went to their own rooms, and I prepared for bed. I decided to get a full night’s sleep and collapsed on the excessively large bed.

  I leaned to the side and pulled the book, The Names of Things, from my satchel and unwrapped it. I scanned through the pages but got no more meaning from them than the last time I had done so. Every now and then, a new passage would come to light and lodge in my mind. The book was truly unusual. I could read every word of it, but as soon as my eyes skipped to the next word, the meaning of the former passed me by. Some passages, though, were as clear as day. Alas, they were few.

  It was an odd book to be sure, quite aside from its subject matter. I had shown it to Marcus once a few weeks past. With the secret of my ability out in the open, I had seen no harm in it. But Marcus told me he could not make heads or tails of the script. According to him, the letters appeared to morph and change when his eyes tried to focus on them. I hadn’t a clue what language it was written in, but at least I could discern some of its meaning.

  I pulled the two sheets of folded paper out from between its pages. The first was the one Malakai had given me, a stylized depiction of a cat. The lion was important to my people, and so that was what it looked like to me, but the artist had taken some liberties in its creation. It could have been any number of large cats.

  Malakai had said it would reveal my brother’s location when the time was right, whatever that meant. The old bastard got on my nerves with his vague suggestions and plans wrapped in shadow, and I hoped he wasn’t all mouth and no trousers. If this sheet of paper meant nothing, I would not be pleased.

  Marcus, the other pain in my arse, trusted in Malakai, as did Neysa. Marcus was an eternal optimist who could walk into a room of shit and see a wonderland. Neysa was near as skeptical as I was, and her trust in the man made me doubt my own feelings, but I also doubted she knew of his power over us.

  The other sheet had the illustrations of the crown and the Ring of the Lion. My purpose in crude drawings: my drive, my hopes, my life. Truly, without completing the goals they represented, a very large part of my life would be rendered a waste. The years I’d spent in the torture chamber, delving for answers, when I could have escaped. The many, many people who had died at my hands. Granted, if I had not been the torturer, another would have taken the job, but still.

  The ring had become somewhat of an obsession for me of late, largely due to what Malakai had said. “Made for someone like me,” I mouthed. What that meant, the Gods only knew. The crown was all important however. The crown was Ubrain. It was perhaps more than a little ridiculous that a nation placed such import on a band of gold, but they did, and I planned to use it to my advantage.

  Sleep did not come easy with my mind fixed on my foolish promise to the slaves. It occurred to me that I might have been wrong. I had assumed no one would believe that I was who I said I was—a prince, their prince—without the crown. But the slaves I had encountered had thrown their lot in with mine with a willingness that boggled the mind. On the other hand, being slaves, desperate for a better life, they were more likely to believe that their long-lost prince had returned to free them. It made for a nice story. Besides, many slaves were broken and ready to obey command. Those in Ubrain who were yet free… they might have different ideas, and I suspected that we would face more difficulty in that arena.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  A Day in the City

  I enjoyed a cup of coffee on the balcony as I watched the sky grow lighter over the palace. On the table in front of me sat the plans Malakai had provided. As the glowing orb of the sun crested the central complex of the palace, I unrolled the plans and weighed them down with my empty coffee cup. My eyes flicked between the palace and the plans, trying to spot the differences. The main one I could see in the external structure was the large train station that lay to my right. It had had several previous incarnations.

  At one point, it had been a walled-off rectangle with two gates. My best guess was that it allowed the palace to receive guests through the first gate, and then to judge how welcome those guests were to the palace proper. My father’s palace had had something similar, but at a much smaller scale.

  An earlier plan showed a different, smaller structure which appeared to have been an area to fall back to in times of emergency. It had no gate to the outside but had what appeared to be a tunnel that led away from the city.

  Something like that was worth investigating, and I thought it might prove itself to be a useful escape route for us as well as the slaves. If I could find a way into it, and if the tunnel remained unblocked—always if.

  I had made smaller copies of the plans before we left Sagemont, a tedious process. But there was something about using the ancient parchment that made me feel like an adventurer of old. I would take the smaller copies with me to the palace. Certainly, it would be less suspicious than walking in with massive plans.

  I rolled them back up and made another cup of coffee. With my cup refilled, I went back outside to watch the city come to life. Fi
rst, there was the changing of the guard. It was a lengthy process as there were a lot of guards to change. Their armor shone in the morning light, and their red plumes stirred in the wind.

  Next I saw a lady duck out and scurry up the road, glancing behind her and keeping low. It struck me as odd. A whore, or someone’s mistress, perhaps? Just a young girl who’d stayed the night where parents may object? She ducked behind a corner as a baker made his way down the road with a pushcart filled with loaves of bread.

  By the time I finished my coffee, the streets were busy with people. There were also a lot of slaves about their masters’ tasks. More than I had expected; more than I wanted to see.

  I startled when two small reptiles landed on the railing. One flapped its leathery wings while its claws found purchase. They sat as if waiting for something. I suspected they got fed by the guests. No such luck for them that morning.

  I was hungry myself and thought about waking my friends for breakfast. In the end, I decided to let them sleep and walked inside to pull on the rope along one wall. The rope stretched down to the foyer below and rang a bell calling for service. When a young man gently tapped on the door, I asked where I could find a bath. He informed me that one would be prepared in my room. It seemed an awful lot of trouble to go through, hauling buckets of hot water up to my room, but I was assured I paid well for their efforts. A short time later I found myself floating in the near scalding water.

  The bath would have been too deep to sit in if it hadn’t been for the steps leading down on one side. I had planned to soak for a while, but the water was ridiculously hot, and I soon got lightheaded. After I scrubbed myself, I got out and looked for a towel. I could look all I wanted, as there were none to be found. Perhaps the servants had forgotten to leave one. I treaded carefully through the suite. The marble tiles may have looked nice, but they made for slippery walking.

  I was making my way through the sitting room when I froze in my tracks. Neysa sat on a settee. She was looking at my naked body—how could she not?—and she was smiling. I just stood there, dripping on the tiles. My legs refused to cooperate.

  No girl had ever seen me naked. What would she think? I had many scars, and not all on my chest. My former master had had perverted tastes, and my genitals bore their own scars. Still, I stood there. She smiled. Was it funny to her? My cheeks burned with shame.

  She slowly got up, walked to my room, and returned with a towel. She gently wrapped it around my waist. Still I stood there like some idiot, and when I did not move, she kissed my cheek and hugged me gently.

  “It’s okay…” she said. “Marcus told me what a sick bastard Angus was. It’s nothing you should be ashamed of.”

  My heart thumped in my chest, trying to break its way out. And yet… part of me no longer wanted to flee. Having her this close to me had been a dream, and the smell of her… by the Gods, I loved her smell. Like air itself, I never tired of breathing it in.

  She took a step back and her smile widened. “So, you are happy to see me then.”

  I nearly died of shame when I looked down. Hells, I was pitching a tent, and the thin towel did nothing to hide my shame.

  And, of course, this would be the moment that Marcus chose to enter the room. When Marcus saw us, he stopped, put his hands on his hips, and grinned widely. “I see,” he said.

  I finally regained the function of my legs and made haste for my room. I took my damn time getting dressed, which gave my face a chance to fade; it was as red as a smacked arse. By the time I had recovered from the ordeal and composed myself, I found that Marcus and Neysa had made their way to the dining room, to a table set with food.

  “I’m starving,” I said, not meeting their eyes.

  “A busy night can do that to a man,” Marcus said. I sneered at him. “Oh, relax, I jest.” I nodded and sat down to eat. “Besides, she liked what she saw.”

  Neysa threw a cooked tomato at Marcus, but he ducked out of the way. “You are such an arsehole!” she yelled, her face blushing.

  Interesting.

  I felt my own face grow warm again as well. It was ridiculous. I was a grown man. One who had killed the Gods knew how many people, and yet my guts left me when a girl saw me naked? Ridiculous.

  “And where were you last night?” Neysa asked Marcus. “I came to get you for breakfast, but you weren’t there.”

  “Just down the corridor,” Marcus said with a mouth full of food. “A lady in the suite next to mine looked lonely on her balcony. I offered to keep her company last night. She was very grateful.”

  “You are such a pig,” Neysa spat.

  Marcus shrugged and swallowed his food. “What’s the plan for today?”

  “I want to go and check that our ale was stored properly,” I said.

  “Snoop around the palace grounds, you mean?” Marcus asked.

  “Just so. I also want to go back to the station to check something I saw on the plans, and send a letter to Hobart.”

  “Hobart!” Marcus said. “You know, I actually forgot about him. I bet he is mighty angry at himself for leaving our business partnership.”

  “I bet he is,” I said. “But I want to catch up with him and invite him to be a guest of ours at the Harvest Festival. We are allowed five seats, after all.”

  “Really? But he’ll get knocked out by your poison,” Marcus said.

  “I figure he’ll enjoy being part of the whole thing. It would be quite the story to tell his father-in-law.”

  “You probably have the right of it,” Marcus said.

  “You boys enjoy that,” Neysa said. “I will catch up with you later in the day.”

  “Oh?” I asked.

  “I’m going shopping,” Neysa said with a smile. “Last time I was here I had little money. This time, I’ll just leave with little.”

  On our way out of the inn, I penned a letter to Hobart and left it with the old man behind the desk. He perched on his chair like an owl, his head tilted to the side and his eyes enormous through his thick lenses. He said he knew of the estate that Hobart now called home and would have it delivered. He assured me it was a large house. In Morwynne, all buildings were large, so I wondered at how large the estate would need to be to earn that distinction.

  Once on the street, we parted ways with Neysa. “You’d be an idiot not to make a move,” Marcus said, looking at Neysa walk away. She looked back and smiled at me. Perhaps at both of us, but I preferred to think it was at me.

  “I know,” I said. “It’s just… I’ve never really done this sort of thing before. Oh, I courted a few girls when I was young. But things were different back home. Children were promised to each other through family arrangements.”

  “How boring,” Marcus said.

  I shrugged. “Made it easier in a lot of ways.”

  “But where is the passion?” Marcus asked. “Where is the excitement of the chase? Where is the anxious wondering?” We started walking toward the palace gates. “Were you promised to anyone?” Marcus asked.

  I nodded. “I was. Once. To the daughter of one of the tribal leaders at the northern border of Ubrain. Not far from the Great Oasis, actually.”

  “What happened?” Marcus asked.

  “War happened. One of the rival tribes won a battle, and their chief took my future bride as his own.”

  “Well, that sucks,” Marcus said.

  I shrugged. “I only saw her once. Honestly, I felt relieved. She was only eight at the time, and I thirteen. My father was fuming, though. But I’m scared of taking things further with Neysa,” I admitted. Scared was an understatement. I was petrified. Part of me was as yet unsure if what we had could be more than friendship. Or, for that matter, if she was interested in me in that way. Sure, there were what could be construed as hints, and the occasional flirting. But Neysa was an odd girl, and I did not understand her well enough to be sure. Woman were an unknown race to me, and she was an unusual example of that race. “I really don’t understand women.”

  Marcus laug
hed. “Saul, women are not made to be understood. They are made to be loved and adored.” His pace slowed as we walked until he stopped, a frown wrinkling his face. “Promise me you won’t put her under your control?”

  I clenched my fists, and it was only with a great measure of self-control that I kept myself from punching him in the face. “Fuck off,” I said through clenched teeth, turned and walked away. He was seriously getting on my nerves, and I very much regretted doing him the courtesy of releasing him of his bond. That it may never have existed was quite beside the point.

  He caught up with me and kept pace, but no apology was forthcoming. Fortunately, it was a long walk, and tempers had settled by the time we reached the palace.

  The palace gate was a formidable thing of iron, and it towered over us. It was only when you looked through the bars to the enormous palace beyond that its scale seemed reasonable. Two legionnaires walked forward and slammed the butt of their spears down into the ground in unison. A third man walked up just behind them, his armor more decorative than the others, a thick cape hanging from his shoulders.

  “State your business,” the centurion said.

  “We are the proprietors of the Bleeding Wolf,” I said. “We are supplying the ale for this year’s Harvest Festival. We arrived last night and want to make sure our barrels are properly stored.”

  “You can count on the emperor’s keepers of the cellar to do their job,” the centurion said.

  “Have you had our ale?” I asked.

  “I have. It is a fine ale.”

  “Would you say it is much better than other ales you have had?”

  “I would. What is your meaning?”

  “It’s much better because we take great care with the selection of our ingredients, and with each step of the production. We also make sure that it is transported and stored correctly.” Well, Malvin made sure of that, but this man did not need to know that. “What use is it to spend that much effort in creating our fine ale if it gets ruined after the fact? Besides, what do you think would happen to us if the emperor and his guests find our ale wanting?”