1 State of Grace (24 page)

Chapter 29: Ravager and Starfellow

(Seven Hours, Thirty-three Minutes before Revelation Day)

May Honeyflower hurried back to the negotiations, her head in a whirl. She couldn’t believe she let Wolf kiss her. What was she thinking?

She was thinking he was very attractive for a human, and he was trying very hard to fight for Alfar. She supposed he had selfish reasons for doing so. After all, it was in Urland’s best interest to preserve the peace in Alfar, but she sensed a passion in Wolf Dasher she had detected in no other human she’d met. For whatever reason, he
cared
.

That moved her. And again, he was attractive. His looks, his passion for the cause, and his unconventional approach to everything moved her. Perhaps if they survived whatever Silverleaf was up to, there would be an opportunity for more than a kiss.

For now, though, she needed to focus. Silverleaf’s motives for destroying Wolf’s credibility were impure. She didn’t know what he was up to, but she was determined to find out.

She hadn’t made it very far, when she spied Ravager walking in a direction that would take him out of the palace. For a moment, she hesitated. She really needed to get back to the negotiations to see what Silverleaf was doing in Wolf’s absence. But she knew Ravager was somehow key to the ambassador’s plans. She’d caught the two of them plotting less than an hour before. On a hunch, she altered her strategy. She waited until Ravager was well down the corridor, and then she turned and followed him.

As she suspected, he left the palace. She followed at a discreet distance.

He led her into the depths of Al-Adan. The spires of the palace and the temples gave way gradually to large homes and then to wealthy businesses, and finally to small, squalid neighborhoods.

He did not take a direct route. Ravager was a Phrygian Shadow, and he was trained to avoid detection. He took a number of side streets, and twice he doubled back on his route. He was not easy to follow. Once, she had to duck into a shop, to avoid him seeing her. She let him get almost out of sight before picking up her pursuit again.

After what seemed like an hour, he’d made his way to the poorest part of Al-Adan. The buildings looked as exhausted and as dirty as the people. They listed to one side or the other, threatening to collapse at the first sign of a strong wind. The air was hot and stale and foul. It reeked of refuse and despondency. The people here were poor and desperate. It was one of the most lawless parts of the city and was frequently home to sectarian violence. Her uniform was drawing attention – too much attention. Everyone stared at her, and some elves seemed to threaten her with violence just with a look. She couldn’t continue like this.

Fortunately, Ravager had brought her to a market. It was a poor one. The housewares were crudely made, and the food looked unhealthy. The fruit was just the right side of rotten. May’s heart went out to these people. This was not the life Frey or God intended for them.

Still, it gave her an opportunity. A merchant was selling robes. She bought the ugliest one he had. It was rough and uncomfortable, and the seller looked at her suspiciously when she bought it. He happily accepted her money, though. She didn’t barter with him. She just paid the outrageous price he demanded.

As she put the rude garment on to cover her uniform, she was afforded an additional distraction. A patrol of Urlish soldiers passed through the market. They marched with the simple arrogance of authority. Their eyes flicked back and forth, searching for trouble without ever looking
at
one of the elves. They didn’t see people here – only potential terrorists.

The crowd scurried quickly out of their way and let them pass unmolested. May took the opportunity to put on the robe while everyone else was watching the soldiers. When they were gone, business resumed as though they hadn’t been there at all.

Safely disguised, she continued her pursuit of Ravager. She nearly lost him while she was making her purchase, but, the arrival of the Urlish patrol had caused him trouble. He’d had to hide, waiting for them to move on. It would have been suspicious for a human who wasn’t a soldier to be in this part of Al-Adan.

She was also aided by the crowds. The streets may have been overcrowded, making it hard to keep track of him, but the throng also slowed his progress. She saw him duck into a muddy hut about a hundred yards in front of her. With him unable to look back and see her, she quickened her pace, elbowing her way through the crowd until she arrived at the place he’d entered.

An elf stood guard outside the door. He wore a dirty, brown tunic with the hood pulled up and black leggings that were stained with dried mud. His boots were in ill repair and looked as though they might hurt his feet. He wore a sword that looked too big for him on his right hip, and he stood with his arms crossed, scowling at the world.

Before disentangling herself from the crowd, May pulled a knife from her belt beneath her robe. Then she moved out of the throng towards the elf at the door. He took a step towards her and drew his sword. He didn’t seem to have any difficulty wielding it despite its size.

He opened his mouth to warn her off. She made sure he never got a word out. She flung the knife at him, and it struck home in his throat before he even saw her hand move. He dropped his sword and clutched at his neck.

May moved quickly. She rushed to him, caught him as he was about to sink, and twisted the knife to make certain he wouldn’t be doing anything else in this life. Let God judge him and decide if we was worthy of Heaven or not.

She leaned him up against the wall of the hut. When she was sure he was dead, she went to the door and listened. Inside a conversation was taking place in Phrygian.

“We have prepared passes for your men,” Ravager was saying. “That will get them into the temple. Once you are inside, your men will be free to act. Just make certain your timing is right.”

“I am not a fool, Mr. Krilenko,” another voice said. “This is not the first operation we have conducted.”

“But it is the most important, and not all of your operations have been successful,” Ravager said.

“We had this discussion yesterday, Mr. Krilenko,” the other person said. “I assure you everything will proceed as planned. But what of the aftermath? What happens then?”

“You needn’t worry about that, Comrade Starfellow,” Ravager said. “Our mutual benefactor has made all the proper arrangements. Tomorrow, Alfar will be under a new regime that holds Shendali principles dear. I daresay your comrades in Jifan will be surprised at the results.”

Starfellow? Ravager was conversing with Mustique Starfellow? May’s heart stopped.

“Let us hope so, Mr. Krilenko,” Starfellow said. “The Sons of Frey have been waiting a long time for this day. It will be good to see a government that is in line with the true principles of Shendal.”

Just then the guard May killed fell over with a thud. She said a quick prayer to Frey that it wouldn’t be heard inside. It wasn’t answered.

“What was that?” Starfellow said.

May turned and ran. She could learn nothing more here, and she needed to share her findings with Wolf. Moreover, she didn’t want the gruesome fate that awaited Ravager’s victims.

She’d only taken a few steps when the door flew open and Ravager emerged. He spotted her immediately.

“A spy!” he cried and launched himself in pursuit.

May dove into the crowd, ducking down and trying to thread her way through them. She was moving against the flow of traffic, which not only slowed her, but made it easier for Ravager to spot her.

Throwing elbows wildly to get people out of her way, she moved desperately up the street. Ravager pursued her. He too knocked elves out of his way in his bid to get close to her.

This wasn’t working. She’d never get away from him this way. At the first opportunity, she ducked out of the crowd and down a side street. Then she sprinted as fast as she could.

Ravager wasn’t fooled. He followed her. As soon as he was clear of the crowd, he flung one of his deadly balls of Shadow at her. It missed and devoured a rug that was hanging from a door.

He raced after her. Encumbered as she was by the robe she wore to conceal her identity, he was able to close the distance. She turned down another street just as another black ball of death zoomed past her and collided with a wall.

May wished she had her crossbow. It was her best weapon. But, in her haste to pursue Ravager, she’d left it at the palace. Besides, she’d never be able to get it out and loaded in time under the circumstances.

No, her only hope was to get away. She turned down another street and ran into another throng. She cursed and briefly looked back to see if she could turn around, but it was no use. Ravager had already rounded the corner.

When he spotted her, a cruel grin of pleasure flashed onto his face. He raised his hand and formed another of his Shadow weapons. May pushed into the crowd as he let it go.

The vile creature bounced once and then struck a woman with her back to him. She screamed as it began ravening. The crowd panicked and started moving off in every direction. May ducked into a merchant tent and hid herself behind the tables of sickly looking dates.

Ravager approached his victim slowly. He stood over her looking satisfied. May was confused. Why would he care about some innocent woman who got in the way? But then she noticed the poor woman was wearing a robe exactly like May’s. By chance, he’d killed a woman who was dressed like her, and he thought he’d gotten the right person.

He cursed at her and spit on her body. Then he looked around to make certain no one would cause any further trouble. He had nothing to fear. Everyone cowered out of the way. Satisfied with his work, Ravager turned and went back the way he came. May waited until he was well out of sight before moving.

She grieved for the woman who had unwittingly given her life to save May’s. She swore she was going to make Silverleaf pay for it.

As soon as she thought it was safe, she left. She had much to tell Wolf, and she wanted out of this place before more trouble ensued.

Silverleaf was clearly in league with the Sons of Frey. Ravager had made direct contact with Starfellow and had conveyed instructions for an operation from Silverleaf. She had enough to have his head for treason, and she fully intended to get it.

Chapter 30: Silverleaf

(Five Hours, Twenty-four Minutes before Revelation Day)

When he arrived at Hammerdown Prison, Wolf was still stinging from the upbraiding Kenderbrick gave him. When he told her Silverleaf outed him as an atheist, she turned purple. Then she started screaming.

“How could you let something like that slip?” she yelled. “This is one of the most devout peoples on the face of the Earth, and you told the one we’re trying to bring to justice you’re an atheist?”

Wolf cringed as he remembered all the things she said to him. By the time he told her his cover was blown, it was the worst dressing down he’d ever endured in his career. Ordinarily, he was prone to anger when that happened. Today, though, he had nothing to say. She was right. She didn’t have to lay into him the way she did, but she was right, so it didn’t really matter.

He did manage to mention to her that Silverleaf’s plans were for Revelation Day, which began at sundown tonight, so time was short. He instructed her to focus on getting him more information. She didn’t look happy about taking orders from him, but she said she would continue researching the Hand of Destiny to see if it gave any clues.

Then he took the first opportunity to leave for Hammerdown. He didn’t want to wait to see if she would start yelling again.

The prison itself was not as foreboding as its name implied. He imagined a dark, stone fortress, perhaps perched on a precipice. Instead, it was wooden like most of the other structures in Alfar. It looked to have been carved from a gargantuan tree. There were no windows – only a single door that was guarded by two elfin soldiers.

When he arrived, a large patrol of human soldiers marched by. Their faces were hard and serious. None of them concentrated on where they were going. All of their eyes darted from place to place, direction to direction, seeking trouble. They had, Wolf supposed, been hardened by random suicide attacks from enemies who didn’t appear to be such.

Despite their focus, they marched in perfect step and didn’t deviate from their course. Their training was excellent, and Wolf thought they were a credit to his country. Still, he worried about the palpable fear each exhibited.

As they trudged away, he climbed a set of winding stairs to the entrance to the prison. He’d only made it halfway when the guards took note of him and adopted a hostile stance. He hadn’t made it to the top when one of them spoke to him.

“What do you want, Human?” he said. “This is a restricted area.”

“I have papers,” Wolf said. “I’m here to interview a prisoner.”

The guards laughed. “Sure,” the second one said. “On whose authority?”

“Captain May Honeyflower,” Wolf said, trying not to sound smug.

Both guards stopped laughing and looked at each other very seriously. Wolf reached them as they turned back to him.

“Let me see those papers,” the first one said.

Wolf smiled and handed them over. The guard read them carefully.

“An infidel wants to interview a traitor,” he said in Elfin to his companion. “What could he possibly want?” The second guard laughed and threw Wolf a glare.

“That’s none of your business,” Wolf said in Elfin. “You have orders to let me in. Why don’t you just follow them?”

The guards’ eyes grew wide. Then they looked at each other. They clearly weren’t used to encountering humans who could speak their language. Wolf suspected Quincy’s medallion enabled him to do so perfectly and with the proper accent.

“Don’t address me that way, Urlander,” the first guard said. “You’re no one here.”

“My name is Wolf Dasher, Ambassador from Her Majesty’s Government to Alfar,” Wolf said, letting a growl into his voice. “As far as you are concerned, I
am
the queen. Now let me pass, or I will explain to Captain Honeyflower exactly how Her Majesty was treated.”

The guard quailed when Wolf told him who he was. He was perfectly willing to speak roughly to an ordinary human, perhaps even to an Urlish soldier. But in the presence of a diplomat, he knew he’d crossed the line.

“My apologies, Ambassador,” he said. He handed Wolf his papers. “Just bring these to the warden. He’ll arrange for your interview.”

“Thank you,” Wolf said, sounding quite convivial now that he had what he wanted. “I’ll be sure to commend you to the captain.”

The second guard produced a key and unlocked the door for Wolf. Wolf nodded to him as he passed and chose to ignore the sneer the guard gave him. He stepped inside, and the door was quickly shut behind him. He heard the key once again turn in the lock.

Despite the fact there were no windows, the antechamber was perfectly lit. It was more magical light – Wolf’s Shadow Sight was momentarily dazzled by it.

As soon as he recovered, he was able to make out a largely featureless room. It was round, further cementing Wolf’s opinion the prison had been carved from a hollowed-out tree. There was a desk set in the center of the room, and a door behind it on the opposite wall of the one Wolf entered.

He stepped forward to the desk where a gaunt and unhappy-looking elf sat. He regarded Wolf curiously.

“May I help you,” he asked, sounding confused.

“Hello,” Wolf said. “I’m Ambassador Dasher. Captain Honeyflower has arranged an interview for me with Hosni Nightshade.”

The elf, whom Wolf presumed was the warden, continued to stare quizzically. Wolf handed over the papers.

“I have papers authorizing everything,” Wolf said.

The warden stared for a moment longer. Then he looked down at the papers and looked them over as if they were in a foreign language.

“Very well,” he said in a creaky voice. “Follow me.”

He rose smoothly to Wolf’s surprise and turned and seemed to glide over to the door behind his station. Wolf followed him as he produced a key that he turned in the lock. He opened the door, and slid through it as though walking on air.

Through the door lay a staircase that wound upwards. The warden ascended it with a speed that forced Wolf nearly to run to keep up. Periodically, they would pass a landing, at which was a door. Wolf presumed these were the cells. Hammerdown Prison reminded him a little of The Tower back home, where Urland’s most dangerous criminals were confined, often to await execution.

They climbed so many stairs Wolf lost count, and he was breathless when at last they stopped on another landing. The warden looked unaffected by the ascent. He rapped once on the door at which he stopped.

“You have a visitor, Nightshade,” he said in his creaky voice.

Then he produced a key ring, selected a key from about a hundred choices without having to thumb through them, and unlocked the cell door.

“I shall wait one floor down,” he said to Wolf. “When you are finished, call for me, and I will return to relock the cell.”

“Thank you,” Wolf said.

He stepped into the cell. The warden shut it behind him.

He was immediately assaulted by the foul smell of excrement and urine. There were small clumps of hay throughout the tiny hovel, and the cell’s occupant had clearly used some of them as his toilet.

A small lump Wolf assumed must be Hosni Nightshade was huddled in the corner. He was unlike any elf Wolf had yet seen. This person was not gloriously beautiful. He was frail. He looked as though he hadn’t eaten in weeks. His brown skin was slack was on his bones. His hair was long and unkempt. He wore rags that appeared to be rotting off him. He was the most pitiful creature Wolf had ever seen, and Wolf’s heart ached at the sight of him. He knew from experience this was not what an elf should look like, and some part of him was enraged at the thought.

“Mr. Nightshade?” Wolf said. “I’m Ambassador Wolf Dasher from Urland.”

“So?”

The voice was raspy but strong. Hosni Nightshade’s body may have been broken, but Wolf sensed there was still a vibrant spirit within him.

“I was hoping I might speak to you about Sagaius Silverleaf,” Wolf said.

“Sagaius Silverleaf,” Nightshade repeated, his voice filled with disgust. He spat into the grimy hay nearest him. “Sagaius Silverleaf is a traitor.”

“Yes, I know,” Wolf said. “I was hoping you might be able to tell me something about his past that would enable me to prove that.”

For the first time, Nightshade looked at Wolf. His face was gaunt, but his brown eyes were bright. They shone out of two sunken sockets like stars. He looked Wolf over for a moment. Then he unfolded himself and shifted around so he could face his visitor.

“Why would you want to do that?” he said.

“Because I believe he is attempting to harm Alfar,” Wolf answered. “I have reason to believe he will execute whatever plan he has tonight at the Feast of the Revelation.”

“But why would you want to stop him? Why would a human want to save Alfar?”

Wolf swallowed hard. This entire mission had been so emotional for him he struggled to put his thoughts into words.

“Does it matter?” Wolf said.

“Yes.”

Wolf paused. He was going to have to say something to convince Nightshade. The elf may have been a prisoner awaiting execution, but he wasn’t going to cooperate with a human for no reason.

“Because Alfar is worth preserving,” he began, but Nightshade interrupted him.

“Horseshit,” the elf said. “Have you looked around? The land is dying. There is nothing here worth preserving, especially when traitors like Silverleaf are allowed high positions instead of getting the punishment they deserve.”

“Well, that’s the other reason,” Wolf said. “I want to see justice done. Silverleaf has been misrepresenting your government to mine. He has deliberately sabotaged negotiations between our two peoples for his own ends. He is cooperating with enemies of my country.

“And he murdered three people I care about. I want Silverleaf to pay for his crimes. I want to bring him to justice.”

Nightshade said nothing for a moment. He appeared to think about what Wolf said.

“Mr. Nightshade,” Wolf said, “Ambassador Silverleaf is willing to harm anyone who gets in his way. I don’t know what he wants to accomplish, but I know he is cruel and merciless. He killed one of my colleagues. He killed a woman for trying to help me. He killed an innocent man, who happened to be too close to me. He has had you and all of his wartime compatriots condemned for treason and put to death. You are the last of them. Once you’ve been executed there will be no one left who really knows him. Maybe if you help me, I can arrange for a pardon.”

“You can’t help me,” Nightshade said.

“Maybe not,” Wolf replied. “But you can make sure your death isn’t meaningless. You can make sure Silverleaf pays for his treason.”

There was another thoughtful pause. Nightshade was no longer looking at him.

“What do you want to know?” he said at last.

“There’s almost no information on Silverleaf after his capture in the civil war,” Wolf said. “Can you fill in anything for me?”

“His capture changed him,” Nightshade said. “When the
coup
occurred, Silverleaf was outraged. He was strong in his faith, and he believed in the principles of Shendal. But he wasn’t one of those fundamentalists who took control of Eranbul and instituted hard-line law to reflect scriptural principles. He denounced them, saying they had lost Frey’s message and that they were rebelling not just against Alfheim but against God. He called for all elves, Freyalans and Shendalis alike, to oppose them. He personally recruited hundreds, maybe thousands of elves to fight Jifan.

“The Jifanis didn’t care much for that. They branded Silverleaf and any Shendalis who agreed with him as infidels. They declared anyone who opposed their regime as godless, and that included all the Freyalans. They took few prisoners in battle. Most survivors were put to the sword.

“But they reserved special punishments for the instigators – the rabble rousers, as they called them. Those they took prisoner, and they tortured them until they renounced their positions. They forced them to sign confessions apologizing for deliberately leading elves away from God, and they executed them with grace.”

“With grace?”

“Yes. If you signed a confession, you were executed for treason, but you were admitted to Heaven for recanting your sins. Anyone who wasn’t executed with grace was condemned to Hell. At least that’s what they said.”

“And Silverleaf was one of the ‘rabble rousers’ they captured,” Wolf said.

“Correct. They’d been after him for some time. They wanted him especially, and, when they got him, their torturers had a lot of fun.”

“What sorts of things did they do to him?”

“No one knows for sure,” Nightshade replied. “Silverleaf refused to ever talk about it. But they cut off his hand.”

“What?”

“Oh, that was one of their most symbolic punishments,” Nightshade said. “They said the victim had led the people of Alfheim astray. So they took his hand, so he symbolically could not do so again. He had no hand to extend to the people to lead them down the wrong path.”

“But Silverleaf isn’t missing a hand,” Wolf said. “I’ve seen him multiple times.”

“I know,” Nightshade said. “That’s why he had us all arrested and condemned. There was a small group of us – his most trusted friends – who rescued him. We knew what sorts of horrors awaited him in Jifani hands, and we couldn’t bear to let them break him. He was the very icon of the resistance. If they had broken him, gotten him to sign a confession, it would have shattered the spirit of the Alfari forces. It would have been akin to Frey confessing he was a false prophet.