The Sleeping King (40 page)

Will hesitated for an instant, but the shadowy figure glided unerringly to his hiding place and loomed above him, waiting. Menace wafted off the figure like vapor curling off ice.
Dead. I am dead
. He'd survived a Boki attack and a homicidal guildmaster, but there would be no escape from this faceless assassin.

Surreptitiously, Will unbuttoned the loop holding his dagger down. And there was always his uncertain magic. Pitiful protection against the danger emanating from the tall form before him. Reluctantly, he stood.

“How much did you hear?” a half-whispered rasp demanded.

“Nothing,” Will replied nervously.

“You lie.” A pause. “But I don't suppose it matters. Anton's soldiers will kill you long before they stop to question you on who or what you've seen.”

Maybe it was fatigue that made him reckless. Or maybe he was just too sick to have a care for his well-being. Will blurted, “Why don't you just kill me here and now? Then I can't carry any tales.”

The tall form visibly recoiled. “I have no writ of execution for you. You are perfectly safe with me until I get one … or until you threaten me and my … associates.”

A delicate way of putting it.
Will replied carefully, “Truly, sir. I only heard a few snippets, and they made little sense.”

An almost soundless chuckle. “Now that was honestly said.”

Silence descended upon the alley. Faint sounds drifted to them on the night air of shouting in the distance. A ruckus of some kind, but far away.

“You must get off the street,” the stranger announced.

“Actually, I was thinking the same thing. If you know a place where I can go, I'll gladly avail myself of it.”

“You look sick. The Heart is the destination for you, methinks.”

Hope flickered in his breast. Was it possible that this menacing stranger would take him exactly where he wanted to go? Careful not to sound too eager, he replied, “Actually, I do not feel well.”

“Come, youngling.”

Youngling?
That was an elven term. Was this person an elf then? Or was he just using the word to throw Will off?

The cloaked figure continued, “We must go. Now.” His voice dropped into a bare whisper. “Evil comes this way.”

A chill snaked its way down Will's spine. The dire warning had a prophetic ring about it. “What sort of evil?” he breathed.

“Pray you never learn of it firsthand. But I fear that will not be your fate—for I believe it comes for you.”

Evil? Coming for him? Will had no more time to wonder what his impromptu companion meant, for the man froze abruptly.

The hooded figure breathed, “Get down.”

Will dropped into a crouch, easing back into his original hidey-hole while the stranger swept past him and into a doorway across from Will's position. The man's black cloak blended seamlessly into the shadows. Will was startled at how totally the tall stranger disappeared. One moment he was there, and the next he wasn't. Had Will not seen him hide in that alcove, he'd never have known the man was there. It was uncanny. And, frankly, unnerving.

A pair of soldiers turned into the alley from the nearest end, walking and talking noisily. “… see the look on 'is face when that crone whacked 'is knees wit' 'er broom?”

The second soldier guffawed as the pair strode past Will and the cloaked stranger's position. “Bet the old witch won' do that again. 'E laid her flat, 'e did.”

The two soldiers swaggered on down the alley, laughing. They passed no more than an arm's length from the cloaked man and never saw him. Will let out a relieved breath as the soldiers rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

The stranger materialized out of the shadows like some sort of specter. “Let us make haste to the Heart.”

He probably shouldn't follow the cloaked man like a lamb to the slaughter, but his mind was so fuzzy he could think of nothing else to do. Besides, he got the distinct impression it would be the last foolish thing he ever did to cross this man.

They made their cautious way across Dupree over the next half hour, easing from shadow to shadow, pausing often to listen for approaching soldiers. The city was crawling with them, and the only townspeople risking crossing the army's path this eve were being as furtive as Will and his secretive guide. The way the stranger avoided detection bordered on unnatural.

After giving him a strict order not to move from his current hiding spot, the stranger left him in a dark shadow and slipped around a corner. Several minutes passed and Will's curiosity got the better of him. He crouched low to peek around the corner of a building. Great flying dragons, it was a guild square! With soldiers lounging at even intervals all around the open space.

He spied out the guild hall's trim and then fervently wished he hadn't. He was plastered against the outer wall of the Slaver's Guild. Had he just handed himself over to an Imperial Slaver?

*   *   *

Syreena Wingblade reveled in the stiff breeze ruffling the white feathers that covered her scalp where humans would have hair. An urge to spread her arms and fly nearly overcame her. Not that avarians could actually fly. She could soar for a short period of time and even land lightly out of it, but the peregrine falcon portion of her spirit still longed for true flight.

“You have everything you need for your journey, Lady Wingblade?”

She turned to the handsome kindari who had been so courteous to her since she arrived in the Imperial Seat. On behalf of the Queen of Quantaine, Talissar had lent her rooms within the queen's quarters, and he'd even provided a carriage and escort for her down to the docks and the Black Ship
Courageous
. Not that she, as an Imperial noble, needed protection. Who would dare to harm her and incur the wrath of the Empire, particularly at the foot of the Seat of Eternity itself?

A sailor cried a debarkation warning, and Talissar murmured, “Safe journey to you, then, my lady.”

Strange journey, more like it. As far as she could tell, she was being posted to Dupree to be some sort of official observer. Of whom she knew not, although she could guess. The governor, Anton Constantine, had a dodgy reputation in Koth. He had an even dodgier reputation in their mutual home kingdom of Culdroone. In fact, her family had been destroyed by the very cabal Anton's family was rumored to control, the Coil. It had been her family's debt to the Coil that landed her in indentured servitude.

Although she supposed she should hold no grudges given how her life had worked out. Her indenture contract had been purchased by a minor noble so she could be a companion to his daughter. Saving him and his daughter from a bandit attack had earned her freedom and enough recognition to be appointed steward to a young ogre chieftain. She'd helped him ascend his nation's throne and ultimately earned her noble title. And here she was, on her way to monitor a Coil scion. Odd how her life had come round full circle. She half-suspected that someone or some group had pulled strings to get her sent here.

For whom she was supposed to observe she knew not. Her guess was the Council of Wind, a secret avarian group. Regardless of who'd maneuvered her over here, undoubtedly her purpose was supposed to be to observe Anton Constantine. Despite being effectively banished to Haelos far away from court, he was nonetheless a powerful player in Kothite politics—and not just for his Coil ties. His wealth was rumored to be immense, as were the untapped resources of this young colony on a giant, largely unexplored continent.

The efficiency with which the ship's crew cast off and got under way impressed her. They did not hoist sails, as close to the mountains as they were; the winds swirled far too unpredictably in this valley for safe sailing. Rather, they relied on water elementals to propel the ship forward for now. She expected that, if the wind didn't do the job once they reached the open sea, air elementals would be called to fill the sails and propel the Black Ship across the mighty Abyssmal Sea with all due haste. The Merr who controlled the undersea realms had never submitted to Koth and were rumored to have chased the Empire out of their watery domain in no uncertain terms. It was not wise to tarry overlong upon Merr waters.

Talissar had mentioned that the journey to Haelos should take three months, plus or minus, depending on the weather and winds. She hoped to spend that time learning more about the Black Ships and their awesome capabilities. She knew they contained the finest technology the Empire had acquired, but from whence it came was a closely guarded secret she secretly hoped to unravel.

The
Courageous'
s captain, Lord Captain Kodo, had invited the ship's guests to a welcoming dinner that evening. Perhaps he would tell her more of his vessel then. In the meantime, she had brought a book with her to pass the time. A history of Dupree. Or at least as much of a history as the Emperor wished for his subjects to know of it. Such was the power of the Kothite Empire. Nothing had preceded it, and nothing would ever follow it. The Kothites were truly eternal.

Sometimes she wondered idly what life might have been like if there was a “before Koth.” Would there have been freedom of thought? Independence? Choice? Or would those concepts have been as foreign then as they were now?

Mayhap recently colonized Dupree would shed some light on the mystery. Haelos had only been discovered and brought under the Emperor's fist less than two centuries ago. With a natural-born historian's eagerness, she turned her gaze to the north.

*   *   *

A powerful hand slapped over Will's mouth, stifling his yelp of startlement, yanking him back against a tall, lean body that felt made of living iron. “I told you to stay put.”

Panicked, Will took a deep breath to slam the cloaked man with all the magic he had.

“Power down, boy,” the stranger bit out. “You will draw attention we can ill afford. Have patience. We are nearly to safety. But first we must pass these slavers.”

The very lack of concern in the man's voice was all that kept Will from blasting him. What did this man know about magic that Will didn't? Obviously, he had some defense against it that made him oblivious to it.

Will's terror surged again, however, at the man's next words. “Hold out your wrists so I can put these manacles on you.”

“No!”

“Keep your voice down!” the stranger snapped.

“I will not let you handcuff me and lead me to the Slaver's Guild like a witless sheep!”

“I'm taking you to the Heart, which is in the next square over, and past those guards is the quickest route to get there. The manacles are a ruse to get past them.” He added dryly, “Somehow, I think I'll pass better for a slaver and you a potential slave rather than the other way round.”

Will stared into the black void of the hood doubtfully. He didn't trust this assassin for a second.

Apparently, Will's reservations must have shown in his eyes, for the stranger murmured, “If I meant to kill you, I would not be so unsubtle as to leap upon you here and now and slit your throat.”

“Unsubtle?”

The tall man didn't answer, but a distinct aura of exasperation rolled off his silhouetted form. And for some reason, Will took comfort from it. It wasn't the emotion of a murderer or an avaricious slaver. He threw caution to the winds and asked, “How would you kill me if you were being subtle?”

“A bold question, boy.”

In for a copper, in for a gold. “Too bold for you to answer honestly?”

The stranger made a sound almost like choked laughter, but his answer, when it came, was delivered in a silky tone a man might use to seduce a beautiful woman. “If I wished to kill you subtly, I would appear to help you. Gain your trust. Turn you over to other apparently trustworthy people, who might or might not realize they were doing my work. I would maneuver them wittingly or unwittingly into leading you into a trap. The sort of trap that, when it killed you, all who heard of it would know it to be an unfortunate accident. No questions, no suspicions, no associations or trail of blame that could possibly lead back to me.”

The assassin spoke of murder as reverently as if it were the highest of art forms, and he a master practitioner. His words and demeanor sent chills down Will's spine.

The stranger said lightly, “The city is crawling with soldiers this night. If I were to kill you now, your body would be discovered quickly and a hunt for your killer initiated. It would make for an … inconvenient … getaway. If, indeed, I had decided to kill you, your death would be inevitable. I would have no need to be in a hurry about it.”

Will believed without question that this man could do as he said. Something the assassin had said did pique Will's curiosity, however. Why would a manhunt be initiated for anyone who killed him? He was a no-account youth from the hinterlands. To the authorities, his life was less than meaningless. Certainly not cause for a manhunt. Unless something had happened regarding him and his news of the Boki attack that he was not aware of—

“Is there news this evening?” Will asked cautiously.

His companion went stock-still. “What do you mean?”

“I was merely curious,” he replied hastily. “A great many soldiers seem to be out and about.”

The cloak lifted slightly as if the stranger shrugged. “All the more reason to get you off the street.” He held out the manacles once more. “I swear upon my word of honor, I will not lock these. Look.” The stranger attached the metal bracelet around his own black-gloved wrist and seemed to snap it shut. “Twist your wrist, so, and it pops open.”

Clever.
“Are those trick manacles?” Will asked.

“No, they're real. It's all in half-latching them. If someone ever cuffs you, turn your wrist sideways as the bracelet is locked, and the latch may only partially catch. Hold out just one wrist. I'll show you.”