The Sleeping King (41 page)

Will became so absorbed in learning the twist and flex trick that he momentarily forgot where they were and the stakes at risk.

“Got the hang of it?” the stranger murmured.

“Aye. Let's do it,” Will replied jauntily.

“Not so brave, lad. This night calls for caution.” He added wryly, “Subtlety.” He glanced out into the square and then back at Will. “Remember this. Bravery is not always the best course of action. Patience, prudence, and cunning are also virtues.”

Will nodded, perplexed at the teacher-like tone the man had taken with him. “Right then. On with the manacles.”

Will fancied he caught a flash of white inside the hood as if the stranger smiled. But then the cold metal bracelets clasped around Will's wrists and the moment was at hand to stroll forth among all those soldiers.
Slave-like. Act slave-like
. As the stranger attached a short rope to the manacles by which to lead him, Will couldn't suppress a shudder.

They stepped out of the alley.

Immediately the nearest set of guards came to attention and one of them stepped into their path. “Who goes there?”

“An Imperial Slaver on official business!” Will's companion snarled. “Who dares stand in my way?” The cloaked stranger straightened to his full height, seeming to gain several inches in height and breadth all of a sudden. He cut an imposing, if not downright intimidating, figure towering over the tallest soldier by a good hand span.

The soldier backed away hastily. Will's companion gave a sharp yank at the rope. Will stumbled forward and went down to his knees.

“Get up, you lazy cur!” his captor snapped.

The soldiers laughed as Will climbed to his feet awkwardly without the use of his hands. He'd torn one knee of his pants, and cold mud slid down his shin as the rope yanked once more. This time he was ready for it, though, and managed to keep his feet. The stranger's long strides carried him past the Slaver's Guild so quickly Will had to jog every few steps to keep up.

A voice called from behind them, “Oi there! I thought you said you was on Slaver's Guild business.”

The stranger stopped so fast Will ran into him from behind. It earned him a sharp elbow to the ribs and another snapped admonition, this time to watch where he went. Will doubled over in pain. Carrying the act a little far, wasn't the guy?

The stranger turned deliberately. Stared down the soldiers before enunciating clearly, “This slave is sick. I'm taking him to the Heart to get him cured so I can sell him. Have you got a problem with that?”

On cue, since he was already bent over, Will made a heaving sound. It was not entirely an act. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the soldiers leap back.

“Uhh, right. We'll be letting you get on with it, then. Don' wan' no contagion spreading through the city.”

Without deigning to reply, Will's companion whirled and strode onward, dragging Will along behind him like a lamb on a leash. They passed down several side streets and emerged into another square, this one dominated by the giant, whitewashed Heart building with its jaunty red and yellow trim. A red heart was painted dead center on the front door, five straight red points and five curved yellow sun rays arrayed around it.

The cloaked man took off his glove to pound on the door, and Will stared in disbelief at the coal black skin of his temporary captor. Was he a nulvari? One of the fabled dark elves of Under Urth? The glove slipped back on, and the black-on-black flesh disappeared.

A healer opened the portal, peering out into the night. “We are not dispensing potions to purify blood from the effects of liquor tonight owing to excessive demand. Come back on the morrow if you've a severe headache and we'll give you a powder to ease the ache in your skull.” The door started to close.

“Hold,” the cloaked man said with unmistakable authority. “I come on other business. Tell the High Matriarch a friend calls.”

“How did you know she is here? She has only arrived within the hour!”

“Just give her my message!” the nulvari snapped.

“And what is that friend's name?”

“Give her this.” The stranger held out his fist and Will glimpsed a brief, metallic flash but did not see what object was contained within the grip. A ring mayhap? Or a token of some kind?

It was no more than a minute until the healer was back at the door. “One moment, please. I must drop the shield.”

“Be quick about it. This is no night to have your wizard's lockdown,” the stranger admonished.

“Enter,” the healer directed from out of sight.

Will followed the stranger inside the Heart chapter house. It looked much like the Castlegate Falls Heart common room at a glance, albeit less threadbare. A common room dominated the ground floor, and several people wearing the Heart's white tabards ranged around it tending to people in various stages of injury and healing.

These sorts of magics were foreign to Will, and he watched in fascination as a mage worked, a glow trickling from both his hands where they lay on a man's clearly broken forearm. The patient moaned and writhed a bit but didn't seem to be in unbearable pain as the bones were being knit back together

The cloaked stranger murmured, “You may release the manacles.”

Will did so with alacrity. He was roundly sick of being hauled around like a piece of meat. That was enough of slavery for him, thanks be.

Another flash of white indicated the stranger had smiled deep within his cloak. “Disliked shackles, did you? Never forget what they feel like.”

“Yes, Master,” Will said with a bite of sarcasm.

His companion's head whipped in Will's direction.
What?
What had he said to merit such a reaction? After all, the fellow was preaching at him like a schoolmaster.

The healer who'd let them in returned. “Follow me. High Matriarch Lenora is waiting for you.”

Stars!
Who was this cloaked man he'd taken up with to merit an instant audience with the highest-ranking healer in the entire colony, and late at night at that? Not to mention the nulvari had faced down the soldiers in Slaver's Square as if he were the governor himself.

Will followed the men upstairs, a few guttering candles in sconces lighting their way. Their Heart guide knocked on an age-blackened door.

“Enter!” The female voice was warm. Pleasant. But strong. And it turned out to belong to a human woman with blue, twinkling eyes and dark hair mussed as if she tugged at it often.

Will's companion stepped forward, his black cloak billowing like the wings of night itself. He pushed his hood back to reveal a shock of brilliant red hair in stark contrast to his midnight black complexion.
Nulvari
. Will stared at the elf. His kind were exceedingly rare in these parts. At least aboveground.

The High Matriarch cried out in obvious pleasure, “Selea. Welcome! And who have we here?” She had spotted Will.

For his part, Will gaped in shock.
Selea? Could it be?
Was this the man his father had named as one of his companions on his quest to find the Sleeping King? An assassin? What in stars' name had his father been doing keeping company with one such as this? Not to mention this cold stranger hardly struck Will as the type to go haring off across hill and dale in search of some mythic sleeping king. The more he learned of his father, the more questions piled up about him.

If only Ty were alive to explain all of this. To tell Will everything. He missed his parents almost more than he could bear at times. He would even be glad for his father's stern visage and frequent criticisms if Ty were but alive to deliver them.

Selea spoke, interrupting Will's despondent thoughts. “I bring you a lad in need of healing and a safe place to spend the night.”

He really wished they'd all quit referring to him as a lad, or boy, or youngling.

“Is he in trouble with the law?” Lenora asked shrewdly.

“Not that I know of.” The elf fixed his sinister gaze on Will. “Are the authorities looking for you?”

“Nobody even knows my name,” Will answered carefully. He wasn't exactly sure where a lynch mob featuring the Celestial Order of the Dragon and the Mage's Guildmaster ranked on the scale of official or unofficial, but he didn't particularly feel like asking.

The matriarch shot him a penetrating look. “I hear evasion in your voice. But given the company you arrived in, I will take your word at face value for now.” Her voice and expression abruptly waxed serious. “Know, however, that I will not allow you to abuse the sanctity of this house and its special status within the Empire. We do not harbor criminals.”

Will frowned. He knew little of the Heart. “What special status?”

The healer smiled warmly once more. “That question requires a very long answer. Suffice it to say that the House of the Healing Heart enjoys a certain … standing … in the Empire.”

“How did that come to be?” Will asked, ever curious.

“An equally long answer. Another time perhaps.” She turned back to the dark elf. “What danger follows this young man that you bring him to me?”

Selea shrugged. “I cannot say for certain. An old acquaintance asked me to look after him.”

Who in Dupree knew of him to ask this strange man to take care of him? Aurelius? But he and his knight had tried to kill Will—

Of a sudden Selea's comments about how to kill him subtly took on new and alarming significance. The elf had already gained his trust and brought him to trustworthy people!

“Why you? And why this boy?” Lenora demanded bluntly.

“Rumors and portents,” the nulvari answered vaguely.

“What's this?” the matriarch blurted, startled. “What portents?”

“Mostly mumbo jumbo. But so many seers are reporting similar visions and prophecies that there may be some small value in listening to them.”

The matriarch's blue eyes twinkled. “Yon boy looks like a simple street urchin to me. A sick, hungry, tired, and filthy one. Hardly the stuff of portents and prophecies, old man.”

Old man?
Will glanced sidelong at the nulvari. He certainly didn't move like an aged person.

“Who gives these prophecies of yours?”

Selea shrugged. “I am not at liberty to say.”

Lenora looked over at Will with renewed interest. “Well then. I guess you're spending the night here, young man.”

“Thank you.” He gave the pair the short, formal bow that his mother had taught him.

The nulvari startled Will by returning the bow courteously, as elven etiquette dictated.

Lenora waved off the formality. “So tell me. Who is out to harm you?”

Perhaps it was the exchange of bows that put him in mind of it, but an evasive response born of inspiration that was purely his mother's smooth social skills struck Will. He answered lightly, “My mother, I should think. When she realizes I have not returned home this night, she'll grab up the nearest frying pan and come looking for me with murder on her mind.”

Lenora chuckled while a dagger of white-hot grief shot through Will's gut. If only she were alive to do such a thing, he'd gladly let her catch him.

The matriarch turned back to the nulvari. “What does the oracle speak of?”

“These lands lie at a crossroads. Great events come together to create a crisis. A long quest nears completion, and it shall lead to death.”

Will jolted. Surely the prophets did not speak of his quest! He was done with all of that. He just wanted to get this stupid piece of wood unstuck from his chest and go home. No heroics for him, no sir.

Lenora asked sharply, “Has the governor gotten wind of this?”

Selea answered dryly, “I doubt the governor pays heed to any prophecy. He believes he has complete control of all that occurs on Haelos.”

The High Matriarch shook her head. “Arrogance has been the downfall of the great before, and it shall be again.” She led the way back to the common room. On the way down the dark stairs, Selea hung back a little, blocking Will from joining the matriarch ahead of them.

Will took the opportunity to whisper quickly to the nulvari, “You knew my father.”

“Did I?” Selea asked blandly. “I know a great many people.”

Urgently, sensing he had little time to banter with this elf, Will asked, “Where would you look if you sought a sleeping king?”

Selea stumbled and jerked himself upright with a quiet curse. “I'd look in his bed, boy.”

“Where would you tell the son of Tiberius De'Vir to look?”

“Any De'Vir would know to search in the heart of the Forest of Thorns for both king and crown. But the De'Vir's are dead.” He moved away from Will rapidly, pulling up his hood as he hurried down the stairs, effectively concealing his face and race once more.

When they arrived in the common room, Will thanked Selea for his safe escort and got back a single terse nod and the distinct impression that the fellow would rather not have Will bow to him again in the elven fashion in this public venue. Likewise, the assassin gave him no more chance to mention his father or ask questions.

As quickly as he'd appeared to Will before, Selea slipped out into the night and disappeared.
Probably was off to find himself one of the poor sods named on his writs and kill him. Could the Heart interfere in an Assassin's Guild matter?
Will was tempted to find out and tell Lenora of the writs he'd seen delivered earlier, except some small kernel of a wish to survive held him back.

*   *   *

Selea hurried through the night feeling as if a ghost breathed down his neck. Depths below, Tiberius's boy was just like him. Impatient, aggressive, confident to a fault. Quick-witted, though. And eager. Perhaps Aurelius's assessment of the lad was not so far wrong. The solinari thought there was a chance the lad could pick up the quest where his father had left off. Maybe even complete it. Still, the boy was barely off his mother's apron strings.