Shadows and Light (13 page)

“What?”

“Myrtea is here.”

Rafael didn’t bother to ask how he knew. “Why now?”

“Perhaps she’s simply impatient, pet. Perhaps she paid one of my servants for information. It doesn’t matter now. She’s here with…four others. No wizards, thankfully, but all High Ones. They’re heading for the great chamber, which is also our escape route.” Xian shook his head. “I underestimated her fixation on you, or at least her hatred of me.”

“What now?”

“Same plan as before, we leave via the roof. We simply have to go through them on our way.”

“Oh, is that all?” Rafael asked, grimacing.

“She isn’t accompanied by assassins, pet, just bodyguards. We’ll be fine.” Xian leaned in and pressed a swift kiss to Rafael’s lips. “Trust me.”

And Rafael did.

The way to the great chamber was clear, the door leading into it wide open. Torches burned dully in their sconces along the hall, casting a subdued light across the marble. Xian went first and Rafael let him, happy for him to manage the confrontation with Myrtea that was inevitably coming. The great chamber was very dim, the low lights indicating that the torches hadn’t been changed for many hours. Myrtea was there, flanked by four others, their demeanor silently menacing.

“Naturally,” Myrtea said. Her closely shaved head tilted with resignation, but there was a hint of anticipation in her expression. “You are sadly sentimental, beloved. Do you know what this defiance will cost you?”

“I know what this intrusion will cost you,” Xian replied. He stood relaxed, but Rafael could see from behind that one of his hands was moving beneath his cloak.

“Not even you can kill four exceptionally trained High Ones before your creature dies. Are you truly willing to spend him in such a manner?”

“As opposed to letting you torture him before the crowd in the council chamber?” His tone was amused. “Yes, what a dilemma.”

“You could have lived,” Myrtea insisted, her distance and reserve dwindling as the anger in her voice grew. “You could have had a second chance. Now you’ll die like a simple criminal, cut down either here or by the council’s orders.”

“Oh,” Xian said softly, “I sincerely doubt that’s how I’ll die.” His covered hand moved fast, flung something forward suddenly, and Rafael recognized the move and averted his eyes just as the flaring white flash bomb exploded into sparks. The High Ones winced in reaction, and Xian attacked.

Rafael hadn’t seen his master fight anyone other than himself since before his banishment, and he paused, just for a moment, to watch him in motion. Xian was incredible. He moved fast and with fluid ease, parrying straightforward broadsword thrusts with his saber as his athame whipped around, slicing through tendons and crippling limbs. He had to disable the bodyguards to get close enough to kill them. They were very good and he was outnumbered, but the odds were rapidly evening out.

Rafael wanted to help, but he knew at this point all he’d be was a distraction, something to avoid as Xian fought. He needed to take advantage of the confusion to open the way to escape. Leaping up, he gripped the thick-linked chains that had held him enraptured and captive so many times in this chamber, and started to climb.

The ceiling was thirty feet high, but Rafael made quick work of the distance. He smoothly drew a throwing knife and used the hilt to shatter the false ceramic ceiling over the trapdoor, just to the right of the heavy fixture holding the chains in place. He threw the bolts that held the metal trapdoor closed, relieved when they opened smoothly. Rafael glanced down, checking that Xian would be out of the line of light, then reached up to push the door away.

A soft thunk in his lower calf distracted him, and the bone-melting pain that followed it unraveled him. Rafael slid down the length of chain, losing his knife, barely able to hold on tight enough to keep from breaking his legs as he collapsed to the floor at the end. Shivering, he reached down and pulled the needle from his leg. Poison. Daeva’s favorite weapon, and clearly preferred by his former mistress as well. The pain was receding but his foot and lower leg were already numb. Rafael looked around the room.

Two of the bodyguards were dead, safely decapitated. One pale, silver-haired head was less than a foot from Rafael’s hand, its stump still oozing sluggishly. Another High One was crawling, down but not completely out. Xian was working to finish the last, but he was cut across the thigh and not moving as fast as he should. He didn’t have time to deal with Myrtea and she was counting on it, focusing her efforts on Rafael. He watched her ready another slim missile. There was no way she could miss—he couldn’t get to his feet fast enough.

Rafael reached over and grabbed the head by its slick silver hair, hoisting it in front of himself as Myrtea cast the needle. The metal penetrated the corpse’s eye, and Rafael smelled a sour odor as toxin suffused the weeping sclera.

He had to be fast now. Rolling awkwardly to his knees, the numbness already nearly to his groin, Rafael looked up at the trapdoor. He gauged the distance and the angle, then hurled the head skyward, praying for a solid impact even as he watched Myrtea’s expression change from focus to fury. She abandoned her needles and lunged toward him, sharp-nailed hands reaching hungrily.

The head hit the trapdoor hard enough to dislodge it partway, and the pure golden light of the sun illuminated half the chamber. It struck Myrtea’s bare hands and head like boiling water and Rafael could hear her skin bubble and crisp even as she fled screaming, her red velvet robes smoking from her partial immolation. Xian was out of the direct path of the rays, but his final opponent, now stumbling and blinded by his own blood, was not. His vocal cords burned away after the first five seconds, which was a blessing for those left to listen to his shrieks of agony. Five seconds after that he was a smoldering heap, and before long there was nothing to mark his existence except his charred clothing.

Rafael was on the edge of the light, and Xian safely reached out and pulled him into shadow without injury. His master’s face was concerned but not afraid. “What’s wrong, pet?”

“She shot me with something. My leg is numb.”

“Ah. Good, she wanted to take you alive. Myrtea uses sowernut paste. It’s a strong paralytic, but not fatal if she hit you low. Drink.” He held out his forearm, where a bone-deep cut was already closing up. “Quickly. It won’t take much.” Rafael pressed his lips to the wound and swallowed what he could, and Xian chuckled. “I was overly optimistic in my earlier assessment about the last time you’d need my blood.”

Rafael was just as glad to have it at this point. The blood of a High One had nearly the healing properties of Erran’s blood, and it sparked through him, bringing feeling back into his dead limb with painful speed. Xian waited another minute, then helped Rafael to his feet.

“All right, pet?”

“Yes. Well enough to climb.”

“You’ll have to be well enough to run too, we can’t stay out in the open too long, especially not with what I’ve got to do.”

Rafael frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Myrtea is alive. She’ll heal and come back with many reinforcements, or not bother to return herself and just send troops. This entire section of the Upper City is going to be swarming with people trying to capture or kill us. We need a distraction.” Xian glanced up at the door. “Fortunately I have one at hand. Once we reach the roof, I’ll trigger the trap, and then we run as hard toward the closest edge of the Upper City as possible. We need to find shadows fast, and we need someplace safe to hide as well. You may have to guide me at the end.”

Because his eyes would be burned out of his skull, he meant. Rafael gritted his teeth and nodded, angry at the very idea of Xian so mutilated, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Their hand was dealt.

Xian smiled slightly. “A fitting end,” he murmured, glancing around at the great chamber that had been the source of so much pain and pleasure for Rafael. “Now, up the chains and open the door all the way. Wait for me on the roof.”

Rafael scrambled a bit for the end of the chain, still unable to jump on his recovering leg, but he managed to pull himself up. The sunlight felt warm and soothing on his face, but he looked down to make sure Xian had fully covered himself before pushing aside the rest of the door. It slid down the slope of the cupola and onto the flat roof with a bang, and Rafael winced at the noise, but there was no help for it. He pulled himself through the opening and turned to watch Xian.

His master climbed easily, carrying one of the guttering torches with him. Once he reached the apex, Xian transferred his grip to the edge of the roof, taking all his weight onto one hand as the other pressed the torch against the fixture holding the chains in place. Rafael watched in shock as the riveted metal suddenly flared with light, like a flash grenade but brighter and moving fast. Thin streams of white fire, equidistant, raced down the walls of the dome, over what Rafael till now would have sworn was solid stone, and suddenly disappeared into the floor. Xian dropped the torch and Rafael helped pull him outside. Xian didn’t speak. He simply took Rafael’s arm and ran.

They leaped from the top of the cupola, landing on their feet on the flat below. In moments they were jumping to the next great house, maneuvering around chimney pipes as they raced against the fire. Rafael didn’t know what was going to happen, but he knew it would be devastating. They were five rooftops away and about to leap again when the dome of Xian’s house exploded.

They landed badly, the shock wave knocking both of them flat on their chests. Xian curled his body over Rafael’s and an instant later pieces of rock began to rain down. A chunk the size of his head struck not a foot from them, and Xian grunted with the impact of several smaller pieces, but after a few moments the rain of detritus was done. Xian moved off him and Rafael looked shakily over his shoulder at the flaming remains of Xian’s home.

“How the fuck did you do that?”

“Later,” Xian said, his voice slightly muffled through the mask. The mask. The sun, right, and it was hotter and brighter than ever. Rafael gathered himself and stood up, and they began running again.

After a minute, Rafael felt Xian take a light grip on his arm. Not a sign to stop, but a sign that he could no longer keep going alone. Rafael grimaced. Xian’s eyes had to be a bloody mess. He kept running, pulling his lover up beside him and helping him navigate the few obstacles left between them and the Lower City. “Almost there,” he whispered.

They followed an aqueduct down, stepping carefully on the mildewed stone until they could jump to one of the city’s dividing walls. Clare was split in half, and that split was more than symbolic. The founding High Ones had done as much as they could to raise themselves above their past lives, and the two cities were separated by three terraced walls and anywhere from fifty to a hundred feet of height. There were gates, of course, the walls were riddled with them, but each one was constantly monitored. It was far better for two fugitives to avoid those busy places, and Rafael had learned the ins and outs of sneaking between the cities as a child. He led Xian carefully along the wall until they reached a place where they could descend in solitude, close to a recessed storm drain.

Rafael drew his lover into the heavy shadows and cupped his face gently. “Are you all right?”

Xian reached up and slowly pulled his mask off. The fabric was thinner over the eyes, and his lids were red and swollen, the edges stuck together with a tacky mélange of blood and lymph. Rafael moaned low in his throat and reached down to dampen the edge of his cloak in one of the pools of water.

“No,” Xian said lowly. “Better just to leave them be, pet. I’ll recover fast enough. A few hours, no more.” He brought one of Rafael’s hands to his lips and kissed it. “Don’t be troubled.”

“If you’re sure…” Rafael said uncertainly. Xian nodded, and he had to be content with that. “Fine. Tell me what happened in the great chamber.”

“I activated my last defense.” Xian sighed, slowly sinking until he was sitting against the cool stone wall. Rafael knelt with him. “One I’ve had in place for half a century now. It was the same rock we grind to make our flash bombs, shaped and hardened in the fashion you observed.”

“That rock doesn’t explode in such a manner.”

“Not in the quantities you’ve seen. I had a stockpile beneath the floor, enough to take out the room, the dome, the house… Probably my neighbors’ houses as well—at least the near ones. That’s where the fire fled to, pet.”

“You’ve known for fifty years you might do this?” Rafael asked, obscurely hurt at the thought that it wasn’t for him alone that Xian would wreak such carnage.

“It all hinged on finding the right motivation, the right set of circumstances,” Xian said with a small smile. “You’re worth far more to me than any house, Rafael, more than anything else in my life. Believe me.”

It was the closest thing to a declaration of love that Rafael had gotten from Xian, and it warmed him to the core. “I do. I love you.”

“My Rafael.” Xian pulled him forward and kissed him, knowing unerringly where his eager lips were. Their embrace was sweet, flavored with exertion and exhaustion and pain, and Rafael reveled in it.

Xian pulled back too soon, ruefully. “I would keep you here with me, pet, but things are moving fast now, and you have friends to care for.”

Of course. Feysal and Mina. “I’ll come back for you soon,” Rafael promised.

“You may not need to. In a few hours my eyes will be healed and I’ll be able to move freely. The shadows are already lengthening, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be fine. See to your friends, but wait until we’re together again to go after Daeva.”

“You don’t trust me to take care of him?” Rafael asked, not too defensively, he hoped.

“I don’t trust him not to emulate his former mistress. Myrtea has surprised me badly several times, Rafael, and I don’t want to make the same mistake with her pupil. Wait for me. Please.”

“I’ll wait,” Rafael said after a moment, although really he wanted nothing more than to hunt Daeva down and cut his throat now, hopefully before he could do any more damage. “Unless I have no choice.”