Shadow's Son (37 page)

"Are you sure you can manage this?" Kit asked.

"I'll meet you on the other side. You remember the plan?"

She gave him a withering look. "I'll be there. Just don't take too
long." Then she was gone.

He attached his grapnel to the line and measured out seven times his
own height. Fortune favored him. The sharp prongs caught on the first try.
Caim pulled the line taut and listened for signs of movement above. After
sixty heartbeats of silence, he began his ascent. Foot by foot he climbed. It
was difficult to find purchase on the slick stone. Several times his feet
slipped and nearly wrenched the cord from his grip, but he held on. At the
top he grabbed hold and hoisted himself onto the curved capstone.

He lay there, heart pounding against the stone as he peeked over the
side. Several large buildings crowded the inner bailey, which was floored
with rectangular blocks of pale gray stone. The old imperial residence,
where the Elector Council now held its sessions, dominated the center.
Flying buttresses radiated out from the main structure like the legs of a
colossal insect. Lofty towers surrounded the great central dome, painted
in gold leaf.

Lesser buildings abutted along the inside of the wall: a barracks and
stables for the Palace Guard on the bailey's east end; on the west side, the
Thurim House. The Thurim had been the body of state elders responsible
for advising the emperors of old. Of course, as one of its first acts after
gaining power the Church abolished the assembly. For many Nimeans, it
remained the singular most heinous misuse of power and was the spark for
rebellious elements like the Azure Hawks. A few cloaked sentries
patrolled the courtyard in pairs, but the majority, it seemed, had taken
Hubert's bait and rushed to the outer walls. Caim prayed they would
remain there. He didn't fancy the idea of running into a patrol of angry
soldiers as he wandered the citadel.

Kit appeared on the wall beside him, her legs dangling over the side.
Not a drop of rain touched her. "Is this as far as you've gotten? You need
to get moving or we'll be here till midsummer."

He stifled an acrid reply. "I count eight down below."

"And four in a guard shack."

"No one up top?"

She shook her head, sending her silver tresses swinging. "I guess
they're afraid of a little rain."

"That's good for us."

Caim unhooked the grapnel and let the line fall to the ground.
Pulling with his arms and pushing with his toes, he slithered along the
top of the wall while the rain beat a tattoo on his back, until he reached
the near corner of the Thurim House.

Caim got to his feet. While Kit levitated beside him, he tried to dry
his hands on his sodden tunic. The Thurim House was an older style of
building, with tall lancet windows, deep ledges, and elaborate fluting;
ideal for climbing, but the edifice rose more than a hundred feet above the
bailey. One slip would mean a quick end to his career.

"Get on with it, will you?" Kit said. "Before daybreak."

Caim shot her a nasty glare as he found his first handholds and started
up. He put his mind on other matters while he climbed. His next problem
was how to find Josey within the confines of the palace. He was counting on
the belief that Ral wouldn't harm her until the last of the riots were put
down and he had firm control of the city. A cold shiver of dread that had
nothing to do with the rain passed through Calm's body as he considered
the idea she might be dead already. In that case, Ral would pay.

Chilled by his thoughts,
Caim didn't realize he had climbed so far
until he reached the ornamental cornice jutting from the edge of the roof.
Teetering on a narrow shelf, he leaned out to grasp the overhang. Then,
with a deep breath and a prayer, he let go with his feet. The palace
grounds spun beneath Caim as he swung out over empty space. The
guards' torches were tiny sparks far below. His side burned like a hot coal
shoved under his skin. With a grunt, he pulled himself over the lip.

He rested on the rooftop to catch his breath. The rain felt good on his
skin.

"Come on, Caim," Kit called.

He groaned and rolled to his feet. With the wind whipping past his
head, Caim crossed the slippery roof. Scaling down the building's eastern
facade was easier. Halfway down the wall, he stopped and inched along a
narrow ledge. A tapered buttress arched out like a slender bridge from a
corbel set in the side of the building to support the towering walls of the
imperial residence. Caim didn't stop to think. He just stepped onto the
slick stone blocks and walked, arms held out to either side like a tightrope
acrobat. He only tottered once. Halfway across a gust of wind swirled from below to disrupt his balance. He froze as his feet began to slip out
from under him, but he clenched his toes and forced himself to stand rigid
until the gust died down. With a racing pulse, he continued on and
reached the other side without further delay.

As he touched down on the roof of the residence, Caim took a
moment to gain his bearings. Battlements studded the top of the building
like rows of teeth. Minarets rose at each of the four corners. Once, fires had
burned atop each slender tower, a symbol of imperial rule, but those braziers had lain cold these past seventeen years.

Caim leaned over an embrasure between two stone merlons. The soldiers below marched in the same pattern as before. No one had seen him.
Satisfied, he jogged over to where Kit hovered above a massive chimney
stack. He jumped to catch the top and pulled himself up. Balanced over
the black abyss of the flue, he unlimbered the bundles from his back and
tied them to his belt.

"I hate this part."

Kit twirled a piece of her hair. "I'm sure it won't be so bad. Just think
happy thoughts."

With a sigh he lowered himself into the chimney. The space was not
as tight as he'd feared. With his back braced against one side, he could use
his knees and hands to control his descent. Fifteen feet down he came to
the first branch shaft. The top floor. He levered himself inside the chute
and crawled down its dark, narrow passage, dragging the bundles behind
him. He encountered a low-hanging projection with his head and, after
rubbing his bruised brow with a sooty hand, he dropped to his belly to
wriggle underneath. A wave of claustrophobia hit him midway through
the process. The walls suddenly seemed to press in on him, crushing him
from all directions. He paused for a moment to catch his breath. Then, he
pulled himself through the aperture.

As Caim continued down the chute, he came to a junction of four
shafts. He hesitated a moment, comparing his position to his mental
layout of the palace. Straight ahead should take him to the central hall. So
decided, he continued. A current of warm air buffeted him as he crawled
around a slight bend. He stopped at the edge of a pit.

Specks of burning cinders floated up from the opening, which glowed
with the light of a roaring fire below. He peered over the edge and had to squint against the scorching heat. The crackle of blazing pinewood logs
echoed off the chimney walls a dozen paces below. The shaft continued on
the other side. Five paces. On his feet, he could have made the jump
without a second thought, but it was a long way to leap on his hands and
knees.

Kit chose that moment to appear from the ceiling. "You're almost
there. Just a few more paces and a short dip."

"Dip?"

"Just hurry, will you?"

Caim fought the urge to say something she would make him regret
later. Instead, he gathered his legs under him as best he could and braced
his hands against the walls. He took a deep breath of the heated air, let it
fill his lungs, and he leapt. The fire's heat bathed his torso as he sailed across
the distance. Caim stretched his body to its fullest extension. For one long
instant, time slowed to a trickle. Then, his fingertips caught the ledge.
Muscles rigid, he held himself aloft. The two bundles dangled beneath him.
Smoke stung his eyes. For several seconds he dangled over the chasm like a
hog on a spit. When his heart stilled its maddening pace, Caim kicked with
both legs. His hands grasped at the smooth stone of the shaft, and he pulled
himself the rest of the way up in scrambling wriggles. Once he was across,
he flipped onto his back and took several long breaths.

Kit poked her head through the ceiling. "You all right?"

"You might have mentioned the fireplace."

"And deprive you of a little fun? You know, you're getting boring in
your old age. I might have to go looking for a younger guy, someone with
a sense of adventure."

"I could be so lucky." Caim rolled over onto his stomach and resumed
his crawl.

"What?"

"Nothing, dear."

The shaft extended a dozen paces farther before it sloped downward
at a sharp angle. Faint light filtered through a gap at the bottom of the
drop-off. Caim took a few moments to figure out how to best tackle this
obstacle. He tried to twist around to put his feet forward, but the shaft
was too narrow. He finally decided to drop headfirst. With luck, he
wouldn't come down too hard.

As he was bracing himself for the descent, Caim was surrounded by a
sudden chill in the air. It cut through his thin clothing and bit deeper,
down into his bones. For a moment, he felt as if his heart were going to
stop. Then, it was gone.

With a shiver, he said, "I don't like this, Kit. Keep an eye out, eh?"

She didn't reply.

"Kit?"

He looked around as much as the shaft allowed, but there was no sign
of her. She could be scouting ahead without being told, although that
sounded too good to be true.
Wonderful goddamn time to wander off.
But he
didn't have time to ponder her sudden absence. He had to keep moving.
Josey needed him.

Caim wedged his hands against opposite walls and let go.

aim bit down on his tongue as the bottom of the chute rushed
up faster than he anticipated. He shoved both hands hard
against the walls. The blackened stone gouged his palms, but he kept up
the pressure until he hit the bottom. Somehow he managed to land
without bashing his skull open. He started to relax when clanks from
above announced the falling bundles. They landed beside him with a
loud crash.

Caim cursed and disengaged himself from the tether. He touched the
tip of his tongue to his lips and winced. At least it's still attached.

He was in the fireplace of a large chamber. The slight illumination he
had detected before came from an open doorway on the other side leading
to a corridor that glowed with soft candlelight. The plain coverlets draped
over the plush, oversized bed, along with the lack of personal effects, led
him to believe this was a guest room, presently unused. But why was the
door open? It was rather late for a dusting by the chambermaid.

Suspicious,
Caim gathered up the bundles and padded across the pale
sea green rug. Outside in the hallway, colorful arrays lined the walls in
both directions. Candles flickered in brass holders, the wax dripping into
reservoirs.

His soft-soled boots made no sound as he stalked down the corridor.
He chose the right-hand branch, followed it to a T-section, and turned left
until he came to another intersection. Caim was considering his next
choice when a faint sound reached his ears. Voices. Judging by the reverberation, the speakers were in a large room. Like the Grand Hall.

Caim stole toward the noise. Every time he passed a candle, he
reached up to snuff its wick. The passage behind him filled with darkness.

The corridor opened into a wide gallery. A carved marble balustrade overlooked the massive chamber below. Sacred Brothers were stationed at
regular intervals around the balcony, four in all.

Caim left the bundles in the dark of the hallway and drew his
knives. Two Brothers died without realizing their lives were in danger.
He allowed the third to utter a muffled croak, which drew the last
sentry into the shadows. Only when the gallery was clear did Caim take
a moment to peer over the railing. His throat constricted as he spotted
Josey, still alive-thank the gods-standing at the foot of a broad dais
in a white gown. She didn't appear to have suffered any harm. In fact,
she looked better than when he had left her at the cabin. A weight he
hadn't fully realized he was carrying lifted from his chest. He hadn't
failed her yet.

A large crowd filled the chamber below, surrounded by a platoon of
Sacred Brothers. Despite their bedraggled appearance, the captives
seemed to be aristocrats, many of them in their senior years. Expressions
of fear and indignation played across their pinched faces.

Josey wasn't the only one Caim recognized. Ral, in a fancy black suit,
sat in a gaudy throne atop the dais. One at a time, the captives were
brought before him and made to kneel.

While Caim watched, the Brothers escorted an elderly lord in a night
jacket to the steps of the dais. When they released him, the nobleman
stood up as tall as his stooped back allowed.