The Eyes of a Doll (The World of Shijuren Book 2) (22 page)

It had been years since I had ridden a horse other than Deor. While Zeqea was not as smart as Deor, her eyes were clear and irritable. I had been told her breed tended to be slow, sturdy, and well acquainted with the hills and mountains around Lezh.

I decided if it came to a fight I would slide off her and fight with my spear. At least I had my own spear, as its design was unremarkable. I felt much better to have at least one of my own weapons. I also had the small knife in the leg sheath Eirik had made for me, hidden in my boot. Of course, hidden blades were normal in the Empire.

They called the sword they gave me a spatha. A little longer and balanced differently than mine, it was used by nearly every cavalryman in the Empire. I had practiced with it briefly the previous evening, but it still felt awkward.

More awkward, of course, was the absence of my saex. Sebastijan had suggested I take a blade of approximately the same length, but that idea seemed repulsive.

Mounting Zeqea that morning proved more challenging than expected, considering her height. Deor had solidly bitten my thigh the previous night as I tried to explain the plan. He merely knew I was leaving him. The ache made my leg stiff.

Ylli and Sebastijan waited for me to settle in the saddle, hiding smirks at my obvious pain.

“Are you ready, Edward?”

“I suppose, Ylli. The plan still seems overcomplicated to me.”

“Welcome to the Empire.”

“You’ve said that before, Sebastijan. It irritates me more every time you say it.”

“Excellent.”

Ylli chuckled at our banter. “Have you met Gjon?”

“Hristo introduced me this morning.”

“Follow his instructions. He shall get you into Achrida. Do you have my letter and sigil?”

I patted a pouch I had carefully placed inside the leathers of the light armor I wore.

“Right here.”

Sebastijan spoke up. “Once inside, what do you do?”

I sighed. “The day I get there, I go to the Golden Sea, which is down the road we talked the first time. Ask for Radovan.”

“You remember how to get there?”

Now I nodded forcefully. “Yes, I do, and I also remember that I am to watch the first play at the amphitheater after I get back. I might even recall that Gabrijela will hopefully meet me there. I’m not a complete idiot who forgot everything we went over three times last night.”

Sebastijan and Ylli laughed.

“Excellent. I foresee a successful hunt.” Still chuckling, the Lezhan kral walked back into his house.

I started to put my heel to Zeqea’s side but Sebastijan put a hand on my saddle before I could leave.

“Four days, Sevener. Stay alive for four days.”

I nodded and nudged the unfamiliar horse to join the rest of Hristo’s troop.

In my travels since leaving the Seven Kingdoms, I had served as a caravan guard several times. Hristo nodded his approval as I settled into my duties quickly.

The only interesting happening on the trip occurred around midday on the third day of travel. Hristo habitually rode around the caravan to make sure all of the guards were where they should be and doing what they should be doing. On this day, he paused next to me and wiped some sweat off of his brow.

“Be glad you’re riding with us.”

I looked at him questioningly.

“This morning, Gjon noticed that a number of odd flashes in the hills at the last prime ambush spot.”

“You think they were waiting for Sebastijan and me?”

“I don’t know, but it’s just as well that we’ve passed them.”

I nodded. Like everyone else in Hristo’s troop, I wore no helm. I had to admit that the acrid paste had changed my hair’s appearance drastically. After washing it, the henna had settled nicely, making my hair much darker. Nevertheless, I was not Katarina. Relying upon a disguise made me nervous.

Hristo sensed my thoughts and patted my shoulder.

“They can’t have recognized you from that far away. And don’t worry about Sebastijan. We’ll pass one of Ylli’s caravans either later tonight or in the morning. I’ll pass the word on to its troop leader, who’ll pass it on to his caravan. They’ll be ready if the ambush decides to attack.”

“Good.”

He smirked and returned to his rounds.

Sebastijan, Katarina, and I had moved quickly when we had traveled to Lezh, so I was not surprised the caravan took longer. It was not until we settled into an inn on the eleventh day that Hristo took me aside.

“Tomorrow is the solstice.”

I was scratching my beard. I had never let it grow this long, and it never seemed to stop itching.

“We call it Wodensniht. In the north, the day lasts forever. It never really turns dark on this night.”

“The world is a strange place.”

I nodded.

“We are close to Achrida now, less than a league to the Old Road. Prepare your kit. When it gets dark, you and Gjon will leave the caravan and enter the city.”

“Thank you.”

He patted my shoulder again.

“Good hunting, lad.”

The moon was a slight waxing crescent as we turned up the Old Road. The moonlight seemed to flow directly through the nuraghi at the intersection. The precarious stack of stones had stood there for centuries, looking like it would collapse any moment, but as the light slid through its stones, it calmly proclaimed it would stand for centuries more.

Gjon poked me quietly out of my woolgathering, and I followed him up the road that circled to the west of Achrida, leading to vistas that overlooked the city in all its glory.

He was a tiny, wiry man with stringy hair bound up in a leather wrap. He walked lightly, which made up for the heavy hands he had shown on the ride from Lezh. I suspected he would have been more comfortable atop a ship’s mast than on a horse.

The initial portion of the road had been terraced almost into steps that rose gently along the mountain. Before we reached the end of the terracing Gjon put his hand up.

“Thar’s them steps that be the path.”

“What steps.”

Gjon carefully pointed out a series of places where the layers of rock had made their own terracing. Unremarkable, especially in the moonlight, I would never have noticed the potential pathway down.

He led me down carefully. Many times we almost had to hop to reach the next step, a nerve-racking leap next to the steep hill beyond if we missed.

Eight steps later we curved under an overhang and could not see the Old Road anymore. From there we walked a twisting, sliding, but relatively flat pathway downwards. Only in a couple of instances did the path get especially tricky. In each of those spots small, stringy, but resilient trees provided handholds. I suspected their presence was not a coincidence.

Soon we had descended to the point that the walls and buildings of Achrida obscured the lake. The path led directly along the base of the Achrida’s modest landward fortifications. The moon had traveled over us and now shone from the west, which was the only reason we were not walking in deep shadow.

The mountainside wove back and forth, sometimes crowding the wall, sometimes leaving a large sloping area filled with rocks. Gjon pointed, and I saw the barest hint of a path back up the mountain at a point where it crowded the wall.

We hopped up the sharp incline to a flat spot just about at wall level. A six-foot gap remained between the wall and the mountain. Just past the wall, in the city, a building rose over the fortification.

Gjon pulled out a small lantern, lit it swiftly, and then flashed the shutters in an intricate pattern. A door opened in the building, and I could make out a form in the pale moonlight. It noiselessly winched a heavy oak plank into place, stretching out over the wall to the mountain-side, allowing us to cross into the unlit room inside the building.

I could barely see in the room’s darkness, but I had enough light to see Gjon flip a hood over his head to obscure his face. Wordlessly, he handed me a scratchy woolen hood for me to do the same. The hood smelled of sweat and blood and corruption.

Behind me I could see the shadowed figure pulling the plank back into place. Gjon nudged me. He opened a door, and hints of light elsewhere in the building framed his tiny form. I followed him down several flights of steps and to a door leading out into the streets of Achrida. He pulled off the hood and tossed it into a basket by the door. I again did the same.

I had no idea where I was, so I simply followed Gjon through wandering streets and neighborhoods until finally I realized we had arrived at the Trade Road.

“Yer knowin’ whar y’are, lad?”

I nodded.

“Then I’s leavin’ ya now. Have to get Ylli’s word to them as needs it.”

I nodded again, clasped his forearm in thanks, and turned south on the Trade Road. The sun had started hinting at its arrival, grayly peeking across the lake. Little traffic walked the Trade Road at this hour, though as I made my way south ever more people beginning their day joined us.

Sebastijan had been hired by Pal to follow me at one point, and near here I had finally noticed him and turned the tables. We had confronted each other in a street leading off of the Trade Road in a shabby neighborhood near South Gate.

I found the street. Several hundred yards down it, toward the lake, stood the Golden Sea, marked by a cunningly painted sign that, despite its small size, conveyed a field of grain looking like the waves of an ocean. The door was latched. I rattled it until a grumpy, bleary-eyed woman peered out of the door.

“Drowned God, it’s early. Who’re you?

“I need Radovan.”

“Oh, one’a them. Two dinars. Silver.”

I looked at her without saying anything for a long while until she gestured angrily.

“Stick a trident up my ass, then. One dinar.”

I gave her the dinar, and she let me in. I followed her up two flights of stairs to a small room with a shuttered window, a table carved by centuries of bored people with knives, and several rickety three-legged stools.

“Yer not getting’ nothin’ now, I’m goin’ back to sleep. If by the Fast Talker’s fancy, yer one as can pay, be coming down later. Radovan will come when he comes in, the big fool.” She shuffled off, muttering curses.

The tension of the entry into Achrida was fading, and I suddenly remembered my beard itched. I scratched it with a vigor worthy of a great hero like Marko.

It had been a long, sleepless night. I put the stools next to the door and slid the table between it and me. Hopefully, they would give me enough warning, should anyone attack me.

I stretched out with my pack as a pillow, the spatha drawn and in my hand, my spear leaning handily in a corner. I had hoped after the long night, the hard wooden floor would feel like a down bed, but I could not get comfortable. Though I dozed off periodically, I never fell asleep.

Hence, I was on my feet immediately when the door crashed into the stools and table I had set before it.

“Open up, sheep’s dick.”

That rumbling voice could only be Radovan’s, so I sheathed my sword and let him in. Once the door was closed, I turned to him.

“I told you not to call me that.”

He peered at me closely, looking at the hair and beard, and started laughing.

“I didn’t realize it was a sheep’s dick I already knew.”

I shook my head.

“So, why are you here?”

“It’s a long story. I need a place to stay.”

“Ragnar kick you out of the Faerie?”

“No, not at all. I just need a place to stay where nobody knows me.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. Sebastijan will be here in four days. At least that long, probably longer. Possibly much longer.”

Radovan sighed and nodded. “I have a place.”

“Sebastijan said you would. Also, we need you to deliver a letter from Ylli to Gibroz.”

He chuckled. “He’s not boring to work for.”

“He’s not boring to employ.”

“Grab your stuff.”

I did, and he led me out the Golden Sea, toward the lake, and through a number of short streets. The buildings here were taller because they had less space on the ground, and the shade of their looming limestone blocks was a welcome relief as the sun had already started her merciless reign for the day.

I followed him into a house. Inside was a long hallway leading to rising steps in the back. The wooden floor showed many years of use but had recently been scraped and oiled. Icons and triptychs lined the walls, filling the hall with color. Two doors led to our left. A third door led under the stairs.

Out of the farther door, a woman’s head poked out. Long, lustrous, brown hair framed the face, and her brown eyes lit up when she saw me.

“Sweetie? Is this a new friend?”

“Sweetie?”

“Shut up, Sevener,” Radovan hissed before responding to her.

“Yes, dear one.”

“Oh, good. You know I like new friends.”

She stepped out, and I caught the slightest hint that she had just slid a knife into a hidden sheath.

“She’s clearly the woman for you.”

Radovan laughed and caught her up in a hug. “That she is. If Sebastijan was smart, he’d hire my Jovanka here and I’d keep the house for her.”

She smacked his chest. “As if I’d trust your cooking.”

Radovan and I both laughed.

“My friend will be staying here for some time.”

“And I’ll need to be leaving and returning at odd times.”

She sniffed. “Could I have any other expectation? I know the quality of his friends. Do try not to bleed on the floors. Or the furniture.”

I bowed. “It shall be as you command.”

They laughed in return.

“Settle this sheep’s di…, errr…, this fool in. Unless I miss my guess, he slept little for the night and will want some food and a pallet. I have tasks to see to this morning that he’s already made me late for. And now he’s asked me to deliver a letter to Gibroz.”

She laughed and kissed his cheek. He lumbered out the front door, and she followed him to flip the latch closed.

“Come along, then.”

She led me up the stairs to the second floor. It too had a hallway with two doors leading off from it. She led me into a room with a pallet covered in blankets, a chamber pot, a table, and a chair. Clearly I was not the first person to come to her doorway in need of lodging at a moment’s notice.

“I’ll bring you a bowl of water to wash the road off of you. Rest now. Later, I’ll show you where to put your nightsoil and I’ll have a keystone to let you in and out of the house without Radovan or me letting you in. Have you eaten?”

I shook my head.

“I have fruit and some of last night’s goat.”

“That will do fine.”

She left and I started taking off my armor. Fatigue made the task harder than normal, but I finally managed to fumble the straps loose.

Jovanka delivered a bowl of water, and by the time I had finished washing she had returned with cold goat and three juicy apricots.

I barely noticed her leaving as I tore into the goat, fatigue briefly forgotten. It returned as I licked the apricot juice off of my fingers, and I crashed into the pallet, asleep before I reached the floor.