The Huntsman's Amulet (35 page)

Chapter 52

The Baydas

S
oren was counting the hours to his first duty overseeing the seraglio, but that did not come for two days. Before then he had to persevere with the monotony of standing guard in the audience hall and walk miles patrolling the passageways beneath. It gave him a chance to take a look at the majority of the kitchen and serving staff, none of whom could be mistaken for Alessandra.

As an officer he was only required to be present at the start of the watch and at the end with the occasional spot check over its course. For the rest of the time he could return to the guardroom and relax, but when he was assigned to the seraglio, he found himself pacing slowly around the gallery overlooking the courtyard for the duration of the duty, trying to look at every woman that passed through without drawing the attention of the vigilant Bluecloaks.

His men were in the prime of life, and the courtyard was filled with what were said to be the most beautiful women in Shandahar, yet they did not look. The only explanation was that they were concerned at provoking the Bluecloaks. If the perceived threat was strong enough to stop young soldiers from staring at attractive women, it must have been great indeed. He followed their example and tried to watch as discreetly as possible, only casting a glance whenever he spotted movement below.

He felt keen disappointment when the watch passed by without him seeing her, though he was aware he ought to know better than to build his hopes up. As the watches rotated, he would not be back at the seraglio for another three days, but there was nothing he could do about that. He would have to bide his time.

The following day, Soren’s duty was in the audience hall. The Khagan had a steady stream of visitors all afternoon who had to be dealt with, mainly by an officious Jan who would scurry back to confer with the Khagan every so often.

The duty was mind numbingly boring and Soren was glad that he’d be able to sneak off to the guardroom for a break every so often. As with the other duties in the palace, this one was shared with the Bluecloaks. They occupied the other end of the hall, by the double doors through which everyone entering the room had to pass. Arguably it was a position of honour — the first place that an enemy would attack — but the truth of the matter was that until recently they had been stationed around the dais that the Khagan sat on. Now it was Soren and his comrades who drew that duty.

As his paranoia grew, the Khagan became ever more suspicious of his erstwhile protectors, and had shown ever more favour to the Northern Guard. This added fuel to the hostility between them and the Bluecloaks, and whenever they were around Soren could feel the tension in the air. The Bluecloaks were proud men and the disrespect shown to them by their leader angered them. That anger was directed squarely at the men that they saw as usurping their rightful place. Even a recent arrival like Soren could see that there was trouble fomenting, and it wouldn’t take much to arouse it to the point of violence.

Later in the day, a large group of finely dressed and distinguished looking men entered the hall. From the deference they were shown by the Bluecloaks, it was clear to Soren that they were of some importance. Their clothes were decorated with scrolling embroidery that was of exquisite detail and quality.

Their arrival caused a stir at the dais. The Jan reacted as though someone had thrown hot coals into his trousers and after a brief but very intense exchange of whispers with the Khagan, he ordered everyone but the new arrivals and the guards out. When the room was cleared of those ordered out, the Bluecloaks closed the doors; the first time they had been closed since Soren began working at the palace. The Jan scurried forward to confer with the finely dressed men for a moment before returning to the dais, bringing one of them with him.

The Jan made an obsequious introduction, and the Khagan responded, the first time he had spoken aloud all day. That was as much of the conversation as Soren could work out. He looked to one of his men and shrugged his shoulders. The guardsman smiled and stepped forward.

‘It’s formalities, sir, always goes on for a bit when one of the Baydas comes in for an audience,’ he whispered.

‘You speak Shandahari?’ Soren said, in as quiet a tone as he could manage.

The guardsman nodded. ‘I’ve been here a bit longer than the rest. I came south to do security on the river barges near on a decade ago.’

‘Any idea what this is all about?’

‘That’s one of the most powerful Baydas in Galat. He’s been coming in every few days for weeks now to have a row with the Khagan.’

‘What about?’ Soren said. He tried to keep his voice low; disturbing the proceedings would not be well received.

‘There’s a noble lady being held down in the seraglio. She was brought in by a pirate a few months ago. The Khagan said he claimed her from the pirate for her own safety, but no one really believes that. The negotiations for her release haven’t been going well for the Khagan, and his Baydas aren’t too happy about it. This fella, Bayda Talan tai Azaf, is one of the Khagan’s major rivals, and they aren’t beyond bumping each other off down here to get what they want. He’s probably using this as an excuse to drum up some support. If he gets enough, well the Khagan won’t be Khagan anymore and we’ll be out of a job. Maybe dead.’

‘That’s a cheerful thought,’ Soren whispered.

‘Aye, it is. Each time tai Azaf comes back in here, he has a few extra Baydas with him.’

Both voices were raised now and the Bayda repeatedly talked over the Khagan, a severe mark of disrespect.

‘The Bayda just accused the Khagan of having the Rala of Serash kidnapped by pirates. Says he doesn’t believe that it was a coincidence that the pirate brought her here. Says that he’s brought the threat of war and ruin to Galat. Fighting talk,’ the guardsman said.

The heated exchange ended and Bayda tai Azaf stormed out, followed by his supporters. The Khagan remained impassive until the doors were slammed behind him. Only then did his face betray a degree of strain. He left the hall with his Jan scuttling after him. Soren sent two of his guards to follow them and made his way back to the guardroom, his duty for the day done.

He chose a route that took him near to the seraglio. If he was going to try to break the Rala out of it, he would need to know the passageways like the back of his hand. Each walk through the passages etched their layout a little more firmly into his memory. He couldn’t risk straying too close and drawing attention to himself, but for the other corridors he could simply state he was doing a spot check and was unlikely to be questioned over that. He was keenly aware that tensions would be even higher now after the confrontation between the Khagan and his Baydas. He wondered how far the Khagan could push the Bluecloaks before their loyalty was completely lost. As his guardsman predicted, if that happened they could all end up dead. Soren was already suspicious of them, having seen how they behaved around Bayda tai Azaf. They paid him far more deference than they should. Trouble could come more quickly than anyone of them would like.

Chapter 53

Footsteps in the Darkness

S
oren stood on the
balcony overlooking the seraglio, coming close to the end of his duty. He tried to concentrate on watching the tops of the walls, casting the occasional look across the courtyard as though simply ensuring that all was well. He was always hoping to catch a glimpse of Alessandra.

The Bluecloaks also remained an ever-present menace. They spent as much time glaring across the courtyard at Soren and his men as they did attending to their duties. The two groups circulated around the balcony, always on the opposite side. There was one in particular that Soren had noticed glaring directly at him. He avoided eye contact, not out of fear, but complete disinterest. The Bluecloaks were always looking for trouble, but the intensity of their effort had increased since the Baydas had argued with the Khagan.

When his duty shift came to an end, he tried to ignore the feeling of disappointment that he still hadn’t seen any sign of Alessandra, and made his way down into the passageways that led back to the guardhouse. He was starting to become a little more familiar with them and more comfortable navigating his way around the dark maze. The only danger was a lurking Bluecloak looking for a fight. Vaprio had told them all not to go around alone, hoping to avoid the eventuality where a lone Northern Guardsman proved too great a temptation for a Bluecloak, and disappeared.

On this occasion Soren had ignored the advice, just wanting to get away from the place. He felt his chest tighten when he heard a noise behind him, coming from a side corridor that he had just walked past. It could have been just a servant, the passageways were intended to allow them move freely about the palace without ever being seen, but his hand automatically moved to the hilt of his sword. He tried to place each foot a little more softly as he continued to walk forward, his ears straining to hear any sound behind him. He quietened his breathing as much as he could, but he heard nothing more.

He was beginning to relax, his hand loosening on the handle of his sword when there was a footfall behind him. He turned quickly, pivoting on heel and toe and drew his sword in the same motion. By the time he was fully facing the other direction, he had adopted a low, balanced fighting position, his sword held out in front of him. If a Bluecloak had decided to try his luck, he would pay for it. There was someone standing in the corridor, slight of build, but in the gloom it was impossible to make out if they were wearing the colours of the Bluecloaks, or if they were armed.

The person had stopped, but took a tentative step forward. Soren shouted a challenge and they halted again.

‘It is you,’ a female voice said.

Soren’s heart began to race. So much time had passed that he could barely remember what Alessandra’s voice sounded like, or if his memory of it was true. He strained to see better in the darkness. After so much frustration and disappointment, there was something inside that refused to allow him believe it was possible. The woman was draped in cloth that concealed the shape of a feminine figure.

‘Alessandra?’ he asked.

‘Soren,’ she said.

He was so bemused at what was happening that he’d forgotten he still had his sword drawn. He sheathed it and stood straight. ‘I hoped you’d be here, but I was beginning to think that I was deluding myself,’ he said.

‘I thought you were dead,’ she said. ‘Then I saw you in the gallery overlooking the seraglio a few days ago. I couldn’t believe that it was you. I watched you all day today. Pacing up and down until I knew I wasn’t mistaken.’

After so long searching, Soren had no idea what to say. He had never given any thought to what would happen when he actually found her. He had focussed all of his energy on the search.

‘I’ve been searching for you for months,’ Soren said. ‘I was beginning to think that I’d never find you.’

‘What made you think I was here?’

‘The pirate, Sancho Rui. I found your amulet.’ He fumbled in his pocket and held it out.

She nodded. ‘I never made it to Auracia. He captured my ship when it sailed south to avoid a storm. Never thought I’d see that amulet again.’ She reached forward and took it, dangling it in front of her eyes for a moment before putting it back around her neck. ‘Maybe it is lucky after all.’ She smiled.

They had parted under such strained circumstances without ever having the chance to properly deal with the matters that had initially driven them from one another. Once the first wave of emotion of having finally found her had passed, he found it was replaced by an uncomfortable awkwardness. He didn’t know whether to rush forward and take her up in his arms or to shake her hand. ‘I’ve come to get you out of here,’ he said, realising that he still didn’t know how he was going to go about it. Soren could just about make out her smiling in the darkness and felt an incredible sense of relief.

‘You have a plan?’ she said, in the slightly amused, teasing tone that she had so often adopted when he had acted thoughtlessly. It helped him relax a little.

He hesitated for a moment as he struggled to think of something that would sound at least a little plausible but was left wanting. ‘No, not yet,’ he said. ‘I’ve only been here a few days and my focus was on finding you. Now that I have, I’m sure that I can come up with something. How did you know where to find me?’

‘I’ve been sneaking out and looking around the passageways for some time, trying to work out how to get away from here. I know what routes the guards take when they go off duty. But I need to get back to the seraglio now or I’ll be missed. I’m safe there for the time being,’ she said. ‘It’s dangerous to leave. If I’m caught outside of it, it’s very bad. There’s someone else here also, I won’t leave without her.’

Soren was about to ask her who, when there was a sound from the end of the corridor from which Soren had come.

‘I have to go,’ she said, with genuine fear in her voice. ‘I’ll sneak out again and find you when I can. Make your plans.’

He could make out a smile before she rushed forward and gave him the lightest of kisses, disappearing back down the other corridor. The scent of her perfume lingered in the air after she had gone, and the smell was warm and comforting. He had been so surprised by her kiss that he had not responded, and chastised himself for ruining the moment.

There was still the matter of the approaching noise, heavy steps and certainly those of a man. His desire to avoid running into a Bluecloak was still strong, so he continued on his way with haste.