The Huntsman's Amulet (38 page)

No wonder things had been so quiet during the afternoon.

‘Vaprio’s dead. So are most of the others that came with us. I managed to fight my way clear and get back here.’

‘I don’t see the problem. There’s enough of us here to keep the palace secure,’ Soren said.

‘My arse. We’ve lost ten men already. One watch is off duty so there’s about seventy men here at best. There are five hundred Bluecloaks, so if even half of them have gone over to Azaf, we’re done. That isn’t even counting his own retinue.’ Veyt continued to shove things into a duffel bag. ‘No, it’s time to move on. The Khagan made his own bed, now he’s going to have to lie in it. If we stay here, we’re as dead as he’s going to be.’

Soren took a moment to digest what Veyt was saying. Five hundred bluecloaks who very much hated the Northern Guard; it was hard to dispute his logic. Some of them would remain loyal to the Khagan, but the Northern Guard would be caught in the middle.

‘Well? Are you coming?’ Veyt said.

‘No, not yet, but I won’t be far behind you.’

Veyt shook his head. ‘It’s your neck, but good luck. There’s one thing I’d say to you though; don’t let yourself be taken alive.’

It was chilling advice, but Soren didn’t doubt its value. ‘Good luck to you too.’

Veyt didn’t waste another moment. Whatever Soren decided to do, sitting in the guardroom wouldn’t get it done.

He ran toward the seraglio. He didn’t pass another person on the way. Word had obviously spread to the other men of the Northern Guard; there were none to be seen, and no sign of the Bluecloaks. Once he got into the palace, there were a few people moving about, all in a hurry and a state of anxiety.

With every guard gone for one reason or another, the way to the seraglio was clear. After a cursory glance around the gallery to ensure there were no bluecloaks still lurking there, Soren leaned over the balustrade.

‘Alessandra!’

Several of the women in the courtyard below looked up, startled by the unprecedented disturbance.

‘Can you get Alessandra?’ he said.

One of the women nodded and left her seat. She walked out of view while the other women present slipped away also. As he waited, his anxiety increased. This was too great an opportunity to allow slip by. If a coup was carried out successfully, Soren wouldn’t have another opportunity. As it was, with all the confusion they could be miles into the desert before anyone noticed they were gone.

He felt great relief when the woman reappeared with Alessandra in tow.

‘We have to go now,’ Soren said.

‘What? I’m not ready,’ Alessandra said.

‘It doesn’t matter. There’s trouble coming; it might be here already, but all the guards are gone and we won’t have a chance like this again. We have to go. Right now.’

‘All right, give me a moment.’

‘Wait, I need you to bring someone else. There’s a princess here, a Rala. Do you know her?’

Alessandra smiled. ‘I’ll bring her too.’ With that she disappeared out of view leaving Soren to wait and hope that she wouldn’t take too long. Each second seemed like an hour and Soren found the image of a half dozen bloodthirsty Bluecloaks charging around the corner hard to keep from his thoughts. If Soren were leading the coup, he would have placed the same significance on capturing the Rala as on the Khagan. Tai Azaf would expect her to be safely secured in the seraglio however, so if Soren was lucky he would not come looking for her until he had the Khagan in custody and the palace secure. Either way, Soren knew he had to move fast.

Alessandra appeared in the courtyard with another woman — presumably her friend. Taking the Rala with them carried too great a reward to not at least try.

‘The Rala? Where is she?’ he said.

‘Nice to see you too,’ Alessandra said. ‘This is her, Rala Roxendi tai Serash.’ She gestured to the other woman who bore an expression of puzzlement on her face.

‘Your friend?’

Alessandra nodded. ‘Meet us in the corridor where we talked the last time.’

He didn’t have the chance to argue, as she took the Rala by the hand and led her to the opposite side of the courtyard and out of sight. Soren moved off, hoping that he could remember a direct route back to that spot. There were so many corridors, so many twists and turns that even now he was not as familiar with them as he’d have liked.

He had reached the lower level when he heard the first sounds of fighting, so evidently some of the Bluecloaks had remained loyal. That was good news; the longer the fighting went on, the longer confusion reigned. Each minute it lasted would allow them get further from the palace without notice.

Alessandra and the Rala were waiting for him when he got to the junction in the corridors.

‘What’s going on?’ Alessandra said.

‘The Baydas are trying to overthrow the Khagan. The Northern Guard have taken a beating and the survivors have scarpered. We need to do the same.’

Alessandra nodded. She muttered something to the Rala that sounded like Shandahari and they set off.

It was a relief when he came to a turn in the corridor that he recognised. They were not far from a stairwell that led to the entrance hallway on the ground level. While it meant they were nearly out of the palace, the next few minutes were going to be the most dangerous.

They reached the bottom of the stairwell and Soren drew his dagger. He told Alessandra to wait and made his way to the top in a low crouch. The stairs were wooden and he felt his heart skip a beat each time he placed his foot, waiting for the creak that would give them all away. He felt one begin to protest at his weight so lifted his foot and stepped past it. The top drew closer and daylight invited him ever forward. Once at the top he peered out into the hallway.

There were three Bluecloaks standing by the doorway that led further into the palace. The doors had been kicked off their hinges and lay haphazardly on the ground. The men appeared relaxed; they didn’t perceive any threat. He couldn’t get to them without being seen, and it was unlikely that he would be able to get Alessandra and the Rala out without attracting their attention. He would have to bring them to him.

He gestured to Alessandra to wait out of sight. She moved out of view, dragging the Rala with her. Soren pressed down heavily on the step that had threatened to creak on his way up. He heard the men in the hall raise their voices and footsteps coming in his direction.

Soren crouched and pressed against the wall. A dark shape appeared silhouetted against the daylight at the top of the stairs. Soren grabbed a handful of cloth and wrenched the Bluecloak forward. He stabbed him through the throat and allowed the body to continue to fall down the stairs. He heard more footsteps now — more than one pair — moving faster.

Another shape appeared and Soren heaved him forward also. Once he was clear out of the way and cartwheeling down the stairs, Soren lunged forward and stabbed the final man in the chest, twisting the blade as he pulled it out to be certain it had done its job. He ran back down the stairs to deal with the Bluecloak he’d sent tumbling down.

As luck would have it, he had broken his neck in the fall and lay as dead as his comrades.

Alessandra and the Rala peered around the corner.

‘It’s safe, come on,’ he said.

They came out from their hiding place, wide eyed at the gruesome scene.

‘Let’s go,’ he said. He took Alessandra by the hand and led her and the Rala up the steps.

The hallway was clear and from there it wasn’t difficult to get out of the palace and into the city. The confusion and chaos following the overthrow had proved to be their ally and he could only hope that the situation would continue long enough to put in some distance between them.

Chapter 56

Best Laid Plans…

S
oren kept up a
fast pace as he led them away from the palace. He headed straight for the stables, where he hoped his guide would be waiting. It was only late afternoon, outside of the hours of their agreement, though.

Soren recognised the stable master as soon as they arrived.

‘Stay out of sight,’ he said to Alessandra. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’

‘Wait,’ she said. ‘This isn’t the harbour.’

‘We’re not going there. It’s just too risky. Once they discover that the Rala is gone, it’ll be the first place they look. That’s assuming they didn’t send troops there as soon as the coup started to prevent anyone important from fleeing the city.’

‘You’re planning on taking us across the desert?’

Soren nodded.

‘Have you been out in the sun too long? They send the really bad criminals out into the desert here. They think it’s worse than execution.’

‘I know it isn’t ideal, but if we’re not well out of the city by the time things here have settled down, I can guarantee that a quick execution will be the best we can hope for. Please just trust me. I’m hoping a guide I spoke to will be here, but if not we can start off alone and if we push hard for a few hours we should catch up with the caravan that left this morning.’

‘And if they refuse to take us?’ She raised an eyebrow.

The Rala watched them both, her face a picture of bemusement.

Soren opened his mouth to answer, but had no reply. ‘I’ll go and talk to the stable master. Wait out of sight until I’m back.’

‘I’m looking for Sharbo. Is he here?’

The stable master shook his head. He had spoken to this man the previous time he called to the stables, so Soren knew he spoke Imperial.

‘Where is he?’

‘He took his camels up river for grazing. He’ll be back at dusk.’ The stable master spoke in a dismissive tone, and clearly wanted Soren to go away and leave him in peace.

Soren’s heart sank, though he had not allowed his hopes to get too high and had a fall back plan.

‘Did a caravan leave here this morning?’

‘Three did. Same as most mornings. North, south and upriver.’

‘How much for three camels, food and water to get us to Serash?’

The stable master smiled, and gave Soren his full attention.

‘You’ll only need water and food to get you to the first oasis, a little over a day. There will be plenty more there to buy.’

Soren was headed in the opposite direction, but he hoped laying a little misinformation might be of help. The danger it created was that the next oasis south was farther away than the next one north. As reckless as Soren was with his own life at times, he was not happy to risk Alessandra’s.

‘My companions are elderly, so we’ll be slow. I’ll need three days of supplies for three people.’

Soren went back to the women, proud owner of what he felt confident were the three most expensive camels in Shandahar.

‘The guide’s not here, and we can’t wait for him to get back. I’ve got us supplies and camels to take us into the desert. If we ride hard we can catch the caravan by the first oasis and follow them the rest of the way.’

‘You’re sure about this?’ Alessandra said.

Soren was going to lie, but she deserved his honesty. ‘No, but there’s no other option.’

‘All right,’ she said. ‘Let’s get going then.’

They reached the oasis a little after midday the next day. It was tiring, but riding in the relative cool of the night had helped, as had the fact that the desert had been, for the most part, hard baked earth and stone rather than sand as Soren had feared it might be. The constant passage of caravans had left a trail that was easy to follow, even in the dead of night, and they were aided by the clear desert sky and a nearly full moon that lit the way.

The drawback of the clear sky was the cold, which Soren had not expected to be so severe. The stable master had suggested taking extra blankets for his elderly companions, and Soren was glad he had.

Despite the cold and their obvious discomfort, neither woman complained. They bore their hardship in silence, with the occasional short conversation. Alessandra seemed to have developed a good grasp of Shandahari. Soren was too concerned with remaining on the correct trail and with what might be following them to get involved in any chat. He also felt awkward around Alessandra, now that there was time for conversation about things other than the escape.

The haste of their departure, and Soren’s eager purchase of supplies and camels, would leave the stable master in no doubt of who they were when the Bluecloaks arrived at the stables looking for them. He could only hope that they’d be directed north, but if they had any sense they would send men in all directions. It was what Soren would do in their position. Their entire escape was based on the slim chance that the fighting and confusion in the city would give them enough of a head start for it not to matter. There was more than one route after the first oasis, so getting beyond there increased their chances massively.

The oasis was a shady grove of trees surrounding a pool of freshwater, sheltered by low scrubby hills all around it. It was busier than Soren expected, as a number of routes coalesced on it from all along the Galat river. It boded well for their chances of finding a caravan that would agree to take them the rest of the way to Kirek, now that there was more than one to choose from. There would be several days of travel between oases from that point on, and many trails going in different directions — not all of them to Kirek. To continue on their own would be madness.

There was a genial atmosphere at the oasis, the hardship of travel and the dangers of the road creating a common ground between the caravaneers. Some were excited at the prospect of their journey being near completion while others were buoyed up with the excitement of being near the start of a new adventure.

The pool was surrounded by dozens of camels, making long nuzzing sounds between drinks. It was an odd noise, and to hear so many of them together was bizarre. The people ranged from merchants and travellers to heavily armed guards who remained vigilant while the others relaxed.

Soren had left Alessandra and the Rala to rest in the shade of one of the palm trees while he had a look around. There were two small mud brick buildings that were in poor repair to the side of the oasis, at the edge of the line where the trees ended and the desert began. A well had been dug to the side of the pool to keep the water used by people separate to that used by the camels. Soren walked over to the well to freshen their water skins.

There was a short queue of men waiting their turn at the crank that raised and lowered a leather bag down into the water. He tried to make conversation with one or two others in the hope of finding a caravan that would take them the rest of the way, but all it resulted in was dismissive shakes of heads. Having filled the water skins, he returned to the palm tree where Alessandra and the Rala were resting. If Alessandra was as comfortable speaking in Shandahari as it seemed, she would be able to negotiate better than he.

They were both asleep when he returned and while he felt a little uncomfortable waking Alessandra when she was obviously so tired, there wasn’t the time to wait around if they were to stay ahead of any pursuers from Galat. He gave her a gentle shake.

‘I need your help finding a caravan to take us south. Can you translate for me?’

She rubbed her eyes and thought for a moment. ‘I should be able to.’

Alessandra woke the Rala and spoke to her quietly. The Rala nodded and sat up, wrapping a blanket around her and casting a glance in the direction of their resting camels.

‘She’ll keep an eye on the camels,’ Alessandra said. ‘But let’s not go too far; I don’t want to leave her on her own here.’

Soren nodded and they walked to a nearby caravan.

‘Ask them if they’re going to Kirek,’ Soren said.

Alessandra nodded and rattled out a line of impressive Shandahari to the man looking after the caravan’s camels.

Soren wondered if he would have been able to pick up as much of the language in the same amount of time. As it was he could recognise a couple of curses, but nothing else.

‘You are Imperials?’ the man said.

Soren couldn’t help but smile to himself. He had tried to talk to at least a half dozen men on his way to and from the well, and not one was able to understand him. Now that he had woken Alessandra, the first person they approached was able to speak Imperial.

‘Yes, we are,’ Soren said. ‘Are you headed south? To Kirek?’

‘Yes,’ replied the caravaneer. He stood arms akimbo. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘My friends and I are looking for a caravan to travel with. We’ll need some provisions but can pay well.’

The caravaneer scratched his chin and gave Soren a good looking over, obviously trying to decide if he was chancing his luck or if he would actually be able to pay his way.

‘How many of you are there?’ he said.

‘The two of us and one other.’

The caravaneer looked at Alessandra for a moment and mulled it over for a moment. ‘The other? Man or woman?’

‘A woman,’ Soren said.

‘You are welcome to come with me. If you can use those swords at your waist, all the more so. I don’t have any provisions to spare though, and my cargo is of little value. If theft is your intention, know that my two sons and I are excellent swordsmen and will have little trouble dealing with one man and two women.’

Soren smiled. ‘We won’t cause you any trouble, we just need a guide south.’

‘Fine. You will be able to buy what you need over there.’ He pointed to the mud brick buildings that Soren had noticed earlier. ‘Salted and dried meat mainly, but if they have any fresh fruit, get some of that also. Those water skins should last until the next oasis, but this is the last chance to get food. Make sure you have enough.’ He scratched his chin again, looking at Soren’s clothes and weapons. ‘My price is one hundred tremissi.’

Soren thought about it for a moment. He knew he had no real alternative, but didn’t want to appear too eager. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Half now and half when we arrive in Kirek.’