VI

Early evening was beginning to fall upon them, the skies becoming purple. Where the sun was setting, a bright red-orange glow on the horizon plains, the Aevalin Road visible as a straight white line in the distance.

If it weren’t for the structures in the High City, the sea would be visible, sparkling in the fading sunlight.

The warm air outside was a relief. Somehow despite the cooler temperature inside the councilor’s manor house, the air had seemed stifling—cloying even.

Jorrissiana glanced about as they came to a crossroads in the walkway between houses. “Is it safe.”

“For now,” Gracian said. “My lady, we must depart. There’s a secret escape in the gardens.”

She frowned. “Truly.”

“Yes.”

“Why have you never spoken to me of this before, Gracian? You are my servant, are you not?”

“It wasn’t pertinent at the time, my lady.”

“Until now, that is.”

He nodded.

Arlian, barely listening to them, moved up to a fountain to wash the blood off his sword. The metal was smooth and gleaming—high quality steal, so it washed off easily. He swung the blade to get the excess droplets off before sliding the blade back into its scabbard at his waist.

“Gracian,” Arlian said. ‘

“Yes, Commander?”

He put out a hand. As if surprised by the gestured, Gracian hesitated, then took his hand. “You did well.”

“Thank you.”

“Now take Lady Jorrissiana to the cave and wait for me.”

“Where are you going?”

Jorrissiana was looking in the opposite direction, trying to get a look at the commotion still rambling on at the front entrance to the High City dwellings.

“I’m going to meet up with Captain Orvyn to let him know what’s happened.”

Gracian nodded.

“They’re barely holding the Schuarists out as it is. Men needn’t die for nothing while we escape out of the cave.”

“I understand.”

“Do not leave the cave.”

He nodded, understanding well that Arlian was in fact, giving him an order. With a last nod of respect for the servant, Arlian turned and loped down the path leading to the entrance gate.

In front of him a lightfly blinked.

The sight reminded him of Mariel—of when he had asked for her hand in marriage. It had been a night much like this one, in a quiet field.

He smiled, but put the memory away as he came to the gate where Captain Orvyn and the Watchmen were stationed. They had barricaded the entrance with wooden crates, a small wagon, and various pieces of outdoor furnishings.

“Captain Orvyn!” he called. “Captain Orvyn!”

The man heard him, turned and almost fell over at the sight of Arlian. “Commander!” he exclaimed. “How did you get into the High City?”

Arlian gestured for Orvyn to follow, and together they left the morass that was the front gate of the luxury villas to a quiet place where they could hear each other.

“There’s a secret cave in the gardens.”

“What?”

“It’s above the king Kiryndaro statue in the parks. It leads straight into the gardens here in the High City.”

“I never knew,” he said, astonished.

“It’s not important now. All you need to know is that your men needn’t risk their lives. We have the councilor woman, so these Schuarists have nothing to riot over.

Orvyn nodded. He was a shorter, heavyset man, but built like a bull with thick arms and a square jaw. Had he fought those mercenaries, he’d have probably bowled them over and stomped their heads in.

“What do you suggest we do about them?”

Arlian breathed in deeply. “Let ten or fifteen of them in. They’ll go to the council woman’s house and find she’s gone. Then they’ll report back to the rest of their mob. Their energy will be gone once they find their quarry has escaped.”

“What if the ransack her house?”

“That’s to be expected, Captain.”

He nodded, his face a suggestion of wry agreement.

“I think Jorrissiana will be exalted that she was able to escape with her life. Just make sure the Schuarists you let in don’t set anything ablaze. There’s a few dead men in her manor.”

“What?” Orvyn asked, his eyes widening.

“I don’t know,” Arlian said. “Two men—they looked like mercenaries—attacked me. I killed them. The place is a mess. Hopefully the Schuarists will think the council woman was kidnapped by whoever was behind her attempted abduction. Do your best to seem surprised?”

“Yes, Commander.”

He nodded. “I leave for the save. I’ll see you back at Headquarters, Captain.”

The Captain nodded and Arlian left him there.

Standing still and talking was a welcome respite from the fight he had just been in. His throat had burned like he’d gone on a run with his armor on afterward, but now he was well rested and headed back down the path toward the guardians to meet back up with Gracian and the council woman.

A man, richly dressed in fine robes was standing on his walkway in front of his tri-story manor house, giving Arlian a look of disapproval.

“You!” he said, pointing an accusing finger. “You and your lot will reap the consequences of all this.”

Arlian came up short. “Say that again?”

“You heard me, boy… Commoner.”

“Hold your tongue,” Arlian commanded. “I am Arlian Brennova, lord and Commander of the City Watch.”

The man flinched, took a step back. “Even worse. You serve the magic-hater.”

The damn fool.

It wasn’t just the commoners who thought Prince Kandrion was against magic. The twisting of truth and the reality of what Balthazar was doing was lost on these people.

“Be gone!”

Perhaps his blood had still been high from his fight earlier, because Arlian surprised himself by punching the man in the stomach, then putting his elbow in the man’s back, making him eat the cobbled walk way.

Despite his… reaction, he pulled back and didn’t assault the man as hard as he could. Being a soft-skinned noble, he still took the hurt as if Arlian were trying to kill him.

Without a word he headed on, stalking for the gardens, furious—at the man, at what had happened at the councilor’s house—at everything happening.

He wanted to wring necks, run someone through—the Grand Mage Klause Schuar. He was behind all of this, and yet somehow always seemed two steps ahead of blame, ahead of the accusations. Everyone knew he was involved, that he was behind it all.

And they could say nothing. At least not formally. Informally, those who knew what was happening took to calling the agents and the fools for the cause of Prince Balthazar, which was really the cause of the Grand Mage, as Schuarists.

Some few called them Balthists, but that was rare. To defame one of the princes was very nearly treason. But the Grand Mage? He didn’t hold an unassailable position, despite the fact that many worshipped him in some way or another.

Only a few years ago the dark magicks, necromancy in particular, was outlawed on pain of death, and regarded by the common citizen as vile withcraft.

How things had come to this juncture, Arlian wasn’t completely sure of.

Finally he made it into the gardens, flattened his body to get between the large trees growing in front of the cave.

His footfalls echoed into the cave, and Gracian ran forward, a stunned look on his face. “My lord!” he called.

The man was in a panic.

“What is it, Gracian—what’s wrong?”

It was bad.

Councilor Jorrissiana was looking at them from behind Gracian’s shoulder, her hand to her mouth as she half glanced toward the cave exit.

“Schuarists, Commander. They’re in the parks!”