After watching for some time to make sure another patrol wouldn’t happen upon him while he was scaling the wall, Lawrence came to the conclusion that the patrols were not in fact what he thought they were. They were too varied in number, makeup and frequency to be patrols.

It was clear that they were small contingents of various warriors heading in a particular direction. The failed mage had wondered where the palace garrison was. Either they were all dead, which was unlikely, or they had left the area in pursuit of an enemy force.

The Emperor can’t be dead, he thought. There’s no other reason to abandon the palace.

He stepped into the empty street. Well, it was mostly empty save for a fleeing person or cat here and there. And of course, the roadside was littered with the dead—warriors from both sides. There had been fighting here. A lot.

Carefully, and wary of enemy soldiers, Lawrence crossed the street, his makeshift rope and grapple in hand. He walked straight to the gate, which was closed. He tried peaking inside, but there was no crack to do so. For some reason the guards were gone from their posts on the outside.

He put his hand on the smooth wooden frame and pushed. He pushed harder, but the door didn’t budge.

“When will we have enough reinforcements to man the towers?” a voice asked. “I don’t feel comfortable holding this position with so few men.”

Lawrence listened, angling his ear to better catch the words.

“I don’t know,” another voice said in response. “As long as the fighting is in the western districts, does it matter?”

“There’s more than one garrison in this city.”

Lawrence stepped away. He moved farther down the wall, noting that the towers were empty. They were holding the palace with a skeleton crew. They probably had more men at the front gate, but this being the eastern gate, it was hardly even manned.

The failed mage found an abandoned wagon to assist him. Two paces higher afforded him a better chance of getting the anchor over the wall. After three tries, the anchor finally caught onto something. Probably the overhang on the other side. He pulled, put a good deal of weight on the makeshift rope to test it, then began to grapple the wall.

Getting over the eve was a slight challenge, but he finally made it to the top. He made sure to keep low, pressing his chest against the tiles and staying on the side facing away from the palace grounds so that any of the patrolling men that made up the skeleton crew inside wouldn’t see him.

His view was aided a great deal at this height. Lawrence could now see that there were dozens of fires in the city farther past the palace. The attackers had evidentially split up, hitting key points as part of their plan. The outer back wall was completely destroyed in one part. Somehow it had been melted. Whatever this attacker was doing, killing or capturing Emperor Kurosawa had been the main part of their plan.

Would he find Ishi here? Would he find Sakura? He didn’t delude himself, knowing they could easily both be dead.

I have to check. At the very least, I need to know.

He slid off the roof, landing in the yard in a roll to break his fall, then quickly stole across the grounds, glancing this way and that, and up at the empty towers. Nothing. The skeleton crew was obviously positioned most heavily, if heavily was a word that could be used, at the front gate. More a false show of force than anything, assuming his assumption was even true.

After not so stealthily passing through the inner wall and a series of courtyards, Lawrence came upon the part of the palace where the performance hall was situated.

The grounds had many walkways covered overhead with tiled roofs supported by large red pillars. Trimmed bushes, flowers and other ornamental shrubs girded the landscape at every passing.

Making sure not to trip over any corpses, he made his way to the theater hall, stopping to grab up a katana that had been thrust into the earth, its owner dead beside the blade. He took the time to unfasten the buckle and belt that strapped the sheath to the once owner’s hip. He fastened the weapon to his waist and walked inside.

He remained quiet upon entering the hall. It was a mess. Chairs were overturned, bodies littered the floors and blood-spatter stained the rugs.

Slowly he walked up and down the aisles of chairs, searching for Ishi or Sakura-san. He won’t be here, he thought. This area isn’t for riffraff. Not that the boy was indeed riffraff, but that’s how he would have looked and beeen seen by the nobles and royals there. The performance hall was practically a court gathering. No, it was a court gathering.

But Sakura was a dancer, so she wouldn’t be here, so he loped toward the stage, found a dead performer there. It looked to be a drummer, most of his skin bare except for the sash he wore.

He stepped up on stage and made his way into the dressing area. It was empty. There were no people here. No bodies. Only things strewn about, kimonos, under garments, and costume apparel.

Where are they? Did they get out of the palace?