Crown of Smoke Page 10

  I drop my prize on my cell floor and reach up with the other hand, cracking the physician’s head against the bars.

  He slides to the dungeon floor. He’ll have a headache when he wakes.

  If he ever does.

  Perhaps a past version of myself would have felt pity.

  I am no longer that person.

  I break out Del first, then Mish.

  The pale-faced girl regards me solemnly, her silver-blonde hair shining in the torchlight despite the filth. “Greetings, Ashradinoran. It is so very good to see you, but we should make haste.”

  She’s not wrong.

  I curse when I find Lark isn’t in her cell. Zostar’s men must have taken her for tests, which means she could be on another floor entirely. I dearly hope it wasn’t the one with the choking fumes.

  While I scout ahead, Del works on freeing as many others along the way as he can, until there’s a half score following me along the dark stone tunnel. Next, we set out to locate Ami.

  I lose count of corridors we hurry through, but only after I lose count of the cells we pass. There must be dozens, possibly even hundreds. How many of them are here only to serve Zostar’s whims? It tears at my heart that I won’t be able to free each and every one.

  When we find Ami, she gives me a quick, fierce hug. I press my fingers to my lips and she nods, falling in with Del and the rest.

  Several times I peer around a corner just in time to retreat into a doorway as one of Zostar’s black-robed figures rush by. The noxious fumes the young physician reported have the Blazers and the physicians scurrying like ants in a kicked nest.

  We make it to a set of stairs. A pair of guards man the entrance to the next level up. I clench my jaw in frustration. We can’t double back. We still haven’t found Lark, but going lower just takes us further from freedom, and closer to the fumes taking down Zostar’s men. I motion for the others to wait.

  Then I gather myself, coiling my strength before rushing up the last stairs and into the hall.

  The first guard’s nose crunches under the heel of my hand before he’s so much as blinked. The second moves for his weapon but doesn’t unsheathe it before a blow to the stomach knocks the wind out of him and an elbow to the temple sends him slumping to the floor.

  This level is more neatly hewn from the rock and better lit. It’s also almost eerily quiet. But what’s most disturbing is the group of courtiers who pass by when I return to fetch the others, chatting animatedly on the way to the underground arena.

  How many of us are being pitted to fight? Even the youngest ones?

  When the courtiers are gone, we keep moving.

  Ahead, there’s a muttered curse and a rhythmic clank. I press up against the wall and ease my head around the corner. Two Blazers stand behind an iron grate, one working a lever that winches it open. The grates were installed as a series of defenses in case Ekasya Mountain was ever invaded from the slopes below. To my knowledge, it never has been.

  The barest of breezes brushes by my cheek. That corridor must lead to the outside.

  Then the pair are coming through and straight towards the junction where we wait.

  Which branch will they take? Straight. Or around the corner. It’s a half and half chance and everything rests on their choice. All I can think is that it would make sense for them to continue straight on – I’ve no idea what is up there but the lights are spaced more regularly that way, and we’ve passed nothing but empty cells for the past few turns. I mouth a prayer that I’m right. Though who knows if any of the gods would ever again listen to the likes of me. If they ever did.

  “Back,” I whisper. We retreat three, four paces down the tunnel branch.

  The footsteps come nearer.

  Then they’re past us, their voices retreating. I dare to move my head out enough to see the way they went, just in time to see their backs disappear around the next junction. I allow myself a slow, controlled exhale.

  “This way.” I motion for the others to follow.

  We round the corner and pad closer to the gate.

  “You there!”

  Two more Blazers, silent until now, step out of the gloom.

  “Stay here,” I tell the others.

  Stooping my shoulders, I affect a limp and slope towards the men, hands out in front of me, like I used to when I was very young and found myself on the streets of the slums.

  The men exchange confused glances. The last thing they expect is a would-be escapee approaching them in supplication.

  Their hesitation opens the crucial moment for me to lash out for the one on the right’s throat, sending him staggering back, fingers scrabbling at his neck like he could claw back his breath. The knife that was in his belt is now in my hand.

  A heartbeat later, the pair we evaded earlier come pounding towards us.

  And in the close quarters, everything turns to chaos.

  Mish and Del have retreated towards the cover of the offshoot corridor, herding the other children back with them. Smart. Ami is edging towards the gateway, no doubt feeling the pull of potential freedom.

  “Keep behind me,” I bark at her, but it’s too late. There’s a Blazer between me and her now.

  I tackle the second last of them, my shoulder slamming into his abdomen. I’m rewarded with a pained grunt. The world tilts, and we go down in a tangle.

  Something gives way beneath me and for a heartbeat I think I’ve broken one of his bones. Then the gate begins to lower, one ratchet-notch at a time. Azered’s breath. He must have landed on the mechanism.

  The gate lurches down another peg.

  Clank.

  My palm is slick with sweat. I tighten my grip on the knife and rear back enough to find space for the blade between the Blazer’s ribs. One teeth-gritted thrust and the point finds his heart. He stiffens. A gurgling cough sprays blood across my cheek. Then he slumps for the last time.

  Clank.

  Ami is on the other side of the gate, backing away from the last Blazer. I lurch under the descending iron bars and with a sweeping kick knock his feet out from under him. I aim a knee at this throat, seeking to crush his windpipe.

  He rolls free and on to his haunches, springing at me. The crash of his full weight sends me staggering. We drop to the floor, wrestling, all fury and survival instinct.

  Hands find my temples. If he gets a good grip, those arms are strong enough to snap my neck. Instead of trying to twist free, I counter with a blow of my forehead to his nose. He grunts and flings his weight to the side, so that we’re both grappling to gain the dominant position.

  Clank.

  He wins. He’s on top, hands at my throat. I claw at his face, thumbs seeking vulnerable eye sockets. It’s enough for me to throw him off balance and regain the upper position. We’re under the gate now, so that I’m trying to keep my opponent pinned while avoiding the iron spikes.

  He gets a knee up, winding me, and I collapse to the other side just as the grate slips on the last of its winch and comes crashing down with sound that’s half booming clang, half sickening crunch. The Blazer lies pinned to the floor, twitching. Blood oozes from his perforated torso and the corner of his mouth. An iron spike meets the stone floor a mere inch from my face.

  I get to my knees, sides still heaving with effort. Even if nobody heard my struggle with the Blazers, this latest noise is loud enough to alert half the dungeon.

  We won’t be alone for long.

  Ami has her hand clapped over her mouth, her eyes wide. She may have read about brutal battles for turns in the Imperial Library, but none of that has prepared her for the stink of fear, sweat and blood, the finality of seeing another being’s life depart them. Thank the gods she fainted in the arena.

  But I can’t afford her losing her faculties. Not now. I edge towards her, holding out my hands like I’m approaching a skittish animal. “It’s over. Breathe. Take a deep breath in, count to five as you let it go.”

  She gulps air, but manages to let it go more slowly with
each breath.

  “Better?”

  She gives me a tight little nod and hugs her arms around herself.

  I turn back to the grate. Relief washes through me as Del and Mish creep back out into the light. They’re unharmed.

  But they’re now on the wrong side of the grate. I wrap hands bruised from the fight around the lower bars, brace my weight, and heave.

  “Give me an assist with this?” Del and Mish take up mirrored position on the other side of the grate and we try again. Even with the three of us, it doesn’t budge.

  “There.” Ami points to a lever on the other side of the grate. “That mechanism will open it.”

  Del grabs the iron handle and gives it a tug. Just like the grate, it doesn’t budge.

  “Move over, I’ll help you.” Mish bends down, wrapping her hands above his. But still, nothing. Del falls back, breathing heavily from the effort. “It’s jammed.”

  “Try again. Bend your knees. Lift with your legs, not your arms.”

  The pair do as I say. Del looking to Mish. “On three?”

  She gives a tight, determined nod.

  He counts down and they lift again, groaning with the strain. Nothing. Not an inch.

  The mechanism must have become jammed in the fall. I pace back and forth across the corridor. If only I could reach the lever through the bars. Perhaps it’s just not yielding to two young bodies weakened from moons in the darkness with nothing but gruel. Or maybe if we had something to tie around it to get leverage. A rope made of our smocks? The tattered fabric would never hold up under that strain. Or would it?

  Mish rises to her feet. “I came to seek my fortune. Alas, it is not what I imagined. In the tales that will one day be told of the dark happenings here, my name shall be on the side of light. That is my fortune now.”

  I’d think she was being overwrought if I didn’t know flowery speech was part of her upbringing. “Mish, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Heroes are forged in the flames of adversity. This is my fire.”

  “I’ll help her,” Del says. “We’ll find Lark, too. You should go. We’ll cover for you.”

  He’s so earnest. After only whispered conversations through a cell wall, he’s willing to sacrifice himself to save another.

  Not on my watch.

  “I won’t leave without you. Either of you. And the others. I promised we’d all get out, and we will.”

  Mish shakes her head in the gloom, her hands wrapped around the bars of the grate. “The younger ones need someone to take care of them. Del and I will stay. But if you go, you can do something about this. You truly believe the First Prince is alive? Seek him out. All the tales I ever heard of him said he had a true heart. Go. Go now. Find him. Then return for us.”

  Footsteps, heavy and purposeful, echo from somewhere in a distant corridor.

  I wish there was something else I could do. But if I stay, I know I’ll never get another chance to escape.

  Men’s shouts echo through the tunnels, angry and alarmed.

  “I’ll get you out of here,” I vow, voice thick.

  “I believe you. Only not this night.” Mish gives me a solemn nod and then turns back down the tunnel.

  Del thumps his hand to his chest in a salute that’s all earnestness and no training and follows after her.

  My heart aches as I watch them leave. So brave and selfless. They shouldn’t need to be those things. Not now. Not ever.

  I grab Ami by the arm and we take off in the opposite direction, running as fast and as quietly as we can. My ribs burn where the scars are split. Ami’s struggling, her breath coming in ragged gasps, hand clutched at her side. She’s not used to this kind of exertion, especially not with what she must have been through these past moons.

  I’ve got to keep her moving.

  “We’re going to make it,” I reassure her. “We just need to keep up the pace. One foot after the other. Count your breaths, try to control them. Breathe with the opposite stride each time.”

  Echoes of angry shouts reach us from back in the direction we came. They’ve discovered the bodies. I desperately hope fleet-footed Riker watches over Del and Mish so that they make it back to their cells unnoticed. Otherwise they’ll be punished for something they never deserved. And this time it will be my fault for leading them to more horror.

  But here and now, all I can do is one thing. The thing Rakel would say to me if she were here.

  Through. The only way out is through.

  CHAPTER 8

  LUZ

  My entourage is halted at the great cedar gates of Ekasya.

  Halted and searched. This is unprecedented.

  “Do you not have the smokiest idea who I am? Or were you hired to play the buffoon?” My voice is imperious, intended to carry to as many ears as possible. The more who know the Chief Perfumer of Aphorai Province has arrived, the better. If I’m going to get to the essence of what’s going on in the city, I don’t want them feeling surprised. I want them to think they’re ready for me. At times like this, it’s much more useful for your target to think they have the upper hand.

  “All those entering Ekasya must pass the checkpoint.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since the Regent ordered it.”

  I eye the man. He wears the sleeveless chainmail of the city guard, but something seems off. He’s a fraction too cocky. And while he’s large, it’s not the endurance-lean physique of a Ranger.

  Time to do away with dignity. I climb off the litter that has borne me from the docks to the capital’s entrance, lurching to the side as I feign twisting my ankle. As if desperate not to tumble to the flagstones, I flail for the guard’s arm. It’s enough of a distraction to edge the padded undershirt he wears beneath his mail further up his wrist.

  There. Only partially revealed but unmistakable. A black sun.

  “Why, you’re a formidable one, aren’t you?” I squeeze his meaty forearm in apparent appreciation, though it’s everything to hide my revulsion.

  He pulls free of my touch, but not before a greasy smugness slides into his expression.

  As the guards make a show of inspecting my entourage and our paraphernalia, I watch them with the same feigned appreciation.

  This is worse than I anticipated.

  A member of the Brotherhood of the Blazing Sun allowed into Ekasya’s guard? Like the Rangers, the capital’s guard are supposed to be a neutral force, protecting the city and the imperial family and administration but not furthering any other agenda. Known members of any radical group, whether secular separatists or fringe sects like the Blazers have until now been refused admittance to service.

  How many of them have been allowed to join the ranks? More pertinently, who is doing the allowing? The Regent himself? Or someone within his employ?

  I need answers.

  Naturally, I know where to find them.

  The unfortunate business at the gate was official business.

  Tonight has nothing to do with the Chief Perfumer of Aphorai.

  The alley is as nondescript as any other, dominated by a pile of ancient refuse that passers-by could be forgiven for concluding had simply accumulated over the turns. But that would be to do Sneryis’s people a disservice. One of the many reasons the majority of Ekasya’s citizens remain blissfully unaware of this place is this tower of ephemera – artfully arranged, maintained and scented – to be equal parts nondescript and uninviting.

  At the end of the alley is an arch in the stone wall, with several steps leading down to what appears to be a servant’s entrance. In all actuality, it is a servant’s entrance.

  I, however, am not here to serve.

  I bypass the door and take the off-puttingly damp and musty sunken path to its seeming dead-end, pressing my hand just so on one of the stones.

  A section of the wall gives way on silent hinges and I step through the opening into the antechamber. It’s a nondescript room, bare of furnishings except for a multi-tiered shelf of jars and vials o
n one side and a welcome counter on another.

  Opposite is a second, unmarked door.

  No line this evening. Splendid. I have all respect for orderliness, but I will never develop an enthusiasm for queuing.

  The girl lounging at the reception counter wears raven-dark silk and a glaze of boredom, lips painted blood red against pale skin. “You’re too late.”

  “Greetings to you, too, Tillis.”

  “I have nothing else to say to you, Luz.”

  “Are you vexed with me?” I lean on the counter, flashing her my baby blues with a curl-lipped smirk. “Come now, tell me why you’re so very vexed with me. Is it because I never write? Or because I left in such a hurry that morni—”

  “I don’t care enough about you to pay attention to anything you do,” she lies. “You’re simply too late. Nobody could make an addition tonight.”

  Ah, I see. The price of entry at Sneryis’s is standard. Anyone who could afford to frequent a relatively upscale establishment could cover the fee. But only a few could pass the entrance requirements – add a new ingredient to the base note Sneryis has chosen as a room scent for the night and have it pass muster. If it doesn’t, your name goes on the blacklist for a turn. In the information game, a turn is a very long time indeed.

  And Sneryis has … fluctuating tastes. Nevertheless, it’s imperative I gain entrance, no matter how complex the evening’s fragrance has already become.

  I motion to Tillis, and she waves a vial under my nose.

  A single sniff reveals tonight’s offering is incredibly detailed. A dozen flowers play harmonies with several fruits, while no less than six layers of woods join the chorus. Beneath that, restrained but still evident, hum several rich, smoky resins. Even I’m hard pressed to single out the exact number.

  This is not the challenge I expected.

  “You think I couldn’t handle this?” I press a hand to my heart. “You wound me, Tillis.”

  She passes me the vial with a sarcastic smile and a “be my guest” gesture.

  In honesty, there truly isn’t much room left. Though perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised; with the city in upheaval, it’s no wonder that the black market, not least of all the information brokers, are doing a roaring trade.