“What are you doing here?”
Milanda had nearly reached the spot Sharidan had told her about. At the sudden voice, she turned—carefully. Despite its abruptness, she did not jump. She was not a jumpy person to begin with, and years at the Imperial court had honed her self-control to a fine point.
There had been no one in the hall with her, and she had heard no one approach, but now a Hand of the Emperor stood scarcely three yards away, glaring suspiciously. They really could teleport now, then, and apparently without the characteristic crackle-and-flash of arcane teleportation or dark visual effect of shadow-jumping. That would have been very useful if they’d been able to do it while obedient and predictable.
“I live here,” she said, looking as nonplussed as she could. It had been the Empress’s suggestion to act as if they had noticed nothing at all amiss with the Hands, which the Emperor had agreed with. She could see the point—their behavior was suddenly almost childlike, their loyalty to their master constant but their execution of it wild and without judgnt. Eleanora had already run afoul of the simring paranoia behind their eyes, and deed it best that no doubt be cast on them, as they would likely take it as provocation.
This only applied to the three of them, though. Hands did not hobnob with just anyone, but people in the highest levels of the governnt did interact with them, and were starting to notice. Even she had heard the rumors.
“Here,” he snapped. “In this hall. What is your business here?”
Milanda frowned slightly—perplexed, uncertain, the aspect of soone confused why she was being challenged. That took no political training, but only the experience of a strict Viridill upbringing which had never agreed with her. “This hall? It leads between the Emperor’s apartnt and the west solarium without passing through the central corridor. The servants are busy cleaning in there right now. Why?” Sharpening her gaze, she took an impulsive step toward him, affecting not to notice the abrupt movent of his hand despite the jab of panic that it caused. He did not attack, though, nor even pull away when she “impulsively” laid a hand on his arm. “Is sothing wrong? Is the Emperor all right?”
“The Emperor is engaged in a task which requires privacy and isolation,” the Hand said, still watching her suspiciously, but with less overt hostility now. “You were inford of this.”
“Yes. Yes, I know.” Affecting frustration, Milanda released him and stepped back, folding her arms beneath her breasts. That achieved nothing useful, and not just because of the modest gown that Sharidan preferred her in; never once had any of the Hands looked at her with lust, nor hinted that they were capable of such. Before today, she had much appreciated that. It had been worth a try, anyway. “No doubt you think I’m just a silly girl, but I do care about him. I know he has the very best people watching over him, I know he is smart and capable as any man. But… He’s not here, and I can’t help…” She trailed off, and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t an to waste your ti. You’ll tell , though, if anything happens?”
Milanda took another step closer to him, gazing up with wide eyes, head carefully angled so she didn’t accidentally look coquettishly through her lashes. A more direct stare helped sell the emotion. Clasping her hands before her would have been too theatrical, but she bunched them in her skirts, a nervous habit she had deliberately cultivated while at court so she could hide real nervousness by not displaying it.
The Hand had relaxed visibly, now. He still frowned, faintly, which was far more emotion than she was used to seeing from any of them, but appeared no longer on the verge of attacking her.
“I can’t promise that, as you know,” he said, only a little stiffly. “You will be inford of anything relevant to you. And you needn’t worry, his Majesty is in full control of his current situation. If you want to help him, go about your daily routine as normal. It is central to his plan that any parties observing the Palace detect nothing amiss.”
“Yes, so he told ,” she said with a sigh. “Perhaps I am a silly girl, on so level. My apologies.”
She curtsied carefully, not a whit more deeply than was proper, then turned and continued on up the hall without even a suggestion of hurry. There was silence behind her; she did not turn to see whether he was still there, or had vanished as suddenly as he’d co. And she definitely did not so much as glance at the marble bust of Emperor Sarsamon against the wall, which concealed the access to the secret entrance.
Lakshmi wasn’t best pleased to have her door knocked upon first thing in the morning, scarcely after Sanjay had headed off to school. The neighborhood wasn’t moneyed enough to be afflicted with salesn, but several of the cults did proselytize. It had been a few weeks, though; she’d begun to hope she had finally trained all the nearby temples not to pester the resident Eserite household…
Upon angrily opening the door, she couldn’t decide whether she was more or less pleased than she’d have been by wandering preachers.
“Peepers!” Sweet said, beaming and holding out his arms as if for a hug.
“Oh, what the fuck now,” she demanded, folding her own arms.
“That’s a little thing we do,” Sweet said, turning to address the man accompanying him, a stranger to her. “We Eserites like our byplay—almost as bad as bards, sotis. This one here is a classic setup/payoff; you’ve probably seen it in a play at least once.”
“It was a tad vaudevillian,” the other man agreed politely.
“Sweet, it’s early,” Lakshmi said curtly. “And you’re grinning at , which is downright unnerving. Early and unnerving are a combination that doesn’t work for . What do you want?”
“I need a favor, Peepers,” he said, his expression suddenly earnest.
She snorted derisively. “Are you outta your gourd? The last ti I did you a favor, I ended up getting chased around by goddamn demons.”
“Ah, ah, ah!” He held up a remonstrative finger. “That was a job. This is a favor. Totally different! And no demons involved this ti, I promise. Or warlocks. Much of anything, really.”
“And I’m going to do you favors because…?”
“She’s still huffy at ,” Sweet explained to his friend. “Because of the demon thing.”
“Well, it sounds like she’s entitled,” he replied seriously. “Have you tried the usual? Chocolates, flowers, empty flattery?”
“I was going for the old ‘pretend it didn’t happen and hope she forgets’ routine.”
“Ah.” The newcor shook his head regretfully. “A classic blunder. You never try that on the smart ones.”
Lakshmi cleared her throat.
“Right, yes!” Sweet turned his charming grin back on her, and she had the sneaking suspicion he was deliberately doing it to be annoying, now. “Aside from the fact that it’s just generally helpful to be in the good graces of people with my kind of connections, this is the sort of favor that cos with paynt, in the amount of far more than it deserves.”
“So it is a job.”
“No, it’s a paying favor—the best kind! A job is where you have to go out and do stuff. This won’t affect your plans in the least, unless you were going to burn down your apartnt for the insurance money.” Sweet grinned and edged aside in the narrow doorway, gesturing grandly to his companion. “This is my friend Danny. He needs a place to crash for a few days.”
Danny, assuredly not his real na, was a moderately well-dressed and actually rather good looking man of local Tiraan stock, in that indeterminate area between later youth and early middle age. He bowed politely, and formally.
“It is an honor and a privilege, Miss Peepers.”
“Psst, it’s just Peepers,” Sweet stage-whispered. “You don’t combine a tag with a title, unless you’re talking to the Boss.”
“Ah. My humble apologies.”
“And the reason he can’t stay in your giant house is?”
“C’mon, you’re sharp enough to know better than that,” Sweet replied. “A discreet sort of place. Where people won’t co looking for him. It’s just a few days, no more than a week. He doesn’t eat much, even.”
“People who need discreet places to crash are hiding from sothing,” she said, unimpressed. “I have a little brother to worry about, Sweet.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got everything covered,” Sweet assured her. “I will have people keeping an eye out—discreetly. Any trouble heads your way, he’ll be shuffled outta here, and you’ll get backup. But that’s just to satisfy my own sense of preparedness. I’m not gonna drop more trouble on you than you can handle.”
“Once again,” she said acidly, “demons.”
“Oh, let’s be honest,” he retorted airily. “Nobody expected that to turn out like it did, and I still had it under control, anyway. You’re mostly irked because that ans you can’t bla for it.”
“I can bla you for anything I please,” she inford him. “Woman’s prerogative. And now you’re dropping so shifty noble with , one who’s running from trouble? Noble trouble is almost worse than demons, Sweet.”
“Who says I’m a noble?” Danny asked, seeming more amused than affronted.
“Is that a joke?” Lakshmi demanded. “That cheap suit is not a disguise. No calluses, nails expertly manicured. Your hair is styled, in a way you didn’t do yourself, unless you happen to be a professional barber. Omnu’s hairy balls, Sweet, the man’s wearing perfu. What the hell am I supposed to do with him?”
“It’s just my natural musk!” Danny protested. “I eat a lot of…” He lifted an arm to sniff delicately at his wrist. “…hibiscus, tangerine, and sanguine vanilla. My doctor swears it’ll add ten years to your life.”
“Well, he can banter up to my standards,” Lakshmi acknowledged grudgingly. “That’s better than nothing. But seriously, this is a three-room apartnt in a contentedly cheap neighborhood. You will not like it here.”
“At least the company’s charming!” Danny said gallantly.
“It’ll be fine!” Sweet wheedled. “If he gets bored, you can teach him to do coin tricks. Hell, make him wash dishes, it’ll be character-building.”
“Hm,” she grunted, now studying Danny, who seed amused. She would be astonished if the man had ever done housework in his life, but he wasn’t bridling at the suggestion, which ant he wasn’t the worst kind of noble. “I dunno…”
“Well, let see if I can make it easier for you,” Sweet said. “Five decabloons up front, just for taking on the inconvenience, and an extra twenty in gold per day that he’s here. Plus, I’ll owe you one.”
Lakshmi was too experienced a bargainer to betray any reaction to the nad sum, which was more than she’d paid in rent for this place the entire ti she and Sanjay had lived here. Thanks to Principia’s accounts, she didn’t need money, but it was a asure of how serious the matter was. “Even though you’re paying ?”
“Hell with that, he’s paying you.” Sweet jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Danny. “Guy’s loaded. I’m just hooking him up with a reliable and trustworthy person who can provide him with a couch for a few days—for which, as I said, I’ll owe you. Co on, Peepers,” he added more softly. “Everything else aside, that thing with the warlocks just went south, and I never even suggested in the first place it would be safe. You know I wouldn’t put any Guild mber in more danger than they could handle, or mislead them about the situation I was setting them up for. This is , telling you I believe this is safe. If at any point I change my mind about that, I will haul ass down here imdiately and pull him out. My word on it.”
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She pursed her lips, making a show of mulling it over. “If he causes or attracts any trouble that affects my little brother, deal’s off then and there. And I keep the five decs and any gold paid up till that point.”
“More than fair,” Sweet agreed.
“And,” she added, “for thirty per day.”
“You’re proud of this place, aren’t you?” Danny observed with a smile.
“Oh, not at all,” Lakshmi replied, grinning at him. “I just enjoy squeezing you. Get used to it, roomie.”
On her way back through the hall, Milanda carried an apple. It wasn’t much as props went, but she had a story worked out to explain her presence here now that the servants had finished in the harem wing’s central halls. She had given it an hour, to be safe; with one Hand already suspicious of her, it was too risky to loiter in this region, or be seen here too often.
No one accosted her this ti, though. Despite her looming awareness of the potential threat, Milanda moved without hurry, stopping in front of the side table on which the bust sat. She had seen this thing a thousand tis and never paid it much attention, it fit so well with the décor of the Palace.
Now, moving as deftly as she could given the unfamiliarity of the motions, she reached under the table, her fingers finding the lever exactly where Sharidan had said it would be. She set the apple down on the table top, pulled the lever and held it, then carefully touched the rune hidden among the abstract patterns embossed in the table’s surface—also found right where she had been instructed to look.
There was no glow, or crackle, or any of the effects that tended to co with modern enchanted devices, nor even a chanical click from inside the wall. A section next to the display simply shifted backward in silence, its borders marked by seams which had not existed a mont ago. After moving back six inches from the surface of the wall, it slid to the side, revealing the door.
Milanda retrieved her apple and stepped quickly through, not pausing a mont to study this spectacle. The mont she was through, the wall silently slid back into position, the apparatus clearly having been designed for maximum discretion. She didn’t find it particularly galling that Sharidan had been keeping this secret from her. Frankly, there was a lot he didn’t tell her, and she accepted that just as she did the fact that theirs was not a conventional relationship. She was not the only woman he kept in these apartnts, and hadn’t even been his most preferred companion until the sudden departure of Lillian Riaje last year.
The less said about that, the better.
A small fairly lamp ignited as soon as the wall shut, saving her from the darkness. She was in a space no bigger than an average closet—an average closet from back ho, not one of the cavernous spaces where the Emperor or Empress kept their clothes. Its walls matched the corniced marble from the corridor outside, a touch which amused her. Opposite the secret door was a ladder set into the wall, which vanished into an opening in the floor.
Milanda paused only for a mont to get her bearings in the cramped space before proceeding. She had no suitable pockets and it didn’t seem wise to leave litter in here, so she descended the ladder carefully with the apple clutched in her left hand. More tiny fairy lamps were set along the descending shaft; they ca on when she approached, while the upper reaches of the ladder fell back into darkness.
This was a disorienting effect. Down she went in her own little island of light, which moved along with her, hiding what ager landmarks there were and erasing any sense of how far she had co. Already this had been a longer climb down than from any of the trees she had scaled as a child, and still, there was only darkness below. The Emperor clambered up and down this shaft? Alone? What if he fell? The sheer recklessness of it…
Halfway through that thought, her grip on the apple slipped. Milanda winced but did not jeopardize her balance by grabbing for it, resigning herself to having to find so way to clean up applesauce at the bottom.
It only fell two feet, though, before coming to a stop in midair. Well, of course; this had apparently been set up by Empress Theasia, who had been famous for never missing a trick. Obviously a place like this would have the best safety enchantnts in existence.
She retrieved her apple and continued down.
It was at least ten minutes, maybe longer, before she finally put her slippers on solid ground again. The chamber at the base of the ladder was stone, well-cut but clearly old—it looked like it belonged in so ancient fortress rather than the opulent Imperial Palace above. Still, nothing about it was evocative of ruins. It was clean and in good repair. Milanda gave it scarcely a glance.
On the wall of this chamber opposite the ladder was the door. Sharidan had been unable to warn her in detail of what she would find beyond the hidden entrance above, which was modern work and no part of the geas governing and empowering the Hands, a geas which apparently protected itself by preventing any in the know from speaking of it. Only the fact that she expected so kind of door made her assu that was what this was.
It was tal, that much was plain, but not steel. It was too pale, and shone too brightly even in the dim light of the tiny fairy lamp set next to the ladder. The door itself was a mostly vertical panel engraved with a sigil which ant nothing to her, flanked by two columns of glass in which a faintly luminous purple substance slowly oscillated. This seed to glow, but the strange tal did not take on any purple tint from it.
In fact…
Milanda’s breath caught as she realized what she was looking at. Mithril. The whole wall was made of it. In addition to being totally impervious, the value of this thing would practically buy the Palace itself. Slowly, she crept forward, reaching out to inquisitively touch the sigil in the center of the door.
It instantly shifted upward into its fra with a soft hiss. She did not jerk back, but paused montarily to study this.
The room beyond was tiny. Scarcely wider than the ladder shaft and circular except for the flat wall which made up the door, it was also ford entirely of pale, glossy mithril.
Milanda stepped carefully inside, peering around for so hint what she was ant to do next. The thing was almost featureless, though there was a palm-sized panel beside the open doorway which was made of a different material. So kind of glass, perhaps, like the tubes outside; it glowed faintly, this one a pale blue like the characteristic luminosity of arcane magic.
The door suddenly hissed shut behind her, and this ti she did jump. A low hum rose from the tal floor, and in the little glowing panel appeared a black circle, which began to dissolve starting from a point at its top and cycling around clockwise until it vanished completely. The instant it did, only a few seconds later, the door opened again, unprompted.
It wasn’t the sa room outside. Belatedly, Milanda realized that the little round chamber wasn’t actually a room, but a conveyance, which had just taken her… Well, hopefully where she needed to be.
This was clearly the product of the sa minds which had made the moving chamber. Everything—everything—was made of mithril. She was in a short hallway, brightly lit, the air incongruously fresh considering how far underground this had to be. The lights were set into the ceiling, while more glowing purple columns marched along the walls. Up ahead was another door, this one larger.
Milanda strode forward with more confidence, reaching out to touch the sigil engraved on the door’s surface. This ti, she wasn’t surprised when it vanished into the ceiling.
Beyond that was another corridor, which extended up ahead for a few yards before terminating against a mithril wall, where the hall itself turned to the right. The lights and border columns here were the sa, but this corridor was lined by glass panels opening onto other rooms.
Tiny, empty rooms.
She paced forward, carefully peering into each as she passed. What was the purpose of this? There were eight of them along the hallway, but the third one on the right had another mithril wall instead of a glass pane with a room beyond. When she ca abreast of that one, though, she had to stop and stare.
The cell opposite it was occupied.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here,” the resident observed.
Milanda was not at all sure what she was looking it. It was a woman…sort of. In fact, she looked more like a doll than a person. Her skin was deathly white, as she had heard Vanislaad demons described, and subtly glossy. It didn’t look like skin at all. She had black eyes, so dark their pupils were invisible, which did not contain any reflection, a most eerie effect. Her features seed oddly stylized, with a very pointed chin and enlarged eyes, as if she had been crafted by soone working from a rough description of elves and not really striving for believability. She had normal human ears, though.
That wasn’t the limit of her strangeness. The woman’s hair…was not hair. It took a mont’s study for Milanda to realize what was wrong with it: what looked at first glance like short black hair was simply the shape of her skull, pignted to contrast with her face and ford to look roughly like a backswept hairdo, but it was all of one glossy surface. And her black clothes were not clothes. They were part of her, hanging in ragged edges from her cuffs but fading into being from her throat, with no collar; her skin just shifted color and changed shape to very roughly mimic garnts. The slightly baggy “pants” they ford tightened below the knee to cover gleaming black feet which seed bare. At any rate, they had visible toes.
“…who are you?” Milanda asked, only belatedly realizing she had been staring.
The creature shrugged. “A prisoner.”
“Why are you imprisoned?”
“Because I am dangerous.” At that, she smiled. Her lips were bloodless as the rest of her face, and painfully thin.
“I see,” Milanda said carefully. “…what do you know about the Hands of the Emperor?”
“Ah.” The woman’s smile widened. “I suspected as much. You’ll be having so trouble with them, no doubt.”
Milanda turned to face her directly. “What do you know of this?”
“Little,” the prisoner replied. “I could find out more, given access to the resources in this facility. I might be able to help you fix the problem, though I am reluctant to promise that. The system access is designed to be user-friendly, but there have been tweaks made to the underlying code itself, and I’m not a computer tech.”
Several terms in that speech were unfamiliar to Milanda, who decided to pass over them for now and focus on what she did understand. “I was cautioned not to let you out.”
“Very wise,” the prisoner said, nodding. “If you do, I’ll kill you.”
She stepped back. “Why would you do that?”
The woman shrugged. “It’s what I do.”
Milanda could find no answer for that.
“Anyway, you have more imdiate problems,” the prisoner continued. “You are not authorized to be here. Hands will be coming to check soon—they’ll know when soone enters here, and I suspect they’ll know it’s not the Emperor or one of their own.”
Milanda backed away against the far wall. “You’re trying to trick into letting you out.”
“You should not let out,” the woman said matter-of-factly.
“Don’t you want to get out?”
“Of course I do, but that’s another subject. We’re talking about you. There is only one place for you to hide until the Hands investigate and leave—down there, at the end of the hall. Fortunately, what you’ll find in there is exactly what you need to proceed with your goal anyway. Unfortunately, they’ll probably kill you, too.”
“Is there anything in this place that won’t kill ?” Milanda demanded in aggravation.
The prisoner shrugged again. “That’s not the right question. They might kill you. I will. I might be able to help you. They probably can. They are your only hope, however slim, of surviving the next few minutes. And if they do decide to help rather than kill you, their help could even make it safe for you to let out. This doesn’t seem like a dilemma to .”
Milanda started to grasp at her head in frustration and belatedly realized she was still holding an apple. “I have no reason at all to trust you.”
“You can either go back, or go forward. You can’t do anything standing here except talk to . It’s nice to have company, but I can’t do much for you while I’m in here.”
“Except kill ,” she said sarcastically.
“I can’t kill you while I’m in the cell,” the woman replied in complete calm. “That’s why you should not let out.”
“Are you insane?”
“Yes,” she replied, still calm. “Isolation does that to a person, and I’ve been down here for a long ti. My mind was damaged by trauma long before I was captured, though. That’s why I kill everything. Regardless, you’re concerned with your own business, right? I could trick you into getting killed, which would be entertaining very briefly and gain nothing. Or I could help you, which could be entertaining for much longer while you struggle to survive and overco this situation, and that course might potentially end with getting out of here.”
“At which point you’ll kill ,” Milanda said. “No, thank you.”
“As you are now, yes, I would,” the woman said frankly. “If you go see the others, they might change that.”
“Who are they?”
“Less dangerous than I.” The prisoner smiled again. “Marginally. I am very predictable. I’m really not sure what they might do. Honestly, I don’t think they are, either.”
Suddenly, lines of text appeared in the upper corner of the glass panel which walled her off from Milanda, in a language she couldn’t read.
“Soone’s coming,” the prisoner said, studying the script. “Either the Emperor or one of his Hands. I extrapolate from your presence that it’s not the Emperor. It’s ti for you to move.”
“Bloody hell,” Milanda cursed uncharacteristically, bolting down the short remainder of the hallway. Behind her, the imprisoned creature offered no further comnt.
After its ninety degree right turn, the hall terminated in another door, this one obviously a door. It was more heavily built up, with an elaborate fra of tal which was a matte black, clearly not mithril; the door itself was of the sa material, inset with glowing blue runes. No, not runes—letters. So of them were the sa as the alphabet used in Tanglish, though the words made no sense to her.
Grimacing and clutching her apple for moral support, Milanda stepped forward and pressed her hand to the door.
Nothing happened.
In growing panic, she prodded at various words, none of which had any effect.
“You’ll need to find the access panel in the fra,” said the prisoner’s voice from around the corner behind her. “It should be on the left.”
Milanda hesitated, then stepped back, studying the heavily carved door fra. In fact—yes. On its left side, at chest height, was a little square space about the size of the one in the tubular conveyance. At her touch, this ca alight, displaying more lines of illegible text.
A second later, the door opened, parting along a central seam and sliding into the fra on either side. It was thicker than the other doors, and more complex, revealing a second set of panels which slid apart in different directions. What it revealed was nothing but a wall of blue light.
Milanda carefully reached out to touch this, then thought better of it. Who knew what that creature in the cell was trying to trick her into doing? After a mont’s thought, she stepped back and gently tossed the apple in.
It vanished into the blue surface without a ripple.
Milanda drew in a deep breath and let it out through her teeth. The Hands were coming; even if the prisoner had lied, they would be anyway, and probably soon. The creature in the cell had been right about one thing: it wasn’t as if there was anywhere else for her to go down here. Muttering a quick prayer, she stepped carefully forward, holding up her hands, and began to pass through the light.
She just had ti to watch her fingertips vanish into its surface before her apple ca whizzing back out, clocking her right on the forehead. Milanda yelped and fell backward, landing painfully on her rump halfway through the door, whereupon she discovered that whatever was beyond didn’t have a floor on the sa level. Flailing gracelessly and disoriented by the blow to the head, she slid and tumbled through into the unknown.
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