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“I can’t help you alone,” she said. “And I need my weapons.”
“No weapons.”
“Very well. But I can’t get you away from Osterling by myself. I know someone who can, though.” When the other woman hesitated, she added, “If you don’t believe me, you can kill me now.”
The woman frowned, tight-lipped. “You promise? You promise to get help?”
It was not exactly a lie, Galena told herself. “I promise. Come with me.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
MIDNIGHT. ILSE STARED at her ceiling, hardly more than a pale square above her, illuminated by moonlight. Her thoughts remained frozen. No, not exactly frozen. More as though she had succumbed to useless panic, which robbed her from any useful activity. So she lay there, counting the slow thump of her heartbeat. Waiting, waiting, waiting for the day to begin and her enemies to come.
One quarter, two, three.
As from a distance, she heard the next hour bell ring. A single soft peal. They had entered the interval between one day and another. Like the void between lives, she thought. Like the moment between one breath and the next.
Tomorrow Khandarr would question her. It was too much of a coincidence, her presence here, where the Károvín ships had foundered. She could tell from his manner that afternoon. She knew too much about Raul Kosenmark. She only wondered why he had not bothered before.
She rubbed her hands over her face. No use lying in bed. She rose and stalked into her study, scowled at the map of southern Fortezzien, spread over her desk, which she had abandoned earlier. I
ts contents were not encouraging. Osterling sat on the point of the peninsula. A spine of rocky hills extended its entire length, and into the mainland. On both sides, the shores were narrow, populated with small towns and fishing villages, which were connected by a single highway. There were garrisons, too, each within a day’s ride of each other. Besides, Khandarr would have notified the fort and harbor watches the moment he arrived. They would stop her at the gates.
She could attempt to cross into Anderswar, and from there to Tiralien.
Another questionable choice. Even if she could dare such a thing, Khandarr could track her to Raul’s doorstep.
No, there was no escape. Except one.
Her gaze flicked toward her books. The scroll from Lord Iani hid between two massive dictionaries of the Erythandran language. Not yet, she decided. Not until she was certain about Khandarr’s intentions.
A small voice whispered, Coward.
I am a coward. I like my life and my self.
The candle flame shuddered, sending a cascade of shadows over her desk and hands.
Shadow, ghost, death. A link of words came too easily. It was a child’s game, she told herself. She had left the game behind when she escaped her father’s house in Melnek. Briefly, she wondered about her childhood friend Klara, with whom she had so often passed an afternoon with such pastimes. They had talked about lovers, years ago. Ilse hoped Klara had found her artist, someone who loved beauty as much as she did.
The thought of Klara brought her other friend to mind, Kathe. Kathe who had tended her through sickness. Who taught her how to mince garlic, and stir a sauce to the smoothness of silk. Who stayed her friend even after she left the kitchens to become Berthold Hax’s assistant, then much later, Raul’s beloved.
I lied to her. I told her I left Raul because I wanted children. She thinks me selfish.
Or was it a lie?
Ilse folded the map together and set it aside. Walked over to her bookcase and knelt. Her limbs felt numb, her body removed at a distance, as she commanded her hands to seek out Lord Iani’s scroll and extract it from its hiding place. It unfurled at a touch, revealing a foot of thick dark parchment with the words of the spell written in old Erythandran. Ilse glanced over it. She had only to speak those words to take herself beyond Khandarr’s questions. They would save Raul Kosenmark and all his shadow court. She didn’t even need to provide a key for unlocking her memories.
The shutters beside the bookcase rattled. Pebbles and dirt flew through the slats and onto the floor. Then, she heard a hoarse shout. “Ilse!”
Galena?
Ilse swiftly coiled the parchment and tucked it behind her books. She rose cautiously and peered through the window slats. Moonlight splashed over the roof and the center part of the courtyard, but the perimeter lay in darkness. Then she sensed a movement by the far wall. Galena Alighero emerged from the shadows. She wore her uniform and armor, but no helmet. Moon and starshine silvered her brown hair. And she limped.
Ilse had not talked with Galena since the girl received her punishment. She knew Adler had transferred Galena to harbor duty at the dark watch, between three bells and dawn. What was she doing here, at this hour?
Galena glanced over one shoulder, bent, and gathered another handful of pebbles. This would not do. One of the house guards would hear the noise. Ilse opened the shutters. “Galena,” she whispered loudly. “What is it?”
Galena immediately let the pebbles fall. “Ilse. Can you come outside?”
