Chapter 26
26
S TILL SEATED ON the balcony of Rami’s rooms, Kanthe recognized the shock and disbelief shining on the Klashean prince’s face. Rami’s pipe had long been forgotten, its fiery leaf gone cold.
Kanthe had just finished explaining the true reason he and the others had come to Kysalimri, to the lands of the Southern Klashe. Rami had clearly suspected something was amiss. The prince had somehow discovered their interest in the moon—but he did not know the full extent of the danger.
Now he did.
Rami sat straighter, choking to speak. “You… You all believe the moon will come crashing down upon us? It’s not some jest? That the Urth will be destroyed.”
Kanthe had held little back of their story. He even raised Frell’s concerns about the growing frequency of quakes and more turbulent tides. Still, he suspected that the others would not be happy with all that he had shared, but with war threatening, it was time to loosen the tight clamp on their secrets.
We need an ally here, or we will fail.
That was part of Kanthe’s justification for including Rami in their secret endeavor. But deeper down, it was mostly born of Kanthe’s growing discomfort at having to lie to a young man he considered a friend. Plus, the weight of all the secrets had become a boulder sitting on his chest. He had needed to unburden a portion of it, even if it meant placing that weight on another’s shoulders.
Kanthe studied Rami’s face, his dark eyes. The prince had gone stone-faced and unreadable.
Did I make the right decision? Or have I ruined everything?
With no indication of what he was thinking, Rami dumped the cold contents from his pipe’s bowl and set about tamping in fresh leaf. He lifted the pipe to his lips, and with a flaming taper, he set the leaf afire as he puffed it brighter. He leaned back, took a deep inhale, held it, then let it ease out in a long curl of smoke.
Only then did he turn to Kanthe. “So what do we do?”
Kanthe lifted both brows. “You believe me?”
Rami shrugged. “First, I see no benefit in fabricating such a story. If anything, it makes you sound mad. Second, as the fourth-born prince of these lands, few consider my actions. It wasn’t hard to sneak into your alchymist’s chamber and note his peculiar line of inquiry. The moon and apocalyptic omens.”
Kanthe’s eyes widened. “Wait. You broke into Frell’s sanctum? Without him ever knowing?” He was both shocked and impressed. Frell had placed all manner of wards to detect anyone meddling with his books or work.
Rami lifted one hand. “Back in Hálendii, you used your idle time to become a skilled hunter. Whereas my interests here went beyond knife throwing.” He wiggled his fingers. “One of my Chaaen descends from generations of thieves. After some training and diligent practice, my trespasses now go unheeded. In fact, there are few locks I can’t tickle open.”
At this last boast, Rami’s gaze settled upon Kanthe with the slightest of smiles.
“Can you teach me how to do that?” Kanthe asked, envious of such a skill.
“I can teach you many things.” An eyebrow arched. “But as much as that would give me great pleasure, let’s return to the question at hand. What can we do to stop this moonfall if it’s to truly happen?”
Kanthe weighed whether to let go of one last secret, but he had committed himself to this path. No reason to stray from it now. He leaned closer. “There’s something important, nearly miraculous. It may be hidden in the southern reaches of your lands, an ancient artifact that could help shed further light on this threat.”
“What artifact?”
“A Sleeper from before the Forsaken Ages.”
Rami’s face pinched with confusion. “What are you—”
A clanging of gongs cut him off. It started abruptly, rising and echoing beyond the balcony. Then, moments later, even louder, coming from within the citadel itself.
Rami stood up, tossing his pipe aside.
Kanthe rose with him. “What is it?”
Rami searched all around. “The Imperial Tocsin.” His gaze settled back on Kanthe. “The palace is under attack.”
Kanthe swallowed and stared beyond the balcony rail. By now, the imperial warships he had noted in the skies had sailed out of sight. He heard no explosions, no telltale trails of smoke. Kanthe struggled to understand.
Has my father grown so bold that he would assault the emperor’s citadel? Or is it another attack by the Shayn’ra, the Fist of God?
A sudden pounding on the chamber door inside drew their attention around.
After a stunned moment, Rami rushed across the balcony, waving for Kanthe to follow. “That should be the royal Paladins to whisk us to safety.”
Kanthe ran after the prince. “If we’re under attack, I must get back to Frell.”
“Your alchymist will be attended, I promise you.”
Rami reached the door and yelled through it, “Ka ryelyn wu!” And likely for Kanthe’s benefit: “Announce yourself!”
A muffled response followed. Kanthe knew enough Klashean to understand. “It is High Guardsman Typhn! With Chaaen Loryn.”
Rami nodded, glancing back to Kanthe as he unlatched the door. “The Paladins, like I said.”
As Rami pulled the door open, a cadre of figures in light armor and chain mail veils shoved inside. Their surcoats were emblazoned with the Klashean Arms: a pair of crossed gold swords against a black background.
Rami backed away, making room for them. “We’re both safe,” he assured the lead guardsmen.
Kanthe grabbed his friend and drew him farther away, knowing that was not true. From his vantage, he had spotted something undeniably wrong. Out in the hall. A figure cloaked in a byor-ga robe stood next to the tall, gaunt frame of Loryn. A blade was held at the Chaaen’s throat.
What’s happening?
Before Kanthe or Rami could react further, the swordsmen swept forward and forced them apart. The robed stranger pushed Loryn into the room and passed the Chaaen to Rami. Blades circled them all.
The cloaked man sheathed his dagger and removed the byor-ga headgear. Kanthe expected to see dark features with eyes striped in white. But it was not the leader of the Shayn’ra. The intruder remained a stranger, someone not of these lands. The man’s pale features were sunburned, his hair a shambled mop of graying blond hair. His green eyes swept the room, then settled on Kanthe.
“We must go,” he commanded. “Now.”
Kanthe stood his ground and forced his voice into some semblance of princely indignation. “Was it King Toranth who hired you brigands?” he asked sourly. “If so, we can pay twice the head price, if not more.”
The stranger laughed. “Do you truly think simple brigands could pierce the citadel of Imri-Ka?”
Kanthe frowned. “Then who are you?”
“Ah, of course. We’ve never met.” The man held out his hand. “Symon hy Ralls.”
Kanthe blinked a few times, taking an extra breath to place that name. His eyes widened when it came to him. “Graylin warned us about you… before we departed for these lands. He said to watch for you. You’re part of the Razen Rose.”
The man tipped an imaginary hat. “So accused, so I am.”
Kanthe shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
According to rumor, the Razen Rose was a secret confederacy of spies, a group aligned to no kingdom or empire. They were said to be former alchymists and hieromonks who had been stripped of their robes but secretly recruited afterward to use their skills for a greater purpose: to protect and preserve knowledge throughout the rise and fall of realms. Some suspected their true agenda involved steering history, believing the Rose was the hidden hand that moved the gears of the world.
Symon was right about one thing. It would take someone with such deep resources to succeed in piercing through the layers of protections at the palace to reach him.
“But why are you here?” Kanthe pressed.
“The Rose is a prickly master, but we know when our thorns are best put to use. We’ve been shadowing your efforts here in the city, and though you might not know it, the winds are about to radically shift. Even with the Rose’s considerable resources, we barely had time to intercede. If you hope to continue with your mission, you must begone immediately.”
Rami had been listening to all of this. “So you attacked our palace to free Prince Kanthe?”
“Attack?” Symon turned to him. “Do you mean that clanging cacophony?” He pressed a palm to his chest. “Not us. We work far more subtly. We found this moment most useful to our own task. To whisk you out of this predicament. Come. We do not have long.”
Symon backed away.
Kanthe hesitated, glancing back at Rami. Despite the circumstances, matters hadn’t fundamentally changed.
We still need a strong ally in these lands.
“Rami…” Kanthe lifted a hand. “Come with us.”
His friend stared back. He had gone all stone-faced again.
Symon frowned. “We’ve no need of a hostage.”
Kanthe ignored him. “Rami, you know what’s at stake. Please trust me.”
Rami held his gaze for a long breath, then sighed with a roll of his eyes. “Very well. I was growing bored here anyway.”
Chaaen Loryn did not seem happy with this decision. He reached a hand toward Rami but dared not touch him. “My prince…”
Rami turned to his counselor and patted him on the shoulder. “You are welcome to join us, Loryn. When it comes to delicate matters, your mentorship is always welcome.”
“But—”
Rami gripped Loryn’s shoulder and stepped forward, leaving the Chaaen no choice but to follow.
Remembering his own mentor, Kanthe turned to Symon. “Wait. What about Frell and—”
“Your alchymist?” Symon waved them toward the door. “Who do you think roused the entire palace? It’s why we had to act quickly. Frell has roiled up a viper’s nest, one from which he might not escape.”
Kanthe grabbed the spy’s arm. “Wait! Can you help him?”
Symon broke free and led them off. “Not us. But there is another who is trying.”