Chapter Twenty-Four
Guyik wormed his way through the gathering crowd, unusual for this time of a morning, when folks were normally starting work. When he got to where he could see, the reason was obvious. Not often you saw a military carriage with a large escort outside a pleasure house.
At least, not in Edenrich.
Keeping a wary eye on the horses, he leaned down to an older woman standing in front of him. “Milady, can I ask the reason for all this?”
She turned but said nothing for a moment, clearly taking in his dark skin and rough leathers, the lute strapped to his pack, the gold hoop in his ear, and the purple and green feathers in his hat. “Songster, aye?”
“Just in from Swift’s Port.” He gave her a warm smile with the lie. “Always looking for a song or a bit of gossip,” he added with a wink.
“With those doe-brown eyes, aye, songster for sure.” She pointed with her chin. “Our local scribe’s been elevated by the new King. Seems he’s been made Lord High Baron and is being sent off to his lands this morning, will he, nill he.”
Guyik looked around. “Isn’t that a reason to celebrate, auntie? There’s no joy here.”
“Nay, for the Barony be the Black Hills, filled with more bandits and thieves then ever found in Swift’s Port. And all be hating those of Xy.” She went up on tip-toe when another would have blocked her view. Guyik pushed the interloper aside so the woman could see, earning a nod of thanks. “And Master Orval just married, with two wee babes, and being sent to his death, or so’s the word.”
Guyik cast an eye on the number of guards around. “But they go with soldiers?”
Auntie snorted. “Escort, lad. And who hates the Blood of Xy more than the Blood of Xy? Family warring against family can be the worst of the worst, yes?”
“Aye, Auntie,” Guyik sighed. “Truth.”
A banging at the door at the top of the stairs drew his attention. A man and a woman emerged, bundled in cloaks and scarves and bearing a babe each. They made their way down slowly, the man clearly limping.
The Auntie beside him called out in a voice twice her size. “May the Lord of the Light shine upon you, Master Orval!”
All around, those gathered took up the cry, the noise filling the street. The carriage horses threw their heads and stamped their feet.
The man looked up, startled at the noise, but the soldiers with them didn’t let them pause. They were hustled into the carriage and the door securely closed.
Another woman appeared, from the establishment below, wearing silks and not wrapped for the cold. Carrying a large, covered basket, she marched up to the man what looked like the Captain and put her face right into his.
“Oh, Madam Winter, giving Captain Ussin what-all,” Auntie was clearly delighted.
“—the least you can do, let me feed them, as you take’em to their deaths—” was all Guyik caught above the crowd’s roar.
This Ussin seemed none too pleased, but he took the basket, searched through it with a rough hand, opened the carriage door, and handed it in. Madam Winter turned away, tears streaming down her face.
“Hup, hup,” the Captain called, knocking on the side of the carriage to get the driver’s attention.
The carriage started off, the escort surrounding it and criers racing to take position at the front. The Captain pulled himself into his saddle and urged his horse to follow, looking grim and ill-tempered. It didn’t take long for the party to disappear down the road.
“There they go, then, and us the lesser for it,” the Auntie shook her head wearily. “If’n you make a song of that, make it a sad one,” she said over her shoulder as she moved off with the dispersing crowd.
“Aye, Auntie,” Guyik said, resisting the flow of the crowd. He pressed himself against the building and slid into a quiet alleyway.
There was a chance he could catch them. He pulled off his pack, took his hat from his head, folded it to protect his feathers, and tucked it away. He checked out the walls above him as he felt for the handle of his climbing stick, pulled it free, and shouldered his pack once again. Old moves, made smooth with time and experience.
With a glance around, he set his hook in the wall and started to climb.
Rooftops were quicker and the buildings in this part of town were so close together it was just a step from roof to roof. With his hood pulled up, and thanks to his dark cloak and leathers, he looked like a shadow in the still-thin morning light. He made good time, running lightly. No tiles to worry about knocking loose and few chimneys to have a care for.
In a matter of moments and he was ahead, trying to figure the carriage’s path. They should be heading toward one of the main gates if they were in fact leaving for one of the distant Baronies. Long time to travel, he’d have a chance to learn more and—
Carriage and escort turned toward the palace gates.
Guyik frowned, confused. Why that way? Unless they were getting more men? More supplies? He had to think now, to leap streets, and his travel was a bit trickier as the streets grew wealthier. More slate, true enough, and he had a care, but moved as swift as he could.
He was breathless when he found a place with a good view of the palace courtyard, before the carriage reached the gates. Aye, he could see more men and loaded wagons, and—
Guyik cursed and hid himself low on the roof.
Chained mages, three of them, and one that had to be the Guildmaster himself. What in the name of all the—
For a moment Guyik was distracted by movement above. A window had opened in one of the towers. A woman stood there, staring down at the courtyard.
The guards were dismounting and blindfolding their horses up as the carriage holding Orval and his wife came into view. The carriage stopped and the horses pulling it were treated the same, for reasons Guyik couldn’t figure.
The Guildmaster called something out, the other mages gestured, and a huge white circle appeared, a swirling mass of movement, like curtains moving in a wind that could not be felt.
A portal. He’d never seen one before, but it had to be. His thought was confirmed when the first soldiers led their horses through. followed by the goods wagons, and finally the carriage, with Captain Ussin bringing up the rear.
They were gone in an instant, plunging into the white and vanishing.
The Guildmaster called out again and the swirling circle collapsed in on itself.
And the token at Guyik’s breast went silent.