23. Cain
23
CAIN
Gladdis’s house was huge compared to most residences in the Capital, but the halls were empty and dark. The light of the city seeped in from outside, but Cain could see only the faint outlines of the doors lined up on either side of him.
The floor was of expensive marble, so there was no need to worry about creaking. Cain stuck close to the wall, his every sense on high alert. He hoped that one of the identical doors before him led into Gladdis’s bedroom.
Every time he passed a door, he checked to see whether there was light in the cracks before placing his ear to it. Halfway through the long corridor, he had not heard a single sound from behind any door, not even breathing. Cain took his new dagger out of his inner pocket and held it in his left hand, the blade pointing downward, its double edges longer than a man’s hand. A copper wire was wound decoratively around the hilt that fit into Cain’s hand perfectly.
The dagger was for threatening Gladdis. Cain had no chance of winning a fight against Safani, or the ex-legionary woman that had presided over his beating in the alley. The best thing he could hope for in this situation was to find Gladdis and hold her hostage. He briefly thought of what he might do if “the best thing” became impossible, but nothing came to mind.
At the sixth door, he heard something—the sound of liquid flowing. Taking care to keep his spectacles from knocking against the door, he brought his ear to it. Another pouring sound, like wine filling a goblet. There were at least two people in the room. He tried to breathe as silently as possible.
“… unsure if he’s trustworthy. I could do it…”
The voice inside was low, but recognizable. The ex-legionary. He’d felt relieved to find there were no guards in the corridor, but he realized now that meant Gladdis’s bodyguard was in her room with her.
“Your priority is to keep me safe. This plan must not be disturbed in any way.”
A middle-aged woman. Not a voice he knew. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. That had to be Gladdis.
He concentrated his whole being into his right ear against the door. There was a sound of pouring again, but neither seemed drunk.
“Branwen sends word,” said the bodyguard.
“The sorcerer-engineer? What does she say?”
“She needs more time to get the generator into the Circuit… to avoid her colleagues finding out.”
An exclamation of frustration followed.
“I’d thought this was the perfect time, with the changing of the legions in Lontaria,” said Gladdis. “How long do we have to wait?”
“She says two more days.”
“And there have been other delays… If we waste any more time, Legate Aurelia’s Twenty-Fifth may just take Kamori for themselves once the Capital is in ruins. Just the thought of that hag taking over my homeland…”
“But if the Senate wanted her to replace the prefect of Arland, would she not settle there in Kingsworth instead?”
“The Twenty-Fifth will be the only legion in Lontaria and the Senate will be in no position to keep the legions in check once the Capital is destroyed. Do you think she will settle for just Arland? We have to finish the job before the whole of the Twenty-Fifth enters Lontaria. Only then can His Majesty have the chance to rise, don’t you agree?”
“I do.”
“We can’t leave this up to Branwen. That sorcerer-engineer girl may be our surest way to the Circuit of Destiny, but I can indulge her anxieties no longer. I must allow that man to go ahead with his plan. We must force things in motion. Immediately.”
A silence. By “that man,” she must mean Safani. After a sound of the wine being poured, the ex-legionary broke the silence.
“And how is King Gwaharad?”
A name he had never heard before. The title of “king” was one he’d only read about.
“His Majesty is well.” Gladdis sounded morose.
“But still refusing to emerge from his underground palace?”
“We gave His Majesty enough money to do whatever he wanted. And he did go to the site himself, as we asked, but the actual deed was done by Prince Emere.”
“So His Majesty is still reluctant to take the next step in the liberation of Kamori.”
“Our great undertaking will surely spur His Majesty to action. If he decides to do so, and the Capital is in chaos by then, Kamori will have hope.”
“Does His Majesty know of our plans?”
“The king is too prudent. He would have objected if I told him. But I trust he will act once the world knows of our deed.”
Another silence. Cain wondered who Gwaharad was. Septima and the others might know, perhaps.
Gladdis said, “And there’s that woman, Loran.”
“The one they say is a princess of Arland?”
“So you’ve heard of her.”
The Arlander princess was named Loran, then. The same as his mother’s name.
“Recent arrivals from Kamori talk of nothing except her,” said the bodyguard. “She felled four or five Powered soldiers by herself. That’s how the prince managed to secure the generator before even the Liberators arrived. As long as I have served in the legions, it is unheard of in my time.”
“She has even destroyed a few chariots on her own, since we left.”
“The Scorpios class of the Twenty-Fifth?”
Her voice was almost a shout. Cain thought of Arienne; it had been wise to tell her to go back to Arland. Nobody was going to worry about a single runaway sorcerer while Loran was going on a rampage.
“Does it seem like anyone has caught word of our plans?” asked Gladdis.
“Not at all, my lady.”
“Septima and her minions?”
“Not that we can tell.”
“I see. And that… that…” Gladdis hesitated. “… Fienna, she… well…”
“I made sure the whole matter has been taken care of. No one suspects.”
Cain forgot to breathe. He was so quiet he could hear them gulping their wine.
“Were there many mourners at the funeral?”
“I heard fifty Arlanders at least, my lady.”
“I see. She would have been an excellent addition to our efforts. It is truly regrettable. But all of our lives are but brief flecks of snow before the fire of the cause. Do not berate yourself too much.”
Cain wanted to bash the door down. He gripped the dagger tighter in his hand. The copper wires wrapped around the hilt bit into his palm.
“There is a man going around asking questions about her. But we caught up with him and shook him up a little—”
“Who is this?”
“A young man from Arland… I believe his name was Quine or some such? A friend of the late Fienna.”
“Will he prove to be a problem, do you think?”
“If he hasn’t by now, I do not think he will. The great deed is close at hand, anyway.”
They paused once more. Taking his ear off the door, Cain looked around. There was still no one in the hallway. Just the occasional sound of the wind rattling the windows.
The ex-legionary would leave the room soon, and there was no place for him to hide. The only way was to ambush her with the dagger when she left the room, jump through the door, and get ahold of Gladdis. Or what if the bodyguard did not come out? Then he had to enter when at least one of them was asleep. He had to get Gladdis before the sun rose. It was too late to turn back now.
The sound of a chair being pushed back. At the same time, the sound of a metallic goblet upending on a table before rolling off to the floor.
Something was off. Until now, he hadn’t heard the cups touching the table. Which meant they were both holding them in their hands. Then whose was it that had just rolled off?
Slipping his spectacles into his pocket, he peered through the keyhole. His naked sight was blurry, but Cain made out the two women holding their goblets, and an empty one rolling around on the floor. There were only two of them in the room, but there had originally been a third.
“Oh! I didn’t see that there.”
“I shall pick it up, my lady. It’s a good thing his cup was empty.”
“What is taking that man so long?”
“Perhaps he is checking the whole building.”
It was then that Cain realized someone had been watching him from behind this whole time. He rolled forward, wasting no time to look at the silent watcher in the dark, deftly transferring his dagger from his left hand to his right, but in that moment, as if predicting his movement, something sharp stabbed his left thigh. The fiery pain was the only thing that registered in the pitch-blackness.
Suddenly there was someone before him. His face was hidden by the gloom, and he made no sound. It had to be the silent man he had been pursuing since the funeral, the Safani that the agents talked about.
He touched his thigh. There was a skewer-like dart embedded there. A smell of honey that hadn’t been there before. His left knee buckled on its own, and he fell. The fiery sensation in his wound was now numb, and the darkness turned even darker.
The door opened. A candle burned. The face of Gladdis and the ex-legionary woman, with recognition lighting up the latter’s eyes. And Safani, as well, standing over him and looking down expressionlessly.
The candlelight went out. Or it didn’t; it was his eyes that were closing. He tried to open them but they wouldn’t move. The three were saying something to one another. Cain tried to concentrate on what they were saying. But soon, he could hear nothing.