18. The Envy of the Population #4
The chant ended on a prolonged, mournful note as the sun disappeared below the horizon.
A long, profound silence descended on the city.
I paused mid-inhale. Then, one by one, soldiers lit the braziers on the parapet walls surrounding the garden.
Flickering orange light danced across the faces of the still crowd.
Once the last fire was lit, the crowd began to murmur and disperse like a slow river flowing toward the stairwell door.
In that tide, Mali passed by arm in arm with another woman.
Salma’s turmeric kaftan floated by soon after, her head turning as if searching for someone—which would probably be me.
The men in black robes towered over the women and guided the harem back inside.
My heart hammered loudly in my ears. How long before they noticed I was missing? Would Mali demand a search?
Minutes felt like hours as the crowd shuffled back to the warmth and comfort of the palace interior.
Finally, I was alone.
Listening, I remained behind the planters as moments passed. Murmuring voices faded. The only sounds were the whisper of a breeze through the jasmine and a fountain gurgling nearby.
I hastily pulled the black servant’s veil out of my robe pocket and arranged it over my face.
The gauzy fabric was enough to obscure my features and cover my pale skin, but I’d have to keep my blue eyes downcast or they’d be a dead giveaway.
I let the floral brocade robe slip off my shoulders and puddle around me before kicking it further between the planters.
It was much too ostentatious to be part of a servant’s wardrobe.
The blue sleeveless silk kaftan and embroidered belt were as well, but it was closer to their unembellished attire.
In the dim light of the evening, I might pass for a servant. Might.
Keeping to the shadows along the wall, I crept toward the stairwell. Its wide door stood propped open, a rectangle of light spilling onto the stone pathway.
A step before turning through the doorway, voices echoed on the stairs.
My heart jolted in my chest. I turned and lunged for an alcove behind a sprawling jasmine vine. Two soldiers stepped into the garden. They wore the same sand-colored linen, leather armor, and curved swords as those who captured us outside the tunnel exit.
“—swear on the daystar himself, Taim,” one said. “The commander has the whole lower level locked down.”
“For the unlit?” asked the deeper voice that must be Taim.
“That's what they said. Extra shifts,” the other groaned, “all for one pale foreigner.”
“Hear about the unlit girl?”
“Who hasn’t?” The other soldier scoffed. “With eyes of lazurite, no wonder the king took her for himself.”
Unlit? Is that what they called northerners? Or just anyone that wasn’t Soli? Focus, Wren. The real problem here was the “lower levels were locked down” part. How was I going to get to Griffon?
Boots scraped to a stop on the stone pavers. “They missed that brazier on the east parapet again,” Taim grumbled.
“I’ll get it,” the other replied. “You take the west perimeter.” He walked away towards the far side of the rooftop.
Twin gods. They were doing rounds.
I drew a shallow breath and held it as Taim began walking along the garden's edge. In just moments, he would pass right by my hiding spot. I slowly sank back into the alcove. If I stayed very still—
Something moved in the darkness. My stomach lurched.
Mrrrrow
No. Oh no.
The cat. With its tail held high, the long-haired menace padded toward me with obvious intent. It had apparently decided I was more interesting than the bench.
I waved my hand in a desperate shooing motion. “Go away,” I mouthed.
Purring like a furry engine of chaos and not inclined to take direction, it rubbed against my leg.
Footsteps grew closer. The soldier’s leather armor creaked as he moved.
I scooped up the cat and pulled the furball into my chest, stroking its head frantically. Be quiet. Be quiet. Please, please be quiet. I scratched behind its ears. And then under its chin. Anywhere I could reach. But the purring grew louder, vibrating against my ribs.
The soldier’s shadow moved along the wall until he was right on the other side of the jasmine.
Despite my racing heart, I kept petting, but slower now. The purring seemed to drop in volume just slightly. The cat kneaded and pulled at my robe, its eyes closed in bliss. Good kitty. Such a good kitty. Stay quiet and I’ll give you all the loving you want.
My breath caught as the shadow paused.
Then, without warning, the cat twisted and attacked, sinking its teeth into the fleshy part of my hand.
I squeaked and jerked back. The cat leapt from my arms and landed with a hiss, its fur standing on end and ears back.
“Who’s there?” The air rang with the shing of a sword being drawn.
The air froze in my lungs. Do I run? Fight? Just collapse into the fetal position and pray for divine intervention?
The jasmine vines were swept aside to reveal the suspicious eyes of a very large, very armed soldier. Next came a curved blade—its very sharp point only centimeters from my chest.