Legends of Dimmingwood 02:Betrayal of Thieves Page 4

  I put her to my back, as instructed, and hurried the opposite direction. Evening was fast overtaking me and as the light from the sky faded, the glimmer-stones beneath my feet began to glow. They would radiate soft light until the last of the day’s heat had seeped from the stone. The gathering darkness reminded me how little time I had left to accomplish my objective and make my way back to any kind of shelter for the night before I would be violating city law. I certainly didn’t care to be caught out after curfew if it would earn me the animosity of the city guard. But I decided I had just a few more minutes to spare, if I was quick.

  I saw what could be the cemetery I’d been told to watch for at the end of the gardens and I set off in that direction, moving at a good clip. Hurdling over a low hedge, I hoped no citizens or city guardsmen were around to observe my suspicious haste. I barely checked my speed in time to avoid slamming into a stone wall on the far side of the hedge. I skidded to a halt. On the other side of this wall should lie the city’s burial grounds and from there, if I had been informed correctly, I would see the temple.

  I trotted along the wall until I found a low back entrance, but on ducking through the archway, my heart sank in disappointment. I didn’t know what this place was, but it was surely no cemetery. The ground was paved with great squares of stone, and stretching on a great distance to either side of me was an immense flat pool of water, obviously manmade. Walkways skimmed the dark water and pond lilies rested motionless on the surface.

  I walked past benches and great urns overflowing with sweet smelling flowers but no longer felt I was in any sort of garden, for this atmosphere was solemn and eerie. I stepped to the edge of the shadowy pool, but the water was too dark for me to make out the bottom. Carved hunks of granite and statuary rose to break the surface of the black waters and in the failing light, I made out words and dates inscribed upon them. I wondered what sort of monuments these were and the possible answer unsettled me. Hadn’t Jem said the city’s inhabitants held to strange old customs? If I looked down on these waters in the light of day, perhaps I would see row upon row of stone coffins resting beneath the surface.

  My gaze settled on a rising spire soaring above the far wall, the highest structure I’d seen since entering the garden district. Could it be the temple? I cut across the cemetery, taking one of the crosswalks spanning the water, and tried not to think about what I might be walking over. Making my way to the nearest archway, I took the first path I stumbled on. Here, there were more people around, and I had to slow my steps lest I attract unwanted attention. The slower pace scarcely mattered to me for I was on temple grounds now.

  The Temple of Light rose above me, its tall spire jutting into the sky, and the temple grounds, dotted with trees and small flowerbeds, spread to either side. I imagined this would usually be a serene and solitary place, but this was not the case on the eve before Middlefest. The pebbled courtyard and grassy lawn sprawling beyond were filled with bustling folk making preparations and setting final touches on the decorations raised for the holiday. Bright ribbon streamers and flower garlands festooned trees and lantern posts and an enormous bell had been drawn up to hang suspended from a temporary wooden frame in the middle of the yard. It stood silent now, presumably waiting to ring in the holiday tomorrow.

  I paid scant attention to the preparations going on around me. I found what I sought and would be here to meet Hadrian in the morning—along with perhaps hundreds of other people. I decided not to think, for now, about the difficulty of finding a lone man in such a crowd. That was a problem for tomorrow. For tonight, the last pale light of day had nearly faded from the sky and with the descending darkness, my thoughts were heavy with the concern of avoiding arrest until morning.

  But where could I spend the night? I had few coins in my pocket and didn’t know if any inn would accommodate me for so little. My experience of the wide world, I was beginning to realize, was woefully small. Still, I must try. I took a straight, cobbled path leading out of the garden district and into a more populated area. Timber houses with slate roofs sprung up on either side of the road as I hurried on, until I came to a signpost that told me I was in the Commons now.

  I didn’t see anything that looked like an inn. Maybe if I could find a busier street? I ran on, setting my face in the direction that seemed to lead deeper toward the center of town. The further I went, the filthier and narrower the streets grew, until I was forced to wonder if I had taken the wrong way. There was no question in my mind I was traversing one of those dangerous areas of the city Jem had warned me about. It felt like a long time since I had passed anything but empty taverns and dark warehouses. It was now full night, and I slowed my steps, reluctantly giving up hope of finding an inn where the keeper would still be awake. I would just have to find an out of the way spot to sleep out the night, avoiding the guard patrols until morning.

  But I wouldn’t do that here. I didn’t like the feel of this place. The streets were stinking and the looming warehouses made me feel hemmed in. I was about to turn back the way I’d come, when I became aware for the first time of quiet footsteps approaching me from behind. I felt a tingle up my spine. Was it the city guard or a footpad stalking me? Probably just some drunk wandering home from the taverns, I told myself. Nevertheless, he moved stealthily for a drunk. I stopped and knelt in the street, pretending to tighten my bootlace, while casting a surreptitious glance down the long way behind me. It appeared deserted, but I trusted my instincts, which told me I was being watched.

  I rose and continued my walk, neither hastening nor lingering, until I came to the mouth of a narrow alley behind a row of gray sheds. Sauntering around the corner until I was lost from view, I ducked backward and pressed myself against the rough wall of the shed. My heart was pounding as I listened and waited and my hand moved to my sleeve to touch one of my sheathed knives. I wouldn’t draw the weapon yet. I just needed to feel it there.

  It’s nothing, I repeated to myself. Only a drunk, only an innocent passerby. The knife handle beneath my fingers steadied me as I strained for any out of place sound. I heard nothing. No one passed by my hiding place. Maybe they turned onto a different path or entered one of the dark buildings. I counted slowly to a hundred before pulling my hand away from my knife and starting back for the mouth of the alley.

  I hadn’t gone two steps before a looming shadow separated itself from the wall down the far end. I started, not just at the unexpected movement, but at a sudden stirring inside my head. No more soft whispers. The voice of the bow was loud and distinct this time.

  Yes! Blood! Death! Let me kill for you!

  I flinched and yet, compelled by an instinct not my own, my hands reached for the bow. Why am I doing this? a confused part of my mind demanded. It was the knives I should grab for, not the bow.

  I had no chance to sort out my thoughts and in the end it didn’t matter what I reached for, because my hand never found either weapon. There was a whisper of movement across the alley and with no more warning than that, something solid and fist-sized flew through the air to strike me across the brow. I felt a swift rush of pain and then a sea of black was rising up to claim me.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I awoke to the crashing boom of thunder and a dull throbbing in my skull. My dark surroundings were unfamiliar, and it took me a moment to recognize the alley where I lay sprawled across the cobblestones. As I sat up, clutching my aching head, it all came rushing back to me. The attack in the alley. The blow from an unseen enemy. Looking around now and casting my magic sense out like a net, I discovered no sign of my attacker.

  I groaned as another boom of thunder sounded. The last thing I needed, as I huddled in the cold and dark with a splitting headache, was rain. Not when I had nowhere to take shelter for the night. I climbed to my feet, the motion setting my head spinning and forcing me to pause and lean against the near stone wall until the dizziness passed. Pushing aside the discomfort, I tried to figure out how long I’d been unconscious. Not long surely, for it was s
till dark.

  I glanced uneasily into the shadowed mouth of the alley and wondered if my attacker was lying in wait for me out there. But no, whoever it was, they could have killed me easily while I was out cold, if that was what they wanted. Knowing that didn’t stop my hands moving of their own volition toward the knives tucked up my sleeves. They weren’t there.

  Dismayed, I patted frantically at my sleeves as if I could make the weapons magically reappear and scanned the ground at my feet, sensing already the action was a futile one. It didn’t take me long to find my pockets had been emptied as well. There seemed something stupidly ironic about my having fallen victim to a footpad, but at least I could be relieved it had been nothing worse. I wondered what my outlaw brethren would think of my clumsy mishap in the big city and immediately determined they would never hear about it from me.

  Thoughts of Rideon and the rest reminded me what I was doing in Selbius in the first place. It was time to find Hadrian and get back to my mission. Dusting myself off, I resettled my clothing and smoothed my hair, re-knotting it in a sleek tail down my back, before stepping out of the alley. At least the thief had left me in possession of my coat and bow, either because he was in a hurry or just not too hard up.

  I was startled by another ear-shattering clap of thunder overhead and a bright flash of light. But when I glanced skyward, it wasn’t shards of lightening that met my eyes, but thousands of multi-colored sparks raining down from the sky. A second volley of sky-fires followed, coming from the direction of the garden district. I was too distracted to admire their magnificence. Why had the Middlefest celebrations begun so early? The sky-fires shouldn’t have started until tomorrow evening.

  The answer that came to me was one I didn’t like. Had I been out all through the night and the following day? It was possible. I had known men to sleep for days after a blow like the one I received. But if I’d missed the dawn celebrations, I had also missed my meeting with Hadrian. My heart sank, but I refused to accept defeat so easily. I set off briskly down the street, clinging to the faint hope I might still find the priest among the celebrants there. What other options did I have?

  As I made for the Beautiful district, I kept a watchful eye out for the city guard, because even if curfew had been banished for the holiday, as it apparently was, I still wanted to avoid attention. For that matter, I didn’t need any further encounters with street thieves either. But I needn’t have worried. The streets of the common district were nearly deserted, and I encountered only a handful of citizens hurrying, like me, toward the gardens.

  I followed the path I had left by the previous night and emerged around back of the temple to find the grounds crowded. The other day I had thought the marketplace teeming with bodies, but that was nothing in comparison to this. I had never seen so many people. They spilled out of the temple grounds and into the gardens. The entire yard was motionless, enveloped in awed silence, as every eye but mine followed the impressive display of sky-fires being engineered from an upper terrace of the temple.

  I viewed the scene in the eerie light of the illuminations. Tables had been set up around the grounds, many holding food, others kegs of ale or enormous bowls of punch. I passed stands selling glimmer-stones and flowery wreaths for half-pennies. It was clear the vendors of the city didn’t miss a chance to profit from the holiday. As I pushed my way through the crowd, I earned angry looks and muttered curses for treading over the feet of whoever got in my way—which was pretty much everyone. But I couldn’t care about courtesies tonight, not when I had only one thing on my mind. Finding Hadrian. I scanned the crowd for a large, dark-haired man in gray robes, but finding the priest among this mass of humanity felt like a hopeless task. Clambering up a low half-wall at the yard’s edge to get a better view over the heads of the crowd, I studied the audience.

  Once, I caught the flash of a gray robe, but when I looked closer it was only one of the temple priests, ducking through the crowd on some errand. When at length, the sky-fire display ended and the crowd began to mill around, it became impossible for me to see anything. A handful of rowdy youngsters came, shoving and crowding me for my spot atop the wall and I gave it up without a fight. It was clear I wasn’t going to find the priest like this anyway.

  I shoved through the press again, even more difficult now the crowd was in motion, and fought against the stream of people slowly pouring out of the yard. I emerged at the front steps of the temple only to find the doors were shut against the late hour and I couldn’t gain admittance. After making a final circuit of the grounds, I gave up in despair and left the grounds to wander off into the gardens.

  I walked past the water cemetery and the paradin pens and the tall statue of Queen Tamliess. Someone had set a garland of ivy leaves atop her crowned head and small candles glowed in her cupped hands and within the carved niches of her skirts. More candles ringed her feet, and she seemed almost to come to life beneath their flickering glow. The sight briefly distracted me from my disappointment. I walked the gardens, breathing in the heady perfume of the elfblossom and maidenseyes and taking in the scenery. Tamliess wasn’t the only statue adorned with garlands and candles. The gardens were aglow with warm, flickering lights illuminating the night long after the last light of the glimmer-stones underfoot had faded. Distant sounds of music and laughter drifted on the breeze, mingling with the splashing of fountains and the singing of the crickets.

  A sudden cry split the serenity. “Stop, thief!”

  Startled, I whirled around but couldn’t make out where the shout came from. How have I been discovered? I wondered in a panic. And who was my pursuer? Then, an indistinct figure came barreling around a corner and into my vision. The person was little more than a blur in a blue coat as he dashed down the footpath and, before I had time to react, dodged past me to dive into a hole in the near shrubbery.

  The bushes had barely closed behind him when two large men, bearing pikes and wearing what I guessed to be the uniform and half armor of the city guard, bounded into view from the direction he had come from. Still shouting, “Stop, thief!” and “Surrender in the name of the Praetor!” they looked momentarily confused at finding their quarry had suddenly vanished.

  Skidding to a halt, one of the guardsmen, a rough looking fellow with a reddened face, demanded of me, “Did a suspicious looking man in a blue coat come running through here?”

  I tried to appear casual, but it was difficult, being so close to men in the Praetor’s employ. These guardsmen were only a step away from being Fists and it was the Fists who had taken Terrac and would be glad to get their hands on me too if they guessed what I was. My mouth went suddenly dry.

  I shoved my hands in my pockets to hide their shaking and, maybe as an act of defiance against my fear or maybe for some other reason, answered, “Yes, he ran that way.” I nodded toward one of the off-branching paths.

  The pair ran away in the direction I indicated and it wasn’t until they were out of sight that my pulse slowed to a normal rate and my palms stopped sweating. Even knowing they weren’t after me, the close encounter was an unsettling experience.

  “Pssst,” a low voice whispered from the shrubbery after the guards were gone. The bushes rustled and a single eye peered out at me through a hole in the greenery.

  “Thank you, friend,” the stranger said. “I don’t know why you meddled on my behalf, but I’m very glad you did.”

  “Forget it,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to help you so much as to spite the city guard. Any men under the Praetor are enemies of mine.”

  “Ah, a fellow lawless after mine own heart,” he said. “I take it we share the same trade?”

  My hesitation must have given away my reluctance to answer the question because he seemed to realize his mistake quickly.

  “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have asked that. Trusting strangers is a luxury not everyone can afford. I should know.”

  At that moment, angry shouts and the sounds of returning footsteps alerted us the guardsmen were returning.<
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  “I’m afraid that’s the sound of your spiting coming back on you,” the stranger told me. “They must have discovered your ruse. Quickly, come with me.”

  I hadn’t intended to become this deeply involved, but it was too late to think of that. I scrambled into the bushes after him and, motioning me to follow, he started quickly off down a twisting path through the hedges. It didn’t take me long to realize he was leading us through a sort of maze. The rows of shrubbery grew tall as we went, soon reaching higher than my head, and the sounds of our enemies faded in the distance. The green labyrinth wound inward like a coiled snake and we followed the circular course, bypassing frequent openings that led down alternate paths. My strange companion never faltered. It was clear he had a particular destination in mind.

  After a short walk, we stepped into a clearing I guessed to be the heart of the maze. Here stood a tiny, low-roofed pavilion and a wide pool of water with a stone sculpture at its center.

  “Nimble thinks we’re safe here,” my companion told me, coming to a stop. “Most people couldn’t find this place, but I know the garden district, or for that matter, all of this city, better than the city guard.”

  “Who’s Nimble?” I questioned.

  “My partner in crime,” he explained. “He has a talent for picking up things other people miss, so I consult him in everything.”