Breaking the Gloaming (13 page)

“We will win.” He kissed her. “I will survive.” He kissed her again. “And we will bring new life into this world.” His hands held her waist tight.

“Our new life,” she said, as the length of her body met his.

Chapter 13

IMMERSION AT RISK

“With none in the whole army
 

are more intimate relations
 

to be maintained

 
than with spies.
 

None should be more

liberally rewarded.
 

In no other business should
 

greater secrecy be preserved.”

Ravien stood on the wall encircling the Sunan palace. The midday sun made the palace look like a garden of white tulips. Each tower was a bulbous flower reaching up, basking in the light. The palace was even more beautiful now that she had the freedom to leave it. She could learn to like this city, with a few changes.

She turned from the palace and waved at each of the men following her. One was on the roof of a building outside the wall, far below her. Another was on the wall a few hundred feet away, pretending to be looking out over the city. The third one was right beside her.

“You might as well talk with me,” she said to the closest man, “if you will be the one following me today.”
 

He wore a black hooded robe like the others. He shook his head as if he did not understand her words.
 

“His Excellency permits me to go wherever I please,” Ravien told him.

He folded his hands at his chest and bowed to her.

“What’s your name?” She reached up to push back his hood.

He leaned away from her and shook his head again. “Malam,” he said.

“So all of you are named Malam today?”

“Malam.” He nodded yes.

“You share Malam’s bed at night?”

“Malam.” He nodded again.

“Did your high priest give you a rope to help you follow me?”

He shook his head and looked confused.
 

She pulled the rope from the bag at her waist and held it toward him. “Rope?” she asked.

His look of confusion turned to worry as she tied a loop around one of the pillars along the wall. She gave it a firm tug and threw the rest of the rope over the outside of the wall.

He moved to stop her.

She winked at him, and he hesitated. “I’m sure your friends will have better luck following me.” She wrapped the rope around her body.
 

Before he could react, she leapt off the wall and rapelled all the way down to the ground. The man did not attempt to follow her.

As soon as her feet touched the sand, she ran into the maze of low buildings. The third man would be ready for her, and the other two would catch up soon. After several quick turns through the maze, she spun and saw a follower within twenty feet. He was a stain of black against the white plaster walls, just as she was.
 

She had made it this far last time outside the palace—just one man to lose. Malam chose fast runners as his minions. And without a hint of shade, she had been forced to learn a new way to hide. That was why she sprinted straight to a Sunan women’s market she had seen on her last outing.
 

The man stayed close on her heels the rest of the way to the market. Inside the ivory arch that served as the market’s gateway, a hive of women dressed in the same black cloth buzzed about with baskets, food, and thread.
 

Ravien stopped under the arch and turned to the follower. He froze in his steps. She motioned for him to come, and he stepped toward her like a man approaches a coiled viper.

“Well done,” she said, still breathing heavily. “You are fast.”

The man pressed his hands together at his chest and bowed. He pulled his hood further over his head, but not before Ravien had seen his face. It was young and handsome, with tattoos of the moon at his temples. The lines of his thin beard were so sharp that it looked painted on.

“Only women in here, right?” Ravien asked.

The man nodded his head slightly, as if he understood and agreed.
 

“So you cannot follow me?”

“I follow you,” he said.

“Ah!” Ravien answered. “A follower of Malam who understands me?”

“Malam.” He bowed his head.

“Malam.” She paused. “Tell Malam,” she enunciated each syllable, “
no follow
.”

“I follow you,” he responded.

“
No
follow.” She put her finger to his chest. “If you make your women look the same, then you’ll never be able to pick one out of the crowd.”

Ravien turned into the hive of women. She weaved through them quickly until she saw a stand with a row of Sunan robes on pegs. The stand had three curtained partitions, as if for trying them on. Ravien grabbed one of the heavy robes, the kind all the Sunan women wore.
 

An old woman stood at the stand, with a face like leather.
 

“I need to try this
now
.” Ravien held up a gold coin. “Do you understand me?”
 

The woman smiled and took the coin. She hurried Ravien into one of the partitions.

Ravien was pulling the robe over her head when she heard a man’s voice outside. It sounded like the one who had been following her. While she could not make sense of the words, it was clear the old woman was trying to calm him. Maybe she had sensed Ravien wanted to hide. Moments later the man’s voice was gone.

Peeking out of the curtain, Ravien saw only women bustling about. She stepped out and faced the old woman.

“How do I look?” she asked.

The old woman said something warm in the Sunan tongue. She pointed at a mirror to the side of the stand. Ravien saw herself, but really she saw just another Sunan woman. The full coverings revealed nothing of her identity.

Ravien smiled and pressed another gold coin into the woman’s hand. “Thank you.”

She walked back into the hive and spotted another stand that looked like it sold baskets. She bought one with another gold coin. The woman who sold it almost seemed to faint when she took the coin. Maybe it was a high price.
 

She clutched the basket to her chest and joined the flow of women about the square. As she looked for the follower, she saw hints of beauty in the market. While the women’s bodies and faces were hidden, their voices were laid bare. The sound was one of community, of friendship. These women seemed more united than those in Valemidas. Ravien would think further on the reasons why, but now it was time to go. She moved toward the gate and walked out among a flock of women leaving with their baskets. She kept her head down as she moved along a crowded road leading to the harbor.

The water in the distance taunted her with thoughts of escape. One of those ships could slip away with her. She probably had enough gold to entice a merchant to take her back to Valemidas, but she could not abandon her progress, or Wren. She was winning His Excellency’s trust, if not Malam’s. The boy might soon do as she advised. Ilias had been right about how much power she gained by making him want her to want him.
 

A sharp whisper suddenly drew her attention. A hand reached out from curtains of a carriage passing by. She glimpsed Ball’s face.

“Get in,” he said, “please.”

She hesitated a moment but then saw opportunity in this. She grabbed his hand and stepped into the carriage.
 

Ball leaned forward and issued a command to the carriage driver. “Do you think Malam is the only one following you?”
 

“Does it matter?” Ravien asked. “And how did you know it was me, wearing this?” She ran her hands along the Sunan covering.

“It was reported to me that you had left the palace,” Ball said. “Finding you was easy enough. No Sunan women walk the way you do. You must be more careful.”

Ravien took a grape from a tray in the center of the cart and leaned back against the silk cushions. “His Excellency said I could go anywhere, and so I am exploring. I must say, you Sunans grow delicious grapes, but I recommend more wine. You’re all too stiff.”

“Listen to me, we have little time.” Ball wiped the sweat from his brow with a purple cloth. “You are right that His Excellency adores you, but do not play with fire. He is young and powerful, and none of his advisors trust you, not even Ilias. Malam and Jezebel want you dead. Seban wants to make you
his
concubine. You may keep whispering in His Excellency’s ear, but if you keep at daring adventures like this, you are going to get burned. Where were you going?”

“I told you, I am exploring your city. I’ll consider your warnings Ball, but you have given me no reason to trust you. What have you done with Wren?”

“He’s safe in my estate, and he’ll stay that way if you listen to me.”

“I want him to join the army’s voyage to Valemidas.”

“I can arrange that.” Ball put his hand on Ravien’s shoulder. “But no more notes and no more meddling with our customs. Agreed?”

Ravien shrugged off Ball’s hand and swallowed another grape. “You fear my influence will lead His Excellency to make changes that harm your position and status. You want to keep your control over the markets. That is fine, for now. But why no notes?”
 

“Notes risk too much.” Ball spoke fast as the carriage rumbled to a stop. “I cannot tell you everything, but know that Ilias and I share a messenger, probably the only one you could trust. The messenger will not return to Sunan again before the army sets sail, so it is better not to send anything over the sea.”

Ravien looked into Ball’s beady eyes. They looked frightened and honest. “No notes, no meddling with Sunan politics,” she said, “and you will keep Wren safe and bring him to Valemidas?”

“Yes.” He held out his pudgy hand. “Deal?”

“Deal.” She shook it.

He breathed out heavily. “Trust me, this is for the good.” He glanced outside the curtains of the carriage. “We have stopped just outside the palace gates. His Excellency is training with the warriors. I suggest you go to him now.”
 

“Take care of Wren, or it’s your head.” Ravien smiled at Ball and ducked out of the carriage.
 

The sun was unbearable in the heavy Sunan robe. It would only draw more attention if she returned wearing something new. She slid the robe up over her head and tossed it to the ground as she walked toward the palace. Black cloth still covered her from head to toe, as the boy king wished, but this cloth clung to her frame. It was thin enough to allow a breeze through, if there had been a breeze.

A crowd was gathered inside the gates. They were mostly Sunan warriors, standing in a circle. They surrounded four men dancing with spears. One of them was Ilir, His Excellency.

Ravien squeezed between two warriors to watch. The young king was better than she expected. What he lacked in strength he made up with graceful speed. He dodged an attack and spun the pole of his spear into a warrior’s back. The man fell and the crowd cheered. Ravien saw an opening in the king’s defenses, but the other two warriors did not press him. They showed subtle signs of holding back. They were taking it easy on him.

“You should see him throw the spear. He’s among the best.” Malam’s voice gave her chill bumps despite the heat. She had not heard him coming. “But sometimes his arm is stronger than his intuition,” the priest continued in a low voice, stepping close to her side. “Sometimes he trusts those he should fear.”

“What would a divine king have need to fear?” Ravien asked.
 

“Even a god should fear betrayal,” Malam said. His bald head was bronze in the late day sun. His dark eyes and thick beard would have made him look strong if not for his stooped shoulders. “Where did you run off to today?” he asked.

“Why are your men trying to follow me?” Ravien asked.

“My duty is to His Excellency,” Malam answered. He glanced toward the king at the sound of a loud crack of wood. A warrior’s spear had blocked the king’s attack but broken. “He grows in a cocoon,” Malam continued, “and he will reach full divine form with his initiation rite in the coming days. The cocoon protects him, and I protect the cocoon.”

“I have sworn to him,” Ravien said. “I have given him my advice—when and how to attack Valemidas. I am learning your Sunan ways and winning his trust. I am inside his cocoon.”

“No,” Malam laughed. “You cannot share His Excellency’s cocoon without sharing his bed. Only Jezebel has that honor. She is loyal to me. You, too, will be loyal to me, or you will lose His Excellency’s affection and trust.”

“You underestimate me,” Ravien said.
 

“I would not have my men follow you if I underestimated you,” Malam replied. “My trust will not be so easily won as his.”

The warriors around them began to cheer again. It seemed the practice was done.

“
N’ah musefe quede ya cahar!
” The young king shouted in the Sunan tongue. Ravien thought she caught his eyes as he looked around the circle

“
N’ah musefe!
” The men chanted back.

The king raised his spear high and pointed it at the low building on the opposite side of the circle from Ravien. He pulled the spear back to throw, his smooth skin glistening under the sun. His body coiled and he hurled the pole. It flew straight and fast and slammed into the center of a small circle painted on the building’s door. It was an impressive throw.

“
N’ah musefe quede ya cahar
,” the king said again. The warriors saluted him. Their faces showed faith and approval, like an army of fathers who could see no wrong in their beloved son.

The king began to walk out of the circle, straight towards Ravien and Malam. He met Ravien’s eyes and smiled at her.

“What do you think of how we fight?” He asked as he reached them. He held out his arm for Ravien.

“Your strength is impressive.” Ravien took his arm and they turned toward the palace, with Malam on the king’s other side. “With you leading these men,” she continued, “Sunan will conquer Valemidas with ease. There is no reason to delay. Let your power shine.”