The maid opened her mouth and screamed.
Magnes bolted past her and ran, fleeing up towards his apartments, the girl’s shrieks feeding his own terror.
Back in his chambers, he stopped just long enough to scoop up his hunting knife and a small pouch of coins he kept beneath his mattress. From his window, he could hear shouts. The maid’s screams had been heard.
Cautiously, he opened the outer door of his chambers and paused to listen. He heard the sound of many feet pounding up the stairs toward his father’s study. A heartbeat later, the hoarse shouts of men crying out in dismay, followed by the piteous weeping of the maid sent him stumbling out into the darkened corridor. He turned and rushed away from the main staircase to a smaller, back stairway that led down to a side door in the outer wall of the keep. Under the cover of darkness, he slipped out of the keep and quickly made his way to the stables.
Inside the barn, the soft snores of horses at rest filled the warm air. Silently, Magnes glided down the rows until he reached the stall of his favorite mount. Storm greeted him with a sleepy whicker, and Magnes stroked the horse’s velvet nose. Briefly, he pressed his face to the warm skin, then reluctantly moved on to the next stall. He would have to leave Storm behind yet again. He knew that, eventually, he would have to sell whatever horse he rode out on tonight, so Storm must stay at Amsara.
Magnes had never ridden Storm’s neighbor, an unassuming piebald gelding. The horse was small, but looked sturdy enough; in any event, he would have to do. Magnes went to the tack room to fetch a saddle and bridle, and soon had the beast ready.
As he led the horse cautiously out of the stall, a childish voice broke the relative quiet. “Oi! Who goes there? What are you doin’?”
“ Hush, Dari!” Magnes hissed. “It’s me, Lord Magnes!”
Dari appeared at Magnes’s side, carrying a stub of candle. He held it up, and in the flickering light, Magnes could see the look of puzzlement on the boy’s freckled face. “Lord Magnes, sir. I didn’t know t’was you. I was just on me way to the privies. If you don’t mind me wonderin’, sir, but it seems awfully late t’ be goin’ out.”
“ Please, Dari. Listen very carefully. You can’t tell anyone you saw me.”
“ But why?”
“ Don’t ask me any questions! I need to go now.” Magnes immediately regretted the sharpness of his response. “I’m sorry, Dari, but I must go.”
The boy let out a startled cry. “M’lord! You…ye’ve got blood all over yer shirt, sir! Wha’ happened? Are ye hurt?”
“ Remember what I said to you,” Magnes repeated fiercely. The young groom nodded slowly, wide-eyed with bewilderment. Magnes snatched a spare saddle cloth down from the stall railing and draped it over his shoulders; a poor attempt at hiding the incriminating bloodstains, but he could think of nothing else. He clicked his tongue and the horse followed him out into the yard. He checked the saddle girth and mounted, but before he could turn the horse toward the gate, Dari reached up and put his hand on the rein.
“ Lord Magnes, will I ever see you again?” The boy gazed up at him, a sad, knowing look in his eyes.
“ Dari…” Magnes’s voice caught, and he had to pause in order to keep from sobbing. “I don’t know. I’ll pray to the gods, that I might return home someday. You’re a good boy, Dari. I’m sorry you got involved.” He looked toward the keep and muttered, “It was an accident.”
From the direction of the keep, faint shouts drifted on the night breeze.
“ What was, Lord Magnes?” Dari whispered. “What accident?”
Magnes did not answer. He shook the reins and tapped the gelding’s flanks with his heels. The muffled clop- clop of the horse’s hooves on the hard packed earth beat in counterpoint to his pounding heart. He looked back once to see Dari standing motionless, his face eerily lit from below by the candle stub in his hand.
“ Evening, milord,” the guardsman said in greeting as Magnes rode up to the outer gate.
“ Goin’ out so late, sir?” his fellow guardsman inquired.
Magnes had to think fast. He put on a sheepish grin. “Um, well, yes. You see, there’s this girl who lives out on the Greenwood Road and, well, her father…”
Both guards guffawed. “Say no more, milord. We get yer meanin’!” the first guard said in a cheerfully conspiratorial tone. His eyes flicked to the saddle cloth over Magnes’s shoulders, and his brow furrowed in puzzlement, but he made no comment.
“ Aye, that we do,” the second added. “We was both young and unmarried once!” The men scrambled to open the gate, just wide enough for Magnes to ride through.
“ Will ye be back before or after sunrise, sir?”
“ After, most definitely,” Magnes replied. He could hear the guards snickering as the gate swung shut.
The night engulfed him, warm and very dark. He had only the light of the stars to see by. Once again, Magnes found himself leaving Amsara in the dead of night with virtually nothing, except that this time, he was the fugitive. The horse proved to be sure-footed and steady as they wound their way down the steep switchbacks and into Amsara village.
Just as he had two days ago, he took the track that skirted the village and ended up on the road that led past the homestead of Livie’s parents, the road that would eventually take him all the way to Darguinia, city of the Emperors. A man could lose himself among the multitudes there, shed an old identity, and invent a new one.
All around him, the darkness hummed, alive with the sounds of a late summer country night. A soft breeze tickled the nape of his neck, still wet with the sweat of shock and fear. Loneliness, dense and heavy, settled over him.
He burst into tears and wailed like a child.
Chapter 23
'Is she not the most magnificent woman in all of Alasiri, Little Brother?” Sadaiyo drawled, eyeing his wife-to-be over the rim of his silver wine goblet.
Ashinji had to agree with part of Sadaiyo’s assessment-Lady Misune Dai was indeed magnificent, in the manner of a glacier or an ice-rimmed lake in winter. To his eyes though, her cold beauty held no allure.
The Ceremony of Welcoming had taken place earlier that evening. Misune’s parents had brought her before the members of the House of Sakehera, assembled in the small chapel reserved for private family worship, clad only in a simple white robe, her hair unbound. There, Ashinji had intoned the ritual chants that bound Misune to her new family; afterward, the bride-to-be retired to the guest quarters so that she might rest for a time before preparing herself for the feast.
“ You and she will make a perfect match, Brother,” Ashinji commented dryly.
Sadaiyo either didn’t notice, or didn’t care about the subtle insult. He grinned wickedly. “One more day, and then she’ll be mine. I can barely control myself, and she’s practically across the room! Come our wedding night, I’ll ride her so hard, she’ll scream and come like she’s never done in her life! Then in the morning, I’ll tell you all about it!”
Ashinji sighed and took a pull from his glass. Sadaiyo never tired of this game, and as the evening progressed, he knew that his brother’s comments would become increasingly crude. He was thankful that their sister Lani sat well out of earshot, beside their mother.
Sadaiyo turned his attention to the older man seated to his left, a minor lord from Dai’s retinue, giving Ashinji a welcome respite. He allowed his eyes to wander over the elegant gathering. The bride now sat revealed-her veil thrown back so that all present might admire her-straight and proud between her father and older brother, Ibeji. Ibeji Dai reminded Ashinji of a young eagle-all sharp angles and glittering, amber eyes.
