"We're leaving," he said from the doorway. "Gather your things."
"Where are we going?" Gaven asked.
"No more discussion." The servant had probably heard everything they'd said. "Let's move."
Ashara edged past him to retrieve her pack from her room as Gaven pulled his mail shirt back on. Aunn reviewed the morning's events, trying to fix the two servants in his mind. The young woman's disappearance suggested that she had been the spy, not the boy, but he couldn't be certain. She'd had a round face, dark hair hanging over her eyes, thin lips, the pale skin of a household servant who lived her life indoors. Her eyes had been closed in pain or veiled behind her hair-perhaps hidden on purpose.
Ashara emerged from her room and Gaven stood ready. Without another word, Aunn led the way back to the front door. Halfway down the stairs, he remembered-his pack was still in Kelas's chamber. When he'd heard the thunder in Gaven's room, he'd bolted out, stopping only long enough to pull on his boots. He had to go back.
"Listen," he whispered. "You three go to the Ruby Chalice, near Chalice Center. You know it?"
He glanced behind him and saw Ashara nod, at least. Good-she could lead the others. The plaza called Chalice Center held an airship docking tower and a lightning rail station, making it a good place to blend in among travelers.
"I'll be right behind you. I just have to get some things from my room."
"We can wait," Gaven said. "No need to split up."
"No. In fact, it would be better if you split up, and be careful you're not followed." They had reached the front hall, and the same servant who had met them at the door stood smiling, ready to hold it open for their departure. "Go," Aunn whispered.
"I hope you had a pleasant rest," the woman said. Her smile almost looked genuine, for a moment while she looked at Gaven. Aunn watched her eyes as his companions filed past her out the door, and he saw only venom and steel.
I've spent my whole life crawling through a nest of vipers, Aunn thought. So far I've managed to bite before getting bitten, but how much longer can I do that?
He left the hall by a different door and strode down a wide hallway floored in marble. He turned and started up another flight of stairs, but a voice at the top brought him to a halt.
"You're not Kelas."
Aunn looked up and saw the young woman Gaven had injured, though no sign of the injury remained. She held a long knife to the throat of another young woman… no, the same woman, staring at him with pleading eyes. One was a changeling-presumably, the one with the knife-and the one who had been spying on Gaven in his room. Her pale blue eyes bore into him, as if she thought she could see through his disguise if she stared hard enough.
"Of course I am," Aunn said. "One changeling in this house is enough."
"Kelas wouldn't care if I slit this girl's throat."
Aunn had to will his heart into a steady rhythm. She was right-Kelas wouldn't care. And a year ago, he wouldn't have risked his disguise to save a servant's life. He was a servant of the crown.
"What is his death," Kelas demanded, "if Aundair is served by it? What does it matter if I die, if you die, if hundreds of soldiers march to their death, so long as Aundair remains?"
Laurann's knuckles were white on the hilt of her dagger. The man-a Brelish spy, Kelas had said-stared up at her, pleading in his eyes.
"You serve the crown!" Kelas shouted in her ear. "You are a Royal Eye of Aundair! You are not a person, you're an eye, an appendage, a part of Aundair. The queen relies on you to do her work. Do it!"
The dagger cut quickly across the captured spy's neck. For Aundair.
"Neither would any spy worth a damn," he said. "You prove nothing by doing it." Please don't, he thought. Not another life's blood on my hands.
The spy hesitated, confused, and he saw the hand holding the knife relax ever so slightly. Aunn climbed another step, then the captive woman exploded in a blur of motion. Aunn heard bones crack as the knife changed hands, then blood sprayed him as the knife plunged into the first woman's chest. Aunn watched her sink to the floor, waiting for her face to change in death, but it was the other woman who changed, smiling wickedly.
"Thank you, Kelas," the changeling said. Then it was Haunderk's face sneering at him, ridiculously perched atop a serving-girl's smock.
Aunn's heart pounded, refusing to be quieted. Who was this changeling who had stolen his face? Did he expect Kelas to believe he was Haunderk? Or was he taunting him somehow, trying to show that he saw through the Kelas disguise? Whatever he intended, he had demonstrated how dangerous he could be.
Until he knew more, he had to stick to his own disguise, at least hope to sow enough confusion to find an opening. "Not that face," he snapped. "You know I hate talking to dead people." Words straight from Kelas's mouth.
It worked-the changeling was visibly surprised. "Dead?"
"Yes. I killed him myself. Do you mean to be next, pointing that knife at me?" He was Kelas at his most imperious, and the changeling took a step back from the top of the stairs. Aunn climbed two more stairs.
Haunderk's face melted off the changeling, leaving only a gray blank-ness and white eyes. Long white hair fell in unruly shocks down to the shoulders. The mouth was a lipless slit in a featureless face. "But you're Haunderk," the changeling said.
"Don't be a fool." Aunn took two more steps up. He had to browbeat the changeling into believing his lie before he was asked for proof he couldn't give. He jerked his chin toward the servant's body lying at the changeling's feet. "You've made enough of a mess as it is."
The changeling took another step back, giving Aunn room to stand beside the dead woman. "I'm sorry, master."
Aunn twisted his face into a fury and howled. "You are not sorry!" He stepped forward again until his face was a hand's breadth from the changeling's. "Her death is nothing!" Ignoring the knife in the changeling's hand, he slapped the featureless face. "You don't feel regret, you don't know shame, you don't care!" He punctuated his words with slaps and punches until the knife clattered to the floor and the changeling cowered before his rage. With one final kick, he strode past the changeling and away down the hall.
Before turning the corner, though, he shot a glance back. The changeling was glaring after him with a searing hatred that mirrored Aunn's own feelings toward Kelas. As their eyes met, though, Aunn realized his mistake-Kelas would never have looked back. And the changeling knew it.
Aunn reached the sanctuary of Kelas's chamber and sank against the door. Nausea gripped his stomach and chilled his brow, and his pulse still pounded in his ears. In the space of moments, he had let an innocent woman die and-perhaps worse-he had become everything that he had despised in Kelas. What happened? he wondered. Didn't anything change in the Labyrinth?
"Make it solid," he muttered. But nothing was solid-he couldn't find a firm place in the quagmire. He dragged himself to his feet, but nausea brought him back to his knees, vomit splattering on the floor.
"Where is he?" Gaven said for the third time. He searched the faces in the crowded tavern for Kelas or anyone else who could be Aunn-anyone, really, who might be heading for the table where he sat with Cart and Ashara.
"Stop it, Gaven," Cart said. "You're drawing attention. Look at us, look at your drink, or look at the pretty women. But don't stare at everyone, and don't make eye contact."
Gaven laughed. "The warforged is giving me lessons in behavior." He saw Cart stiffen, and he put a hand on the plated arm of his warforged friend. "I didn't mean it like that. Clearly, I need the help."
"When's the last time you cut loose in a tavern?" Ashara asked.