Rhysís settled back down. “Nothing,” he whispered through his face wrap. “I thought— It was nothing.” And he turned his gaze back toward the imperial grounds.
Dänvârfij returned to her vigil as well.
In an exhausted haze of fright, Wayfarer repeated the same words over and over in her mind as she was rushed though the darkness.
I trust Chap ... I trust Léshil ... Everything is—will be—all right.
As promised, the two guards led everyone down a passage, up a flight of steps, and outside through a ground-level door. Now they all hurried along the back sides of various buildings nearest to the immense wall surrounding the grounds. Everything was happening too quickly.
Wayfarer cringed at being forced into the open. Part of her wanted to run back inside and hide, even in the horror of the small cell. Worse, she could not wipe that first glimpse of Magiere from her thoughts.
To her, the pale warrior woman she had met years earlier in her abandoned homeland was as savage as any human from her people’s tales. And yet, in her way, Magiere was also as honorable and protective as Wayfarer’s lost uncle, as well as kind and as caring as her departed grandfather.
Magiere feared nothing. She would charge the most powerful enemy without hesitation for the sake of those she cared for. But the sight of her starved, weakened, and nearly broken had shaken Wayfarer more than anything she had seen since fleeing into this human world. As she hurried to keep up with the others, still bracing a hand on Chap, she must have clenched her fingers too sharply into his fur.
He looked up at her but raised no memory-words in her mind. Of the four of them, he seemed the least weakened. Wayfarer leaned aside, trying to catch a glimpse of ...
Magiere’s eyes were closed as she stumbled along beside Léshil. He still held her left wrist, keeping her arm draped over his shoulders. He too had trouble walking, and Wayfarer wondered—worried—how much longer Léshil could support Magiere.
The elder guard out front stopped suddenly and swung back one hand to signal everyone to halt. The younger one directly behind him looked around in alarm and whispered, “Fareed?”
Was that the elder man’s name? Earlier, Wayfarer had heard the younger one called “Isa.” Both were nervous—no, frightened. And why were they risking themselves to free four prisoners? None of this made sense, and in a world that she barely understood, that made everything so much worse.
“What now?” Léshil whispered sharply.
Neither guard answered, though Isa glanced back. Fareed stood frozen, staring ahead at ... something. He crept onward, though his hand flashed back again for everyone else to remain in place.
On their left was the back side of a stable; on their right, they were standing so close to the outer wall that Wayfarer could have reached out and touched it. She did not dare look up at it again. The last time had made her dizzy for its impossible height under the bright moon. Directly ahead of the stable was a long building set so close to the wall that perhaps only one person at a time might pass through the narrow space.
Fareed crept out past the corner of the stable and hurried to the long building’s nearest corner. He paused there and turned his head back to look down the space between it and the stable that led out toward the open grounds. Perhaps he was listening as well as looking for something. Then he started forward again, ducking into the narrow passage between the long building and the wall.
Wayfarer lost sight of him in the dark space until his silhouette appeared again at the building’s far rear corner. He seemed so far away. And she heard footsteps, though Fareed’s shape remained still.
Heavy, quick, and even, those steps were much closer, coming from the left between the stable and the long building’s nearer end. When she glanced toward the stable’s nearest corner and then looked farther ahead again, Fareed’s silhouette had vanished. And everyone else in front of her was in the open between the stable and that next building.
—Down now— ... —Against the wall—
Wayfarer held her breath and crouched low with Chap beside her. She barely peeked over the top of his back.
Léshil stumbled once as he pushed Magiere up against the grounds’ outer wall. He teetered and tried to pull the sheath lashing on one winged blade. When Magiere slumped and slid down to the ground, Isa stepped out from everyone and drew the curved sword from his waist sash.
A heavyset guard in a gold sash came around the far building’s front corner. He immediately turned upon sighting Isa standing before the others. The new guard’s eyes widened instantly. He looked all of them over and up and down until his gaze fixed on the space between the wall and the stable’s back. He might have spotted Chap, but then Wayfarer found those dark eyes staring at her.
The guard’s puzzlement vanished, replaced by shock and then anger. He barked something at Isa in their strange tongue. When Isa shifted a slow step backward, the heavyset guard pulled his own sword and charged.
Chap snarled, and Wayfarer’s fingers dug into his fur. She was too stiff with fright to even duck back below him. Just as frightening, Isa did not rush to cut off his adversary. As Léshil finally drew a winged blade, the new guard snarled something more.
And still Isa did not move.
The other man’s sword came at his head, and then he stepped back a bit toward the grounds’ outer wall. The blade passed so close to his right shoulder that Wayfarer saw his shirtsleeve rustle. He did not raise his sword even then.
At the other guard’s slight stumble and quick turn to face him again, Isa merely shifted in another side step, this time toward the stable’s end. He paused as if waiting.
Wayfarer almost cried out as Léshil tried to step in.
The new guard suddenly lurched to a halt as a hand came around his head from the right and clamped over his mouth. With his eyes wide again, whatever he shouted was smothered as an arm wrapped around the front of his neck from the left.
The man’s head was instantly wrenched sideways.
Wayfarer whimpered at the muffled crackle of bone.
Isa still stood calmly where he had paused. The heavyset guard crumpled and fell ... revealing Fareed standing behind him.
When the body hit the ground, its eyes were still wide and did not close.
Léshil’s brow wrinkled as he eyed both Fareed and Isa. He turned away without a word, sheathed his blade, and crouched near the wall to pull up Magiere.
Wayfarer began panting as she stared at their two rescuers.
Isa was so young but had not blinked at acting as bait to give Fareed a chance to kill an imperial guard with his bare hands. She had seen ugly and cold acts in the company of Brot’ân’duivé that still marred her sleep.
Was this anything like what had caused the tainted greimasg’äh—and even Osha—to turn on their own caste? Was there something that could possibly be worth such viciousness against one’s own kind? And who had sent these two for this task?
Fareed approached Léshil, who only then raised Magiere up.
“We cannot be seen again,” Fareed whispered harshly. “Move now!”
Léshil appeared unaffected and did not move. He struggled to hold Magiere but glared back at Fareed.
“That guard was looking for something,” he hissed. “Someone already knows we escaped.”
Fareed’s impatience was clear. “If he was, the imperial forces will keep the search quiet at first in making an initial sweep. If you are not recovered quickly, they will sound the alarm. Now we must go.”