For three days she used her new cart to collect the laundry, so that the guards would get used to the idea. It made sense – she had more work to do than usual, what with half the staff of the House of Nobles skipping out on their duties to attend Mihali’s feast. The lack of help left her alone in the basement to do the laundry more often than not, and she was able to amend her usual route to pass down the hallway to Jakob’s room.
Nila quickly realized that night would be the hardest time to sneak Jakob out of the building. With the halls deserted, it would be difficult to hide him. During the day, however, the number of people in the House of Nobles was almost overwhelming. The feast going on outside made it impossible to keep track of everyone who came and went, and once out of the building she’d be able to melt into the crowd.
On the morning of the final day of the festival she wheeled her clothing cart down the halls of the House of Nobles. She made her usual stops and collected enough clothes that she’d be able to conceal a child, before turning down the hallway to Jakob’s room. She passed men and women, soldiers and clerks, nodding and smiling to everyone.
The guard wasn’t at his station. Nila gave a sigh and whispered a prayer of gratitude to Kresimir. Only Jakob’s nurse would stand between getting the boy to freedom.
Nila checked to make sure her truncheon was still in her cart. She didn’t want to use it, but she would if the nurse gave her trouble.
She came to an abrupt stop. The door to Jakob’s room stood open. It was never open. She forced herself to continue on, wheeling her cart past the door, glancing inside as casually as she could.
The room was empty. No nurse. No Jakob. Had she made a mistake? Did they move Jakob to another room this morning, or even out of the country?
She checked the hallway for soldiers and went inside.
The bed was unmade. There were toys on the bedside table, and a child’s clothes hanging in the closet. It looked like he’d left only recently. Was he using the washroom? She needed to get out, in case he came back with a guard.
“Who the pit are you?” a male voice asked.
Nila spun around, her heart leaping into her throat. Two men stood in the doorway. The one who spoke looked like a dockworker, with a flat cap and a wool jacket with mended elbows over a grimy brown vest. The other was obviously a gentleman. He wore a black jacket over a velvet vest and white shirt, black pants, and black, polished shoes. He carried a cane and top hat.
“The laundress,” Nila said, swallowing hard. Who were these men? Why were they in Jakob’s room?
The dockworker frowned at her, then looked back at the clothing cart in the hallway. “Come back later,” he said.
“Can I help you with something?” Nila asked. She could tell by the dockworker’s accent that he was a local. Probably a member of the Noble Warriors of Labor. The gentleman remained silent, but something about his steady stare put Nila on edge.
“Just came back for the boy’s clothes and toys,” the dockworker said. “Won’t take but a minute.”
“I was just about to take them for laundering. I could get them cleaned and then send them after.”
“That won’t be necessary.” The gentleman finally spoke. His voice was quiet, steady. He sounded educated. “Go on,” he told the dockworker.
The dockworker pushed past Nila, politely but firmly, and began emptying the closet and the dresser drawers onto the bed. He tossed a wooden train and a pair of tin soldiers on the pile and gathered it all up in one of the sheets, tying it in a knot at the top.
“I’m sure he has a travel bag…” Nila began.
“That won’t be necessary,” the gentleman said again. “You may take care of the rest of the bedding.” He left the room.
The dockworker swung the whole bundle over his shoulder and carried it out into the hallway. Nila followed him, watching him head down the hallway behind the gentleman. When neither turned to look back at her, she began pushing her cart after him.
She followed them at a distance down the main hallway, then down a side corridor before they turned into a room at the end of the halclass="underline" one of the many offices in the building. Nila left her cart and slowly approached the door. She peeked around the corner.
A hand grabbed her roughly by the shoulder. She was jerked into the room and slammed hard against the wall. Someone gripped her by the chin, and she found herself staring into the compassionless eyes of the gentleman.
“What does the boy mean to you?” he asked. His voice was still calm, collected, despite the bruising grip he had on Nila.
Nila mumbled in surprise, not certain as to what to say. Who was this man? Why would he treat her like this? How could he know Jakob meant anything to her?
“What,” the gentleman said, jerking her face from one side to the other with emphasis on each word, “does the boy mean to you?”
“Nothing. I’m just the laundress.”
“I have a Knack for knowing when I’m being lied to,” he said. “You have five seconds to tell me. Then I will strangle you.”
Nila felt his fingers close around her throat. She stared back into his eyes. She’d seen more life in the eyes of dead men. She counted down in her head. His grip tightened.
“I was…” she started, feeling her throat constrict. He let up slightly. “I was his family’s laundress before the purge. I’ve known him since birth. I wanted to help him escape from Tamas.”
The fingers dropped from her throat. “Fortunate,” the gentleman said. “We had problems with his nurse. You will take her place and come with us.”
“I don’t…”
He grabbed her by the back of the neck, half dragging her across the room as one might an unruly child. He opened a closet and forced her to look down.
Nila remembered the nurse who’d been watching Jakob when Olem had taken her to see him. She was an older woman, heavyset. She lay at the bottom of the closet unnaturally, her eyes staring up at nothing. Nila tried to back away. The gentleman’s grip on her neck prevented her from doing so.
“This,” the gentleman said, “happened because she had qualms. If you decide to have qualms… if you ever disobey me… I will not hesitate to kill you with my bare hands. My name is Lord Vetas, and I am your master now. Follow me.”
He closed the closet door and led her out into the hall. The dockworker appeared with the sack of Jakob’s clothing over his shoulder. Vetas gestured to Nila. “She will be the boy’s new nurse. Take her. I have business to attend to elsewhere.”
Vetas left at a brisk pace. Nila couldn’t help but watch him go. Her heart hammered in her chest, her legs sagging beneath her. She’d never felt fear like this. Not before Olem had saved her from rape, not when she’d almost drowned as a child in the Adsea. That man was pure malice.
The dockworker shrugged and took Nila by one arm. He led her down the hallway and out a side door, toward a carriage waiting in the street. Even on the back side of the House of Nobles there was a crowd. Nila looked up at the dockworker. His grip was not painfully tight. She could kick him and get away, disappearing into the throng.
They drew closer to the carriage. Some dread in the pit of her stomach told her that if she set foot in that carriage, she would never escape Lord Vetas. She watched for an opportunity, her body tensed, her skirt gathered in one hand so that she could run.
“Miss Nila?” Jakob appeared in the door of the carriage. His hair was mussed, his jacket askew, but he seemed unhurt. “Miss Nila! I didn’t know you were here!”
Nila let her skirt fall from her hand. She took Jakob’s hand and stepped into the carriage. “Don’t worry,” Nila said. “I’ve come to take care of you.”
Chapter 36
Tamas leaned back in his chair, one leg up on a hassock, and watched Mihali’s feast draw what seemed like half the city for a late breakfast. The entire square was full, and the streets beyond overflowing with lines waiting their turn. Some of them watched jugglers while they waited, and thousands crowded around a raised platform near the middle of the square, eating porridge on their feet as a troupe of mummers performed a lewd comedy. This was the last day of the festival, and no expense had been spared for the entertainment of the masses.