“You aren’t dead!” she exclaimed.
“No,” he agreed, “though I might be soon.” He felt the side of his head, and his fingers came away sticky with blood. That didn’t seem like a good sign.
“Hurry,” Mery urged, “before the soldiers get here.” He realized she was tugging at his hand.
He tried to rise, but a wave of dizziness went through him.
“No, don’t stand up,” she said. “Just follow me.”
He crawled on hands and knees, following Mery through the pandemonium. He figured that he must have been unconscious for only a few seconds.
Mery vanished behind a tapestry and he followed, wondering what he was doing and why.
When he got behind the tapestry, he saw the blue fringe of Mery’s dress as it vanished through a narrow slit in the wall. The slit went for about a kingsyard and then opened into a larger, torch-lit corridor.
“Wait,” Mery cautioned, waving him back. “Not yet.”
He waited, his head feeling huge, swollen with pain.
“Now, quickly.”
She stood and darted across the hall, to an open doorway there. He followed, making it somewhat shakily to his feet, and saw, down the hall, several men in the king’s colors standing in front of a much larger door, brandishing swords and spears at those in the ballroom. They seemed far too busy to notice him.
“Good,” Mery said. “I don’t think they saw us.”
“What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Come on.”
His head felt a little better, but he sincerely hoped Mery knew what she was doing, because after a few moments in the darkened maze of the manse he knew he would never find his way back. Mery never hesitated, however, taking turn after turn, leading him through huge rooms and tiny compartments. It was as if the entire building were a sort of magic chest, with ever smaller and cleverer boxes nested within. The din of the ballroom was well behind them.
He concluded by touch that the cut on his head wasn’t serious. He only hoped the bone hadn’t broken.
Finally, Leoff felt fresh air. The room was utterly dark, but Mery led him to what felt like a shaft that was angling down and away from him.
“In there,” she said. “We have to go through there.”
“What is it?”
“This is the kitchen,” she explained. “They dump the garbage in here.”
“Maybe we should just wait here until things calm down,” Leoff said.
“The bad men will find us,” she said. “We have to get outside.”
“The bad men may be outside, too,” he said.
“Yes, but there are secret ways out there,” she said. “Don’t you want to go back to Eslen?”
“Wait,” he sighed. He was trying to sort it out. The “bad men” were the queen’s men. Those in the corridor wore the same colors as the knight—Fail de Liery—to whom he had escorted the queen only two nights before.
Someone had tried to kill the queen, and two nights later her men were attacking Ambria Gramme’s ball.
Had Gramme planned the assassination?
Saints, what had he gotten himself into?
“Yes,” he told her. “I think we had better get back there.” Otherwise, he was going to be implicated in this whole affair, and he suspected that would lead to a loss of more than simple employment.
But the queen might find out anyway. Running would only make him look guilty.
Still, there was also Mery to consider, wasn’t there?
Hoping he would fit, he pulled himself down the shaft, which reeked of pork grease, rotten vegetables, and less wholesome things.
The pile he landed on was worse. He was glad it was too dark to see exactly what it was.
Another night lost in Newland. He was really beginning to hate this place.
He caught Mery when she came out, sparing her the same messy stop he’d found.
“Which way now?” he asked.
“We’ll go get a boat on the canal.”
“I think the bad men came on the canal,” Leoff said. “I think there will be a lot of them there.”
“Not that canal,” she said, “there’s another one. Come on. This way.”
They mazed through dark gardens of hedges trimmed fantastic, around still marble basins that glimmed faintly in the moonlight. The grass crunched with frost, and two owls were making ghostly conversation. Not too far away, he could hear men’s voices, but they were growing fainter.
He stopped suddenly.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Gilmer. My friend Gilmer was in there.”
“The little man? No, he left when you started playing the hammarharp.”
“Oh. Good.” Or maybe not. How long had the soldiers been outside? They might have caught him as he left.
But there was nothing he could do about it right now, not with Mery. She was probably in more danger than he was.
“How did you know to run, Mery?” he asked, suddenly suspicious. “It was like you had the whole thing planned out.”
“Yes,” she said, after a silence.
“Why?”
“I always have a way planned out.”
“But why?”
“Mother says they may come to kill me one day.”
“Did she say why?”
“No. Only that they might come one day, the king’s men, and kill me and my brother. So I figured out ways to run and places to hide. It’s how I found the music room.”
“You’re a very clever girl, Mery.”
“Are you going to marry my mother?” she asked.
“What?” For a moment his dizziness returned. “Did she say something like that?”
“No,” Mery replied.
“Then why do you ask?”
“Because I like you.”
He took her hand. “I like you, too, Mery. Come on, let’s find someplace warm.”
They found the canal easily enough, and several small narrow-boats. They were approaching them when Mery suddenly grabbed him by the arm.
“Shh,” she said.
There were voices in the darkness, and straining, Leoff made out several indistinct figures near the canal. He and Mery crouched behind a bush.
“They captured the lady Gramme and her son,” one of the men said in a husky baritone.
“That’s of no concern,” a second man said. Something about that voice sent a chill through Leoff. It wasn’t the voice itself, which was perfectly normal, tenor, cultured. But just as any note played on a lute had numerous smaller tones hidden within it, there was something hidden in that voice—something somehow wrong.
“How can you say that?” the baritone asked. “Our plans are ruined.”
“Hardly. I’m amazed that Muriele discovered this, much less acted on the information, but once our spies reported them coming, I did my best to encourage them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some of my men met them at the docks with bow and arrow and killed one or two, then fled into the darkness. After that, the queen’s men didn’t ask questions—they stormed through the front door, where the guards naturally reacted to them before they understood who they were fighting. What was probably meant to be a peaceful interrogation ended up in bloodshed. Do you know how many were killed?”
“I’m not sure, my lord—but more than a few.”
“I feel foolish for not having planted the evidence of this meeting myself,” the tenor said. “Still, it’s all worked out quite well.”
“I really don’t see how.”
“He’s right,” a third voice said. This one sounded familiar to Leoff, but he couldn’t place it. “If one of us had been found there, things might be different. As it is, Muriele’s men will find little of substance—little to justify this attack. It will seem as if they burst into an innocent gathering and began slaughtering landwaerden.”
“Indeed,” the tenor agreed. “Even the few loyal members of the Comven won’t be able to support this action. I believe this moves us well ahead of our schedule.”
“I urge caution, my lord,” the third man said. “Give the kingdom time to absorb this before you move.”
“No, I don’t think so,” the second man said. “The time to strike is now.”