The Dawn Star (25 page)

Cobalt took the packet. He recognized the vivid blue silk and silver embroidery. It was Mel's scarf, torn, with blood on one corner. Somehow he kept his hands steady as he inspected what the messenger had wrapped within it. Those strands of hair had to be hers; he knew no one else with hair to her waist of that bright yellow color. He had a sudden memory of the first time he had touched her hair, in his coach the night after their wedding. He had feared he would hurt her. He had seen the pretty young woman and hadn't known the strength behind that angelic face.

The scarf held one other object: a dagger with blood on its tip.
Whose blood
? Its curved blade and the hilt enameled in sunrise colors were both distinctive. In his too-quiet voice, Cobalt said, “This dagger is from Taka Mal.”

Abacus spoke miserably. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“They took Mel?” Matthew asked, incredulous.

Cobalt felt as if he couldn't breathe. “They made a mistake.” His calm was threatening to break open.

“We don't know anything for certain,” Matthew said.

Cobalt spurred Admiral forward and took off down the slope, leaving the others behind. He had to arrange search parties, send investigators to Alzire, ride hard, scour the land,
do something.
He couldn't leave his post here, but until he knew what had happened to Mel, he would have no rest.

He swore an oath: If she had been hurt—or worse—those responsible would pay a price beyond their imagining.

T
he rough passage, thick with grime, had seen little use for centuries. Light from Jade's candle bounced off the coarse brick walls and the stale air smelled dusty. The tunnel twisted around the citadel and narrowed in places until its walls touched her. She kept a blanket around herself so she didn't rip or destroy her garments as she squeezed through the hidden passage.

Finally she reached a panel with an eyehole too high for her. She stepped on a brick jutting out from the wall and peered through the hole. A few candles lit the room beyond. It resembled the parlor in her own suite, except here the walls were red by the floor and lightened into rose and then gold as they shaded upward. The ceiling was blue with a few gray clouds. The citadel builders called it the Sunset Room, but Jade silently beseeched the Dragon-Sun to make it a sunrise tonight instead of an ending.

This door bore a carved starflower. She pressed its petals in a different pattern than the one she had used in her suite. Her father had taught her the secrets of this citadel, just as he had in the Topaz Palace. She carried the knowledge alone; he had told no one else but her mother. Not even Baz. Especially not Baz. Her father had known the challenges Jade would face. He had given her every tool within his power to help her hold the throne.

Jade rested her hand on her abdomen. Someday, saints willing, she would bequeath those secrets to her child. Determined, she pushed the wooden panel. It opened with a creak, and she stepped into the Sunset Room. Her candle chased away shadows in the corners, but she blew it out. She went to a small table enameled with a fire dragon and blew out the candle there. That left only the one on the mantel across the parlor, and it only lit that side of the room. Satisfied, Jade hid in the corner farthest from the mantel, behind a cabinet that displayed porcelain fire-dragons.

Then she waited.

It wasn't long before the others arrived: Drummer, Fieldson, Spearcaster, and Arkandy Ravensford.

“She's not here,” Fieldson said.

Drummer looked around with obvious unease. “She'll come.”

Spearcaster picked up the doused candle on the table. “Do you have a flint?”

“Somewhere.” Drummer sounded distracted. “Maybe she went to one of the other rooms.”

“She said she would meet us here,” Spearcaster said.

Drummer wandered restlessly around the room. He was a captivating sight. His elegant gold trousers had a row of topaz buttons up their outer seams. His suede belt fit low on his hips and glinted with rubies and gold. His white shirt was Zanterian silk, and his vest had sunrise designs worked into it with gems and blue thread. Gold edged his shirt cuffs and the seams of his amber-suede boots. Someone had dressed the groom well indeed.

The officers also wore their finest. General Spearcaster was resplendent in his dress uniform, dark gold and red, with gold braid up the trousers, and his sword in a jeweled sheath. Fieldson and Ravensford wore uniforms of white and violet, with knee-boots and those oddly straight swords that seemed less deadly to Jade, less efficient in gouging the guts of an opponent. If they were lucky, there would be no eviscerating tonight.

Jade never paid much attention to her own clothes. Usually she let Clove pick them out. She couldn't tonight, though, lest the ginger-maid wonder what was going on. So Jade had chosen a sunset silk, mainly because everything in the citadel had that theme. The floor-length silk wrapped her body and had a slit up the side revealing far too much leg. The sleeveless gown shaded from crimson up through sunrise colors and into pale blue across her breasts. With her hair up and threaded with gems, her head felt heavy. She wore the Dragon-Sun jewels, a necklace of topazes, rubies, and sapphires, with earrings that dangled down her neck and bracelets on her wrists. She felt overdressed, but maybe Drummer would like the effect.

Before she married anyone, though, she wanted to hear more of what these crafty generals had to say to her charming but naive groom. He had a great deal of savvy when it came to earning his living at the market or in taverns, and she didn't doubt he knew how to charm his way out of trouble, but in her opulently cutthroat royal court, he was an innocent. She hoped he stayed this way. It was one reason she liked him so much. Even…loved him. It was true, though she had trouble saying it. She couldn't imagine life without him, and she was glad they were to marry, but given how many people wanted to stop them, she wasn't about to trust anyone.

Ravensford braced his hand against the mantel and gazed into the empty hearth. He was a burly man, probably in his forties, with a wide face and a shock of golden-brown hair that gave him a stoic appearance. Jade knew little about him except that he was a close friend of the Harsdown king and had distinguished himself during the war nineteen years ago.

“Do you ever use these fireplaces?” Ravensford asked.

Spearcaster was opening a drawer of the table. “Not often. It's usually too hot.” He searched through the drawer, probably for a flint to light the candles.

Fieldson was leaning against the panel Jade had used to enter the room. “Why is it,” he grumbled, “that women take so much longer than men to put on their clothes?”

Spearcaster glanced up and smiled. “The result is usually worth the wait.”

“Maybe someone got to her.” Drummer was pacing, his forehead creased with worry, which made Jade feel guilty. Not enough to reveal her presence, though. For all she knew, they were the ones about to “get” to her, using Drummer as their foil.

“Baz looked ready to melt the sky today,” Spearcaster said. “He's letting emotions blind his logic. Any fool can see how many problems this marriage will solve.”

“If Jarid agrees to the treaty,” Ravensford added.

“I've known Jarid for years,” Fieldson said. “I think he'll agree.”

Drummer spoke darkly. “Baz and Slate and Firaz are probably somewhere right now plotting how to steal Jade away.”

Spearcaster closed the drawer. “They're down with the army, discussing strategy.” Drily, he added, “But then, so am I.”

Drummer raised his eyebrow at the lanky general.

“Firaz is there,” Spearcaster allowed. “Baz, I doubt it.”

“And Slate?” Drummer asked.

Spearcaster considered the question. “He's probably with the army. He's always had a soft spot where Vizarana is concerned. If she wants to marry you, I don't think he would try to stop her even if he disagreed with the decision.”

“What about the atajazid?” Fieldson asked. “He has as much stake in this as Baz Quaazera.”

“But no idea of Her Majesty's condition,” Spearcaster said. “My guess is that Ozar is out there with his army.”

“That close?” Drummer stiffened. “You mean, Baz could get him?
Tonight?
”

“Possibly,” Spearcaster said. “But I don't think he would.”

It didn't sound to Jade as if they were conning Drummer. In fact, their assessment of the situation matched hers. She could wait until they left the room to look for her, and then she could come out. That would be more diplomatic than just stepping out of her hiding pace, which would reveal she had been spying on them. But waiting for them to leave the room would take too long. She wanted this wedding done as soon as possible, a finished act no one could stop.

So much for diplomacy. Jade stood up and stepped out from behind the cabinet. “Light of the morning, gentlemen.”

They all spun around, the officers drawing their swords fast, Spearcaster's glinting and curved, Ravensford's and Fieldson's straight and heavy. Drummer stared as if she had risen out of the ocean on a plume of froth. The candlelight gilded his face, and his eyes seemed lit with an inner glow.

“Why the weapons?” Jade asked, cool outside, jumpy inside.

Spearcaster exhaled, a long breath, and sheathed his blade. Fieldson and Ravensford followed suit.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Spearcaster said. “We are on edge tonight.” He was staring, too. They were all looking at her that way, as if she were something scrumptious to eat, like a clam or a mussel or some other delicacy from the Blue Ocean.

Drummer came forward and took her hands. “Saints, Jade.”

Self-conscious, she answered in a low voice only for him. “Is something wrong with me?”

“Believe me, no.” He raised her hand and kissed her knuckles. “You are devastating, love. If you were to walk among all those armies right now, their warriors would be so helplessly smitten, they would fall to the ground and swear allegiance to you forever.”

“I would hope not,” Spearcaster muttered, going behind the cabinet where Jade had been hiding. “The ones who aren't ours would be violating their oaths of fealty.”

Jade slanted an annoyed look at the general. “He was being poetic. It's allowed with grooms, you know.”

Spearcaster tapped on the wall. “How did you get out of here? It doesn't sound hollow.”

“Hmm,” Jade said.

“If you know a secret way out of this citadel,” Fieldson said, “we need to know. Your cousin has all the entrances guarded.”

She took Drummer's hand. “In another room of this suite.”

In the main room, Jade went to a niche similar to the one in her parlor. Within moments, she was opening another secret door. They filed into the tunnel beyond and closed the door. Ravensford carried a candle. It cast their shadows ahead of them in a rough passageway of large, old bricks.

“I had no idea this was here,” Spearcaster said.

Jade detested having to show them. Now he would search for other passages, and knowing him, he would find them.

“You are sworn to tell no one,” Jade said. “All of you.”

They each gave their word. She trusted Drummer. Spearcaster maybe. He had been the closest she had to a father since the death of the king. Actually, he had been more like a father to her than her own father. She had great affection for him, but she had long ago learned that what he considered her own best interest didn't necessarily coincide with her own thoughts on the matter. If he decided to map these hidden passageways for the army's use, she might have a hard time convincing him to keep the secret from even his top people. No matter what he decided, though, she knew he would make that choice to protect his queen and her country.

Fieldson and Ravensford were another story. She had no reason to trust them, and as impressed as she had been with both of them, especially Fieldson, she knew they would act first in support of their sovereign, King Muller. As she led them through a maze, she chose as confusing a route as possible.

Finally Jade reached the wall panel she wanted. She turned to the others. “This opens into an alley in Sun's Breadth, the town around the citadel.”

Spearcaster stood with his arms crossed, frowning. “If this passage lets us sneak into town, that means it could let someone in town sneak into the citadel.”

“That's why no one knows about it,” she said. “And why you are sworn to secrecy.” She knew Spearcaster would set up a guard system now that Fieldson and Ravensford knew about the entrance.

Jade pressed a pattern into the starflower on the door and cracked the portal open. Spearcaster leaned past her and set his palm against the wood panel. “You are sure Baz doesn't know about this exit?”

“As far as I know,” Jade said.

He stepped past her, then edged open the door and peered out. After a moment he beckoned to them. They followed him into an alley with high walls on either side. Dust drifted around them, and the air smelled of night-blooming desert weed. A small animal ran past Jade's sandaled foot. She grimaced and stepped back, but she didn't cry out or even jerk.

With Drummer at her side, Jade led the way along narrow lanes hidden between buildings. She knew the route well, having often come here as a child. She had played in the alleys, accompanied by her taciturn bodyguards. Apparently it had never occurred to her parents to provide their child with friends her own age.

The Temple of the Dragon-Sun stood in a secluded area amid gardens and terraces with water flowing over the stone. The layered design of its roof matched the gardens. Pots hung from every level, lush with vines: fire-lilies, red pyramid-blossoms that opened at dawn, snap-lions, sun-orbs, and scalloped fire opal blossoms with petals as bright as flames.

As temples went, this one was small. The interior was one room, with a stone table at the far end and benches arrayed before it in curving rows. The cool spaces, all stone and air, soothed Jade's nerves. Candles shed gold light around the table but left the rest of the temple in shadow. People prayed here to the dragon spirit who put the sun in the sky, the flames in the sunset, and the fire in the souls of men and women.

The dragon priestess stood by the table, one hand resting on a scroll tied with red and gold cords. She was an older woman, slender and frail, dressed in a sunset-hued robe. Jade recognized her; she had served at Jade's fifteenth birthday celebration, when the Topaz Heir officially became an adult. Back then, the woman's hair had been mostly black, her posture straighter, her face less lined. But her otherworldly quality and her serenity were the same.