Snowmancer

Chapter 4, Part 1: Ilyas

Ilyas

As soon as Jem's footsteps abated, I grinned. Oh, too easy. A pretty people indeed, but dim in the head.

I quickly dressed, slipping my arms back into the robe sleeves and pulling the collar tight over my chest. I yanked on the knee-length coat, buttoned it from knee to chin, wound the scarves around my neck and raised the hood. Covered so well, only a slice of my dark skin and violet eyes distinguished me from any of the shabby peasants outside. The perfect disguise.

Then I stepped up to the door and pushed it open with my forefinger. The hinges protested with a squeal, as if they knew its prisoner was escaping, but the iron door swung open.

Silly, silly Jem. He'd been so befuddled when he'd fled, he hadn't shut it tight enough for the lock to slip into place.

Oh well, I should give him a commendation for even managing this well, even though he wouldn't know what commendation meant. Still, he should have at least left a guard.

I sauntered down the empty corridor towards the stairs we'd arrived through. Jem had fled the other way, probably further into this tomb. But I didn't want to go further inside. I wanted to get back to the port, and hire a ship to Nuriya for my triumphant return.

There must be someone in this godforsaken place — excuse me, Dark-Godforsaken place — with horses for hire. I was not walking all the way back to the port. Jem hadn't bothered with a horse or an ass, but then knowing the extent of Jem's capabilities, it's amazing we even survived the trek.

The prince regent must have a few horses, even if his citizens were too poor to keep any themselves. I'd steal one and some real food, and I'd make it halfway back to the port before Jem even noticed I was missing.

I shoved open the door to the courtyard. Arctic air rushed over me, scraping at my cheeks and freezing my dripping nostrils as if the scarves were figments of my imagination.

Dark-Godforsaken place indeed.

I gritted my teeth to keep them from chattering. Despite its initially befuddling appearance of huddled black buildings and a labyrinth of bridges crossing over the streets, the town was laid out in a straight line from the hovel they graciously called a castle down to the sheer ice gates. Jem hadn't even bothered to cover my eyes and take me down a few unnecessary turns to confuse me.

Oh no, he'd let me see everything. That was the difference between us.

I entered the courtyard, my feet crunching on fresh snow. Banks of the wretched stuff were piled against the stone walls. I sneered at it. If this were my palace, I would have had it all hauled outside the gates.

But then, not even the prince regent Hami or Hemi or whatever approached Nuriyite standards. In Nuriya, we had saplings in the audience chamber and private gardens planted with rare flowers brought back from kingdoms across the ocean. In this place, they had snow and rock and more snow. Hemi might have had an ounce of political acumen, convincing the peasants he saved the throne for the legitimate heir instead of biding his time before strangling the brat, but that didn't prove much.

He didn't even have guards posted outside his castle. Look, I was about to leave the palace yard, and there was no one to stop me!

Oh Mehdi, Mehdi, Mehdi. He'd made an extremely unfortunate alliance. He must have been so desperate. Desperate enough to risk what I'd do to him when I returned. I had those happy thoughts to warm me while I made the long trek back.

Now where did the prince regent keep his stables?

The snow bank against the courtyard wall rumbled. I stopped, staring at it, but it remained still. Of course it did. It was snow. Snow didn't rumble, did it? I'd seen acres and acres of it, more than I'd ever wanted to in an entire lifetime — in fifty lifetimes — and it had never rumbled.