Airie

Chapter 29

The Special Quarters looked even less inviting in the evening than during the day. The water continued to splash in the fountain, barely visible in the dark, but the windows were black, without a flicker of a candle or a torch inside. Perhaps the inhabitants were in their rooms facing the inner yard and the garden—if there really was a garden.

The place looked desolate. Dusan had to make Reijo see what a bad idea it was to go there. Perhaps they could use the days before the king's return to try and figure out what lay inside the Special Quarters—or just gather everything they had and flee. He wasn't angry with Reijo anymore, just worried. They needed to discuss it and decide what to do next, together.

He turned away from the locked iron gate and started walking.

Inside the guests' quarters, torches burned in the sconces on the walls. The corridors looked recently swiped. In front of the door to their room, a couple of guards talked in hushed voices. The palace was always patrolled at nights, so Dusan paid little attention to them until they turned to him, alerted by his footsteps. He slowed down, instantly alarmed by how they stared at him.

"Where are you going?" said one of them, a big man with a mustache. Unlike the multi-layered, impractical outfits of the nobles, soldiers stuck to pants and robes that allowed more freedom of movement, and next to them, Dusan felt inadequate in his fashionable garments.

"My room," he said, approaching his door.

"You can't come in."

"What?" Dusan said, wrapping his fingers around the cool metal of the door handle.

"Your assistance is no longer required," said the man with the mustache. "We're here to escort you–"

Before he could finish, Dusan pressed the handle, and the door opened. He had no idea what these men wanted, but he had to check on Reijo first, and then, together, they'd deal with this. Ignoring the barks from the guards, he stepped inside.

It felt like he entered the wrong room. It looked barren, like when they'd first came here. The bed was neatly made, and no clothes lay thrown around, no toiletries stood on Reijo's table, no fruits or supper awaited them. Most importantly, Reijo himself was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is he?" Dusan said, turning around. The two men awaited him in the corridor, their hands on the hilts of their swords. He half expected them to ask who was he talking about, but they clearly knew.

"He's been transferred to Special Quarters," said the mustache guy. "He no longer requires your assistance."

"Is that what he said?"

"We're here to escort you outside the gates." The man detached a small cloth bag from this belt and showed it to Dusan. "Here's the payment for your services."

"I want to speak to him."

"That's impossible. Per his majesty's orders, the inhabitants of Special Quarters can have no contact with outsiders."

"I'll wait until the king comes back, then, and ask for his permission."

"We're here to escort you outside," the man said again. "Take the payment. You're leaving tonight, with or without it, so I'd take it if I were you."

Dusan eyed the bag. Made of rough fabric, it looked like those wallets in which some of the merchants carried large sums of money. Slowly, he reached out and took it, trying to earn some time. He pulled at the sash that kept the bag closed and saw the coins inside. There were many, some of them gold.

'Transferred him to Special Quarters', the man had said. Had Reijo agreed to that? Had he been willing to go without Dusan, or did he expect for Dusan to join him later? They'd had an argument earlier, but surely that wasn't enough to make Reijo discard him like that.

They had to talk, but if the men were telling the truth, Reijo was now in the forbidden wing of the palace that no one could enter save through the gates that were constantly locked. How had they even 'transferred' him there? Dusan tried to remember if he saw any signs of the gates having been recently opened when he'd seen them just minutes ago. The dark windows, and the never-ending whisper of the water in the fountain—the Special Quarters looked like a dead, uninhabited place. Yet according to these men, Reijo was there now, out of Dusan's reach.

"Let's go," said one of the guards. "You're taking too much time."

Dusan glanced up from the bag in his hands. If he let these men escort him outside, he wouldn't be allowed back into the palace again, which would further diminish his chances to find Reijo.

"Fine," he said, and then, grabbing the bottom of the purse, swayed it in the air.

Coins flew in all directions, hitting walls, bouncing on the stone floor, clinking, glimmering in the torches' light. The guards stepped back, raising their hands to protect their faces. Making use of their distraction, Dusan darted past them and down the corridor.

He knew the palace well enough by now. Heading towards the kitchens or the main hall, as well as bursting into the main yard, was clearly a bad idea. There was still plenty of staff there, even at this late hour, and there could be more guards that would join his pursuers the moment they saw a running man. So, he continued down the corridor connecting the guests' wing and the main building. He passed a few servants, who jumped out of his way, startled, but, luckily, none of them tried to stop him.

The guards gave a good chase. He couldn't shake them off. Even when turning corners put them out of his sight, he could still hear their boots behind him. He knew they heard him, too. It was bad. He had to hide somewhere, but the few doors he tried to pull or push on his way were locked. The life of leisure in the palace got him out of shape, and he was already breathing hard while his pursuers showed no signs of slowing down.

He turned another corner and found himself in a familiar corridor. At the end of it, light gleamed under the thick wooden door of Tobias's study. Dusan had come here a few times to fetch Reijo when his sessions with the healer lasted late into the night. Now, instead of the usual annoyance this place evoked in him, he felt a glimmer of hope. Gathering his strength, he darted towards the door, pulled it open and stumbled inside.

The room was long and narrow, its walls lined with shelves on which jars and bottles stood. Deeper inside the room he saw a bed, a table, and a chair from which Tobias was now getting up, startled. No one was allowed in this study without an explicit invitation, yet Dusan had no other choice now but to seek this man's help.

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