I rummage through the dresser where the maid has unpacked corsets, brassieres and underpants. Then I attack the wardrobe of embroidered silk dresses, but I do not find my deerskin trousers and cotton shirt.
I take the lantern into the bathing chamber and see them lying on the tub to dry. My fur parka smells of lilac soap. Gone is the trapped snow mould rooted in the matted hair, the winter-sleep oils, the campfires' ashes and smoke. And though I've wished the parka clean a hundred times since waking from the long-sleep, Blackfoot Forest and my parents, have never felt so far away.
I wrestle with three buttons on the back of my silk dress, finally slip it off, and put on my hunting clothes. Happy to be dressed again in my cotton shirt and fitted trousers, I tuck the Prince's stolen room key into my empty knife belt. Lifting it from his doublet while he was distracted with my drunken flirtations was easy. In fact, it was so easy I half-suspect he allowed me to take it. But I am not about to waste an opportunity.
I crack open my bedroom door and listen. Wind wheezes around unseen nooks and gusts in from the chilly exterior. Far off a man coughs, but I do not waste precious effort stretching my senses through the tower. The six guards who followed us to the royal guest quarters all left with the Prince. Which leaves two men watching Deadran and me. Apparently, we are not dangerous.
I lock my door and carry my boots down the flagstone corridor. My hand traces bumps in the cold bricks as I climb the stairs to Jakut's suite. At his door, I smooth one palm across the keyhole and guide the key in with my other hand. The latch turns with a dull thud. I puff out a breath of satisfaction, retrieve my boots, and slink into Jakut's chambers.
With a match from the supply I've found in my guest room, I light a lantern and enter the living area. The hearth smells of smouldering ashes. In the far corner, near doors to a balcony, stands a grand writing desk. Leaves of parchment lie scattered across the leather top. I flick through scraps of indiscernible sketches and Jakut's handwriting, then check the drawers.
Once the lantern is extinguished with a little hiss from my wet fingers, I return it to the hook by the suite door, and venture onto the balcony. Keeping to the shadows of an overhead buttress, I search for signs of the guards. This side of the royal guest tower butts up against the roof of a long building. There is no escape from the closed courtyard below so patrols around the back of the tower are unnecessary.
I pull on my boots, and climb over the balcony railing. In the distance, the frosted lake glistens like a mirror. Behind it, silver-tipped pines stretch as far as the eye can see. I extend my arms so I am suspended over the edge and study the wood beamed roof. It is a small leap, and a larger drop, but the slats and beams are closely spaced and evenly constructed so I should not fall through the thatching.
I breathe in, softening my muscles, imagining I'm as graceful and soft-footed as a deer. Then I leap. In the second I am falling, I bend my legs to break the impact. My knees jar with the landing force, but the roof doesn't shake or crack beneath me, so I cannot complain. I creep to the end of the building and lower myself down a wooden door using a protruding metal knocker.
Once I am in a tunnel away from the guest chambers, I hurry towards the fort's northern quarter, hood pulled up, head lowered into the wind.
I am too exhausted to search the Duchess's mind over a long distance so I will hide somewhere near the banquet hall while I scour her memories. A detail has come back, and I intend to discover its significance, along with my brother's whereabouts. When Duchess Elise advised her husband to relocate Kel to the old tower, she suggested they move the boys. But when they referred to getting rid of the shadow weaver, they spoke of only one child. Which other boy or boys was she talking about?
On the western face of the banquet hall lies a water gate bastion where the Prince sometimes played as a child. Isolated from the rest of the fort, only the royal family's kitchen staff and maids have reason to access the water channel. It is perfect for my task.
As I approach, I sense two other minds close by, one lingering in the second access tunnel, one alone by the water channel. I creep to the edge of the archway and peer into the moonlit quadrangle. A woman stands looking down at the dark, open waterway. Loose strands of auburn hair spill out from her intricately clipped chignon. She hugs a thick cloak over her evening dress, and clutches a silver medallion. Her lips move as though in prayer and the medallion is a lucky symbol of the Gods.
For once, something has gone my way. I will not have to struggle through the mind-world to find the Duchess. She is here. Relieved at this small turn of fortune, I scan the paved yard for somewhere to hide. I do not want to be disturbed while travelling through her memories. I'm about to slip out of the tunnel and into a near alcove when she looks up. Though I'm concealed by pitch-black darkness, her gaze aims straight at me.
"Hello?" Her voice is little more than a whisper. She does not wish to alert her guard in the other tunnel who is close enough to call if needed, far enough to allow her privacy.
My hands sweat inside my fur gloves. If I run and she shouts, her guard will give chase. If I reveal myself, she will want an explanation. As I hesitate, it strikes me she is waiting for somebody. Otherwise, a lurking figure would be cause for alarm.
The Duchess raises her skirt, steps onto the low channel wall that slices the yard into two segments, and lowers herself into the waterway. Amazed, I watch her tiptoe across a narrow beam. She performs a dangerous acrobatic tightrope walk, before climbing up the other side.
It is too late to run. I step from the tunnel and greet her. In the wash of pale moonlight, her features twist from wariness to shock. I pull off my hood so she sees who I am.
"Lady Mirra! Why are you dressed like a boy? What are you doing here? What has happened?"
"Lower your voice or your guard will hear us."
She glances back in the direction of the soldier, then her eyes flick into the tunnel behind me.
"I come alone," I say. "But perhaps you were waiting for someone else, Your Grace?"
"No." She shakes her head, dropping the leafed medallion.
"My guardsman, Tug? Or should I call him Tye?"
"What is the meaning of your question?"
"Well, Your Grace, if you were not waiting for company, why didn't you shout for your guard when you realized there was someone in the tunnel? These are treacherous times, are they not?"
Her eyes narrow. "Explain this visit, Lady Mirra. Has Tye sent you?"
"Why would he send me?"
"You are playing games," she snaps.
"Yet you stand here when you could leave."
Brusquely, she gathers her skirts and turns, but something holds her in place. An invisible thread. Tug was certain she would not speak to her husband of his resurrection from the dead. Were they secret lovers before she became the Duke's wife?
If she is waiting for Beast-face, he could arrive at any moment. I must keep her on the defensive and discover what secret they share so I may use it to my advantage. Besides, I have gone too far with my challenging stance to draw back now. "Tye has told me," I bluff.
"Told you?" Her voice quivers. A bright room forms in the mind-world.
She wakes shivering, afraid. Grown ups crowd around her. Memories flash. Running from hunters. Getting caught. Escaping. A boy's face comes into focus. "Calm yourself," he says. "You are safe now. We will look after you."
I rear back in surprise. The boy was Tug. But that is not the reason my thoughts explode as though the skies have been set on fire. That is not the reason every hair on my arms and neck stand up as though I have grown metal spikes. Duchess Elise is Uru Ana. She is sighted, a shadow weaver, glitter-eyed!
The reason Tug does not fear me, the reason he has been able to build walls from our kind, the reason he has been so determined to hide his past with Elise, it all tumbles into place. He grew up hiding an Uru Ana, protecting her secret.
But if she has the sight, why hasn't she told the Duke the truth about me? Why did she come to my chambers and inform me of the Prince's impending marriage to a Rudeashan princess and of his mistresses, when one look into any of our memories of the last few days would have revealed I am Prince Jakut's purchased slave?
"You are Uru Ana," I whisper. The words spill from my lips before I can stop them. The Duchess's pupils grow larger, blackness swallowing the autumn brown of her irises. She sways on her feet. If she passes out, I will get nothing from her. "I am the only person who knows," I say. "Your secret is safe. Neither Tug nor I wish to betray you."
A pained laugh escapes her. She threads her fingers, unravels and threads them again. Her shoulders slump. "I have been careful. I never use the cursed sight. I have ignored it for so long it has faded to a faint imprint of something long removed. I thought Tye was dead and my secret buried with him."
So she does not know we are the same! I must strike hard and fast, crush any desire she may have to trust Tug, or to turn to him after I leave tonight.
"We know you have the glitter-eyed boy," I say. "The Prince sent Tye on business to the Hybourg. While he was there a Lyndonian commander roused his curiosity." The lie flows off my tongue, as though somewhere in the depths of my consciousness I was prepared for this. "On further investigation, he discovered your commander was buying an Uru Ana boy."
Elise shakes her head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
I fix her gaze. Desperation to see Kel again writhes inside me like a beast I can barely control. But I must. I wait, still and silent, face to face, until she realizes her protests will not convince me of what I know to be false. She has Kel. I will make her give him back.
When I see she has abandoned all pretence of indignation, I speak.
"I'm not here tonight to harm you, Your Grace. This evening you came to my chambers and warned me about Prince Jakut. Now I must warn you if you keep the glitter-eyed boy you will gravely endanger your family." I pause, weighing up how to present this.
"I am offering you my help," I say, ignoring the heat crawling up my back and burning into the top of my spine. "After what you have told me, I will not stay with Prince Jakut. I wish to leave the fort tomorrow, and I'm offering to take your captive. I do not wish to say goodbye to the Prince, so my departure will be a secret. My guardians will tell Prince Jakut I am sick and spending the day in my chambers. In order for him to believe this, Tye will remain in the fort until tomorrow evening. Then he and Brin will ride through the night and meet me in a safe location. The Prince will not be told about the boy."
Duchess Elise smiles tightly. "You flee in secrecy. Are you afraid of Jakut?"
I look down so she cannot examine whether my words match my expression. "I am afraid of my heart," I murmur. "If I say goodbye, I might let his soft words persuade me to remain by his side."
A cold tingling breaks across my forehead as I wait for her answer. I wish I could put a knife to her neck and demand she takes me to see Kel at once. My throat burns with the thought of him so close, yet still out of reach.
"I will need a day to make arrangements," she says finally.
I give a quick nod of agreement. Anything more, and I fear I will give myself away. Hope and impatience pound through me—the promise of freedom, holding Kel in my arms, taking us away from all this!
"I will deal with the boy," she adds. "It would not be safe for you to take him with you."
"No."
Her eyes dart up, curiosity sparked by the vehemence in my voice.
"He was snatched from the north," I continue, grappling to hold in check my emotions, "and he should be returned to the northern forests near my home. You will take me to see him first thing tomorrow. I wish to ensure he is in a fit state for travel. Where are you keeping him?"
"Why so much interest in the glitter-eyed child?"
"Tye has a soft spot for rescuing shadow weaving orphans, Your Grace." Even in the pale moonlight, I see the Duchess's deep red blush. She disgraces herself by hoping to benefit from the use of a slaved Uru Ana child, when she will not risk using her own talent, and was fortunate enough to be rescued by Tug's family from the same ill fate.
"In Delladea," I continue, twisting the knife, hoping to injure her with my words, "we are not as prejudiced as the south. We do not believe the Uru Ana should be slaved, or killed, or stolen from their parents as children and used for political purposes. I'm sure you can sympathize with our position."
"I am not ashamed of the choices I have made." She turns to face the fort's outer wall and unseen lake beyond. Auburn curls whip out around her in the night's breeze.
"Tye convinced me to keep the boy's existence from Prince Jakut," I say. I try to sound reassuring though her lack of remorse fills me with hate. "The Prince knows nothing of what we have discussed tonight. Nor will he ever know if the boy and I are escorted from Lyndonia at moonset tomorrow. Call for me early. You will show me the child, and you and I will spend the day together while you make arrangements."
She nods, then looks up at the star-streaked sky. Her silver pendant is in her fingers again.
"Do you understand the terms of our agreement?"
"Yes," she murmurs.
***
In the tunnel, spine pressed against the damp stone, I gasp for air. Oxygen flows into my body and the trembling abates. Elise does not leave the waterway to return to her chambers for another ten minutes. I wait. When Tug does not show, I start to believe she wasn't expecting him, after all.
Perhaps my presence in the tunnel had not scared her, because despite never willingly using her sight, the Duchess had still recognized the shape of my mind. This could be why her shock only came when she saw a small hooded figure clad in men's hunting furs, instead of the girl she was expecting.
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