"He got away! The crowned prince of Ahlderon was in your grasp and you let him get away!"
The empress rose to her feet and glared at the princess, her eyes aflame, her teeth bare. Her honed finger nails, like the claws of a tigress, dug into the surface of her desk.
Inside, the princess flinched at her mother's wrath. On the outside, she held her composure and stared defiantly back into those terrible eyes.
"I couldn't imprison both of them by myself," said the princess, fighting to bolster her voice with confidence. "So, I locked them in Rizain's quarters and sent for the guards. They are the ones who let them get away."
The empress' face screwed up as if a bile taste had suddenly filled her mouth.
"Do not cast your failings on the shoulders of another. Why on a black sun did you not dispatch the both of them out of hand? You cannot make me believe these two Ahlderion's—one a mere boy—were too much for you to handle."
The princess scoffed, her pride rushing in to reignite her confidence. She lifted her chin as she responded.
"I could have dispatched them both with a mere dagger. I've seen children who know how to handle a sword better than my brother."
"Then I ask you again, why did you not take care of them?"
"I believed that honor belonged to you, Your ."
The princess seldom referred to her mother as Your Highness outside of court. The princess knew she must tread lightly, though. This may be her mother, but who knew what retributive caprice her fury might elicit?
"Honor!" shrilled the empress in a voice which pierced her ears. "I want that brat brother of yours dead and you on the throne of Ahlderon. Give me that honor."
"Yes, Your Highness," replied the princess obsequiously.
The empress removed her claws from the desk and returned to her full height. She silently considered her daughter for a moment. Slowly the chill of her gaze thawed. With a curt sweep of her robe, she sat back in her chair.
"Never mind," she said calmly. "He'll live to breathe a few days more, that is all. He shall not hinder us. Is there anything else, daughter?"
The empress said daughter in such a biting tone that princes felt injured by them. It was as if her mother were mocking that title.
"There is," the princess replied, wishing there weren't.
The Empress raised one eyebrow and pressed her fingertips together.
The princess went on, "Icca is gone."
"Icca?" replied the empress with subdued surprise, but not a hint of anger. "Gone to where?"
"The guards saw her fleeing with the...with my brother and his oaf companion."
"They kidnapped Icca?"
"Or she ran away. I don't know, Your Highness."
"Ran away."
The empress repeated the words to herself, as if she couldn't believe they were true.
That her mother should feel distraught at this news puzzled the princess. Putout at losing a servant, yes. Grief, though? Icca: that pathetic excuse for a serving wench? Perhaps her mother's thoughts were distracted by some other matter, and she cared nothing for anything which concerned Icca.
"I will see that they are all found. Leave me now."
With a low bow, the princess turned and left her mother's study.
* * *
"You're not thinking of getting onto one of those ships, are you?" said Endrick.
Skylar's eyes remained fixed on the encampment and landing field. This sprawling hive of enemy forces looked ready to swarm at any moment. He half expected shuttles to start launching off into the sky that instant.
"Of course I am," replied Skylar. "How else are we going to get back to Ahlderon? Those are the only ships with clearance to leave this accursed planet."
There was a creak of metal behind them. He looked to find Grüny and Kendyl making their way up the stairs.
"What are you two plotting up here?" asked Grüny, huffing from his short climb.
"Skylar has a brilliant plan," said Endrick. "So brilliant that no rational, clear-headed person would ever think of it."
Grüny folded his arms and looked at Skylar expectantly.
"Look out those windows," he said.
Both Grüny and Kendyl moved over to the windows and peered out. Grüny's response was instantaneous.
"Have you lost your mind!" he exclaimed. "Er...begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but there's no way we can highjack one of those ships. Do you see how many soldiers are down there? They're not gonna let you get close to a ship. You'd have better luck trying to grow wings and flying out of here on your own."
"I don't plan on us walking up to them," replied Skylar.
"Glad to hear it," said Endrick. "I'm getting tired of walking. I suppose the soldiers will just carry us on, then?"
"Exactly."
* * *
Skylar nodded his head and handed the to Endrick. With an expression of doubt, Endrick took the spy lens and brought it to eye.
"It's just as I planned," said Skylar.
Endrick grunted, still watching through the lens.
For the past two days, Skylar and Endrick had spent nearly every waking moment spying on the gates. They watched the incoming and outgoing traffic to the landing field. They recorded the precise time for each change of guard. They noted the cargo and war machines hauled in. Most importantly, they learned who supplied the food.
Every cart, crate, or barrel brought through those gates received a thorough inspection. They wouldn't be able to sneak in by stuffing themselves inside boxes. Not that Skylar would ever wish to do that again. The memory of when the smugglers packed them away like that was still a fresh wound in his mind. They needed another method for getting through the gates, past the scrutiny of the guards. And this man they now watched, with his cart loaded with food, might be the key.
From the look of the man, he was non-military. This was good. They needed someone with fewer conflicts of interest. The look of the man's pudgy face also gave Skylar greater assurance of their plan. He looked like a greedy man. A trait that, for once, they could leverage in their favor.
Endrick handed the spy lens back to Skylar and grunted again.
"You and I both know it's our only chance," said Skylar.
Endrick grunted.
Skylar looked through the spy lens and waited.
Sometime later, the food supply man rumbled back through the gates in his cart, leaving the landing field. Skylar lowered the spy lens, stuffed it into a pocket of his cloak, and stepped back from the window.
"He's leaving," he said, and he turned to do the same.
Endrick only grunted in reply, but followed all the same.
Out on the streets, the pair followed the man with the cart. They avoided the main avenue and kept to the side streets so as not to be seen by the man. Eventually, the man led them to more populated area of the city, where businesses hummed with activity. Drawing up his cart in front of a factory, the man clambered from the front bench, hollered at a lackey, then disappeared inside.
It was after nightfall before the man finally reemerged.
"I hope wherever he goes it's somewhere with food," said Endrick as they resumed stalking the man.
Endrick's wish came true, for after only a few blocks, the man entered a tavern. A moment later, Skylar and Endrick stepped inside as well.
A thick pall of tobacco smoke and a raucous noise greeted them as they entered. One or two sets of eyes trailed them as they walked across the wood-planked floor. Mostly, though, the drunken merrymakers paid them no mind. Aside from the laughter, jeers, and smoke in the air, an acerbic melody drifted above it all. In the corner, a woman with tentaclelike braids of hair dangling from her head played an unknown to Skylar.
Despite the pungent odor of tobacco and unbathed men, the warm aromas of fresh bread and fried potatoes and onions filtered in through his nose. His mouth began to water. Until then, he hadn't realized how hungry he was.
They sat down at a table in the back, where they could keep an eye on the man they were following. He sat alone, ordering his supper from a waitress. The waitress came to Skylar and Endrick's table next. Endrick ordered a supper big enough to feed a small family for a week.
When the food arrived, Skylar felt relieved to fill his belly, but hardly relished his meal. He was too anxious. With every bite, he watched the man out of the corner of his eye, lest the man leave before they were aware. He finished eating within a matter of minutes. The plump man whom they were following ate in no hurry, however.
Finally, the man dropped his utensils onto the table and pushed his plate away.
At the same moment, Skylar and Endrick pushed back their chairs, stood up, and approached the man's table. He looked up with considerable alarm at the pair of them looming over his table.
"What...what's this!" he sputtered angrily.
"We'd like a few words with you, good sir," said Endrick.
"You two? About what?"
The man's face had flushed red. Skylar knew they only had a few moments before this fellow burst into a tirade. It wouldn't do to get themselves kicked out of the tavern, or worse—arrested. But Endrick understood how to bait the man.
"Money," replied Endrick.
"Well, you can move along, then. You shan't get any from me."
Endrick leaned in closer.
"We mean money for you. We wish to hire you and your cart."
At Endrick's reply, the man's face brightened and the bulging veins in his neck melted away.
"Ah," he said, amiably. "Business, eh? That's a different story. Have a seat. My name's Obern. Forgive my rudeness. You're not the sort of lot I generally deal with. Those accents you have...queerest I ever heard. Where are you two from, anyhow?"
"Other parts," said Endrick, flatly.
"Fair enough. Keep your secrets. What sort of business can I help you with?"
Endrick leaned in closer still. And when he spoke his voice was lower. Obern likewise leaned in.
"We need you to make a special delivery for us...to the landing field."
"The landing field!"
Obern jerked back as though Endrick had told him the most appalling news in the universe.
"What treachery is this? A special delivery, indeed! I'll deliver myself to the executioner, more like it."
Endrick waved his hands dismissively.
"Not to worry. It's nothing like what you're thinking. Nothing illegal. And maybe this will spark your interest."
Endrick reached into his pocket and drew out the Marquis' and placed it on the table for the Obern's ogling eyes to see. Endrick and Grüny had not sold the bracelet, as they made sufficient profit on the sale of the necklace. With a glint in his eyes, Obern snatched it from the table and scrutinized it under his nose.
"Where did you get this?" he demanded.
"From my pocket," replied Endrick. "But it will live in your pocket when you show up to do this job tomorrow."
Obern licked his lips. Skylar judged aright by this man. He was highly motivated by avarice. With evident difficulty, Obern placed the bracelet back on the table, where Endrick grabbed it and returned it to his pocket.
"What do I have to deliver?" he asked.
"Bodies," replied Endrick, smiling grimly.