Chapter 36 – Into the Palace
Zull, teetering back and forth on the edge of the roof as he peered down, said, “I’m not sure exactly how good of an idea this is, Zaphyr.”
“It’ll work,” she said confidently. “Trust me.”
“If we didn’t trust you, Lass, we would have never agreed to come up here in the first place,” Vard said.
When the rest of them had been stymied after the confrontation with the guards, Zaphyr had suggested a startling idea: climb onto the roof of a nearby building, vault from there to the palace, and enter it that way. “It’s insane,” Henricks had said when she had first suggested the plan.
“Just insane enough, I think, that they won’t have prepared for it,” Vyle replied, grinning madly.
Perusing the nearby area, they had found a building on a street adjacent to the palace, a tall, three-floored shop whose signed claimed it sold salt and other exotic spices. The store was devoid of people, its owners evidently taking part in the celebration as well, though a large iron lock had been left on the front door as a precaution against theft. This proved only a momentary delay against Sir Kyr’s brute strength. Upon entering the store, they used the set of stairs they found in the back to climb up to the second floor, which was apparently used for storing the wares when they weren’t currently for sale. From there they moved to the third floor, which served as the merchant’s home. Zaphyr’s kitten had, to her surprise, jumped off her shoulder and onto the merchant’s tidily made bed, where it curled up and began purring, swiftly falling asleep. At first, she reached out a hand to grab it, but then hesitated, considering if it would be better to leave the kitten here safely until their quest was finished. By then, the rest of their band was onto the roof, and so she hastily followed.
The flat, unornamented wooden roof was uncomfortable, and was clearly not intended to be used for anything other than to keep out the weather. Luckily, from their new perch they could plainly see a door which led into the Winter Palace connected to a small wooden balcony, surrounded by an iron railing. The only remaining obstacle, then, was the distance from the roof to that balcony.
“We can’t possibly make that jump,” Velen said. “Sir Kyr might, but the rest of us? Not a chance.”
“If I was at the height of my strength, perhaps I could,” Sir Kyr growled. “At present? I would be just as likely to fall.”
“There are alternatives to a simple leap,” Vard said. “The roof beneath our feet is made up of wooden planks. We could use one to make a bridge.”
“Would it carry our weight?” Zull wondered.
“Maybe not mine unsupported,” Vard admitted. “But I don’t see why it couldn’t support the rest of you; after all, we’re standing on them now.”
Sir Kyr thought about this, then knelt and pried up one end of a long board with his claws. With a strained grunt, he pulled the rest of the long wooden board free, visibly straining as he did so. Vyle and his men rushed forward to help, grabbing the other end of the board to assist Sir Kyr. Moving uncertainly, they slowly pushed the board out over the space between the merchant’s house and the Palace’s railing. The board proved just long enough that they could set one end on the edge of the railing and the other on their roof. For a moment, the board wobbled uncertainly, and they worried that it would pitch to one side or the other and fall to the street below. Then, it stabilized, and they all breathed a sigh of relief.
“It will work,” Vard said confidently.
“Even so, that looks…extremely unsafe to me,” Zull said.
“While one person is going across, the rest of us can hold one end of the board and keep it from moving too much,” Vyle said. “Now, then, who wants to go across first?”
Nobody volunteered. After a moment of awkward silence, Vard cleared his throat and said, “Well, er, as the lightest person here, Zaphyr would make the most sense.”
For a second, Zaphyr looked like she wanted to protest, but with a reluctant nod of her head she wordlessly admitted that what Vard said made sense.
“Be very careful, Zaphyr,” Zull cautioned. “Don’t try to walk across the board; it’s too narrow and unstable. What you’ll want to do is get down on your knees and crawl across.”
“I know what I’m doing, Zull,” Zaphyr said, though there was an unmistakable quiver of nervousness in her voice. As she watched, Sir Kyr and Vyle each grabbed one end of the board, holding it to give it an additional modicum of stability. Stepping forward, she stepped up onto the slim wooden board and, as Zull had instructed, knelt, each knee touching the plank and her hands outstretched before her grasping either side of it. With a shuddering breath, she began shuffling forward, sliding one knee along the board at a time, stopping after each move to analyze how much the board had shifted and if it was in danger of falling altogether. Her head felt suddenly dizzy, and she had to stop for a second, for fear of losing her balance. She made the fatal mistake of looking below the board, and almost gagged; it was a three-story fall to the road, still bustling with people celebrating. The very thought of that fall made her cling to the board with all her strength, terrified.
“Keep going, Zaphyr!” Vard called encouragingly. “You’re halfway there!”
There was no response, save for Zaphyr’s hyperventilated gasps, as she remained paralyzed in place.
“What do we do?” Vard asked the others. “Unless she comes forward or back, we can’t send anyone else along.”
“Not true,” Zull said suddenly. “I’m going to go out there.”
“Two people at once is dangerous, Zull,” Sir Kyr cautioned. “We don’t know exactly how much this plank can hold by itself.”
Zull responded, “Then we will find out. I’m not going to stand by and watch as my sister sits in trouble when she’s practically within reach.” Before any of them could protest further, he stepped up onto the plank and began crawling across it, just as his sister had done. It didn’t take him much time at all to catch up to her, and he tapped her on the heel to get her attention. Startled, she glanced back at him. Seeing the reassuring smile on her brother’s face, Zaphyr took a series of short, steady breaths to calm herself, then began inching along the platform once more, Zull right behind her to support her. Despite their combined weight, the plank held firm, and though it did wobble, they moved slowly enough that they were able to keep their balance and not tumble off.
Soon, Zaphyr had reached the palace’s balcony, and was able to slide off the plank slowly. She reached out and took Zull’s hand and pulled him onto solid ground as well. Turning, they beckoned to their friends, letting them know they had made it safely and were waiting for the next person to make their way across.
“It’s safe,” Zull called back as loudly as he dared, for fear of attracting attention from the guards below. “Whoever’s next, hurry; we don’t have time to waste.”
“Vyle, you should set an example for your men,” Vard said, an impish grin twitching at the corners of his mouth.
“I’m not about to crawl across like some cowering peasant, begging their liege lord for gruel,” Vyle grumbled.
“Very well,” Vard told the bandit amicably. “Feel free to stay here until after we’ve delivered the letter to Prince Blyth. Such a shame; the look on his face when he learned who had saved his mother would have been priceless…”
Vyle sputtered as he tried to think of a retort and failed. Groaning, Sir Kyr shoved them both aside, saying, “I shall cross next.”
They all stopped, curious to see how the knight, as large as he was, would make his way across the narrow platform. To their surprise, he did not kneel on the board, as the twins had done, but stood atop it, teetering from side to side for a second, eyes closed. Then, after the moment of deliberation ended, Sir Kyr sprinted forward, moving with a speed and grace that surprised the twins even after the weeks that they had spent with him. In a few short steps he crossed most of the plank and with a tremendous leap, landed on the balcony between Zaphyr and Zull. The plank shook precipitously for several seconds, but with Zull holding the end on the balcony and Vyle and his men holding the other tip, they managed to save their makeshift bridge.
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“I can’t believe that worked,” Zaphyr said breathlessly, staring at Sir Kyr in wonder.
Sir Kyr, wheezing heavily from a lack of breath, only nodded his agreement.
“Well,” Vyle mumbled. “If it could carry him then I suppose it’ll carry the rest of us.” Gesturing for his men to continue stabilizing the board, Vyle then stepped out onto it. He acted more cautiously, following what Zaphyr and Zull had done as he carefully crept across the enormous gap. He made it across without incident, at which point, both Velen and Henricks quickly followed behind him. By this point, they had all made it across, save for a nervous looking Vard, who stared across the gap. His former eagerness had disappeared, replaced with nervous trepidation.
Mopping the back of his hand across his forehead, Vard said, “Upon further consideration, I think it may best if I simply stay over here and keep a lookout. Watch our escape route, as it were.”
“Come on, Vard!” Zaphyr insisted with a beckoning of her hand. “The rest of us made it. Even Sir Kyr! You can as well!”
“We’re all here to help you,” Zull said reassuringly.
Vard thought about it further, struggling with his doubts for a second, before with a defeated sigh he too stepped out onto the plank. As he did so, however, it swayed sharply, noticeably more than it had beneath the weight of any of the others. As he inched forward, one agonizingly tiny step at a time, it wobbled more and more, clearly buckling. Once he had made it halfway, his face, pale and coated in sweat, became set in a fatalistic, stoic grimace; from there, it was just as dangerous to head back as it was to continue forward. By now, the sun was approaching the horizon, taking on a burnt crimson hue which casts long shadows across the street below, like a yawning chasm beneath his feet.
The plank let out a low, splintering creak, and they all realized with a growing sense of horror that they had pushed their makeshift bridge too far. Spurred on by frantic desperation, Vard hurled himself towards the balcony, arms outstretched, as the plank snapped below him. Moving faster than humanly possible, Sir Kyr reached out and grabbed Vard by the wrists, holding him there, hanging off the balcony’s edge, as the two halves of the snapped plank fell to the street below, where they crashed amidst the gathered crowd, to everyone’s confusion and panic. Sir Kyr lifted Vard up and onto the balcony and safely out of sight just as several of the pedestrians below looked up, baffled at how the scraps of wood had fallen from the sky without reason. However, when more wood failed to rain down, they quickly lost interest and returned to their celebration. Meanwhile, Vard, trembling from exhaustion and terror, slunk against the wall as he recovered from the shock he had just received.
“Thank you, Sir Kyr,” Vard said, smiling wanly. “Those few moments of falling through the air felt longer than the rest of our whole quest put together. I almost rethought my choice of career as a comedian, for an instant. Fortunately, it passed.”
“It was nothing,” Sir Kyr said weakly, supporting himself on the iron-wrought balcony edge as he did so. As if to punctuate his statement, he coughed hoarsely into his hand. Zull noted that the hand he used to cover his mouth was speckled with drops of a black, tarry oil, which he discreetly tried to wipe away.
“Our way out just fell down behind us,” Henricks noted, peering over the parapet as he did so.
“Well, that simplifies matters then,” Vyle said with bravado. “We have no choice but to head forward.”
“Did we ever have a choice otherwise, old friend?” Sir Kyr asked quietly. Vyle either did not hear the question, or ignored it, as he stepped over to the wooden door which allowed access into the palace. He tried the door’s handle, and, when it refused to budge, gestured to his men, who joined him in battering against the door with their shoulders. Ordinarily, Sir Kyr alone could have done the job, but feeling ill as he did, he needed time to recover.
Instead, Vyle said, “Listen, Vard, your fat paunch might have cost us our bridge, but they might be enough of a battering ram to get us into the palace.”
Vard, his normal humor slowly returning to him, said, “Siege equipment is a new occupation for me, though I will admit, I have been told I make a better blunt weight than an entertainer.” He stepped over and joined the bandits in hurling himself against the door. With his extra weight, they managed to force the door open with a tremendous clash and clatter. They all froze for a moment, expecting that the tremendous noise would attract someone, but nothing happened. With Vyle leading the way, they walked into the palace, finding themselves in a large, spacious chamber that apparently served as a study of some kind. The floor, carpeted in reds and blues, reflected the abstract, swirling colors painted on the ceiling in the same hues. A glass chandelier hung down, several candles hung and already lit, despite it still being some time until sunset. Every wall was lined with shelves full of books of all sizes and ages. There was a single rocking chair in the center of the room.
“Nobody’s here,” Sir Kyr commented. “Good. Now we just need to find the prince’s quarters and deliver the letter.”
“And hope the prince doesn’t think we’re assassins trying to kill him and have us all imprisoned,” Vard pointed out.
“I would like to see him try,” Sir Kyr said, snarling slightly as he did so.
“This palace is enormous,” Zull said. “We have no idea where the prince could be, and we don’t have much time.”
Vard eyed Zull. “I think I know what you’re suggesting, and I don’t like it.”
“We need to split up,” Zull said flatly. “It will help us to cover more ground faster.”
Vard cleared his throat. “One problem; we only have one letter.”
“If some of us find the prince, they can guide him to the rest of us,” Zaphyr said simply.
“Very well,” Sir Kyr said. “I will stay with the twins. Vyle, you and your men should go with the bard.”
Vyle studied his friend doubtfully. “I hardly need to point out that you aren’t in the best of health, Sir Kyr. Can you protect the twins by yourself, should you be attacked?”
Sir Kyr grinned ferally. “Protect them against what? Housemaids? Even ill, I could rend everyone in this palace, should I need to, to protect the twins.”
“It shouldn’t come to that,” Zull cautioned. “Even if the guards have been bribed by the Master, we are not here to fight.”
“Your sentiments are noble, Lad,” Vyle said, “But things always come to a fight.”
“If it comes to that, the twins will escape unharmed. I will see to it,” Sir Kyr said.
Vyle nodded once, taking the knight at his word. With nothing more to say, he turned away from Sir Kyr and, followed by Vard, Henricks, and Velen, they departed the room, vanishing like ghosts in the gloom.
Zaphyr felt a shiver run down her spine, though she could not pinpoint the reason. A definite sense of foreboding hung in the air around them. You’re just nervous because we’re so close, Zaphyr thought. In a matter of minutes, our quest will be over. That’s all. Just thinking that made the whole thing seem that much more unreal to her, yet simultaneously filled her with nervous excitement.
“You still have the letter, Zull?” Sir Kyr asked.
Zull nodded once. “Still here, still safe,” he said, patting the sleeve of his tunic.
“Good,” Sir Kyr said, stepping out of the study into the hallway beyond, he looked around, squinting in the faint light. There were surprisingly few windows or doors in the Winter Palace, most likely to preserve warmth during the cold seasons. It had the effect of making the palace feel dark, dank, and strangely tight, the narrow halls’ cramped nature further enhanced by the sheer number of artifacts and trophies from across the empire which littered the palace. Zaphyr had a bewildering sense of timelessness now that she was unable to see the sun. Candles hanging from sconces on the walls or swinging from the ceiling were reflected in Sir Kyr’s amber eyes. Combined with his fevered, wasted appearance, it made him look more like a wild animal than Zull or Zaphyr had seen him then that fateful day he had first revealed him to them and torn the Plague Rats to shreds. “I smell someone nearby,” Sir Kyr said abruptly. “Follow me.”
He crept down the hallway, his steps so light as to make not the slightest of sounds, the twins following him like twin shadows. Soon they reached a spiraling staircase, barely wide enough for the knight to walk down, which led them into a kitchen of some sort, where a maid, wearing plain black robes and a black cap which barely hid her tangled, pale hair, was absentmindedly scrubbing a pewter plate. She looked up to see the wolfish Sir Kyr staring at her, the hood of his cloak thrown back to reveal his face, his fangs bared in a ferocious grin. Before she could shriek in terror, Sir Kyr raised a furred claw to his lips, imitating a shushing gesture. Pale and shaking in fear, she instinctively drew back as Sir Kyr stepped towards her.
“Don’t call for help if you value your hands, or your throat,” Sir Kyr said plainly. “Tell me where Prince Blyth is.”
Her hand shaking, she pointed to the left, down another hallway leading away from the kitchen. “H-h-he’s in his q-q-quarters, a-a-at the end o-of the w-wing,” she said. “J-j-just d-down that way.”
“Thank you, madame,” Sir Kyr said with a slight bow. “You may go now.”
With a soft sigh, she fainted, collapsing at his feet, the bronze dish in her hand rolling to a stop at Zull’s feet.
“You enjoyed that,” Zaphyr said accusingly.
“I did,” Sir Kyr admitted. “After weeks of hiding my face, it was quite nice to be able to simply terrify someone.”
“We know what we need to, now,” Zull said. “Should we head back and try to find the others?”
“After we give the prince the letter,” Zaphyr insisted.
The three of them left the kitchen and walked down the hallway, though their way was slowed by trying to remain hidden. This section of the palace was far busier than the upstairs had been, with servants bustling about in small groups, all of them brimming with a nervous, almost panicked energy, as they went about whatever tasks they were assigned. Zull found it strange how scared they all seemed but assumed that it simply had to do with the pressure of the jubilee. There also saw many palace guards, all of whom to the twins seemed to be armed with enough swords, spears, and knives to equip a small army apiece. They made a special effort to avoid the guards, knowing that there was a good chance that many of them had been bribed by the Master. Nevertheless, through patience and Sir Kyr’s sharp senses alerting them whenever someone was coming long before they could be seen in turn, they made their way to the prince’s quarters. The doors to his rooms were gilded and stood closed. Zull reached out to grab the door handle, then hesitated.
“What are you waiting for?” Zaphyr asked incredulously.
“I don’t know,” Zull said. “Something just feels off, that’s all. After everything we’ve been through, this all feels too easy.”
“That’s all?” Zaphyr said. “We’ve earned this, Zull. After everything we’ve been through, an easy, happy ending is exactly what we deserve.” She reached past her brother and, grabbing the door handle, pressed it down. The door swung open before them.