Infiltrating the Palace

  Silversmiths: a long-lost order of men who used magic to work silver into any shape imaginable and imbue it with incredible strength. It was they who forged the blades of old, which are wielded by mage soldiers and elite swordsmen today, capable of breaking lesser blades and absorbing most elemental magic. Men have tried and failed to create a blade of any worth with the soft metal apart from the Silversmiths. But alas, they died out in the late 800s, taking their secrets with them.

  — From Secrets of Mani, by Sor the Lark

  (Fynle 28, 997—Waxing Day)

  So there we were, two hours later, marching right up to the Palace walls of Nytaea. My hair was the most normal and unassuming color of brown possible—walnut shell brown, to be specific. Hopefully, not too many would notice that it was dyed. Kaen and I had changed our clothes into slightly more decent, if costly, ones. “Look natural,” he would say to me periodically, or, “Don’t act nervous.” Sure, right. How could I not be nervous now? Ugh, I would never willingly work at the Palace if it weren't our only option. Kaen and his brilliant ideas. . . .

  The Nytaean Palace was a beautiful, stunningly complex structure that loomed over the entire city, easily the greatest attraction that greeted the eyes. The River Ardencaul ran underneath part of it and out the other side. The Palace was surrounded by a wall, with multiple guarded gate points allowing the nobility and their carriages access in and out. The four high towers of the Palace, however, were easily visible over the barrier, along with the inner walls and arched catwalks that ran between them.

  We didn’t approach the front gate but rather circled around to a smaller side gate. They would still be looking out for a white-haired girl, of course, but the guards didn’t have much time for anyone else. We were waved through impatiently, after a line about seeking work at the Palace.

  At the door, we were met by a black-and-green-liveried servant, who politely but disparagingly asked what our business was.

  “Sir, we are looking for work here,” I said, bobbing a small curtsy.

  The steward gave a small hmph! and rubbed his chin thought-fully. “Well, we are always in need of good help. I assume you are orphans?”

  We both shook our heads frantically, but before we could deny it, he waved a dismissive hand. “It matters not to me. I will tell my superiors that you come from impoverished families to work for their debts. You will receive sufficient food, clothing and lodgings as long as you are here.”

  “Thank you, sir! You are too kind,” said Kaen, bowing deeply.

  “Yes, well, come on in. My name is Gorman Sedler, and I will escort you to the proper senior staff to instruct you.” The steward waved us inside.

  I shot Kaen a quick victory grin, and he winked back. We were in.

  A quarter of an hour later, I was talking with a maid to whom Gorman had directed me. She looked to be some ten years my senior, blonde-haired and dressed in the customary Kalceron livery: black-skirted dress with green cuffs and deep-green highlights.

  “Well, new girl, what’s your name?” she asked in a husky voice.

  “The name’s Podda,” I said hastily, trying my best not to act nervous or scared. This was the alias I had prearranged with Kaen, who would be going by Roger.

  “Well, Podda, you’ll be needing proper clothing. I’ll take you to see Lina, and she’ll get you all fixed up. The name’s Betty, by the way. Come on.” She waved for me to follow. She was a busy woman, but not too busy to show me the ropes of the maidservant’s life. Firstly, she took me to see Lina, a girl not much older than myself who handled all of the crafting and mending of the maids’ and servants’ attire. She fitted me with a spare black-and-green dress. It fit me all right, but far from perfect—shoulders a hair too narrow and made for one a bit less flat-chested than me.

  After this, Betty took me around and began to introduce me to the other female Palace staff, teaching me as we went. I was surprised to find that many of the girls there—few were older than Betty—were as cheery as she, though it soon came to light that that was mostly just a cover-up for their stressful lives as servants to a harsh overlord.

  I had come at a good time, because one girl had recently been lashed to death on the governor’s orders. One minor slip-up, and . . . it did not go well with them. Or so I gathered, at least. All the rumors I had heard as a child in the orphanage appeared to be true. The maids said he took the pretty ones for himself if he chanced upon any that he fancied. They didn’t expound any further on that.

  I supposed Kaen should have an easier time with the men-servants. They were a lot harder to find, given the relative rarity of men in our world. Three or four to one, if I recalled correctly. Perhaps he would even move up, or rather, he would if he didn’t lose his patience and botch it all by going for Kalceron’s throat at first sight. This was not going to be a quick operation.

  That night, I slept in one of three main sleeping rooms in the maids’ quarters, bunked side by side with a girl named Teli, who was no older than Mandrie. Probably ten or eleven. The bunk beds were triple-decked, so two more slept beneath me and two more above. It was far from luxury, but in truth it was better than my life had been at Lentha’s orphanage. The food was decent—that is to say, finer fare than I had eaten in quite a while. I slept well that night, despite the feeling that any one of my new companions would turn me in to the mage soldiers come morning.

  They didn’t. The next day was a very ordinary one by a maid’s reckoning, and entailed more work. We got up before cloudbreak and washed, swept, dusted, cooked, and served breakfast to the lord’s family and household; we then broke our fast, cleaned, mopped, scrubbed and cooked some more. . . . Such was our routine. We served meals to the residents of the Palace, only after which we would eat our own meals. This consisted of either cold leftovers of the delicious foods that the noblemen ate or a selection of meals we were allowed to cook for ourselves—using only the plainest ingredients.

  Over the next few days, I learned a lot about being a maid. I learned to cook fancy meals—tantalized the whole time by delicious smells without getting to taste a bite—as well as how to wash and fold lordly clothing carefully and serve meals. A few days in, I even had to serve Lord Kalceron himself dinner, which was nerve-racking but . . . surprisingly uneventful.

  I caught on quickly to the maids’ routine, and before long I was accepted as one of their own. No one even slightly suspected their new maid of being the white-haired monster Lord Kalceron was seeking.

  I never got a chance to sneak down to the dungeons and search for Phoebe and Mandrie—I didn’t even know where the infamous Palace dungeons were, and for all I knew, the girls were locked in some random tower instead—but I resolved to find out just where they were being kept. Perhaps Kaen had found out more about it than me.

  In my rounds, I would occasionally see the young noblewoman I had met in the street that one night, whom the maids referred to as simply, “Lady Mydia.” Fortunately, she never recognized me.

  Nearly two weeks after my induction as a maid, I witnessed the first real cruelty I had seen from Lord Kalceron. I was one of a half dozen girls assigned to serve the governor’s family that night at their long, richly embroidered table. The young girl named Teli was also there, along with a handful of menservants I didn’t recognize. The dining hall was elaborately decorated, with high-backed chairs carved in intricate patterns and windows trimmed in dark wood overlooking the western view of the Palace. A crackling fireplace lay at the far end, hung with drapery in the theme of House Kalceron, bearing the green dragon.

  Lord Kalceron sat at the center of the table, black hair slicked back, dressed in fine apparel of black silk laced with the deep green of the Kalceron colors. It was only the second time I’d seen the man up close, and I felt my throat tightening before I even got near him. I was glad to be pushing a cart at the moment instead of serving. Teli, my young partner, served tea to the nobles at the near end of the table.

  Nervously, I glanced about and surveyed the guests, trying to be discreet about it. I noted Lord Kalceron’s partner seated to his immediate right, a thin, curvaceous woman who appeared to be in her late thirties. Her black hair was done up in a fashionable bun and pinned to keep it in place. Lady Lieda, his newest wife.

  To his left side, however, sat the girl, Mydia, pecking politely at small portions of appetizers the other maids had brought in. As Teli and I approached her section of the table and I was able to hear more of the conversation, I caught Lord Kalceron making mention of her in his deep voice as “my lovely daughter.” Suddenly, it clicked, and I felt a chill spread across my skin.

  The princess did not look up, however, as Teli reached over and poured her a cup of tea. She simply nodded, accepting the beverage.

  When Teli got to Lord Kalceron, she slipped up and dropped one of the cups on her platter near the governor, and he backhanded her viciously across the face. His family and guests pretended not to take notice, or maybe didn’t care, but I saw Princess Mydia duck her head as she tried to hide a mortified expression.

  Fortunately for me, no one noticed me amidst all this. All I could do was stare dumbly and try to keep anonymous as he quietly ordered his guards to take the girl out and whip her at the post. What could I do? Attack the governor of all Nytaea? His Authority was said to be fearsome, and I knew well that he had half a dozen mage soldiers stationed in the shadows around the room. If I tried to stop Teli’s punishment, I would only make a scene and get myself killed. I let them drag her away, the injustice of it boiling inside me. Princess Mydia ran from the room, either as a small act of rebellion or to hide tears. I wasn’t sure which—perhaps a combination of both.

  The rest of the dinner was torture. My palms were so sweaty from nervousness that I nearly made the same mistake as poor Teli, and I was shaking by the time I and the other maids were done. “There was nothing you, or any of us, could do,” Betty whispered to me as we hurried back to the kitchen with the dish trays. “It happens often; you just have to try and forget it.”

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  But how could I? Such things should not happen. I couldn’t understand how a human could so dispassionately call for such meaningless punishment on another. The servants whispered that his wife, Lieda, was just as cruel. Was all nobility this way, or just House Kalceron?

  Teli returned that night, bleeding from numerous stripes down her back. We did our best to take care of her, knowing that she had to be back to work on the morrow. When I finally climbed into bed, I lay there—without a bunk companion—and stared up at the bunk above me with restless eyes, unable to sleep.

  Eventually, after all of the others were surely asleep, my insomnia prompted me out of bed to pace and meander about aimlessly. I wasn’t even sure why I was up, but for the nagging guilt that I couldn’t shake. And yet my story was not all that different from these maids’. My shame and horror likely stemmed from having to witness Teli’s treatment after only recently experiencing the brutal tragedy at the orphanage. . . .

  I wandered out of the maidservants’ quarters, unsure of where I was going. I knew it was against the rules to roam the Palace after the day’s work was done. We lived strict lives. But, unheeding of the warnings I had received time after time, I made my way out into the vast corridors of the Palace. I had some knowledge of the Palace’s layout at this point, but I had no particular destination in mind.

  I turned a corner and stopped in the doorway as I came face-to-face with a shorter, slender woman in a sleek black dress. With shock, I recognized her as Lady Lieda. She glanced at me with cold, vulpine eyes, causing me to take an unconscious step backward. “My . . . my lady. I am sorry. I-I lost my way, and I was—”

  “Save your breath,” she murmured. “I don’t believe you maggots are supposed to be crawling around at this time of night.”

  “I . . .” I curtsied as humbly and deeply as I could. “I apologize. I am new here, and I forget the rules as easily as I forget the layout of the Palace.” I kept my head bowed.

  The woman gave an amused snort. “Well, someone is quick with her tongue, now, isn’t she? The pig can speak, perhaps well enough to save her own filthy hide.” Her velvety voice dripped with venom. I glanced up worriedly as Lady Lieda leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Or perhaps I ought to just kill you now, hmm?”

  “M-my lady . . .” Inside, my heart was beating wildly and my mind raced. Would she really do something as sudden and violent as that? And with what, her Authority? She was . . . I racked my brain desperately. I was pretty sure they said she was a thunder mage.

  “Don’t worry,” she said after a moment. “I will let you go this time. I am not interested in the likes of you tonight. Should I catch you in my way again . . . I’ll make it quiet but painful.”

  “Yes, my lady. Thank you.”

  “Now get out of my sight!” she hissed, baring her teeth like a wild animal.

  I shied back and turned the other way, scurrying off toward the maids’ quarters. That woman is insane. Who spoke that way to a mere serving girl? I was pretty certain this was the right way back . . .

  Footsteps sounded behind me. I was near to the front doorway of the Palace, where bracketed torches illuminated the way. I glanced back anxiously, quietly cursing my absent-mindedness, but I saw no one in the relative darkness of the hallway. I didn’t call out; that would be foolish. Instead, I hid behind an ornamental suit of armor, waiting to see if the mysterious person walked by or turned another way. The footsteps grew louder, until at last I saw a shadowy figure come into the torchlight. I nearly gasped as I recognized Princess Mydia, complete with a cloak and cape, which I had only seen her wear that night in the backstreets of Nytaea.

  I must have moved, because I caused the suit of armor to rattle, catching Mydia’s attention. I could have kicked myself. She started and called out softly, “Who’s there?” as though afraid of someone catching her. Who, I wondered, the guards or her stepmother? Turning, she caught sight of me and started once more. “Who are you? You’re . . . you’re one of the maids. What are you doing out and about at this hour?”

  “I . . .” I had nothing more to say for myself than I did the other night, but she must have recognized me now, because recollection showed on her face.

  “Wait a minute!” she hissed, still in a whisper. “You’re that urchin I saw in the city the other night! The one who saved me from the thieves.”

  “No. You’ve got it wrong,” I protested quietly.

  The princess narrowed her eyes in disbelief, lips drawing in an almost pouty way. “No, I know it’s you!”

  “. . . Yes,” I admitted with a sigh, massaging my forehead with my palm. I couldn’t very well try to hide my identity now that she had recognized me. I lowered my hand and attempted to introduce myself. “I’m, ah—they call me Podda.”

  “Oh, I see,” she said slowly. “But how . . . hmm, so you came here recently? To the Palace?”

  Well, at least she wasn’t quite as unperceptive as I’d thought. “That’s right,” I answered at length.

  “Why . . . ?” Mydia’s youthful face displayed confusion. Then she glanced over her shoulder, as though afraid that her witch of a stepmother might catch her. “But never mind that. I was just on my way somewhere. Want to come with me?”

  My heart began to beat faster. This princess was inviting me to sneak outside of the Palace with her? “Where?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Just outside. Here.” She took my hand in hers and pulled me with her, and that was that. She led me away from the entrance, down a hallway to the left.

  “We can’t just go out the front door,” she whispered back to me. “The guards will let me past any time of day—my father doesn’t care—but if I had one of the maids with me, it would look strange.”

  “And . . . why are you taking me with you?” I asked from behind her.

  She glanced back at me as she pulled me through the halls. “What, you wouldn’t have followed me anyway?”

  “Well . . .”

  Mydia laughed. Then she ducked her head in abashment, lowering her voice. “That’s okay. I kind of want to show you now. And, come to think of it, I’m pretty sure you were there when my father ordered that girl to be whipped earlier.”

  “Teli.”

  “I . . . I’m sorry about that. You see, I feel the same as you. I, too, am saddened every time my father shows injustice to his subjects. My father is . . . a very twisted man.”

  I was shocked to hear such words from his own daughter. “You sound like you don’t care for him much,” I remarked.

  “I didn't say that, but . . . he’s just a terrible man. Come with me.” Mydia led me out a side door, which led into the beautiful Palace Gardens. The place was lit by lamplight here and there, casting an almost eerie glow about the gardens. “This is my favorite spot,” she confided to me. “It reminds me of my mother.”

  I nodded, taking in the starlit scene. Plants and shrubs were arranged meticulously in circular patterns, branching outward from the courtyard where we stood. Their leaves were actually . . . green, not the usual silver and grey that Mani’s soil tinted most plants. The last light of dusk was fading away, and the dark sky of the Sunless Cycle was sprinkled with myriads of beaming stars whose light illumined the garden in addition to the lamps. Flowers of all sorts were curled into themselves, awaiting the coming sunlight, though a few seemed to be the nocturnal kind. Some plants needed Sol’s powerful light to fully function, while others could subsist easily off of the Night Auroras.

  “Who was your mother?” I asked.

  “Eivael Badon, by birth. She came from the city of Cryvad in the far west and married into House Kalceron. I’m Mydia, by the way.” She blushed slightly, after saying such an obvious thing. “I suppose you already knew that. It’s Podda, correct?”

  “Yes . . . correct.” She seemed not to hear the hesitation in my voice. I felt almost bad lying to her, but it was needful, and I could not trust her, however genuine she seemed. “Did your mother pass away, then?” I asked her.

  “Eight years ago, yes. I was devastated, and my father . . . Father became ever more unstable and violent in his rule. Mother was the only thing keeping him sane, and now I fear for him and all of Nytaea. That old hag, Lieda, has only served to corrupt him further.” She grimaced.

  I was silent for a moment, listening to the faint night sounds of the Palace Gardens in the absence of Mydia’s strained voice. “Why do you trust me so much, having known me for only a few minutes?” I asked her.

  She seemed to stop and consider this for the first time. “Well . . . I guess I don’t know. I suppose it’s because you just seem like someone I can trust. Perhaps . . . someone I need right now.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean by that, Princess?”

  “Oh, please, Podda,” she said, waving a hand. “It’s Mydia, not ‘Princess.’ It’s just . . .” She rubbed her hands awkwardly, tears shimmering in her eyes, and suddenly blurted, “Please! Will you be my friend?”

  I blinked. That was sudden. Her friend? The princess of Nytaea was asking me to be her personal friend? “Wh-what?”

  “Please!” she begged me. “I mean, not really, just—I don’t have anyone in the whole Palace to talk to except my handmaidens, and they’re such a sullen lot. Ever since Mum passed away, I don’t have anyone left.” At this point, she was wringing her hands nervously, and tears seemed to be threatening to run down her face.

  I was at a loss for words. What was she asking of me? To sneak out and talk in the Palace Gardens with her every night? To risk everything to make her feel less lonely? I had known loneliness my entire life. I mean, in a way. I had no blood family to speak of. If I could help her, I would, but . . . It’s like she’s a child. A little child.

  “A-all right,” I said, embracing her gently. “You can cry if you have to, you know.” She did cry a little bit, before pulling back from me and wiping her face sheepishly.

  “I feel silly,” she complained. “Crying for no reason. You don’t . . . feel like crying, too?”

  “I . . . don’t like to cry in front of others,” I said. It was true, though I didn’t always manage it.

  “Oh.” Mydia cleared her throat. She seemed a bit embarrassed and almost disappointed. “I should cry less.” Then she sat down on an ornamental birdbath, gesturing for me to take the small bench across from her. “So, tell me something more about you. Where are you from? How did you come to work at the Palace? I’m sure I never saw you around before the night I met you in the street.”

  I sighed. I still couldn’t tell her, tentative friends or not. I felt bad about it, but my friends’ freedom, my life and possibly Kaen’s, too, were on the line. However, I could tell her some things. “I was taken in at a young age by an old woman who ran an orphanage in the city. My mother, I was told, was a commoner who had a child with an unknown man . . . I don’t know who my mother or father were, and neither did Lentha. My mother is probably dead by now, just like the rest of the children in my orphanage. And Lentha.”

  Mydia gasped, holding a gloved hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I wish—I wish I could help somehow.” She looked to the side, biting nervously at her lip. “Podda . . . would you be willing to come back tomorrow night? I’ve got a certain . . . errand to run. I’d like you to come.”

  I eyed her carefully. “Perhaps. Does this have anything to do with what you were out doing the other night?”

  Mydia shook her head. “Not quite. That was an orphanage run.”

  I gaped. “An orphanage run? You . . . help out orphanages?”

  The princess nodded. “When I can. I take food and money. Like I said, the guards don’t care, and my father only cares about me occasionally, as his little trophy to show off to guests. If you come tomorrow, though, you’ll see what it is.”

  I nodded slowly. “All right, then. But I should go for now.”

  “Oh. Right.” Mydia got up from her birdbath seat. “I apologize for keeping you out so long, Podda. I hope you don’t get in trouble on my account.”

  “I’ll be fine. Goodnight, Mydia.” With that, I left.