Page 22 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams
“This place is creepy,” Alastor murmurs as we ride along one of the pristine avenues. “Everyone looks like they’re walking on eggshells.”
He’s right. There are plenty of people about, ordinary folk going about ordinary lives, but they all wear the same, tense expression. I don’t think they can ever let themselves forget that they live under the watchful gaze of the high temple.
I try to ignore all of it, letting my soldiers watch for threats as I focus on the steady thud of my heart—and the answering call of Ana’s.
When we first approached Qimorna, there was nothing. It’s been nearly three weeks since Ana was taken. Three torturous weeks, and not an hour of them has gone by where I haven’t thought of her. Yet when I got to the city and I concentrated, not knowing what to expect, I felt no sign or signalof her presence. For a cursed half an hour, I was afraid the sawlamoor ritual hadn’t worked, that despite my burning desire to find her, all I’d get would be silence.
But then, deeper into the streets, it started.
I could feel as much as hear it. The faint, steady thump of a heartbeat.Ana’sheartbeat. I knew it was hers with the same certainty that I feel the thud of my own heart, responding to hers like an echo.
All I had to do was follow that sensation. With each mile, the resonance grows louder and the draw stronger, like the tightening of a mooring line between two ships at sea.
“We need to move northwest,” I mutter to Alastor, and he nods, subtly signaling to the others.
We’re riding in groups of twos and threes so as not to attract attention. Tira’s at the back with Damia and Stratton, with Hyllus and Phaia in the middle. There was no point trying to convince Ana’s best friend to stay in Tread this time. She was so determined to train herself up into someone who wouldn’t hold us back that she worked herself to the bone—and it paid off. She’s vastly improved her ability to defend herself, and it turns out she has a knack for archery. Her aim is excellent, and I’ve seen her working with the rebels incorporating her geostri magic. In the end, we decided it was safe for her to come with us today—certainly safer than telling her to stay in Tread. She’s as stubborn as Ana.
But aside from Tira, it’s just me and my soldiers. There were members of the Hand willing to enter the lion’s den to help us find Ana, but we needed fewer people, not more. Larger numbers just increase our chances of getting noticed. The only real point of contention was Harman.
He wanted to come, and I would’ve let him. By now he’s proven his dedication to rescuing his sister. But the rest of the Hand had different ideas. They weren’t about to let the head of their entire movement stroll into Caledon’s lair. They put it to a vote, and Harman lost.
Alastor told me Harman wouldn’t defy the wishes of his people, not when doing so would undermine the entire foundation of trust and democracy he’s tried to build. I can respect that—it’s something my brother Faironwould do. But personally, nothing would stop me from going on this mission.
“There’s certainly more red robes about now,” Alastor mutters under his breath.
I nod. The number of civilians has been thinning out as we follow Ana’s heartbeat, but the streets are no less busy, filled by clerics of varying age and ranks. This city is the hub of the Temple’s operations, and it stopped being just an institute of worship a long time ago.
Now it’s practically its own empire. There are administration buildings here, courts and tax houses, warehouses, and vast livery yards to stable a small army’s worth of horses, carts, and carriages.
“We must be heading in the right direction,” I say. “They’ll be keeping her somewhere crawling with clerics, you can be sure about that. Dismount and let’s find somewhere for the horses.”
Nearly everyone around us is on foot, and we’re more noticeable on horseback, even carefully divided into small groups. We can’t risk raising any alarms too soon.
I know that Hyllus heard my order and used his sensic magic to share my message with the others, helping to maintain the illusion we’re traveling separately as we each find a hitching post for our horses. We choose carefully. When we come back for them, we may be doing so with half the Temple breathing down our necks.
A russet-coated hound circles Alastor and me as we tie up our horses, snuffling at the ground. The korigos Ana picked up in Filusia has been restless since she went missing, taking to wandering the countryside around Tread and returning days later, muddy and bright-eyed in his glamoured collar. I expected him to eventually stop coming back altogether. He was gone when we set off for Qimorna, only to pick up our trail a day down the road.
He’s refused to leave us alone since then, following us all the way. Short of tying him up, I can’t stop him, and unlike my grandfather, I don’t fancy the bad luck that surely comes from imprisoning one of the Miravow’s mysterious, gods-blessed creatures. So Dots has come along for the ride.
The thudding of Ana’s heart is so clear now it seems strange to me that theothers can’t hear it. We’re so close, so near to the moment when I’m with her again.
We proceed with caution, avoiding Temple employees where we can without making it clear that’s what we’re doing. Dots trails behind after us, looking like a stray dog, distracted by the chance to examine every sight and smell he comes across.
We’re nearing the corner where our street crosses a main avenue when the korigos suddenly yelps and bounds ahead of us. He stops at the end of the street, turning and blocking our way. I glance back at Phaia, who gives a small shake of her head. But Hyllus frowns, concentrating.
Dots is growing increasingly agitated, dropping down on his front legs and growling at us, his tail swishing in the air.
“There’s something coming down the avenue,”Hyllus’s voice murmurs in my ear, though he’s still several feet from me. “A big group of people. We need to fall back, quickly.”
We move in against the walls of the street, out of view of anyone passing by. I can hear it now, the clop of horse’s hooves and the thump of marching feet.
We watch as rows of cleavers in their maroon tunics march past, perfectly synchronized. They’re followed by a pair of bearers on horses and then an elaborate golden litter carried by more cleavers. The sides are open to display the person inside, the ends of his red cape pooling by his feet.
It’s Caledon, I’m sure of it. He’s being paraded through the city like a king—a level of pomp and circumstance I’m sure the Grand Bearer wouldn’t allow for anyone else. Loathing flares in my veins at the sight of him—the evil worm who took Ana from me and did who-knows-what to her.
The urge to split the earth open beneath the cleavers’ feet threatens to overwhelm me. How tempting it is, the idea of watching that litter go tumbling down into the depths of this cursed city. But I’m not an idiot. Caledon’s surrounded by highly trained twin-blessed. At least one of them would be able to do something to save their precious leader before he perished. Besides, revealing our presence now risks losing our chance to find Ana, and I’m not risking that for anything, even the prospect of a dead Caledon.
We stand perfectly still as the procession moves on, until the sound of it has faded even from Hyllus’s superior hearing. I search around for Dots and find him seated neatly by Alastor’s side, his tongue lolling.
