He emerged into a back alley, the place where the servants of the High would most likely walk during the day. It led both right and left, but the left fork ended abruptly in a large brick wall between two houses farther down. The Prince, heart still beating wildly in his chest, turned right and began to run.
He crossed the distance to the end of the alley and shot out onto the street. Or more correctly, the end of a street, for directly in front of him was anenormous gate set into the Inner Walls, beyond which only the Most High could ever pass. Not even the High could enter there without a specific invitation, and the Elevated as well as the Commons were forbidden, on pain of death. The Prince, of course, would have been allowed in as one of the Children, but, considering his attire, it was remarkable he hadn’t been stopped already by whatever sort of town guard they had in the city proper. Wondering how he was supposed to get over the wall, he didn’t notice until a second later all of the eyes staring out of the five main crossbars of the gate.
Five crossbars—five eyes.
His gazed snapped to the gate, and he knew it was the fifth sign. He hadn’t noticed them before, as they were hidden in swirls of mythical action, but five Eyes of the Seeker—gold-rimmed with golden irises—had been strategically placed so that one might find them should he look hard enough.
But this was impossible. Nearly twenty men guarded the gate, all in the black and gold of Banelyn, all with the air of those ready and eager to shoot a trespasser full of arrows without asking questions.
The Raven Talisman grew hot on his back, and he spun around.
The Exile girl was there, like a phantom in the night, coming toward him.
Fear and disbelief clashed in the Prince’s head, and then his body and instincts took over while his mind reeled; he turned and ran for the gates. Just as he’d predicted, the first three guards who saw him raised crossbows and pointed them at him, calling to their comrades to do the same.
“I seek the one who seeks the light!”
The words were out of his mouth and ringing in the cool night air before he could think about what he was doing. Several more of the guards shouldered their crossbows and put fingers to triggers, though, and it appeared that his gamble had failed. He pulled up short, and thought that it all might end right there, that all that had happened might come down to a dozen crossbow bolts shot straight through him as he ran from the Exiles.
“HOLD!”
The guards blinked and faltered. A new guard strode forward, a golden knot of rank on his shoulder that served to fasten a long green cloak, so dark it was almost black, to his shoulders. This captain, or perhaps sergeant, spoke a word to the guards and surprise crossed their faces, before they turned to stare at the Prince, in his Commons clothing, dirty and travel-stained, with disbelief.
“How do you mean to seek him?” the officer asked.
One of the guards who flanked the officer shot a sudden look over the Prince’s shoulder as if he’d seen something, and the Prince whirled, expecting to see the Exile girl, or perhaps Tomaz himself wielding his greatsword, eyes burning with fury and betrayal.
But there was no one, only an empty street filled with dark, twisting shadows.
But couldn’t the girl hide in any of those shadows?he asked himself.Couldn’t she be there, waiting, perhaps readying a dagger to throw?
“If you run,” said the voice of the officer behind him, breaking into his thoughts, “or if you do not speak, I will cut you down, Commoner, where you stand. Turn and face me.”
The Prince, jaw clenched and hands balled into fists to stop the sudden terror he’d felt at the girl’s arrival from taking him over completely, turned and saw that the officer had unsheathed a broadsword, while both of the guards flanking him had raised their crossbows again, level with his chest. The guards behind them all had their hands on their weapons, too.
“By following the Path myself,” he said.
As he said the words, some of the tension left the officer’s shoulders, but this time he didn’t motion for the guards to lower their weapons, and he kept his sword unsheathed.
“How do you hope to see the one who seeks if you do not see the Path?”
“I seek the Path so that my eyes may be opened to the Light.”
For a long moment nothing happened, and suddenly the Prince wondered if he had gotten some part of the ritual wrong, but no, it was all right, there was nothing else to say. But maybe this officer had rules never to let a Commoner in, no matter what series of passwords or phrases he knew, maybe—?
“Let him through.”
The guards who flanked the officer started in surprise, but obediently lowered their crossbows, while the officer sheathed his sword and turned to walk to the gatehouse. The Prince could suddenly breathe again, and he quickly walked forward on shaky legs, following the man. As he neared the gatehouse, though, the feeling of a presence came to him again, and he once more cast a glance over his shoulder, peering into the dancing shadows cast by the flickering oil lamps.
But there was nothing, and no one.
He followed the officer to the gatehouse, passing the guards, who looked as though, ritual or no ritual, they still wanted to turn him into a human pincushion. Most of them seemed to radiate hatred and disgust, and the Prince couldn’t understand why. True, he was dressed as one of the Commons, but he was a Prince. Couldn’t they see that? Couldn’t they tell the difference?
He passed into the gatehouse and saw the officer standing across the room at another wooden door. A huge bar had been placed across it, and as the Prince watched, the officer pulled out a set of keys and inserted them into the lock, twisting quickly. There was the sound of many metallic, clockwork bolts sliding home, and then the bar simply disappeared into the wall, and the door swung open. As it did, the officer stepped aside and watched the Prince expectantly. The Prince walked quickly through the open door.
He found himself directly on the other side of the large gate, and then heard a clinking sound as the officer behind him tossed something gold onto the cobblestones at his feet. He bent and picked up the golden coin.
Five.
