"A long walk for a High Lady," the barkeep started. He looked down to the glass he was polishing with a rag that looked as though it had been used to wipe a chimney. "Or should I say... a long walk for a customer?"
Sakina could feel the prickles at the base of her neck. She kept her voice level, filtering out the tremor of her pulse and fear. "The dust in this district is a pestilence I must say Dear Sire. I find myself in need of something to clear my throat. Your finest vintage…if you haven't turned it all to vinegar." She adjusted her veil closer to her face and looked him in the eyes.
When he looked back up to her she saw that his eyes were milky, one clouded by a cataract, the other sharp as a needle and even like this he looked abhorrent. "We don't get 'finest' anything here woman. We get the dregs. The people who come here are looking for things that are lost, or things that want to stay hidden."
"Ahh… i see but I must say…I am merely a traveler who took a wrong turn at the Fountain; Sire," Sakina replied, her hand slipping into the silk folds of her robe, her fingers finding the cool, ivory hilt of her stiletto.
Three weeks earlier.
The note in Sakina's hand felt heavier than the crown she had spent her life defending.
I know where the missing Queen is. Come to the East Street of the Black Fountain... Come alone.
It was a jagged script, written hurriedly by someone whose hand had been shaking or maybe it was someone pretending to be someone else. Sakina watched the messenger girl vanish into the kaleidoscopic blur of the market, her small form weaving through piles of spices and bolts of silk.
"Stay here," Sakina commanded, her voice regaining a brittle, metallic edge. She didn't look at her guards, and why would she look at them? She knew if she looked at them, she would see their doubt, and doubt was a luxury she had burned away the moment Machiavelli's fingers had touched her chin. "Guard the perimeter. If I am not back by the final chime of the evening summons, burn the ciphers. Leave the city. Do not look back for me."
"Lady Sakina, it's a trap," the lead guard whispered, his hand hovering near his concealed blade. "The Cinder soldiers are still patrolling the main arteries. To go into the East Street now is nothing less than a suicide in itself."
"It is only suicide if I have nothing to buy my life with commander," she replied, and her pulse thrummed a different rhythm against her ribs clearly telling her that she was deceiving herself.
But she still turned on her heels before he could protest, or before she could think otherwise; pulling her veil tight. The commander tried to follow her but she stopped them; "If there is even a ghost of a chance that Our Queen is held near the kilns, I will walk into the fire to find her. That is an order. Stand. Down!"
And walked away leaving them all in a pickle.
The walk to the East Street of Cinder hegamony was a slow descent into a different kind of hell. The air began to change. The sweet smell of roasting lamb and jasmine faded, replaced by the choking, sulfurous breath of the industrial district. Here, the sky wasn't blue; it was a bruised charcoal gray, stained by the constant belching of the brick kilns.
The 'Black Fountain' was a grim landmark a fountain that hadn't seen water in decades, its basin filled instead with stagnant sludge and coal dust. The streets narrowed, the cobblestones slick with a fine layer of soot that turned the world into a monochromatic nightmare; even the air had sharp, pungent odors from fumes, including diesel exhaust from heavy machinery, and a dry, silty, earthy smell from disturbed dirt; all that was hurting her throat. There was dead silence around except the noises of machines from far. Sakina felt the weight of the silence. In the market, silence was an omen; here, it was a shroud.
Finally. Thinking so many things and observing every nook and corner she finally reached the Broken Crane.
.....
It was a slumped, skeletal building that looked as though it were leaning against the neighboring warehouse for support. Its windows were encrusted with grime, and the wooden sign groaned on rusted hinges. The canal behind it was a path of ink, smelling of old iron and rot.
Sakina paused at the threshold. Her instinct the one that had saved her from Machiavelli; was continuously screaming at her to run away, but the image of the empty throne and sick monarch pushed her forward.
She took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
The interior was a cavern of stale ale and guttering tallow candles. The transition from the gray daylight to the amber gloom made her eyes ache. Three men sat at the scarred wooden bar, their shoulders hunched. They didn't turn at her arrival. And even more suspicious was the way that were not talking at all. They were too still, like statues carved from the same soot that covered the streets outside.
Then, she saw her, a small girl sat huddled over a cup of water in a far corner. It wasn't the messenger from the market, but someone younger, her eyes wide and rimmed with red. When she saw Sakina, a sob broke from her throat a sound so sharp and high that it felt like a prick to the ear.
"Please," the girl wailed, her voice echoing in the quiet hollow room. "They took him. They took my brother into the dark."
Sakina took a step forward, her hand reaching out instinctively, but then she caught the barkeep's eyes. He wasn't looking at the crying child with pity but was looking at Sakina with the cold focus of a butcher measuring a carcass.
The realization hit her like a physical blow to the stomach. Her conscious again cried to run away… but then another voice came and this time it rolled of her tongue in a whisper…too late…
"A long walk for a High Lady," the barkeep started. He looked down to the glass he was polishing with a rag that looked as though it had been used to wipe a chimney. "Or should I say... a long walk for a customer?"
Sakina could feel the prickles at the base of her neck. She kept her voice level, filtering out the tremor of her pulse and fear. "The dust in this district is a pestilence I must say Dear Sire. I find myself in need of something to clear my throat. Your finest vintage…if you haven't turned it all to vinegar." She adjusted her veil closer to her face and looked him in the eyes.
When he looked back up to her she saw that his eyes were milky, one clouded by a cataract, the other sharp as a needle and even like this he looked abhorrent. "We don't get 'finest' anything here woman. We get the dregs. The people who come here are looking for things that are lost, or things that want to stay hidden."
"Ahh… i see but I must say…I am merely a traveler who took a wrong turn at the Fountain; Sire," Sakina replied, her hand slipping into the silk folds of her robe, her fingers finding the cool, ivory hilt of her stiletto.
The girl in the corner let out a sharp, jagged sob. "Please..."
.
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