Stone Rose (12 page)

Thinking about it renewed his determination, made it easier to draw a deep breath and hold fast to his patience. Eventually an opportunity would present and he would take it.

He had waited and waited for Granito and finally taken when the opportunity appeared. They had waited and taken every step of the way as soldiers. When the chance came to move to bodyguards, they had taken that as well. If he had to endure the stupid cart for several hours, and whatever came next, for his chance to appear, then he would.

And more the fools his captors for thinking that his silence was surrender.

Two days after the attack in the snake room, Midori's head still pounded. Storms take it, that woman had hit him hard. He gingerly touched the knot at the back of his head and grimaced.

At least it was slowly receding, and in a few more days he would likely be fine. Well, his head would be fine. As to the rest of him, Midori was not certain. He seemed to be developing a remarkable and lamentable knack for misplacing princes.

He dreaded what was going to happen to him when word came back from Kundou. His very first diplomatic mission was going about as well as his last mission as captain. Worse even, since he had arrived in Piedre and only hours later threw aside his obligations in favor of rolling in the sheets. They'd been reckless and careless and Culebra was the one paying for it.

Midori should have known it would all come crashing down. Dragons eat them all, was it too much to ask that something go his way for once? He stared out the window at the city, stomach in knots. Whatever his whining about things not going his way, his real concern was for Culebra. Was he down there in the city somewhere? Had they carried him off somewhere else? Who had taken him? The Brotherhood of the Black Rose or the Order of the White Rose? What were they doing to him?

It made him want to put his fist through something, thinking of how terrified Culebra must have been. So confident in the royal palace, Culebra would be out of his mind with fear at not knowing where he was or how to get to safety. Did the bastards who had taken him not realize what they were doing by dragging Culebra off like that?

He knew the king had sent out people to begin quietly searching for Culebra, but Midori wanted to be doing the looking himself. He would not lose Culebra the way he had lost Nankyokukai.

First he had to figure out how to get out of the palace. The four guards outside his door and the half dozen more at the end of the hall made that difficult. No one had explicitly said he was under house arrest, but the message was clear.

That aside, he would need less conspicuous clothing, supplies, and a guide because he had absolutely no idea where to begin looking. Well, somebody must know something. He would figure it out—if he ever first figured out how to get out of the palace.

He was drawn from his thoughts when the door abruptly opened, admitting a guard who swept a bow and then announced, "His royal majesty, King Pruebas."

Midori stifled a sigh and, as Pruebas entered, gave a deep bow. "Majesty, I cannot express enough my regret. Truly, I am sorry."

Pruebas motioned dismissively and indicated he should take a seat at the table in the corner of the sitting room. A woman came in with a large tea tray and set briskly to work arranging everything on the table. She glanced at Midori and stared at him hard before looking away again to finish arranging the tea things. When she finished, she gave Pruebas a curtsy and left the room.

What had that been about? Midori hoped he would get a chance to find out—and that it was something that would help him.

"It is Culebra's fault if it is anyone's," Pruebas said. "He knows to be careful. Just a couple of weeks ago that monster snake of his killed another would-be assassin. I tried to assign him bodyguards, but they just would not stick. I have told him time and again to be more careful, but that is Culebra."

"Still, my behavior was not above reproach," Midori said quietly.

Pruebas nodded. "In the future, my lord, I do advise you to keep your head better. Culebra is beautiful and far too aware of that for a man who does not even know what he looks like, and he has a bad habit of dragging others into trouble with him. The worst thing to ever happen to him was assigning those cursed bodyguards. It was for the best that one died and the other left."

Midori wondered if they were talking about the same person. The man Pruebas described was not the Culebra he had spent the night with, not the man he had gotten to know all those months at sea. "Do you know who might have taken him, Majesty?"

"Probably the Order," Pruebas said with a shrug and sipped his tea for a moment before continuing. "The Brotherhood simply would have killed him. If the Order has managed to take him, then they must be trying yet another scheme to restore him to power. Tell me, my lord, are you of the mind that our Basilisk was murdered or that he killed himself?"

If a more complicated question in Piedre existed, Midori did not want to know it. He had not paid much attention to all that his companions had tried to teach him on matters of diplomacy, though he knew he very well should have. But he did not need them to tell him that it was better to avoid all discussions of how the Basilisk had died.

The world was dying because of the lost gods—slowly and quietly, but it was dying all the same. Violence was increasing, food stuffs were decreasing, and the weather itself grew increasingly tumultuous every day. Rumors abounded that the gods were returning—had returned in Kundou and Pozhar. Certainly the royal family seemed to have been knocked off its feet; only Princess Umiko, now Queen, had retained her power. Whether or not the gods were involved, Midori did not know.

"I do not believe I know enough to offer an informed opinion," Midori finally replied. "To the best of my knowledge, no one knows what happened that day, and it was well over nine hundred years ago. I think only the gods themselves will ever know what truly happened."

"They say the gods have returned in some countries, that the sacrifices Pozhar has made all these years actually resulted in restoring the Firebird and that he is not the danger everyone believed him to be. What say you to that?"

"I am nothing, but a humble sailor turned diplomat, highness. If the gods have returned, it has very little to do with me. But I think it is better to have them than to not."

Pruebas drank more of his tea, eyes never leaving Midori. His eyes were dark, cold and hard; Midori did not like them. They reminded him of the eyes of a mermaid:  a great deal of hunger and absolutely no remorse. "So if the Order has taken Culebra and seeks to restore him to his godhood, you think it would be best if they succeeded?"

Why was Pruebas asking him such questions? "As I said, Majesty, it is not my place to say. I am one very insignificant man and not fit to speak of gods. If Culebra is meant to become one, then I think he will because no man can avoid his destiny."

"I see," Pruebas said.

The silence that fell was unbearable. Drinking his own tea, Midori then asked, "Do you think your men will be able to find him before he comes to harm?"

"Hopefully, but it's hard to say, as brutal as that sounds," Pruebas replied. Midori shuddered inwardly at how cold and brutal it did, in fact, sound. Did Pruebas care about his brother at all? Did he even know Culebra? "If it was the Order that took him, then there are only so many places in the country they would have taken him. If those places turn up empty, we shall look further into the matter."

Midori nodded. "Yes, Majesty. If there is any way I can be of help—"

"I think you have helped enough."

"Yes, Majesty."

"But never fear, my lord. I did convey to your queen that your role in the matter was minor. Culebra knew his behavior was unacceptable and reckless."

Midori nodded and only repeated, "Yes, Majesty."

"I will leave you in peace, then," Pruebas said and stood up. He left as suddenly as he had arrived, leaving Midori puzzled as to why he had visited at all. To discuss religion? To speak so poorly of his brother?

No ... Midori had the distinct impression Pruebas had been testing him for something, and he had failed that test spectacularly. What had Pruebas wanted to know?

He sighed and finished his tea and then poured a fresh cup. Whatever Pruebas said about assuring the queen that Midori had done very little wrong, Midori knew his title was as good as gone. Hopefully his family would retain it and only Midori would be removed.

It was a sad commentary on his life that he knew his family would be willing to disown him, and he did not particularly care. He sipped disinterestedly at his tea and wondered again how he was going to get out of the palace. No doubt it was arrogant to think he could do better than the royal soldiers at locating Culebra, and yet ... he had the distinct impression he was the only one who truly cared.

The door opened and the same maid from before slipped in to begin cleaning up the tea things. She caught his eye again and Midori said, "What troubles you?"

She looked at him warily, then at the door. Midori reached out and covered her hand. "I promise I only want to help. If this is about Culebra, which I can only assume it must be, please tell me."

After another moment of hesitation, she nodded and said, "Everyone knows his Majesty hates the prince. They've never got on. My brother knows the men what was sent out to find Culebra. He said they've got orders to make certain his highness dies."

"I see," Midori said softly. "Then it would seem I definitely need to find a way out of the palace."

"I can help with that," the woman said.

Midori looked at her thoughtfully. "I appreciate the help, but why do you care?"

"His highness is always kind," the woman said quietly, tearfully. "He's the loneliest person I ever met, but he's always kind to those around him when they stop being afraid of him. I never saw him so alive than when Masters Granito and Dario were around. I wish Master Dario would come back. They helped me and brother once, those two. Just because Culebra asked them to. Ran off some men giving us trouble. He's a good sort, if people would just stop being afraid.

"But all that aside, my lord, it's not the place of us mere mortals to kill a god. That's for gods to do or not do. If his Majesty murders his highness, the wrath of the gods will fall on Piedre again."

"Well said," Midori replied. "Very well, how do you plan to get me out of the palace?"

She smiled, looking very girlish and mischievous for a moment, and Midori could not help but smile back. "Go out the window and climb up, highness. It'll lead you into a guest room nobody uses. I'll meet you there with everything you need and sneak you out the servants' way."

Midori nodded. "Go then, before they've noticed you've tarried too long in here. Thank you. I don't know why you're turning to me, but I am glad you did."

"You make him smile the way Masters Dario and Granito did," the woman said quietly. "He never smiles, not like that. Just save him, don't let his Majesty kill him." She slipped away before he could reply, closing the door quietly behind her.

Standing up, Midori went to his trunk and pulled out his weapons:  a long, curved sword and three daggers, as well as small pouches with medicinal supplies, a compass, and a few other things he always carried with him.

All he needed were decent clothes and foodstuffs, but it sounded as though the maid would have that well in hand. He should have asked her name, storms take it. Well, he could shortly.

Going to the window, he looked down below but saw nobody. The way clear, he twisted around and looked up. Tricky, but not impossible. No more difficult than climbing the rigging on a ship. Stepping back inside the room, Midori slipped off his outer robe and laid it on the bed. In just his under robe, he climbed out onto the window ledge, found some decent handholds in the uneven stone, and began to climb slowly.

It took him some doing and more than a couple of heart-stopping near misses, but at last he did reach the window above his. It swung open with a soft creak, and he climbed inside. The room smelled of dust and a lack of sunlight. He closed the window and sat down in a nearby chair and waited patiently.

Thankfully, he did not have to wait long. Only a handful of minutes after he arrived, the door opened and the maid slipped in. She carried a bundle of clothes and a set of saddlebags. "Here you are, my lord. The clothes belong to my brother; I'm sorry they aren't proper gentleman's clothing—"

"All I need is unremarkable clothes, so these are perfect," Midori said with a smile. "Thank you."

She flushed and bobbed a nod and set the saddlebags on the bed. "Food for two weeks, as well as water for a couple of days. My brother is readying a horse for you."

"Thank you," Midori said again. She turned her back and he quickly changed into the clothes she'd provided. They were cheap homespun and rough wool, so different from the fine clothes he normally wore, but it was not the first time he had been stuck in cheaper garments. Sailors improvised, and he'd sailed more than a few stormy voyages.

Sitting down, he pulled on and laced up the boots she'd provided. They were a trifle big, but not too terribly. "All set," he said when he was ready. Picking up the saddlebags, he slung them over one shoulder and said, "Lead the way, my dear. Thank you again for your help. I promise I will do my best to save him. I'll tell him of your faith."

"Yes, my lord," the maid murmured and gathering up her skirts, led him through the back halls and stairs of the enormous palace, weaving a path that rapidly confused him. If he had to find his way back, he doubted he would manage it.

At last, however, they reached a small, desolate looking courtyard where a young man waited with a sturdy-looking black stallion. He smiled shyly at Midori. "My lord, I've got you a good horse. Not afraid of anything, him. He'll take you all the way to the top of the Azul and back, if you wanted."

Midori smiled. "I take the Azul is a bad thing, whatever it is?"

"The Azul Mountains are where he died—the Basilisk, I mean. Nobody goes there unless they want to die. Cursed, they are."