Shadow Weaver (Back on 抖阴社区 2020!)

Chapter 20

Beyond the main gate lies a courtyard surrounded by high walls with fist-sized windows. Arched passages lead off in several directions. A bell tower to our left, a large brick building on our right. If an enemy made it across the bridge, they would be surrounded and immobilized at once.

Stable hands run towards us from the building. We dismount and once they have taken the horses, Fror guides us through a flagstone passageway with thick walls and arched roofs. We cross a second smaller courtyard, weave through a passage inside the wall, and come out in an open square.

Only a handful of stallholders occupy the fort's main marketplace. Soldiers parade by the water fountains and in front of the barracks. More soldiers than customers. A dozen streets wind off the plaza, arched passages constructed inside the towering walls.

Commander Fror leads us to a north-facing street. We pass narrow doorways and steep stone stairways. We wind into a small yard, walls so close together you can barely see the sky. A woman drying bed linen with a beater, orders her children inside. They gather smooth pebbles from the steps where they play, and scuttle away through a low door.

I wonder if Commander Fror's warning of the pox holds some truth. Neither Kel nor I have ever had the virus. We have never been ill with anything. An advantage, the only advantage, of growing up in isolation. My clammy skin prickles with heat and I mock myself for worrying that I could already be showing symptoms.

The commander leads us into a hall with a high wooden roof and a dining table as long as three men.

"Please make yourselves comfortable," he says. "I will send word to the kitchen to bring you breakfast and let the Duke know that you are here."

"Thank you." Jakut drapes himself on a cushioned bench while the rest of us watch Fror leave. Even Deadran listens to the commander as he strides away. Four guards remain outside the hall doors, far enough away for us to talk without being overheard.

Tug pulls at the collar of his new tunic, which looks wrong with his tattooed beast-face. He catches my eye. I look away and turn my thoughts to Kel. Has he arrived already? Could he be part of the reason they have closed the fort?

Seven days ago, my brother's eyes showed the faintest signs of settling, the golden glimmer minutely duller. Even so, it could take months for the gray-blue of his irises to swallow all evidence of his Uru Ana blood. His captors will keep him hidden until then, because if rumour got out that the Duke and Duchess had broken the law and purchased a shadow weaver, even they could be hanged for treason against the King. But if Kel is here, Commander Fror knows about it.

"Find out what you can," the Prince says. I nod, extending my awareness in the direction the commander was headed. Minds brush into me like spider webs breaking against skin, but none match the angular shape and sawdust feel of the commander's. I continue until I find one moving faster and surer than the rest. I prod the edges, careful not to be sucked in, only wishing to flutter on the fringes where the memories form.

He marches through a long corridor posted with guards, knocks on a door, enters a round tower room. A table stands in the center with a giant map sprawled across it. Several men discuss lands, positions of soldiers, security. They all defer to a man cloaked in white bear fur. The Duke, Prince Roarhil. He looks up at Commander Fror, blue eyes so penetrating it is as though I am there and he is looking straight at me.

"Leave us," he instructs his advisers. Unlike Jakut, the Duke's eminence flows across the room, intimidating, unwavering. This is the difference between a man who knows he is royalty and a man who thinks he is, but who does not remember. The genuine article exposing a counterfeit.