breath of fresh air. It seemed a month must have passed within the confines of the dusty theater walls, but in fact he’d lasted only two days before venturing out to survey the state of the city and its pursuit of Princess Liraelle. Krayo had of course offered to keep him apprised, but seeing as Krayo’s top sneak was confined to quarters, it seemed a look for himself couldn’t hurt.
He shrugged a courier sack higher onto his shoulder and turned out onto the main road. The lively buzz of the city was gone, the lingering travelers skittish and suspicious. The buildings themselves were at first glance much as Jeld remembered. Only on closer examination did the signs of vacancy and hardship reveal themselves—a smokeless chimney, an empty table, eyes peering longingly through the shutters of a dark but free captivity. Just as he of soiled clothes, it seemed the people had learned that to let a shop fall into disrepair was to invite trouble with the watch.
Presently, a squad of watchmen was stopped beside a large group of soldiers, their sergeants in a heated conversation just across the street. Both groups were armed and armored for war. Jeld pulled a letter from his sack and pretended to scrutinize it as he passed by the patrols. Just a few blocks ahead, the familiar sight of The North Tovarian Temple of One brought an irresistible grin to his lips.
He wanted so badly to go inside and see Prishner Walson, to fill the dear man’s kitchen for the many children he looked after. Had their numbers swelled in these hard times? Or were they all wasting away now in the Prince’s Prison? Jeld sighed and walked past the temple. It was certain to be the one place Naelis would think to look for Lira, which was precisely why it was just the place to investigate the state of the pursuit.
Scanning the crowds, Jeld took a deep breath and opened his other sense to the world around him. The city’s collective despair pressed against him. He flexed his will and from the chaos emerged individual stories. From the stone walls of the temple itself seemed to emanate a comforting warmth. At its front, the etchings upon the temple doors seemed almost to glow. He turned and scanned the storefronts across the street, a likely vantage for anyone staking the place out. A woman wrapped in a thick blanket was sewing winter caps outside a tailor’s shop. Through the window of the next shop, a barber woman was trimming a man’s beard. In another, a man sat by himself behind a tankard.
Jeld blinked at the man. He drifted closer, peering discreetly past another letter into the tavern window. The man’s tankard was full, it’s handle opposite him as if untouched since the barkeep had placed it. His green eyes flicked over the top of the tankard toward the temple. Though unshaven and plainly dressed, there was no mistaking Sir Benam.
Shaking his head with a grin, Jeld turned into the tavern, got a drink from the bar, and slapped his tankard onto the man’s table.
“Mind if I join yeh?”
“Please,” Sir Benam said, his eyes fixed upon the temple.
Jeld summoned up Arvin’s voice. “Too kind. Looking for something? Someone?”
“Never mind, frien—”
Benam looked over at Jeld, who raised a finger to his lips.
“Arvin!” Benam whispered. He loosed a breath of laughter. “You’re—where’s the princess? Is she alright?”
Jeld smiled back and nodded. “She’s safe. Hurting, understandably, but well enough.”
A great weight fell away from Benam.
“You knew she would come back here, then?” Jeld asked. “Have you seen others? Anyone looking for her?”
“Plenty of patrols. Who can say? Arvin, what happened? What’s this nonsense about Dralor murdering Loris? And Naelis naming himself king?”
“You’re right that Prince Dralor didn’t murder the king. Naelis did. It was him behind the Sayers all along, too. Behind everything.”
“The high priest… dear Mother.”
“Yeah. But naming himself king… that one I hadn’t yet heard. Can’t say I’m surprised.”
Shaking his head, Benam reached for his tankard but let his hand fall and only tapped at the handle. “How did you escape?”
“Narrowly. Naelis brought in these… guards. Eerie fellas, and faster than they have a right to be. Idolics for sure. Even stopped Handan. They almost had us.”
“White robes?”
Jeld nodded.
Benam frowned. “Inquisitors.”
“Who are they?”
Benam’s eyes grew distant. “I don’t know much. They serve in the prison camps, and that’s what they call them there. Inquisitors. Easterners, most of them. There’s something altogether… wrong about them. Evil, I dare say. That’s all I know. Arvin, where is Lira? I need to see her.”
Jeld took a slow sip as he considered his answer. He had fresh scars from Benam’s last round of good intentions, and Krayo wasn’t likely to appreciate such an exposure. Still, what would he tell Lira should he turn Benam away?
“We’re hiding out in Temple Theater. Krayo is helping to keep the princess safe.”
“Krayo Rusrivon? He’s risking a lot helping Liraelle, after everything he went through for his position.”
“Maybe he just expects that helping the royal family will come back around one day. Or maybe he’s just, you know, doing the right thing.”
“Yes, probably expects Lira will pay him back somehow,” Benam said. “Dear Idols, I can’t believe I found her. Let’s be off.”
He started to rise.
“Woh there!” Jeld hissed. “We don’t know who might be watching. I’ll leave first. Give me… say, until that guy there finishes his drink, then go to the warehouse behind the theater. Cut through some crowds on your way. Empty alleys are a great way to see if you’re being followed. At the warehouse, tell them you have an appointment with Ement. Got it?”
Benam settled in his chair and nodded.
Jeld stood. “I’m glad to see you well.”
“You also, Arvin. And thank you. For saving Liraelle.”
Jeld gave Benam a nod. “Thanks for saving me.”
He slapped a coin on the table beside the two full tankards and set off in a winding path toward the theater.
At the theater, he gathered Lira, Ement, and Krayo in an austere dining room beside Krayo’s office. A sharply dressed servant from Krayo’s newly opened Red Curtain Eatery across the square set a final covered platter upon the table and slipped from the room. Nearly colliding with the servant, Henred appeared in the doorway and waved Benam into the room.
“Benam!” Lira cried, jumping up and running into his arms.
“Oh, my girl!”
Henred nodded to Krayo and stepped out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
“Sir Benam,” Krayo greeted. “Fine to see you again.”
Benam’s green eyes flicked back to Lira before he grasped Krayo’s hand.
“You as well.”
“Won’t you dine with us? Please, have a seat.”
Ement set to uncovering the many silver platters as Sir Benam took his seat.
“Enjoy, everyone. Eat, we have much to discuss.”
“You’re doing well enough?” Lira asked Sir Benam.
“Well enough, yes,” Benam said. “That is all I could ever ask. It’s not for myself that I grieve, my princess, but for our kingdom. For your father. Even for your uncle. He doesn’t deserve to be executed.”
Lira gasped.
“Ah… executed?” Jeld said. “I thought he was—er, dead?”
Ement shook his head and spoke around a mouthful of food. “What’re you, living under a theater? Two more days. Can’t come fast enough, if you ask me. Beggin’ your pardon, Princess.”
“Come now,” Benam pleaded. “Let us not speak ill. Believe me, I know Dralor is a harsh man, but if High Priest Naelis truly is behind all this then Dralor is more a victim than anyone.”
“I hear you’ve spent some time at Prince’s Prison, sir. That prince sure runs a nice clean camp, eh?”
Benam shifted in his chair but said nothing.
“Sir Benam is right,” Lira said. “Dral has been a monster, but I don’t think he wanted any of this. It’s Naelis playing to his weaknesses, turning all his passion into hatred. Naelis ruined him, and now he’s going to finish the job.”
“Yes, exactly,” Benam agreed. “Ever have I disagreed with the prince’s methods, but I don’t believe I can let this happen. I can’t allow Naelis this last victory over Dralor. Over the crown.”
“My friends,” Krayo said. “Let us not dwell on the inevitable. Now, we’ve got the matter of the princess’s safety to discuss.”
Benam shook his head. “We can’t let this happen.”
“What could we do? And to what end, anyway? Where could he go? You think Prince Dralor would hide in the walls?”
“I don’t intend we hide,” Benam said, turning to Lira. “We must go to Delvarad. My father will not stand for this usurpation. We’ll be safe there, and find a way to set things right.”
Krayo frowned. “I don’t presume to know your father, but I don’t see Lord Relthid as particularly… sensitive to the crown’s hardships.”
“I thought much the same for many years. Only recently have I begun to understand him. He never hated the Idols or Loris’s father when he stood against them. What he hated was loyalty for sake of loyalty. Faith for the sake of faith. He only opposed failure, and the Idols were admittedly… failing. Even before Khapar, they spent far more time in dreams than awake.”
Krayo nodded. “Well, if the princess will be safe there then perhaps you should consider making the journey. We can help you get outside the walls and past the checkpoints. We can make arrangements immediately.”
“The prince as well,” Benam said firmly. “We can’t let him die. Maybe a citizen deserves to take Dral’s life, but Naelis cannot have him.”
Krayo closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “It’s risky enough helping the princess, let alone having you here. Look, we have a chance to protect the princess if we don’t do anything stupid. I’m sorry, but saving Dralor is stupid. And there’s nothing we can do, anyway. He’s in the keep jails. It can’t be helped.”
Krayo set to his food again, the others all picking at theirs in silence.
“Huhm,” Jeld said after a while, his eyes distant. “There might be a way…”