Whispers (Book 3 of Wielder series)

Chapter 14 - A Plan

There was no moon in the sky when Darrel snuck out of his bunk. Night after night, its shape had slowly thinned, until it remained no more than a sliver aglow against the stars. Its absence plunged the night into darkness so thick, navigating without a torch or imagined light became a struggle. But Darrel didn't dare light his way as he snuck silently from shadow to shadow across the palace grounds. Tonight, he was not a soldier.
   Tonight, he was a thief.
   He knew the patrols well enough to avoid running into anyone patrolling the perimeter. Even without the glow of the moon to light his way, he easily found the path he'd walked just a few hours before.
   But instead of using the guards' entrance into the palace, he veered from the path and skirted the exterior wall, until he reached a section he'd noticed a few days earlier, where the stones had started to erode just enough to provide a climbable surface.
   His hands gripped the stone, clinging firmly with the soft glow of magic to aid him. Silently, he ascended, step by step, stone by stone.
   He climbed easily onto the roof tiles. Like a rat, he scampered across its edge. His gaze darted side to side, keeping an eye out for patrols who would be on the lookout for anyone like himself who dared to wander where they didn't belong.
   For nearly a week, he'd stood guard inside the palace walls. He'd listened to passing conversations of the nobles who wandered the halls. He'd kept note of the servants who showed themselves only when necessary, keeping mostly to the tight halls in which they were supposed to remain hidden. He'd analyzed the shadows and dark places at night, searching for signs of the Phantom.
   He'd found nothing.
   It was time to try something different.
   Darrel jumped, catching the ledge of a roof line higher up. He heaved himself over the edge and swept like a ghost over the tiles, magic eliminating the sound of his hurried footfalls. For now, it was easy: the roofs were mostly flat or only slightly pitched, where they covered the main palace's main entrance. But before long, they would stretch high in tightly coiled spirals, which would be impossible to hold onto with bare hands alone.
   Good thing he had magic to keep him attached to the side.
   Once he reached a place on the roof where the patrols on the outer wall couldn't see him, he took off running. He launched himself up to the nearest spire, leaping as easily as a cat from spire to spire. His heart raced. His panting breath chilled his throat and puffed little clouds of white into his eyes.
   Luckily, it didn't take long for him to reach the rooftop he needed.
   The long passageway of the Emperor's Hall had a pitched roof that slanted at an angle so steep, Darrel would have slipped right off its side if he had tried to use only his own strength to hold on. Tiny specks of shimmering gold padded his body as he flattened himself over the roof's tiles, suctioning him to its surface. He crawled down to the eaves, curling his fingers around the edge.
   Then he pulled himself forward, and peered upside down through the window that stood beneath him.
   The hall was lit with the soft, warm glow of magicked lights that hung from sconces on the walls every dozen feet or so. A rich, crimson carpet lined the length of the hall, stretching like a regal presentation toward the arched doorways standing at either end. One led to the rest of the palace.
   The other led to the emperor's living quarters.
   Or, he should say, the empress's living quarters. They belonged to Tyla now.
   But while her father had kept the Emperor's Hall well staffed with a force of private guards, Tyla let it stand empty.
   Darrel narrowed his eyes. Never before had he seen - or heard of - the Emperor's Hall not having anyone to guard it. He cast his gaze back and forth, searching for any signs of patrol, but found none.
   The nobleman hadn't lied to him, then. There really hadn't been anyone in the Emperor's Hall when he'd seen the Phantom.
   Which meant only one thing: Tyla never used it.
   He frowned. Why wouldn't the empress use the quarters reserved for her? They were perfectly outfitted for her use, and incredibly spacious, from what he'd heard. Much more so than the suites she had occupied as the princess, anyway. He doubted she stayed out of the rooms out of respect for her late parents. If she did, she would have made sure the Hall remained guarded, so that people like that wandering noble couldn't get into things.
   It didn't make sense.
   Slowly, he pulled himself back up onto the roof. There was nothing else to look for here.
   He sprinted across the rooftops, jumping from spire to spire until he reached the guest suites where Willy resided. Carefully, he counted balconies, searching for the right one, then dropped silently onto it. Keeping to the shadows so he wouldn't be noticed by the couple standing in each other's arms two balconies over, he carefully knocked on the door.
   It took over a minute for his knock to be answered. The balcony door opened just a crack, but the room beyond was dark. "You're late," Willy whispered.
   Darrel slipped inside and closed the balcony door, watching Willy reset the magic seal that locked it. "Sorry. I had to wait for Collins to fall asleep. He was extra chatty tonight."
   Willy's brows furrowed together. "Were you seen?"
   "No."
   "Good." Willy turned, leading Darrel out of his bedroom and into the sitting room of his apartments. The room was brightly lit with candles in sconces that hung on each wall, casting the space into a warm, flickering glow.
   Willy walked to the opposite bedroom, pushing open the door that stood ajar. "It's alright," he called softly. "It's safe."
   Darrel froze halfway through unbuttoning his coat. "Someone else is here?"
   By way of answer, Willy gestured to the woman who stepped into the doorway. Her ankle-length, muted gray dress, white apron, and brown-auburn hair twirled tightly into a bun at the nape of her neck identified her as a servant. She blushed profusely as Willy reached out his hand, ushering her into the room. "This is Justine," he introduced. "Justine, this is Darrel."
   "Hello," Justine curtsied. Her olive green eyes danced with curiosity and thrill as she flicked her gaze over the black clothes Darrel had donned to hide himself among the shadows. "I've heard so much about you."
   Darrel hesitated. Under any other circumstances, he would have been thrilled to meet the woman who had captured Willy's attention. He would have teased Willy incessantly about it, too, just to see if he could make either of them blush.
   But he didn't have much time. He needed to talk to Willy about his findings, and then he had to keep searching for the Phantom.
   "I don't mean this the wrong way," he said carefully, "but what's she doing here?"
   Though Justine flushed pink and ducked her gaze down submissively, Willy didn't miss a beat. "One of the nobles has been harassing her. He struck her tonight and she came to me for help. I was healing her arm when you came in."
   Justine clasped her hands together nervously and began wringing her fingers. She remained completely silent, as if used to the passing judgment of others. It twisted something in Darrel's gut, something that made him want to help her. "Is it safe to talk around her?"
   "If it weren't, I wouldn't have let you in," Willy replied curtly, turning to a small table where a tray sat with biscuits, a teapot, and several cups. He poured himself some and sipped at it, as if that would calm him down. "But if you don't think you can trust her, then you can come back another time."
   Darrel sighed. "If you trust her, that's good enough for me." Offering an apologetic smile, he extended his hand to Justine. "Sorry for my rudeness. I'm Darrel."
   She lifted her head in surprise, taking his hand almost as if she were afraid he would chastise her for accepting. "No apology necessary," she promised. "From what William has told me of your adventures, I understand why you'd be wary." She returned his smile, the light in her eyes returning. "Thank you for trusting me."
   Darrel grinned. He could see why Willy liked her. "Are you feeling better?"
   "Sorry?"
   "Willy said someone hurt you. Are you alright?"
   "Not just hurt her," Willy answered for her, his mood souring even more. "He fractured her wrist and left a bruise on her cheek."
   Darrel's jaw clenched tight. "So nothing has changed around here, after all." He gave Justine an apologetic look. "I'm sorry."
   She blushed. "I tripped on the rug and spilled his drink. It was to be expected."
   Willy set down his empty teacup on the tray so hard, everything clattered. "No. No one should be allowed to strike you for any reason. I don't care if you dropped an entire pot of boiling water over his head. He has no right to hurt you, ever."
   Flushing profusely, Justine lowered her gaze to the floor. "That's very kind, but it's just part of palace life. I'm used to it."
   Darrel frowned. "Who was it?"
   "Lord Erlling," Willy's said. "Tall man. Full beard. Has his family crest embroidered on every piece of clothing he owns."
   "The crest with the rose and the raven's claw?"
   "That's the one."
   "I know him." Darrel snorted. "He's one of the worst."
   "Justine's brother took a sizeable loan from Erlling a number of years ago and wasted it all on gambling in the city. Erlling had him killed for his recklessness, but now Justine and her sister are forced to pay it off. He keeps them here at the palace so he can keep an eye on them."
   That did not sound good. "How much do you owe?"
   Justine swallowed nervously. "Two hundred seventy-three."
   "That's it?"
   "Thousand," she squeaked shyly.
   "Two hundred thousand?!" Whistling, Darrel ran a hand through his hair. "No wonder he thinks he owns you."
   "She'll never be able to pay it back," Willy said. With a sag of his shoulders, he poured himself another cup of tea. "Not even if I helped her with my own salary."
   "So what's your plan, then?"
   "Right now, I don't have one. If I sneak her and her sister out of the city they'll be on the run for the rest of their lives. And I can't help her out there if I'm stuck here."
   "What if we paid him with what the empress gave Alie?"
   "I don't think it'll be enough even then," Willy sighed. "Right now I'm just trying to keep the two of them as far away from each other as possible."
   "We'll figure it out," Darrel promised. He gave Justine's shoulder a little squeeze, causing her to lift her head. "Don't give up. You've got us, now."
   She smiled and wiped the back of her hands across her eyes, where unshed tears had begun to bead. "I should let you two catch up," she offered. Straightening, she set the tea, unused cups, and biscuits on the table, then gathered the tray in her arms and headed for the door. "Thank you again," she told Willy, "for your help."
   "Always," he smiled. He paused before opening the door, lifting her chin with the tender brush of his fingers. "Be safe," he urged, a broken plea unhidden in his tone.
   She lifted him a sad smile. "I will." Then she kissed him softly on the cheek and stepped out into the hall.
   Darrel crossed his arms over his chest. "She's going to be the death of you if you're not careful."
   "Why, because I'll become a target of Erlling's by protecting her?"
   "That, and if anyone sees you getting soft for a servant, they'll rip you to shreds in court."
   "I'm not worried about that." He crossed the room and sank into his chair with a heavy sigh. "And Erlling is the one who should watch himself. I'm the one with the Ultimate. He's just a noble who thinks he owns the world because his father left him with money."
   Darrel snorted his agreement.
   "Have you found any traces of the Phantom?"
   "No, I haven't," Darrel groaned. He sat on the settee across from Willy. "I thought I had a tip about him appearing in the Emperor's Hall, but there was nothing there. Not even guards."
   Willy's brows scrunched together. "That's strange."
   "I don't think Tyla sleeps there at night, or goes there at all. There has to be someplace else she's staying."
   "She must be hiding something, then. She has no other reason not to move to the Emperor's Hall." Willy bit his lip in thought. "There's something else. Remember the magical artifacts I told you I was looking for? I swore I saw Victoria wearing one earlier today during court."
   Darrel grimaced. He really didn't want to hear about Victoria. "So?"
   "She has no reason to wear it, unless she's using its magic for something. And when she showed up for dinner less than an hour later, it was gone."
   He still didn't see what this had to do with tracking down the Phantom. "So?"
   "So, she probably put it in her rooms, which I've noticed are heavily guarded at all times."
   Darrel fought the urge to roll his eyes. "You're as cryptic as Alie. But I don't have the patience for you like I do for her, so you'd better start making sense quick."
   Willy had the nerve to look annoyed. "Tyla and Victoria are nearly inseparable. They are always seen together at public events, during court, and all meals. Victoria runs the occasional errand, but otherwise she is glued to the empress's side. It's gotten to the point where there are rumors that they're in a relationship."
   Thinking of the way Victoria had rubbed herself all over him, Darrel shuddered. "I can't speak for Tyla, but I'm pretty sure Victoria doesn't have an ounce of affection in her. There's no way she's in any sort of relationship."
   "I have to agree with you on that." Looking rather pale, he said, "But it doesn't change the fact that they are seen retiring together every night. I'll bet that's why the royal guards are posted at her rooms."
   "What does that have to do with the Phantom?"
   "You said you had a lead that he was in the Emperor's Hall, right? I'll bet he was snooping on Tyla."
   "Or trying to," Darrel nodded. "But she wasn't there. He had to have known that."
   "Maybe he was looking for something related to the royal family. Whatever it was, I'll bet he'd value a secret about the empress. If we find out what they're hiding, we could draw him out with that information."
   Slowly, Darrel grinned. That could work. The only problem was... "How do we get in?"
   "You forget," Willy said, rolling his eyes, "that I have the ability to transport myself between worlds. You think a few walls are going to keep me out of a room I want to get into?"
   "You can still teleport?!"
   "I can." His grin spread as wide as the Cheshire Cat's. "I can only travel long distances - like between worlds - in emergencies. But popping back and forth between rooms in the same building is nothing."
   "Alright. So the only question becomes when. We'll need to go in when we know it will be empty for a while."
   "The Ice Ball. It's in a little less than a week. Both Tyla and Victoria will have to be present the whole night. But I can slip away early, sometime just after midnight, and as long as you can get out of working a late shift, we can meet here."
   It sounded too easy. But Darrel wouldn't chance fate by mentioning it. He rose to his feet. "Then I'll see you here at midnight during the Ice Ball."
   "Use the balcony again, so no one sees you come over. If something goes wrong, I don't want you to get caught."
   He walked Darrel back to the balcony, and unsealed the magic that locked the door. "Don't get caught," he whispered as Darrel stepped into the cold night air.
   Darrel winked. "Never." Then with a magically powered jump, he returned to the rooftops and became a shadow streaking across them once again.