Keeper of Wisdom: Fatal Empire Book Two

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

I knew better than to go to the temple district. Zamir was an arrogant noble, eager to make a name for himself within his clan. He would never consider pandering to Tahlia’s merchant-class family by having a temple wedding. Most imperial nobles stubbornly ignored the existence of the Thousand-Faced goddess, despite her popularity among the lower classes. No, Zamir would have a purely secular ceremony, most likely at his own property in the city. He had taken Tahlia days before the wedding under the guise of hospitality, but it was obvious to anyone who had met Zamir that Tahlia had become his prisoner. He would avoid having her out in public as much as possible and keep her within his own domain to avoid complications.

I wove through the city streets, my eyes constantly moving for signs of the city guard or any of Admon’s servants running an errand. I sweated beneath the hood of my cloak and forced myself to maintain a casual pace. I seemed to meander, with no real destination in mind, stopping frequently to inspect the stalls of various merchants in the marketplace. The familiar scent of freshly baked berry tarts reminded me of Tahlia with a pang. These pauses allowed me the opportunity to glance over my shoulder for any potential followers. My path took me steadily toward the richer part of the city where the nobles’ manses were located, but I had to clear the marketplace first.

The streets were crowded with commoners and servants, eager to complete their errands and move on with their day. The air was filled with a babel of voices as merchants hawked their wares and customers haggled. It was still too early for any nobles to be up and about, which was something. At least I didn’t have to contend with over-protective guards and litter bearers in the press of bodies. Every time I caught sight of a member of the city guard in the crush, I made sure to avert my hooded face, my heart pounding in my chest.

At the center of the market, I paused. A large stone pillar jutted from the cobblestones. This was where official news from the imperial throne was posted for all to see. For those who could not read, some enterprising commoner was usually around to decipher the postings in return for a few coins. The area around the pillar was always a bit crowded, but today it struck me as busier than usual.

“They haven’t caught the murderer yet, have they?” I heard a woman demand in a huffy voice. I found myself pausing to listen.

“I couldn’t see anything new about it, dear, other than the poster,” a man replied in a mild-mannered tone.

“If they had caught him, they would have said so,” the woman insisted. “A noble gets murdered in his own house, and the killer gets away… We’ll all be murdered in our beds!”

“Now, dear, I don’t think we have that much to worry about. Any noble is bound to have enemies. I hardly think—”

“A knife-wielding maniac is loose in the city, and you don’t think we have anything to worry about?” I winced as the woman’s voice rose to a shriek.

“Ah, perhaps I should try to get to the front again and have another look,” the man hastily replied.

I stood on tiptoe and peered over the shoulders of the gathered crowd as a sinking feeling formed in the pit of my stomach.

My own face stared back at me from a large poster on the pillar.

It was a fair rendering, made in full color. Hazel eyes looked out at the gathered crowd from a lean face, surrounded by shoulder-length, dark brown hair. My full name was emblazoned in large letters above the image, dispelling any excuse I might have conjured of the likeness being a coincidence.

Raziel ben Moriah al-Zamad: Wanted for the murder of Admon Zamadi al-Tahlid.

I slipped into the crowd behind me, before I managed to betray myself.

Tashidi had warned me, but I had not wanted to believe it. In a way, it was ironic. If the city guard had known Admon’s death was related to the nobles’ secret assassins, the whole thing would have been hushed up. But since his foster-son had been witnessed fleeing the scene of the crime with blood on his hands, it had become a public affair. I shook my head to myself from beneath my hood. How had everything gone so wrong?

After the scene in the marketplace, I was even more cautious approaching the noble district. I resisted the urge to hesitate as I passed Admon’s manse with my hood drawn low. A pair of somber-faced guards with black armbands stood outside the front door. Even though I recognized them, I didn’t dare reveal my presence. The curtains of the household had all been dyed charcoal in mourning. I briefly wondered whether Admon’s funeral had been held yet. I bit my lip against the threat of tears as I realized I would not be able to attend and made myself continue walking.

The streets were less busy here. I definitely stood out more with my cloak and raised hood in the humid morning air, which carried the perfumed scent of the nobles’ gardens. I briefly wondered whether I should have invested in some kind of disguise, but I had been too worried about Tahlia to take the extra time. I forced myself to walk with a confident sense of purpose, opting for boldness over stealth.

If I encountered anyone who tried to stop me, I was confident I could deal with them. Perhaps my newfound reputation as a ‘knife-wielding maniac’ could even be used to my advantage. But I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

The manses were arranged in blocks according to house and clan. Once I located the Fakrati block within the Zhahadi clan, it would be easy enough to pick out which of the manses was hosting a wedding. Then I could disappear from the streets and approach the household from another angle using stealth.

Beyond that, I had no plan.

Identifying the manses of the Zhahadi clan was a simple matter. The marble facings of the sprawling complexes bore the winged serpent crest I had seen on Zamir’s palanquin outside the shop of Tahlia’s parents the first time Tahlia and I had met. It felt like a lifetime ago.

I continued without pause through the stretch of Zhahadi manses, which cast the street in shadow. To any casual observer, I had no interest, but my eyes were busy beneath the hood of my cloak. I turned a corner and continued toward the edges of the Zhahadi clan’s domain. The Fakrati house was still a young one, and would be farther from the heart of the clan’s power and wealth. After what seemed like an eternity, I saw flags bearing the Fakrati’s green and gold standard.

As I had expected, Zamir’s manse was easy enough to spot. Bolts of gold and cream silk hung in buntings from the front windows of the manse in an ostentatious display. The front doors were flung open to admit a steady stream of servants bearing additional decorations and food for the wedding. According to tradition, the ceremony would take place at noon.

My target found, I ducked around a corner into a side street. I waited in the shadows for several moments to make certain no one followed. Once I was reassured I was alone, I continued down the empty side street, which I calculated would take me to the area that backed onto Zamir’s manse.

Breaking into a noble’s domain in broad daylight was no easy feat. Thanks to my training with Admon and Tashidi, I had plenty of practice at such things. Still, the stakes this time were much higher than a potential reprimand from my foster-father for allowing myself to get caught.

I reached the other end of the side street and peered around the corner.

I could see the high walls that surrounded Zamir’s manse. I had no doubt I could climb them, but the guards patrolling the perimeter might be a problem. I ducked back into the side street to consider.

Admon had always been fond of hiding in plain sight. If he were here, he would likely have us dressed in servant garb, which would allow us to slip in among the chaos of the wedding preparations. Knowing Admon, he would have probably even acquired a copy of the blueprints to Zamir’s manse, so we would know where we needed to go.

But if Admon were here, I would not be wanted for murder, with my face posted in the market square.

I would have to climb the walls.

I knew it would be safer to wait for the cover of darkness, but I didn’t dare. The guests would be arriving in a matter of hours, and once the ceremony was complete, Zamir would be eager to steal Tahlia away on her own to take what was owed to him as her new husband. I felt my hands ball into fists at the thought.

It was likely he had asserted his rights as her betrothed already. I had already walked in on him trying to force himself on Tahlia once before. And Tahlia had been enjoying Zamir’s ‘hospitality’ for at least two days now…

My stomach churned, and a hot surge of anger flooded through me. I knew Tashidi would chide me for allowing my emotions to get the best of me. But Tashidi was not here. I slammed my fist into the hard stone of the wall beside me to vent some of my frustration. Perhaps if I had gone after Tahlia right away, instead of going to Admon for help…

Admon would still be dead, but at least Tahlia would be safe. For a moment, the fact that I had managed to fail my foster-father and Tahlia both almost crushed me with despair. I shook my stinging right hand and massaged it with my left.

I suddenly caught sight of the silver crescent scar on my left palm—the mark of my vow to the goddess. A strange sense of peace washed over me.

What was done was done. All I could do now was pick up the pieces. I peered around the corner at the wall surrounding Zamir’s estate once more. The guards’ booted feet echoed a steady rhythm on the cobblestones as they worked their patrol.

I allowed the sense of calm to envelop me and focused on finding my way in.