The Wanderer's Mark: Book Three of Imirillia (The Books of Imirillia 3) Read Free Page B

Vestan are supposed to be out of Zarbadast!”
    “What sort of playacting is this?” Ammar asked as he grabbed Basaal’s shoulder and shoved him back into the wall. “What have you done with her?” he demanded. “Don’t pretend that you had nothing to do with it.”
    Before Basaal could say anything, a company of six Vestan came around the corner. Basaal shook himself free, stepping forward, ignoring Ammar.
    “What do you want?” he snapped at the assassins.
    “The emperor has ordered us to your apartments, Your Grace, to find the missing Aemogen queen.”
    Ammar followed Basaal with a glare so fierce that Basaal dared not look at him. As Basaal led the Vestan into his apartments—his palms wet, his eyes alert—he kept frantically counting the hours since Eleanor and Dantib had escaped. Would it be enough?
    “She was here, in this room, when I left.” Basaal said, pointing toward the open windowsill where they had sat together before her disappearance.
    The Vestan spread out wordlessly and began to canvass the chambers, paying attention to the slightest print on the rug or movement of a drape.
    “I swear it, Basaal,” Ammar hissed quietly. “If you had anything to do with putting Eleanor’s life in danger—”
    “Do you really think me capable of that?” Basaal turned and shot these words back at his brother. “You think that after all my efforts, I would let her go? That I would be such a fool?”
    Ammar did not reply, but Basaal’s performance had done little to alter the expression on his face.
    The next several minutes passed by in a blur, a blur composed of motions so slow he felt he were pacing at the bottom of the ocean, fighting a heavy weight against every limb. It took no more than a few minutes for the Vestan to take their search into the bedchamber. A few members of Basaal’s honor guard entered the room to report the progress of the search. Among them stood Zanntal. Being careful not to look in his direction, Basaal listened intently, arms folded, staring at the floor.
    “Nothing has yet been found inside the palaces,” the guard said as he reported. “There is no evidence to show if it was an escape or an abduction. Should we begin to search the city?”
    During the report, Basaal had looked up once towards Zanntal. The soldier had stood, serious-faced, quiet. But, when he caught Basaal’s eye, the side of his mouth lifted into an almost imperceptible smile.
    She’d gotten out. Basaal hoped his internal relief appeared in the form of external frustration. “Search the city—” Basaal began.
    Then another Vestan came into the room. “That will not be necessary,” he said. “We have found two tunnels leading from the bedchamber.”
    Basaal waved his guard away with a flick of his wrist as he turned to face the assassin. He knew that there were three escape routes from his bedchamber. So, the question was which did they find?
    “One door opens from a back room,” the Vestan said. “We are tracking it. A second was found under—”
    Basaal felt a rush of anxiety and his mouth twitched.
    “—found under a bureau in the small corridor. Are there any others?”
    “Yes,” Basaal said. His mouth felt dry as he answered. “There is a third passage.”
    The Vestan’s eyes gleamed, and he bowed. “Please,” he said, holding up his hand for Basaal to lead the way.
    Wordlessly, Basaal stepped past the assassin. He had spread a map out on the table, scattered notes across its surface, and now walked past it with all the disinterest he could muster. “There is a third way to leave these chambers,” he said, “from the garden.”
    Basaal stepped down into his garden and through the patterns of red blooms and grasses. “There,” he said as he pointed to the back wall. “You will find a wanderer’s mark carved into the stone, indicating an escape route directly over the wall,” he explained. “Though, I doubt that anybody could have used it.”
    “Why not?” It was Ammar who