Firebrand

Chapter 693: On the Trail

On the Trail

Martel stared at his legion prefect in alarm. “The emperor? Don’t tell me we’ve lost the most important prisoner in the entire gods-damned Empire!”

“No, captain, the emperor is where he should be. I have seen him with my own eyes,” Lara replied.

“Who knows the prince is gone?” Eleanor asked.

“Most of the guards in the Imperial wing. Two of their number were slain to allow his escape, so they are understandably angry, and they told others. I have forbidden them from spreading it further and engaged them in the search, but there is no sign of him in the palace,” Lara related at a rapid pace. “And all our searching will have alerted others that something is wrong.”

“If the delegates discover this, they’ll think we don’t have matters under control. And they’ll be right to think so,” Martel said, talking mostly to himself as he began walking in circles.

“Martel, come. We must examine his rooms,” Eleanor declared, and she set into motion, followed by the prefect and the captain. “How long has he been in the wind?”

“It took them half a bell, I would reckon, to fetch me, and the same for me to arrive here. They spent a while before that searching for you both,” Lara considered. “And I arrived not long ago. But it is impossible to say how much time passed between his escape and the discovery. The bodies were not entirely cold, but the blood had dried on the floor. I would suspect it has been more than two bells already.”

“No point locking down the palace,” Martel mumbled. Four hours gave the scoundrel more than enough time to get out of the grounds. Sol’s Eye, he could be anywhere in the city by now! “But send word to keep all gates closed and the harbour until further notice. Nobody leaves the city.”

Stars bless competent subordinates, Martel thought. That just left a city of many hundreds of thousands to comb through for an expressionless young man with heavy eyelids and the potential to ruin all of Martel’s efforts for peace.

They reached the chambers that previously housed a prince. Two guards lay slain on the floor. Blood showed they had been attacked in the corridor and hauled inside the wing, where they still lay. “Both of them stabbed in the neck,” Eleanor remarked, kneeling down to examine the bodies. “That suggests two perpetrators striking at the same time, neither of them the prince. I doubt he has the skill to make such a move.”

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“So, a pair of trained warriors. Maybe mageknights, using empowered speed to kill the guards before they realise they are under attack,” Martel considered. “Prefects of the First Legion? None of the praetorian knights survived, except…” The unpleasant thought occurred to Martel that he might have to execute a man he once thought of as his closest friend.

“That is always possible, but let us not rush to judgement. It may blind us to the real culprits,” Eleanor warned him. “We need to speak with the other guards. Discover who walked these halls during the night.”

“Sirs, since you have arrived to take over the situation, I should leave. Wake up our spy and have him search for the prince,” Lara suggested.

“Yes. Go.” Eleanor nodded at the prefect, who hurried away.

“Could it be one of the delegates? Two mageknights and a skilled warrior among them.” Martel scratched his beard. “If so, they might be hiding him in their quarters.”

“We cannot search their chambers. It would be a breach of etiquette and alert them to our problem. We must wait until we learn more before we decide on any suspects.”

“Well, what should we do now?” Martel looked at her, feeling lost. He had never led a hunt for an escaped prisoner, and he had no idea how to best conduct it.

Eleanor exhaled, looking around. “We interrogate the sentinels. The servants afterwards. Hopefully, something will come to light, and we can continue from that.”

***

The guards proved of little help. None of them had seen anybody in the corridors around the time of the escape. Whether the attackers had been in the palace the whole time or come from without remained unanswered.

As the sun rose and the servants began their duties, Martel and Eleanor questioned them as well, and they had luck with one of the gardeners. Sleepless, he had noticed three shapes crossing the grounds in the dead of night. Unfortunately, distance and darkness prevented him from providing further details. Martel resisted the urge to shake him by the collar in an attempt to improve his memory, as it probably would not help; the man already looked terrified at being interrogated by the lord of the city and his right hand.

Once alone, they gathered their thoughts. “Three men fleeing. Two assailants and the prince,” Eleanor considered.

“So unless anybody from the delegation is missing, they came from outside.” Martel had hoped this was not the case. It would have been far easier to find the culprits among the representatives or their servants.

“Yes. Loyalists of some kind, probably with knowledge of the palace, since they avoided the guards. We have the prefects of the first legion under watch. Even if they slipped our spies, it will be telling if two of them disappeared to somewhere last night.”

“I assume Lara will gather such intelligence. What should we do meanwhile?” Martel felt restless. He was born of fire, ready to take action; slow collection of information and careful consideration of their next step did not come naturally to him.

“I will coordinate with Lara. You must remain here and continue to speak with the delegates on their own. Keep up pretence as if our plans proceed as expected. If the Faith responds to your message, you must also be ready to negotiate with them.”

Martel had already forgotten about that headache. The thought of handling such delicate talks without Eleanor did not thrill him, but the situation demanded that they divide their forces. “Very well. I will sleep first, and so should you. You’ll need your thinking to be straight.”

She exhaled. “I suppose. Goodnight, or rather, good morning.”

“Good morning to you too.” They separated, each seeking their bed.

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