Yoko went the temple the next day, early in the morning to take her penance. Rather she do it willingly than have father drag her there. He had not spoken to her and she had done her best to avoid his presence. She kneeled in the temple with the other penitents and pretended to pray for forgiveness. Angelo came out and watched her. Not obvious. Most of the folk in the temple were unaware of his presence in the shadow of the naive. But she knew he was there, staring at her. She stayed for an hour, a decent length of time to beg for absolution, then rose stiffly to her feet and hurried down the gleaming central aisle towards the doors. No one stopped her. She had held terror with each step she took that Sinakha would appear out of the shadows with plans to escort her to the Prophet. She was out of the doors and down the steps with a sense of victory in her heart.
She had no desire to go back to the dormitory where Father might corner her and give her one more lecture on good behavior, or tell her that he had decided to try and force the marriage upon her. So she went to the river and spent the day along the docks, browsing the dozens of import shops that boasted distant and exotic goods. When Sheela had what they needed for their plan to work, she would send someone to contact Yoko.
With nightfall, she had no choice but to return home. There was no note waiting under her door. Disappointed, she curled up with a pillow before her small hearth and stared into the flames. Father did not come to berate her, which clearly told the extent of his upset. If he was not talking to her, then he was deeply disappointed. She was sorry to hurt him. She would be sorry for the hurt to come, the disgrace of a daughter who committed sacrilege against the church and treason against the state.
She slept on the floor before the fire, and woke with a stiff neck and a growing sense of expectation. She bathed and washed her hair, twined it in a braid down her back and dutifully marched to the temple for her second day of penance. There was a coach outside the steps of the temple and pair of guards who clustered together in the cool morning to smoke outside it. They wore neither the livery of the temple or the Dragon Guard. It took her a moment to recognize the colors of Judas. She frowned, and was half way up the steps before one of the guards called to her from below.
"Lady. You dropped something."
She looked down, startled and the man trotted up the steps, bent several steps below her and made to pick up a silken handkerchief. It was not hers. He handed it to her anyway, whispering as she leaned in to take it. "Her majesty prays within. Wait for a sign." Then he was bowing to her and returning to his comrade. She took a breath, balled the handkerchief in her hand and continued up the steps. Why had not the princess contacted her before this? Had something happened? She was not prepared.
Thoughts spinning, she walked down the aisle, past the faithful followers of the High God, eyes scanning the temple for sight of Sheela. There, at the front row of benches, a cluster of richly dressed women sitting with clasped hands and heads bowed in supplication. The princess and her ladies in waiting. Being a penitent, Yoko was not allowed the dubious comfort of the wooden benches and moved to the space just in front of the first row where sinners might kneel and beg mercy of the god. She settled before the group of women, taking her accustomed position. Behind her, she heard one lady in waiting whisper to another in tones loud enough to reach her ears but no further.
"How unfortunate that his majesty, king Haden has chosen to leave for Judas on the morrow. Our lady will surely miss Meta-Rikan."
"Yes. How unfortunate."
Yoko's eyes snapped open. So that was it. Had King Haden heard of his wife's visit to Schneider's cell? Was that what prompted this early departure? Goddess, please let Sheela's men have gotten the keys.
"I suppose," the same lady who had spoken said. "That her majesty will have to accomplish all the tasks she hoped today, for there will be no further chance."
Yoko took a breath. It was now then. There would be a sign. What sign? She lifted her eyes to scan the shadows beyond the naive, looking for Angelo. Would he come and watch her penance today? Goddess hope he had more important things to do.
She waited, so tense her jaw hurt from clenching. Time passed with painful slowness. There was a rustle of silk behind her. The ladies prepared to rise, reaching for cloaks. One brushed against Yoko's back. A hand touched her shoulder, a voice whispered. "Don't you think you've prayed enough?" Then was gone.
Was she to leave with them? She rose to her feet, trailing out behind them, mixing with the lot of them as they paused at the end of the aisle to talk among themselves. A man cried out in rage in the last row, leaping at another who sat beside him. Blows were exchanged. The women squealed, clustering like a herd of frightened sheep against one another in their efforts to get away from the violence. Priests ran towards the combatants, Guards from the doors and from the interior of the temple did. A cloak was thrown over Yoko's shoulders. Fingers grasped her hand and pulled her desperately out of the huddled women and along the back of the temple. She ran, caught sight of Sheela's profile under a raised hood and made haste to lift her own. The Princess halted not far from the door they sought, lifting a hand to warn silence. The screams of the women at the front of the temple were loud enough to wake the dead. The door in front of them opened, and guards ran out, looking for the disturbance. They passed the two hooded women without a second glance. Sheela and Yoko slipped behind them and into the door.
Down the hall and to the door leading down the cellar. "They'll break up the fight and come back. We won't have time." Yoko hissed.
"Trust me. There will be another diversion." She produced a key from under her cloak and inserted it into the lock. Yoko grabbed a lantern from a hook on the wall and proceeded the princess down the stairs, through the basement and down the second flight. Almost to his cell. Sheela inserted the key, turned it in the lock and pushed the door open. The two of them burst into the cell, alight with fear induced adrenaline.
And there Rushie was, curled on his side against the wall, not moving. Not even apparently conscious.
"Oh, goddess." Sheela cried.
Yoko moaned. It had never occurred to her, that they might get this far and fail, merely because they couldn't carry him out of the dungeon.
"Unlock the manacles." She snapped at Sheela, who looked as if she were about to start lamenting about his condition. She crouched beside him, as the Princess fumbled to insert the key in the locks about his wrists.
"Rushie!" she cried. "Wake up." She shook him. His lashes fluttered, but did not open. "Get up, Damnit." A hard slap to his cheek and he groaned, turning his head. Sheela had one hand free. He brought that to his face, half aware. How long had it been since they'd passed the guards? Three minutes? Five? When they went back up those stairs, would the guards be back at their station?
The other wrist was free, the chains hanging loose against the wall. She caught hold of his hand and hauled him upright. His eyes tried to focus on her, but there was a great deal of disorientation in their clouded depths. He half smiled at her, tried to reach out and touch her face. She would have nothing of it. She captured his face with her hands and hissed at him.
"Snap out of it! Goddamn you, snap out of it!"
"Yoko." The princess pleaded with her, eyes wide at the viscous tone in Yoko's voice.
"Get under his other arm." Yoko said, wedging a shoulder under his armpit and attempting to get him to his feet. Sheela pulled from the other side. They all swayed. Goddess, he was going to be more than they could handle on the stairs unless he regained some semblance of lucidity. They staggered to the door, out into the hall and into blackness. Yoko cursed.
"The lantern." She pressed him against the wall, with Sheela making sure he didn't just slide to the floor and ran back for the light. She came back, ready to take his weight again, and he waved a hand weakly at her.
"Give me a second." He murmured. "I'm okay -- just a little dizzy."
"We don't have a second." She glared desperately. The princess, still under his arm, met her gaze with huge worried eyes. Yoko pulled at him to get him to take the support she offered.
"Is this -- an official escape?" he asked and she hated the weakness in his voice. Damn Angelo for doing this to him.
"Shut up." She was out of breath already and imagining all the dire things that would happen if they were caught.
"Yes." Sheela said from his other side. "We have to hurry up the stairs before the guards come back. Oh, Goddess, I'm so glad you're alive."
"I don't feel alive." He muttered, then cursed when they reached the stairs and he saw the steep climb before them.
They began the ascent. He got stronger even as she seemed to lose stamina. They passed the first level and began to climb the last set of steps. Yoko pressed her ear to the door at the top, listening for the sounds of guards talking. There was nothing. She urged Sheela and Schneider onward. Nothing in the hall but a faint acrid smell.
"Something's burning." She turned to look back at the Princess, who shrugged from her position under Schneider's arm, with an innocent look on her face. At the final door leading to the temple, Sheela paused, extracting herself from Schneider with what Yoko was certain was a look of regret. She unfastened her cloak and underneath it there was another of similar color. The outer had seemed unusually long for her and was plain in color and ornamentation.
"Here." She put it about his shoulders, her hands lingering at his throat as she fastened it. She stared up at him, lips trembling and cried. "Please be safe."
"I saw your husband. He's not good enough for you."
Sheela's eyes welled with tears. Yoko rolled her own eyes and expelled a gust of air. "We don't have time for this." She hissed, grabbed at his arm and hauled him towards the door and away from Sheela. He followed her meekly enough, only stumbling a little. With the door open the smell of smoke was stronger. Everyone in the temple was crowded at the doors, looking outside. They crept along the edge of the wall until they reached the fringes of the crowd.
"What's burning?" Yoko whispered.
"My coach." The Princess answered. "Oh." She gasped, cringing back against Schneider, her eyes fixed across the crowd of people. Yoko followed her gaze and drew breath herself. Captain Sinakha, with several guards in his wake stalked towards the disturbance. She glanced up at Rushie, who was staring at the Basilica captain with hard, angry eyes, not bothering to hide his face at all. She jabbed an elbow in his side and he gasped, doubling in more pain than she had intended to give him. One remembered the bruises on his ribs and thought of cracked and broken bones. It was hard to recall that he did not at the moment have the power to heal the ills of his body.
"Through the crowd." Sheela whispered. "When you reach the steps, I'll make certain Sinakha has other things on his mind. Just go quickly."
Yoko nodded. Rushie was still holding his side. Impulsively Sheela leaned over and kissed his mouth while his face was on a level with hers. "Good luck."
Two hooded and cloaked figures slipped into the crowd, past guards with their attention fixed on a merrily burning coach at the bottom of the temple steps. Sheela's guard, along with temple guard were attempting to put it out. They parted from the anonymity of the crowd. Behind them, she heard Sheela's voice raised in consternation over the destruction of her carriage. Yoko cast a quick glance over her shoulder and saw the Princess shaking a finger in the face of captain Sinakha.
Her arm in his, they reached the street, heading away from the temple at as fast a pace as he could manage and not draw attention Her heart was beating so fast it felt liken to burst. Free. He was free. She could hardly believe the feat had been accomplished. Laughter wanted to bubble up in her throat, but the rational fear that very soon his presence would be missed and the whole of the city set in arms because of it, kept her excitement to a low simmer. She pressed against his side, as much to lend her support as to revel in the feel of him.
Neither said a word until the temple was a block behind them, only its spires showing above the roofs of more common buildings.
"I don't recall this part of the city." The cowl put his face in shadow. A few strands of pale hair trailed out where it fastened at his throat.
"It wasn't here last time you were. Thousands and thousands have come to live here since the Prophet came. The city grew to accommodate them."
"When did he come?"
"Not long after -- after Ansasla was destroyed."
"After I died, you mean?"
"Yes. He brought an army of followers. He said he had been told by the High God that Meta-Rikan was to be the new home of the faithful."
"He lied."
She peered up at his profile, a glimpse of straight nose and sensuous lips. He took in the whole of the new city; the quaint shops, the cobbled streets, the industrious folk who lived and worked here.
"I don't know what to believe anymore." She admitted quietly. "I used to think he was a good man."
"So did he. Maybe he still does. It doesn't make it so." There was rancor in his tone. A loathing that made his voice tremble and his fingers tighten on her arm. "Where are we going, Yoko?"
An excellent question. Her mind had been so intent on getting away from the vicinity of the temple that she just walked blindly. Sheela and she had talked about ways out of the city last night, but had not come up with an exact plan. They had both leaned towards the notion of using the river as a means of escape. Go by boat up to Judas where the hunt would not be as strong. Where Sheela had connections and might be able to help them eastward where Gara's forces were.
"To the docks. We'll find a boat to take us up river."
"Find one quick." He said. "He'll figure it out soon and be after me."
"Boats leave all the time for Judas. Every hour."
He stared ahead of them, down the road where a troop of royal guard marched down the center of the street. Even while she gaped, mind momentarily blanking, he veered her into the shadow of an awning, turning his head to look into the window of the shop that sported it.
"I hate this." He muttered, staring at a display of butchered meats.
"What?" she asked breathlessly.
"Having to hide from mere foot soldiers. God, I want these things OFF." He wrenched at the bracelets in frustration."
"We'll find a wizard in Judas who can break the spell." She promised.
He sniffed, glancing down at her as if she were the greatest of fools. "If I can't break it, do you think some warlock for hire can?"
"You're on the inside." She said. "You're not supposed to be able to break it."
"You don't understand these wards." He told her sullenly. "I don't understand them."
"C'mon." She pulled at his arm when the guard had passed down the street. "Maybe Gara or Arshes Nei can do it, when we find them."
"She's with him?" He asked.
Yoko pressed her lips, a tingle of -- something -- making her back go stiff. It was not, she told herself, jealousy. It was more a regret that any chance Gara might have had to win Arshes Nei's affection would be banished once the half elf knew Schneider was alive. It was concern for Gara that made her brows beetle and her teeth clench.
"Last I heard. She was going to help him hold the eastern boarder. She could be anywhere now." She let go of his arm and crossed her own under the folds of her cloak.
"You said she was still sad. Over me."
"Did I?" Yoko asked airily.
He lifted a brow at her, ghost of a smile touching his lips. He did not ask her more.
The smell of the docks announced the river long before they came within sight of its sluggish, brown waves. Vessels of every size rocked gently at dock. A few tall-masted ocean going vessels among a crowd of squatter river boats and fishing tubs. They needed to find out what vessel was soon to leave port for up river. She asked several wondering sailors, who seemed of the opinion that the river boat Bilge Rat , was very soon to head out of dock and make for northern ports.
"How appropriate." Schneider muttered, when they stood on the pier below the squat, dingy boat, watching her sparse crew scurry about the decks in preparation to depart. It stank. The stench was palatable and nauseating. There were crates of live animals on the decks. Chickens, pigs, sheep, all crowded into intolerably small spaces. One hated to imagine what was crammed below decks. If the situation had not been so desperate, time not so much against them, she might have suggested they find another ship to attempt passage on.
The captain of the Bilge Rat
"What by the fewking, puss filled sores of a dock whore, are you doing on my boat? I paid my freight tax, by the wilting tits of me mum. What more do you want?"
Yoko blinked. Schneider lifted both brows at the colorful imagery the man's words brought to mind.
"We're not tax collectors, sir." Yoko began.
"Then get the fewking hell off my boat. We've got fewking work to do."
"We -- we were hoping that we might buy passage down the river."
The captain gawked at her, his tiny, mis-matched eyes squinting to see under the shadow of her hood. He was as tall as she, and carried the weight of a man Schneider's height. It rested mostly in the great round stomach that protruded from the short, incredibly dirty vest he wore. It was hard to differentiate the smell of his boat, from that emanating from his pores. Yoko tried hard not to gag.
"This ain't no fewking passenger vessel. Have you got yer eyes in yer arse? This is a cargo boat, missy."
"We're in a dreadful hurry, and we were told you're about to leave port now."
"Fewking gossip mongers."
"Listen, you repulsive little toad." Schneider leaned forward, a good foot taller than the captain. "It is quite clear that this boat is not fit for human presence, but let us assume for the sake of argument that the both of us are gluttons for punishment and wish to indulge ourselves in the worst, most deplorable stench we can find -- that being your filthy tub -- what do you care if we've gold to pay and no particular problem with vermin and disease?"
The captain stared at him. Yoko tried to smile, but his smell turned the expression sour. It occurred to her that she might not have enough money on her person to tempt the smarmy little man. She had not left home anticipating this. She had not left home saying a word to Father. She had not even seen him. A twinge of guilt fluttered in her stomach over that.
"How much gold?" The captain finally asked, greed overcoming his aversion to their presence. She reached for the pouch at her belt. It felt distressingly light. She emptied the contents into her palm. The captain laughed scornfully. "There's not enough there for me to ship yer fewking pigs, much less yer lofty selves."
Schneider glowered, throwing back his cloak to free his arms, as if he had plans of taking the grimy little man by the neck and forcing a passage from him. Something clinked faintly in the cloak. The captain's eyes lit and he leered at Schneider.
"I knows the sound of gold tumbling, when I hears it. What do you have there?"
Schneider looked down at himself. Felt inside the cloak and found within an inner pocket a pouch that was by far more impressive than the one Yoko had produced. It was quite full of gold. Enough gold to tide even a princess over. Bless Sheela, even if she had kissed Rushie.
"Oohh, that's enough." The Bilge Rat's
"In your dreams." Yoko snapped, snatching the bag out of Schneider's hands. He had a decided lack of respect for the value of money, very seldom having to pay for anything in his role as conqueror and wizard. He either took what he wanted, or people gave it to him in hopes of gaining his favor. She counted out five coins and gingerly placed them in the dirty palm of the captain. "This is what we'll pay. It's too much, but we are in a hurry."
Thick fingers closed over the gold. Beady eyes shifted, to watch her secret the pouch on her person. He waved a hand towards the rear of the boat. "You can sleep below deck with the crew, if you don't mind close company." His eyes passed up and down Yoko lewdly.
"We'll sleep on the deck." Schneider told him.
The captain shrugged. "Suit yerselves. One bowl of gruel a day is all the fare we have on the Bilge Rat.."
"And wonderful stuff it is, I'm sure." Schneider muttered, when the captain abandoned them to yell at his crewmen to toss off lines and push the boat out from dock. They stood on the shifting deck, while the five or so men that manned the boat, hurried to do their jobs. There was a pile of canvas and coiled rope aft. Extra sail. It seemed by far a more inviting place than the horrors that no doubt existed below decks. They made their way to that simple haven and Schneider sat down with a sigh, favoring his right side. There was some slight privacy here, with the stacks of rope on one side and the side of the boat on the other.
Yoko sat down next to him, watching the shore begin to recede.
"Are you all right?" She asked, when he lay back and grunted in the process.
"Wonderful." He shut his eyes, folding his hands behind his head. The sunlight on his face revealed bruises under the dirt. There was a nasty cut above one dark brow. She brushed his bangs back to see it, and he slitted his eyes to look up at her. She frowned at him.
"Do you have broken ribs?"
"Probably."
"I'm sorry I jabbed you in the temple."
"You should be." He shut his eyes again. She sniffed, shifting the cloak to get a look at his side. He let her do it without protest. A great dark bruise marred the skin over his ribs. She ran her fingers lightly over muscle and bone and felt him shiver reflexively. Under the dirt and bruising, his smooth skin was tanned an overall light gold. There was a beautiful, lean symmetry to his body, battered or not, that drew her eye like a magnet. It had been so long since she had seen him in the sunlight, in anything but the dark of a dungeon cell, that she had to stare, while she had the chance and his eyes were closed. The sheer intensity of his presence, his beauty, was made more bearable by the blood.
She took her hands off him, flushing, shivering and crossed her arms under her cloak. Three breaths, four and she got her erratic pulse under control. He always did that to her. Always made her have to jealously guard her self-control. She tried to take her mind off him for the moment and worry about the future. Three, four days travel by river to Judas. Thanks to Sheela they had the gold to purchases horses and supplies. It would be easy to reach the eastern mountains. The only problem she could foresee was missing Gara on his way to Meta-Rikan. He was probably already on route. He would find out soon enough what been happening and hopefully figure out that they would try and reach him.
The boat settled down to a steady rocking on the waves, caught a wind in its sails and fought against the seaward current that wished to drag it southwest. The wind blew the stench towards the bow, and left the aft blessedly free of the foul odor.
"Father's going to be worried." She said quietly. He didn't respond. She looked down at him and gauged by his deep, even breaths that he slept. Good, she thought. He needed a peaceful, safe rest. She might have sought one herself, if the occasional speculative glances of the rivermen had not set her nerves on edge. She braced her back against a coil of rope and watched the river pass by.
It was full dark when Schneider opened his eyes. For a moment, he thought he was still in the cell and that the figure creeping towards him in the darkness was Angelo come to deliver more of his tortures. But there was a strong breeze and it carried the smell of fresh water with it and a hint of animal dung and the figure, when he opened his eyes and looked up at it, froze, like a thief caught in the act. Most likely it was. He remembered the boat and the swarthy crew and smiled up at the ragged, skinny man who crouched a few feet from the bed of canvas and rope they had made.
"Just -- just fetching a bit of rope." The riverman whispered, looked frantically about for a bundle of rope to grab and scurried off into the shadows of the deck. Schneider relaxed, as comfortable as he could recall being in -- a very long time. There was softness and warmth against his side. There was, now that he was awake enough to think about it, a hand resting across his chest and a knee tucked up over his thigh. Yoko snuggled close, her face hidden by her hood, the folds of her cloak draped over the both of them. The air was cool, tinged by winter's fast approach. That didn't bother him. At least it was open air. At least there was a sky over his head and stars that gleamed faintly in the darkness. There had been no stars in hell.
He did not know why he was here, alive and in the mortal world again. He did not know which power of hell, if it had been a power of hell at all and not some other indefinable source, had thrust him out of the Pit. He'd tried often enough himself, to no avail. The boundaries of hell were difficult to pierce. It worried him, the not knowing. It hinted of some plan that was not his own. It hinted at himself being a pawn in some other power's game. He did not enjoy being a pawn. He frowned up at the stars, wishing for answers that would not come.
All he got was a small sigh from Yoko and her shifting against him, restless in her dreams. He rested his cheek against the top of her head, valuing her peace and her rest more than the physical urge to discover the secrets of her body. Though she sorely tempted him with the warmth of her thigh across his and the slight curling of her nails on the skin of his chest, like that of a cat kneading in its contentment. As if at the moment he would be able, with his ribs complaining at every breath and his stamina surely far below its normal range. And all the other little reminders he had in body and mind of the Prophet's regard. Oh there was surely an account there that would be hell to pay when he got his power back. He dared Larz and all of the forces of Meta-Rikan and its southern alliances to stand in his way.
But, for the moment, that had to wait. For the moment, he was at the disadvantage. All he had was Yoko and her optimistic hope of reaching Gara. He would not endanger her with his notions of revenge. He hardly had the heart to tell her that her messenger had never reached the Ninja Master. That Angelo, the schemer, the master planner, would guess their goal and set forces in motion to intercept them. East was not the wisest course to follow, despite the help that resided there. But he would wait and see what Judas brought before he suggested another route.