After the Fall(63)
This last thought sickened her, making her tremble. She glanced around in self-conscious desperation and told herself to get it together, or someone might notice how freaked out she seemed.
Not too far off, she spotted a signpost with the name Alle Mura and made a quick decision to go into the narrow alleyway. The back lots of warehouses lined one side of the alley; a few had stables, where horses and carts were stored at night. For the moment, the place seemed quiet, empty of all but a stray cat or two. Along the opposite side, scraggly, leafless vines covered a broken brick wall, and Gigi stopped her horse for a moment to peer over the top, trying to see despite the deepening gloom. It looked like a body-shop yard, filled with spare wheels and wagon parts, and Gigi decided it might be just the place to hide until the streets emptied of the evening crowds. She found the gate and led her horse inside to wait amid the debris, sheltered by the dark.
After a half hour or so, Gigi heard — very faintly — the sounds of trumpets, followed by the beating of drums. From the palace? Did it have something to do with what was happening to Magnus?
The drumbeats continued, pounding, pounding. She leaned against the wall, listening in fear.
• • •
Another hour passed, or so Gigi estimated. The city seemed quieter, so she left her hiding spot and ventured down the dark alley, leading her horse deeper into the city. She walked several minutes until she reached a crossroad to a broad avenue, the Via di Roma, which was well lit by street lanterns.
The palace couldn’t be far away. Keeping to side streets, she moved parallel to the avenue, until she recognized a big church that overlooked the palace’s southern grounds. Growing excited, she led her horse down a road intersecting the main thoroughfare and suddenly saw stone walls with elaborately carved capstones.
Was this … ? Could it be … ?
Gigi looked up and down the Via di Roma, searching for soldiers or Honorius’s thugs, but only two common-looking people were in sight, and they had their backs to her, heading away.
She led her horse across the avenue to a side road well away from lanterns, following the walls until she reached an area were the stones were broken, a tumbledown area of overgrown vegetation, a long-forgotten place — her place! After tying off her horse, she climbed onto the saddle for a better look. It was the garden, her secret hideaway, her way in.
Sliding Magnus’s sword and dagger into her belt, she hitched herself onto the wall, then silently dropped over the other side. The garden looked desolate without the tangle of leaves, flowers, and scented herbs, but the weed-strewn path was easy to follow, and soon she found the old bench, the columns, and poor Venus, the statue trapped in a frozen pond, icicles hanging from her delicate arms and head.
Reaching the arched entry, Gigi pulled out her small blade and kept it in front of her as she crept, phantom-like, from shadow to shadow, moving through the grounds toward the palace, toward Magnus. As she neared the outer buildings, Gigi saw sentries everywhere, and wondered how she could avoid them. Slinking back and forth across the grounds, just out of sight, she watched for an opening, a way inside the wing where Honorius had his apartments.
Time dragged as she scanned the perimeter, looking for anything, growing more and more desperate with the delay. Finally, wandering farther than she had previously, her gaze fell on a familiar sight — the kitchen, her old prison — and the beginnings of a plan took root.
With dread, she slipped into the kitchen garden, her hands trembling as she let herself inside the unlocked door. The familiar smell of freshly baked bread brought back evil memories, and she fought her revulsion, focusing instead on her goal. The main room and sleeping quarters were quiet, the fire banked and waiting for slaves to begin stoking it well before dawn. There was some commotion in adjacent rooms, work being done, but Gigi had expected this. The palace kitchens never completely shut down.
Moving quickly, Gigi entered the large storage closet where clean servants’ garments were kept. She pulled off her cloak, heavy boots, and wool tunic and hid them on a back shelf, then dropped a coarse, burlap shift over her head. She tied on a belt, then started to tuck Magnus’s blades into it, but one slipped from her grasp and fell, clanging loudly on the tile floor.
Shit! She gathered it up, then slung her flute and sword over her shoulder. She tossed on a bulky palla, hoping it wasn’t too unusual to wear for service on chilly winter nights.
Gigi started for the door, then heard footsteps on the other side. To her horror, they stopped. Holding her breath, she grabbed the hilt of a dagger and waited.