Hidden Commander

We crested a ridge, and the broad valley opened before us. The road beneath our wheels was well kept as it should be, leading straight to Ennis. I halted the carriage. Karina sat beside me, reins in hand; I’d been teaching her to drive.

“That’s Ennis in the distance,” I said, pointing toward the walled city where two rivers cut their way south. “The Trib and the Miz meet inside the walls to form the Greater Miz. At their joining rises the bluff where the Royal Palace stands. Behind it are the Academy and the Great Library.”

I guided her gaze as I spoke. “Two bridges span the Miz on the eastern side. The Royal Bridge runs straight to the palace. The smaller one, delicate-looking, leads to the Academy. On the western side, a single wide bridge reaches the aristocrats’ mansions, shut off by walls and gates. Beyond the gates live their servants and retainers; below them, the merchants’ quarter and the docks. Opposite the warehouses, across the river, lie the slums, climbing up to rows of modest homes.

“A broad road runs from the east gate to the Royal Bridge and the Merchants’ Bridge. It’s lined with temples, ending at the Adventurers’ Guild. Behind it, the Lesser Library sits tucked among the houses. And at the far northern wall, beneath the curtain towers, lie the King’s Guard barracks.”

I paused, drawing breath. “Did you get all that?”

“Yes,” Karina said simply.

Dale leaned out of the carriage. “What Julia failed to mention is how high the bridges are above the water or how she enjoys decorating passing barges with the contents of her stomach.”

“Very funny, Dale,” I said dryly.

“Oh, and don’t go downwind of the docks,” Sheila added. “You’ll lose your stomach there too.”

I shot her a look. “You as well, Sheila.”

She only laughed. “I was joking. It isn’t that bad.”

They were teasing, I knew, because the end of the journey was finally in sight. The last couple of weeks had passed without trouble, and like them I was eager to finish this quest. With luck, I’d be on another far from the city before Lady Ameline returned. I had no desire to linger under her attention.

I spurred the horses on, and we rolled down into the valley past farms, manors, and orchards heavy with blossom. Shrines dotted the roadside, most of them dedicated to Hiladora. Farmers prayed to her without knowing the truth, that they prayed to an Ancient. They might just as well have prayed to Karina, sitting beside me, for she was one too. Hiladora’s true name had been Hilda Daws, once Wilhemena’s assistant, who had remained in the bunker with the others.

The road soon split into three: one north, one south, and one straight to the city gates.

“The roads are certainly busy,” Karina remarked as we passed a wagon groaning under a mountain of barrels.

“It’s worse on market days,” I told her. Well to be precise the day before market day was when the roads clogged. Market day itself was when the city turned into a maze of noise, coin, and opportunity. The best time to get robbed by thieves. The licensed ones, at least those of the Thieves’ Guild. Unlicensed thieves ended up in alleys with their throats cut. The slums were different. They belonged to the Gutter Runners gangs who extorted food and coin, who took pleasure in cruelty, especially against women. Yet sometimes the slum folk fought back. I had once stood with them one girl, against more than two dozen Gutter Runners. Armed with nothing but a bone knife. I was certain I would die. But I had resolved to take as many as I could with me. At the last moment, Lord Casta had found me. At first he was stern, demanding to know why I had faced them alone. I told him: the gang had stolen food from a band of slum children. It wasn’t even fresh food just scraps from an innkeeper, gifted to a Street Mother who had shared it with them. The Runners had cut her down for it, a knife in her gut. I’d seen it happen, and something inside me had broken. I couldn’t let it stand. Casta had listened. He spoke with the Street Mother herself, even healed her wound. Then he turned to me and asked if I would join the Order. I said yes without hesitation not for escape from the slums, but because at last, I had a purpose.

We drew closer to the gates, falling in line behind the wagons and carts waiting to get in. I had no patience for the wait I just wanted to be rid of the heads but entry should be easier with Lady Ameline’s safe conduct. Karina lifted my scope to her eye. I’d left the rifle behind in the bunker it was far too dangerous to carry in this world but I’d kept the scope. She studied the city through it. Even from here, two landmarks dominated the skyline: the palace perched high on its bluff, and, closer, the tall spire of Hiladora’s temple. Once, that spire had filled me with awe. Now that I knew what it truly was, the wonder had faded. Karina had told me it wasn’t a sacred tower at all but a disguised radio mast ancient magic, hidden in plain sight. She insisted on calling it technology, but to me it was still magic, no less mysterious than Sheila’s sorcery.

“Gods, those walls must be at least twenty metres high,” Karina said, lowering the scope.

“I know. The walls are as thick as they are tall,” I replied.

We inched forward, the line creeping along. My patience wore thin. “What’s the hold-up?” I muttered.

Karina heard me. “Is this delay usual?”

“Not often. If it drags on too long, we’ll have to camp outside.”

“Oh, I see. The gates close at night?”

“When the horn sounds,” I said. “They don’t open again until dawn.”

“Hopefully we’ll be inside before then.”

I noticed the faint glow of her earwig yellow. She was recording what she saw, sending it back to the bunker. Once, that would have worried me. But most of the Ancients cared little for the outside world. To them, it was too primitive to bother with.

The line shuffled forward, bringing us closer. Karina leaned forward, eyes fixed on the gate: two massive round towers flanking a set of doors wide enough for only two wagons abreast.

The carriage door opened, and Sheila leaned out. “Problems?”

“Yes,” I said tightly. “It’s taking far too long.”

She hopped lightly down from the step the carriage was barely moving anyway. “I’ll go and take a look.”

In her orange academy robes, Sheila would have no trouble. The Academy commanded respect in this city.

Sheila returned, her face expressionless. Her look said everything I needed to know.

“Plumes?” I asked.

“Yep,” she replied.

I let out a sigh it explained the delay. There were three types of guards in the city: the King’s Guard, answerable to the King or someone like Lady Ameline; the Eyes, the watch responsible for the city streets and feared by slum dwellers; and the Plumes, soldiers stationed along the walls as part of the Kingdom’s official army. The Plumes and adventurers had a long history of antagonism. Plumes had beaten up some novice adventurers. In retaliation, higher-level adventurers had hunted down the offending soldiers. It nearly escalated into open war, forcing the King to intervene. The guild had to pay damages, and the Plumes were censured and fined for brawling. A fragile peace now held, but incidents still flared up. It looked like the Plumes were taking out their frustrations on those waiting to enter the city.

“Sheila, can you get Lady Ameline’s safe conduct from my bag?” I asked.

I waited while Sheila retrieved the safe conduct.

“What’s this other thing?” she asked, holding up the documents my safe conduct and an envelope.

“An invitation to Lady Ameline’s mansion.” My face flushed I hadn’t mentioned that. Not something I wanted advertised.

The door on the other side of the carriage opened, and Dale leaned out. “I don’t know whether to be sorry for you or jealous. Oh whatever you do, don’t eat or drink.”

“Very funny, Dale,” I muttered.

“What’s this about not eating or drinking?” Karina asked.

“Lady Ameline had a dinner party,” I explained. “She invited several nobles plotting against the Kingdom and poisoned them. Apparently, she got their confessions before they died.”

“That’s very Borgias,” Karina said, nodding. “They killed rivals to cement their hold on power.”

“I don’t know who the Borgias were,” I admitted, “but Lady Ameline did what she had to protect the throne.” I wasn’t sure why I was defending her. This wasn’t my homeland, and the king wasn’t my liege lord.

We rolled closer. I could see the Plumes ahead and, curiously, a King's Guard in his armour propped against a tower, idly picking dirt from his fingernail with a knife. He looked bored. Seeing him there made me hopeful we might get through with only a minor fuss at least, not a full-on fight. The Plumes wore conical helmets with red-dyed horsehair plumes, chainmail beneath polished breastplates. Spears jutted from their hands no real threat to an ex‑knight like me or to Dale. Sheila could have vaporised them with a gesture of her magic, but I didn’t want that kind of trouble at the city gate. We had to deliver the heads and get our coin. A couple of wagons had been pulled to the roadside, merchants unloading while Plumes watched. I guessed the choicest goods would be “confiscated.” It wasn’t too much of a stretch to think our heads might be treated the same sold to collectors for a high price. I wasn’t about to let that happen. That was our money. The wagon in front of us edged into the tunnel behind the gate. A Plume stepped in front of our carriage, hand raised. For a second I was tempted to drive straight over him. The guild badge on our carriage meant they’d be looking for trouble.

“Open up for inspection!” the Plume barked.

More Plumes converged, hands drifting toward hilts or levelling spears. Yep, itching for trouble, and we were the target. I leapt down from the carriage; my movement made them flinch back.

“The first idiot to draw their sword will be answering to Lady Ameline!” I called, hand on my own blade while the other waved the safe conduct. “This is her safe conduct!”

“Lying scum,” one Plume spat.

Another lunged for the document.

“Try that and you lose your hand!” I warned.

Sheila stepped out on one side and Dale on the other. Dale’s hand went to his sword; Sheila gripped her staff, eyes cold and ready. The gate held its breath.

The Plumes exchanged uneasy glances. Challenging an adventurer was one thing but tangling with a mage was something else entirely. The King’s Guard sauntered over, suddenly more animated than when he’d been leaning against the wall.

“What’s going on here?” he asked.

“We’re about to detain these dangerous individuals!” a Plume barked.

“I have a safe conduct from Lady Ameline,” I said calmly.

“It’s a fake,” one Plume sneered. “The Lady wouldn’t associate with adventurer scum like this.”

“Lady Ameline said to call on her aid if I had trouble at the gate,” I countered.

“Lady Ameline isn’t here,” the Guard said flatly.

“I know. We met her on the road. She issued this to me.” I lifted the safe conduct. She must have anticipated trouble at the gate.

“Let me see that,” the Guard said.

Reluctantly, I handed it over. He studied the seal for a heartbeat, then slammed a mailed fist into the nearest Plume. “You oaf! You really want to hang? You are impeding an agent of the Lady!”

The Plumes stepped back, muttering under their breath.

“Go,” the Guard said, waving them off. “Unhindered. Into the city.”

I climbed back onto the carriage, relief washing over me. The gates opened, and we rolled smoothly into the bustling streets beyond.

On the other side of the gates, a broad road stretched ahead almost three times the width of the gate. Buildings lined either side, some with large shuttered windows that served as store counters. The air was thick with smells: fresh bread mingled with the sharp tang of horse piss. Noise filled the street as vendors called out to passers-by, extolling the freshness of their wares. Stalls with brightly coloured canvas roofs crowded the edges of the road, and wagons laden with goods rolled steadily to and from the gate. The road ran straight to the King’s Bridge at the far end, where it split and curved north and south. Nearly all the wagons were heading south, across the lower bridge high above the Greater Miz, toward the warehouses on the far side of the river. Our carriage followed a wagon past the stores and stalls. Karina’s eyes darted from one scene to the next.

“I never thought it would be this busy,” she said. “Do all the streets look like this?”

“The Broad Way is even busier on market days,” I told her. “On those days, you can hardly move. Purse snatchers are everywhere.”

“Purse snatchers?” she asked, leaning closer. “Really? People just… steal?”

“From the Thieves Guild,” I explained.

“You have a Thieves Guild?” Karina’s eyes widened. “That’s… real?”

“Yes,” I said with a sigh. “They extort money from shopkeepers and cut purses for coins. Occasionally, they rob wealthier homes, though guards or magic protects most of those. The academy earns a lot helping defend them. Getting inside and taking something is a mark of skill. Only two places are off-limits: the academy and the palace. Nobody wants to anger the mages, and getting into the palace, is… well, impossible.”

Karina tilted her head. “Has anyone ever tried? Robbed the palace?”

“Only one I know of,” I said, a small grin tugging at my lips. “She hit both the palace and the academy in the same night.” Pure Miska she thrived on the challenge.

“Oh,” Karina said, a spark of recognition in her voice. “Miska… that’s your friend?”

I raised an eyebrow at her perception. “Miska… I’m not sure how to define her. Possessive, mostly.” I let out a sigh. “When we get to the guild, you’ll hear people calling me ‘Miska’s Wife.’ It’s not true it’s just an inside joke. Not meant to be malicious, but that’s Miska.”

Karina leaned back, still studying the passing shops and wagons. “So she could have been the thieves Guildmaster… but she didn’t?”

“Nope,” I said. “She chose the wandering life with the Griffon’s Wing instead.”

Karina nodded thoughtfully, eyes tracing the road ahead. “Seems like an exciting life,” she murmured. “Dangerous, but exciting.”

I turned my attention back to the road, letting her curiosity colour the scene around us.

The temple of Hiladora loomed ahead on the left an imposing structure of marble. Tall columns rose to a pointed roof, steps led up to massive black-painted doors, and behind the gleaming façade, a tall spire pierced the sky. I now knew this spire was what Karina called a radio mast.

“That’s the temple of Hiladora,” I said to Karina, thinking of the times that I’d gone inside to pray. I now knew those prayers would never be answered. The one I had been praying to was an Ancient, like Karina. I might as well have been praying to her. Though she would hate the comparison or being called a god. She didn’t even like being called an Ancient; she preferred technologist.

Karina clucked. “No imagination that girl. She’s plagiarised Greco-Roman architecture.”

I didn’t understand a word of that, but I recognised criticism when I heard it. Her mocking tone left no doubt she disapproved of Hilda Daws’ ideas.

In front of the temple, an Eye in leather armour and a pot-shaped iron helmet stood flustered, holding a pole with two curving arms like a pitchfork without the points. A short sword hung at his waist, and a whistle dangled around his neck. Half a dozen merchants surrounded him, one gesticulating angrily.

“Someone had his purse cut,” I said to Karina. “The Eye can’t chase thieves he hasn’t seen. All he’d get is roughed up in some alley.” I glanced at her. “There are places you shouldn’t go alone definitely not the slums. You’d be lucky to come out with your clothes and your virginity intact.”

“Eye?”

“It’s the word for a watchman. But don’t say it to their faces, or you could end up locked in a cell, chained to a wall.”

“Consider myself warned,” Karina said. “And you?”

“I grew up in the slums, so I know the ins and outs. Besides, slum dwellers know it’s unwise to pick on an adventurer unless they have superior numbers. Some adventurers come from the slums.” I paused. “That doesn’t apply to the Gutter Runners, though. They’re the true scum. The Thieves Guild might hesitate to rob an adventurer. The price is always higher than what’s in their purse. But the Gutter Runners don’t care, which is why most of them don’t last long.”

We continued down the Broad Way. Ch