Chapter 102: Entering The Palace

We climbed the last stretch of stairs toward the two doors. From a distance they had looked large. Up close they looked like they had been built for a giant’s house, towering slabs of blackened iron studded with spikes, each one wide enough to swallow a cart without scraping its sides.

A subtle wind howled against us, thin and cold, carrying a faint metallic taste. The area had gone dark. Not the soft dark of evening, but the heavy kind, as though the mountain had pulled a blanket over the sky. Even the crimson moonlight, which had followed us across the swamp, could not push through the clouds here.

’Even the moon does not want to look.’

I kept the thought to myself.

"Peter," Theodore whispered beside me, trying out the name we had agreed on. "I am fine. Perfectly fine. Just so you know."

"Your hand is shaking."

"It is a performance."

"It is a very convincing one."

"Thank you."

I almost smiled, then remembered who I was supposed to be, and let my shoulders sag a little. A frightened man does not smile at gates like these.

After passing the last of the stairs, we reached the foot of the doors, and two men stood waiting there. Both wore tight, dark robes, and over the robes they had strapped heavy plates of metallic armor, dull and scarred, the sort that had saved its owners more than once.

Their eyes were narrowed into slits. They did not blink often. They looked like people a person would avoid.

I took a breath, lowered my gaze slightly, and stepped forward.

"Hello," I said, in the gentlest voice I owned. "How do you do?"

One of the guards turned his head toward me. His face twisted slowly. His brow furrowed, his lip curled, and he said nothing at all.

’He does not speak Minkz.’

That was fine. It only meant I needed to be simpler. I twitched my eyebrows, swallowed once, and tried again, slower this time.

"We want to live here."

That, he understood.

The guard nodded once. When he spoke, his accent was poor and clumsy, each word dragged out like a heavy cart on a bad road.

"Get inside. You will get to know of the rules by Bianca."

He stepped aside and gestured to his partner. The two of them set their shoulders against the door and pushed.

Theodore and I exchanged a glance. Then we walked in.

Behind us, the gate boomed shut.

The sound echoed for a long time.

Inside, a large hall welcomed us, it was cold and cavernous, its ceiling lost in shadow. A great chandelier hung from the center, a wide wheel of iron and glass, but not a single candle burned in it, and not a single crystal caught any light.

It simply hovered there like the skeleton of some enormous insect. What little illumination there was crept in through the crimson windows high along the walls, pooling on the floor in long, bloody rectangles.

My suspicion tightened a little.

Beneath the chandelier sat a wooden table, plain and scratched, and on it sat a woman.

She looked about twenty. Her hair was black, laced with faint traces of chestnut that showed whenever the red light touched it. Her face was lovely, with a sharp nose and features cut just as sharply, and a bright smile that felt strangely out of place in a hall like this. Her eyes had an olive glow, warm and attentive. Her skin was a light, medium olive and warm like soft beige. She wore a white buttoned shirt with the top two buttons undone, and comfortable black trousers beneath it, and she swung one leg idly as she waited, like a girl on a garden wall.

’She does not look like she belongs here.’

I approached her slowly, hands loosely clasped, and asked in Minkz, "Ma’am, do I need to know something? I am kind of new here."

She laughed, a short, warm chuckle that echoed lightly through the empty hall. "Why are you calling me Ma’am? My name is Bianca."

I rubbed the back of my head, relieved. She had answered in perfect Minkz, smooth and fluent, without the stumbling that the guard had shown. Still, by her features and her skin, I could tell she was not from Valemont.

’Another outsider. Interesting.’

"Right," Bianca said, hopping down from the table and clapping her hands once. "Let me get you started. Every five people are given one room. If you join the guards or the women’s club, then you get a room to yourself, one per person. But if you stay in the five person rooms, you will need to kill one Beast, nine times per every ten sleeps, together with your four roommates. So you get one day of holiday. In return, you receive shelter and food."

"That is a lot of Beasts," Theodore said weakly.

"It is what it is."

"Right. Yes. Of course."

"Also," she continued cheerfully, "we have special things here. Like the women’s club. You can hire whores from there, if you want."

"What!?"

The word escaped me before I could stop it. My voice cracked, loud enough to bounce off the walls.

Bianca’s eyes widened. Then she gave a slow, mocking nod.

"Ahh. I see, I see. You can hire men too, if that is what you like. Everything here has a damned price."

She smiled at me, entirely at ease.

"No! I did not mean it like that!" I said, waving my hands. "It is just... that is... I did not..."

Behind me, Theodore had turned very still, with the look of a man trying to melt into the floor.

’Good. Embarrassed and flustered. That is exactly the person I am meant to be.’

Though, if I was honest, only about half of it was an act.

"Don’t worry, I’m just joking, we do need some fun to be alive, don’t we?" Bianca said, still smiling. "Anyways. We also have an alcohol section. Do not get your hopes up too high, though. It tastes better than water, that is all. It is brewed from the blood of Unorthodox creatures."

"B...blood?" Theodore stammered.

"It is better than it sounds."

She laughed again, then her expression settled into something more serious. "And one more thing. If you manage to give the King five Bound Rank gifts, you will be allowed to go back to your home."

My ears sharpened.

"But," she added, lifting a finger, "before that, every memory you have of this place will be erased."

The hall seemed to grow a little colder.

’Erased. Then nobody who leaves can ever tell anyone what happens here.’

That explained a great deal. It explained why Culex had never been reached by outside help. It explained why a hundred and fifty people had stayed.

Bianca tilted her head.

"So," she said, "you want to live here?"

"Do we have a choice?" I asked.

"Not really."

She said it lightly, almost kindly, as one would say that the sky is above the ground. Then she plucked a small book and a pen from the table. "Mind telling me your names? I need them for the record, you know."

"I am Peter," I said quickly, "and he is Rudy."

"Peter... and... Rudy."

She wrote the names in a neat, looping hand, and smiled as she finished. "I am guessing you will not be joining the guards?"

"Yes, Ma’am," I answered, and then winced. "I mean, Bianca. Heh."

I scratched my cheek and gave her a nervous, awkward little laugh.

Behind my eyes, though, my mind was perfectly calm.

I had picked these names long before we came here, along with the roles to go with them. Peter and Rudy would be the kind of people who flinched at loud noises, who apologized to furniture, who believed whatever they were told. Unusually afraid. Easily intimidated. Incredibly naive. Harmless, in every way that mattered.

Bianca closed the book, tucked it under her arm, and stood up straight.

"Then follow me," she said, gesturing toward the shadowed corridor at the far end of the hall. "I will take you to your room."