Chapter 1: Part 6: Escape

Oska knew, as he darted towards the tapestry, that there were two ways this could go. Either he’d be caught and killed, probably by Ruby herself – or he’d escape. The latter, not surprisingly, was his preferred option.

The moment his packet of blinding powder hit the floor, three things happened. The tattooed norn bellowed in frustration, Vilma cursed loudly – and Ruby Valpari gave a single, piercing laugh. Oska didn’t know what relation she was, be it cousin or distant aunt or – gods forbid – illegitimate sibling. Ten minutes in her presence was enough to make him hope he never found out.

He was halfway to the tapestry when someone tried to close a hand in his jacket. Oska felt the brush of fingers and spun away from them, knowing they could just as easily have been a knife. Ruby wouldn’t hesitate to kill him; he had to be sure not to give her the chance.

Without weapons, though, he was limited. All he could do was dodge and weave, leap over the furniture that blocked his path, and try to guess which way his pursuers would go before they knew themselves. It seemed to take an eternity to reach the tapestry. Oska’s pulse beat in his throat. If he’d guessed wrong and there was no hidden door…

He flung the tapestry aside. There was a door, narrow and plain, very different from the ornate entrance to the gambling den. It had neither handle nor keyhole. Oska threw his shoulder against it – and bounced off. Something clicked, though, as if he’d triggered it by sheer force. A hidden lock? A secret mechanism?

There was no time to find out. The norn reached him first, great fists swinging. Oska ducked one, hearing it crunch into the wall with alarming force. Rather than dodge again, he grabbed for the tapestry, wrenching it from its hooks and throwing it in the norn’s face. The norn grunted, clawing at the fabric covering his head, and only getting more tangled in it. Oska threw his own punch, but the norn’s stomach was as solid as the now cracked wall.

Cracked, by a single blow from the norn. That gave Oska an idea.

If he ever told this story, he’d make it sound like a carefully controlled dance. Ruby and Vilma advancing on him, the norn – now free of the tapestry – as strong as an angry bull. Playing them off, one against the other, until he was the only one left standing. It sounded like something from a particularly dramatic play.

This wasn’t the theatre, though, and Oska’s moves were more desperate than choreographed. He jumped to one side, then the other, always trying to keep the norn between him and the two women. The norn was big, but he was also slow, and he was as much of an obstacle to Ruby and Vilma as he was to Oska.

He was also growing increasingly angry. Oska sidestepped one blow, then another, watching the norn’s lip curl into a snarl. He spat something unintelligible, then swung for Oska again.

Oska darted away, trying to make it look like he was enjoying himself. “Keep this up, and you’ll wear a hole in the carpet,” he panted, ducking a flailing fist. “Elonian, do you think? Looks like an antique. Probably an heirloom. I hope they make you pay for the damage.”

The norn snarled audibly this time. “Come here, you little rat. I’m going to break every bone in your spine.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” Oska hopped over a foot stool and out of reach. “With a thick head like yours, you won’t be able to find anything as sophisticated as a spine.”

The norn actually roared, loud enough to shake the chandeliers. Even Ruby looked momentarily surprised, which was enough to make Oska wonder if he’d misjudged. If he’d just triggered some sort of warrior rage and was about to be pounded into the floor…

Too late for second thoughts. Finally, Oska was in position. Thankfully, Ruby was the furthest away, which meant it was Vilma’s blade whipping towards his face. Oska countered by hooking a foot around the nearest wooden chair, then flicking it towards Vilma.

That, too, was almost a misjudgement. The chair was also antique and heavier than he’d anticipated; it didn’t so much sail through the air as jerk along the carpet. It was enough to trip Vilma, though, and she went down with a grunt.

Leaving Oska to duck under the outstretched arm of the norn, back in the direction he’d come from – and drop to his knees as the norn’s fist connected with the hidden door.

There was a distinct crack. For a moment, Oska thought the norn had broken his knuckles. Only as the warrior staggered away did the dent in the door become clear. The whole door was leaning backwards, in fact, smashed right off its hinges. Several inches of darkness were visible along one edge.

Oska lunged for it. He knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, that he was in danger of being grabbed before he could worm his way through, but desperation had taken hold. With the strength it lent him, he rammed the door open with one hand, and wormed his way through.

It was utterly dark on the other side. Oska scrambled forwards, fingers scraping against the walls of the narrow passage. If there were steps ahead, he’d either bang his shins on them or go tumbling to his death in the dark, but at least he was away from Ruby. Even now, the way she’d smiled made him shudder.

It was only when he’d been scurrying along for half a minute that he realised Ruby hadn’t followed. She could have done; she would have fit through the broken door just as he had. But there was silence behind him, and darkness ahead, and no sign whatsoever of pursuit.

Oska knew what that meant. He came to a halt, his pulse loud in his ears. Ruby wasn’t following him, because she knew where this passage led. She was going to catch him at the other end.

He turned on his heel without giving it further thought, scrambling back along the length of the passage. Dim light appeared ahead, finally resolving itself into the broken door. Oska paused a hand’s breadth from it, all his senses straining. Silence. Stillness. Was it a trap? Gingerly, he peered through.

The gambling hall was completely empty, not even the empty-headed norn left behind. Oska didn’t think the emptiness was merely a ruse. Ruby was quick, but she was also over-confident. She hadn’t even considered that he might return this way, because she was already certain she’d won.

Oska eased past the broken door without a sound. This time, unobserved, he was able to pace the perimeter of the room. He found a corkscrew behind the bar, along with a small paring knife. He took both, tucking the corkscrew between his knuckles, the paring knife into the sheath up his sleeve. Neither was likely to kill anyone, but that wasn’t really his aim. He’d be better off getting out of this without making more enemies, if he could.

Beyond the gambling hall lay the plush corridor. Oska took the direction he hadn’t arrived by and was soon winding his way through a labyrinth of luxurious rooms. This place wasn’t just richly appointed. It was huge.

Once again, a flicker of worry tugged at his chest. Elthias and Kourine were rich, but they couldn’t have funded – or kept hidden – a place like this. Which meant that although Ruby was working for Elthias, she’d brought him to someone else’s home. Someone even richer, more powerful – and, if Oska guessed correctly, someone else who’d funded Yinn’s game. At this rate, if he kept following Erin’s orders, he was going to bring down half the nobility of Divinity’s Reach.

Finally, he came across a set of stairs. The gambling den had been eerily silent, but Oska could hear faint voices above. He crept up, step by step, heart in his mouth. There was no light coming from the top; the door above was closed.

By the time he reached it, the voices had faded away. Oska listened anew, but could hear nothing but his own breathing. The door was of plain panelling, with a recessed handle; he opened it so slowly the latch made no sound, then slid into the hallway beyond.

And froze, shock overtaking him. He stood in an empty passage, with panelled walls and leaded windows. It could have belonged in any servants’ quarters of any mansion, but the tiles were a distinctive pattern of black and white squares, with terracotta diamonds arranged between them.

He had a distinct memory of studying those tiles, of pulling a wooden toy along them. A dog, he thought, with a tail that wagged when its wheels turned. He’d been running and… He’d fallen. Yes, that was it. He’d fallen and cut his knee.

He almost looked for the bloodstain, somewhere along the hall. Oska hadn’t seen the matriarch of the family, Taria Valpari, since he was a very small child, but he knew he wasn’t mistaken. He recognised those tiles. He also recognised, now that he looked up, the view from the window.

There was no way to escape it. This was his own grandmother’s house.