Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [276]
Kazan hesitated, then said shortly, "Do as she says."
They had been young, the attendants of the warehouse; the survivor was no exception. I guessed him no older than Joscelin's Yeshuites, though 'twas harder to tell since he was cut and beardless. He watched with wide, terrified eyes as the Illyrians cleaned their weapons and I drew near.
"What is your name?" I asked softly.
"Cer ... Cervianus." Shock and fear prompted his stuttering answer.
"Cervianus, aid us and you will live, I promise. There is a passage below the canals to the Temple of Asherat. I need you to show us."
His eyes darted this way and that and his throat moved as he swallowed audibly, but for all his terror, he was no coward. "I know of no such passage."
"Do you fear to betray the goddess?" I asked him, and his eyes fixed on my face, pupils dilating. "Cervianus, I swear to you, Asherat-of-the-Sea has already been betrayed, by one who stands high in her favor, and this night's doings are the fruit of that betrayal. Although I serve another, I have come to avenge her."
Some of Kazan's men grumbled; they had come to kill Serenissimans. I ignored them.
No coward and no fool, Cervianus. He licked his lips, trembling. "And if I do not aid you? What then?"
"You will die," I said. "And we will find it anyway."
He closed his eyes briefly. "It's in the underchamber. The door is hidden. Let me put on clothing, and I will show you."
The Illyrians stepped back, allowing him to rise. Trusting to Kazan to keep order, I returned to the warehouse space. Joscelin and the others were waiting; there had been no one else present, only rows of oil jars and stacks of dried goods, as Sarae had claimed. She was pale-faced and shaky, and Micah was attempting to soothe her. Joscelin met my eyes as I returned.
"She killed a man in cold blood," he said. "It takes one hard."
"I know," I said. "Where did you get crossbows, anyway?"
"We took them from the guards at the watchtower at La Dolorosa." He glanced at her with pity. "I thought it would be safer for her to carry one. We're doomed anyway if we're caught, and she's not skilled with the daggers."
I unfolded my cloak and shook it out, settling it over my shoulders and shoving the bent brooch-pin through the woolen fabric and fastening it. "Her ill luck to be a good shot," I said wryly. "Mayhap 'tis better they know such things, before they choose to battle their way to the north-lands. Prophecies never name the blood-price they exact."
"No." Joscelin roused himself with a shake. "The others?"
"Dead, but for one," I said. "He's agreed to show us the passage. I promised him his life for it."
"Let's go, then."
Another torch and a few lamps had been found and kindled, and by their light, Cervianus led us to the rear of the warehouse. He had donned the deep-blue tunic of Asherat's attendants, the emblem of her starry crown worked in silver thread on the breast, rich and glimmering amid the Illyrians who surrounded him, but his eyes looked like dark holes in the mask of his face.
"It is there," he said faintly, pointing at a mammoth clay vessel, shoulder-high to Kazan. "Beneath the jar."
With a doubtful grunt, Kazan set his shoulder to the jar and shoved. It tilted beneath his force, being empty, and two others joined him in rolling it carefully to one side. Cervianus had spoken the truth. Beneath lay a trapdoor, set flush into the stones of the floor. Joscelin grasped the iron ring and hauled up on it; with a faint screech of hinges, the door opened to reveal a gaping square of darkness below, smelling of stale air and mildew. There were worn stone steps leading downward, the first few visible by torchlight.
"And this leads to the Oracle's balcony in the Temple proper, yes?" I asked Cervianus.
"Yes." He turned his hollow gaze on me. "Beneath the canal."
"And the Oracle does not preside from thence over the ceremony of investiture?"
"N... no." Cervianus hesitated, and shook his head. "Only twice a year, at the Fatum Urbanus. I think. I do not know, for