The Bone Palace - Amanda Downum [132]
“I knew something was wrong with her from the moment I saw her,” said an Aravind matron, fanning herself excessively. “My aunt is a mage, you know, and I have a bit of a shiver myself. But no one else paid her any mind….”
Nikos handled the whole thing gracefully, sending for more refreshments, issuing polite orders and reassurances, and never letting Ashlin out of arm’s reach. The princess clearly wanted to snap at him, but the courtiers were already responding to his concern. If she’d known the good a public assassination attempt would do, Savedra thought wryly, she could have saved herself long hours skulking in gardens.
Mathiros led the search patrol himself, despite arguments from Nikos, Kurgoth, and Adrastos. It looked very brave, of course, but Savedra could feel the court clinging tighter to Nikos in the absence of his father.
Good, she thought, and resisted the urge to smirk at Thea Jsutien.
Tempers and nerves began to fray when a young dandy from House Hadrian stopped complaining about his headache and began to shake and cough instead. Within the hour he was limp and feverish, propped in a corner while his erstwhile bosom companions edged away and breathed through handkerchiefs. Soon half the hall was arguing for fresh air, or braziers for warmth, or incense to keep the illness at bay—the other half demanded to leave, or to call their personal physicians. No one wanted to say influenza, which was an illness for the poor or unlucky, but everyone knew the signs.
During an especially loud argument over the virtues of incense versus fresh-sliced onions to ward off the ill vapors, Isyllt appeared at Savedra’s side.
“We won’t get anything useful from them now,” she muttered, “not even silence. I need your help.”
Savedra followed her down the side hall, and eventually onto a porch leading into the gardens. “Where are we going?” she asked. “And can I fetch a cloak first?”
“To the temple, and no. We need to be there and out again before we’re noticed.” By lantern-light Isyllt’s face was grim and pale. “I kept your secrets—now I need you to keep one for me.”
Savedra nodded and followed Isyllt across the lawn, tucking her hands beneath her folded arms.
Isyllt held onto her as they entered the temple; the sleepy acolyte didn’t look up as they started down the black mouth of the stairs. Savedra wanted to question, to protest, but wasn’t sure how far a whisper would carry—the slither of their skirts over timeworn stone was unnerving enough. She tested each step carefully and tried not to imagine all the things that might be waiting for them at the bottom.
At the foot of the steps Isyllt conjured a light, which Savedra took as a sign that they were safe to speak.
“Where are we going?” she asked, and winced at the broken weight of silence.
“The Alexios crypt.” A muscle worked in Isyllt’s square jaw. The light turned her eyes into cold mirrors. Savedra withheld the rest of her questions, at least until they reached the door.
“Do you have a key?” she ventured then.
“Always.” She laid a hand on the lock plate, and Savedra’s nape prickled with the same sensation she’d felt earlier.
“What is that?”
“Entropomancy. The essence of death and decay.” Isyllt’s voice cracked. “I don’t like to use it. It hurts.”
It also worked. She set her shoulder against the door and pushed, and it scraped inward. Savedra touched the ruin of the lock and her fingers came away red with rust.
Isyllt turned her attention to the queen’s coffin and Savedra’s stomach twisted. “I thought Nikos said the seal on the sarcophagus was intact.” Her skin crawled, ears straining for the sound of footsteps. Mathiros would send them to the headsman for this.
“It is.” Isyllt’s eyes met hers across the carven lid, cold and pale as the marble. “Whatever we find here, swear to me you won’t speak of it until I do.”
“All right. I swear.”
Isyllt laid her hands on the queen’s stone breast and frowned. She stood like that for long moments. Finally blue sparks crackled from her fingers and she straightened. “Help