The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [132]
Finally, Leoff felt fresh air. The room was utterly dark, but Mery led him to what felt like a shaft that was angling down and away from him.
“In there,” she said. “We have to go through there.”
“What is it?”
“This is the kitchen,” she explained. “They dump the garbage in here.”
“Maybe we should just wait here until things calm down,” Leoff said.
“The bad men will find us,” she said. “We have to get outside.”
“The bad men may be outside, too,” he said.
“Yes, but there are secret ways out there,” she said. “Don’t you want to go back to Eslen?”
“Wait,” he sighed. He was trying to sort it out. The “bad men” were the queen’s men. Those in the corridor wore the same colors as the knight—Fail de Liery—to whom he had escorted the queen only two nights before.
Someone had tried to kill the queen, and two nights later her men were attacking Ambria Gramme’s ball.
Had Gramme planned the assassination?
Saints, what had he gotten himself into?
“Yes,” he told her. “I think we had better get back there.” Otherwise, he was going to be implicated in this whole affair, and he suspected that would lead to a loss of more than simple employment.
But the queen might find out anyway. Running would only make him look guilty.
Still, there was also Mery to consider, wasn’t there?
Hoping he would fit, he pulled himself down the shaft, which reeked of pork grease, rotten vegetables, and less wholesome things.
The pile he landed on was worse. He was glad it was too dark to see exactly what it was.
Another night lost in Newland. He was really beginning to hate this place.
He caught Mery when she came out, sparing her the same messy stop he’d found.
“Which way now?” he asked.
“We’ll go get a boat on the canal.”
“I think the bad men came on the canal,” Leoff said. “I think there will be a lot of them there.”
“Not that canal,” she said, “there’s another one. Come on. This way.”
They mazed through dark gardens of hedges trimmed fantastic, around still marble basins that glimmed faintly in the moonlight. The grass crunched with frost, and two owls were making ghostly conversation. Not too far away, he could hear men’s voices, but they were growing fainter.
He stopped suddenly.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Gilmer. My friend Gilmer was in there.”
“The little man? No, he left when you started playing the hammarharp.”
“Oh. Good.” Or maybe not. How long had the soldiers been outside? They might have caught him as he left.
But there was nothing he could do about it right now, not with Mery. She was probably in more danger than he was.
“How did you know to run, Mery?” he asked, suddenly suspicious. “It was like you had the whole thing planned out.”
“Yes,” she said, after a silence.
“Why?”
“I always have a way planned out.”
“But why?”
“Mother says they may come to kill me one day.”
“Did she say why?”
“No. Only that they might come one day, the king’s men, and kill me and my brother. So I figured out ways to run and places to hide. It’s how I found the music room.”
“You’re a very clever girl, Mery.”
“Are you going to marry my mother?” she asked.
“What?” For a moment his dizziness returned. “Did she say something like that?”
“No,” Mery replied.
“Then why do you ask?”
“Because I like you.”
He took her hand. “I like you, too, Mery. Come on, let’s find someplace warm.”
They found the canal easily enough, and several small narrowboats. They were approaching them when Mery suddenly grabbed him by the arm.
“Shh,” she said.
There were voices in the darkness, and straining, Leoff made out several indistinct figures near the canal. He and Mery crouched behind a bush.
“They captured the lady Gramme and her son,” one of the men said in a husky baritone.
“That’s of no concern,” a second man said. Something about that voice sent a chill through Leoff. It wasn’t the voice itself, which was perfectly normal, tenor, cultured. But just as any note played on a lute had numerous smaller tones hidden within it, there was something hidden in that voice—something somehow wrong.
“How can you