The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [65]
“That does not help me much,” the countess said. “You describe your love better than her appearance.”
“I must find her,” Neil said earnestly.
Sir Chenzo shook his head. “We’ve had a few reports of two girls who were seen fleeing with two men. One had hair like copper, the other like gold. Neither sounds like your lady, Sir Etein.”
As he said this, he glanced rather casually at Neil, but something in that glance was searching, watching for him to react.
“I must hope,” he said softly.
But inwardly, he felt a sudden fire. Sir Chenzo had just described Princess Anne and her maid, Austra.
He tried to look disappointed, and thought he succeeded.
After the meal, one of the countess’ servants led him to what he reckoned would be a bedchamber, but he was wrong. The room he was shown to was decorated all in tile, with frescoes of leaping dolphins, eels, and octopi. Set into the floor was a huge tub, already full of steaming water.
The servant stood by, expectantly, as Neil stared at it, knowing how good it would feel.
Knowing also how vulnerable he would be. The room had only one entrance. “I am not in need of a bath,” he said finally.
Clearly puzzled, the servant nodded and led him to a bedchamber. It was as lavish as the rest of the house, but it had a window, and the door could be barred.
The drop from the window was not a long one. He was considering this when a faint sound caused him to whirl about.
The countess was standing there in his chambers. He could not see how she had entered.
“First you refuse the hospitality of a warm bath, and now it looks as if you will refuse my bed, as well,” she said.
“Countess—”
“Hush. Your suspicions are well advised. Sir Chenzo plans to take you into his custody this very night.”
He set his mouth grimly. “Then I must leave at once.”
“Rest a moment. Sir Chenzo is of no danger to you at this instant. This is my house.”
When she said it, all frivolity dropped from her, and for a moment Neil felt a tingle of fear—not of something substantial, but of her very presence. It was as if he stood alone in the dark of the moon.
“Who are you?” he whispered.
“I am the countess Orchaevia,” she said.
“You are something else.”
A wan smile flitted across her face. “Not all of the sisters of Cer died in the razing of the coven. One lives yet.”
He nodded in understanding. “Do you know what happened?” he asked.
“Knights came by dark, mostly Hanzish. They sought a girl, just as you do. The same girl, yes?”
“I believe so,” Neil replied.
“Yes. She is important. More important than you could possibly know.”
“I know only that my duty is to find her and keep her safe. It is all I need to know.”
“I can see that. I watched you lie, and saw how it hurt you. You are not skilled at falsehood.”
“I have not practiced it,” he said.
“She lives, she and her maid. I believe two friends of mine, swordsmen who know the country, yet accompany them. My servants tell me they went north, probably to the port of z’Espino. I advise you to seek them there. I also advise you to leave tonight, and alone.”
“Sir Chenzo. Is he a villain?”
“Not as such, though he may serve them. He was not involved in the murders at the coven. But mark this well, Sir Neil—someone in the Church was. Someone of importance. The knights that were here were saint-marked, and some were of a very special sort, a sort that the world has not seen in ages.”
“What sort is that?”
“In one of my wine cellars there is a man whose head has been smitten off. He is still alive. He is not conscious, he cannot speak or see or feel, but his body continues to twitch.” She shrugged. “I think Sir Chenzo knows nothing of this, but his superiors might. He was told to watch for someone like you. Your lies, as I said, are quite unconvincing.”
“And Sir Quinte?”
“I don’t know if he has any part in this, but it would be foolish to chance it.”
“He has been a help to me.