The Drowning City - Amanda Downum [126]
Isyllt opened her eyes and leaned back, wrinkling her nose at the mingled stink of spirits and roses and death. Witchlight glimmered in the sapphire’s crystalline depths, then faded into blue. “There. Let’s test it.” She stripped off the cotton gloves and touched the ring with her bare hand. The light flared again briefly at the familiar skin, and the spell shivered in her head. She let the essence of the alcohol erase the contamination, and it stilled again.
“Now you,” she said, holding the ring out to Khelséa. Another shiver and flare at the captain’s touch, and again she let the memory of it vanish. Now the stone should react only to whoever had held it before Forsythia. She found a spare silver chain in the exorcist’s kit in her pocket, and slid the ring under her shirt. It settled cold between her breasts, warming slowly between cloth and skin.
“Do you need anything else?” Khelséa asked.
Isyllt ran a hand over her face. “A night’s sleep. Other than that, no. I’ll tread lightly. More vigils hanging around would only attract attention.”
Khelséa snorted and tugged her orange coat straight. At least her dark skin let her wear the Vigiles’ distinctive shade well. “What’s one more death in Oldtown, after all?”
“Eight for an obol.” Their boots echoed in unison as they started for the stairs, leaving the dead woman on her slab.
Outside, the night smelled of autumn rain, and wet stone and cobbles glistened under the streetlamps. Inkstone was a quiet neighborhood after midnight, scribes and bureaucrats long safe in bed. Shadows draped the columned facade of the Sepulcher, hiding the faces of the owl-winged gargoyles who crouched on the roof. Isyllt felt their unblinking granite stares as she descended the broad steps. Sentinels of the Otherworld. A carriage waited in the street, the driver half dozing, horses snorting restlessly. Isyllt breathed deep, letting the night wash away the smell of blood and roses.
“I saw your minstrel friend in the Garden tonight,” Khelséa said with a grin. “Maybe I should take him in for questioning.”
Isyllt snorted. “Is that the only way you can start a conversation with a man?”
“Better than calling them from their tombs.” The captain unlatched the carriage door and held it open. “Let me know what you find. I’m sure it will be interesting.”
Isyllt smiled. “This job always is.” She pulled herself into the carriage and Khelséa shut the door. The horses’ hooves clattered against the cobbles as they carried her across the city.