The Enterprise of Death - Jesse Bullington [160]
“Many of us travel, or have traveled,” said Carandini. “It is slow, the leak, unless we wish it to be faster, and stopping the leak is easy. We put bands of iron around our brows, and that is all that is required. Such bands can easily be hidden in a hat or a wig, so they do not arouse as much attention as you might think, but doing so obviously has its own share of detriments.”
“You’re not wearing one, and we’re not sealed from one another the way my bonemen are, so that means you’re voluntarily allowing me to borrow some of your intellect.” Awa nodded, delighted to hear that all of Chloé’s wits would not leak out as soon as they returned to Paris. Paris? That was a terrible idea, indeed, going anywhere except the most isolated regions was a terrible idea—she had been gambling with her life every time she entered a town, let alone a city. She, a Moor and a witch, should know better than to—
“Not voluntarily.” Carandini scowled. The stairs terminated in another small red door, reminding Awa that they had been descending the entire time and must now be quite deep in the earth. How she would get out if he or his fellow bastards meant her harm —“I took the iron from my brow before traveling up to greet you. Not of my own volition, but … a compulsion took me. Your ward, I imagine.”
“My ward? I—” Carandini swung the door inward and strode into the dark room, and Awa again trotted after to keep up with his breathless pace. The floor resembled ice and was just as smooth, the surface sparkling in the torchlight, and then Awa saw a curious, shallow wave rushing over the ground toward them. The tide drew closer, and Awa realized it was not liquid but countless brightly colored adders roiling over one another, the carpet of snakes making directly for Awa and Carandini.
“Interesting.” Her host’s pale brow creased as he dropped the torch and swept her up in his arms, dancing over the polished glass floor just as the wave of vipers came crashing down around his ankles. His hands were so chill they froze the sweat infusing Awa’s leggings and she gasped at both the sensation and the sight beneath her. The squirming snakes were only able to scale up to his knees before the intense cold emanating from Carandini put the serpents to sleep and they fell away without getting within striking range of Awa’s dangling feet. “It not only prevents me from personally hurting you but actually compels me to protect you from the traps I had set to circumvent that very ward. It is just as Breanne said, but interesting to see in action. I don’t regret the time I invested one bit.”
“Sorry?” Awa was growing dizzy as he swung her onto his back, putting his chest between her and the darts suddenly fired at them by some unseen device in the shadowy chamber. She saw oily black blood bubble out around the small shafts prickling his chest, and then they were through the snakes and past the darts and at yet another red door. Setting her down, he opened the door and ushered her through as she asked, “Who’s Breanne?”
“An associate,” said Carandini. “It was she who dealt with young master Walther.”
“Walther?” The room Awa entered was dark, and as Carandini closed the door behind her the light of the abandoned torch was blotted out, leaving them in perfect blackness.
“Your predecessor. Light.” And light there was, light of every imaginable color reflecting out of dozens of glass globes that spotted the enormous workroom. The globes were full of liquid that swirled and flashed, some set atop stands on the long tables, many more suspended from the scalloped ceiling by braided wires, and these as much as the bizarre apparatuses that adorned the room made Awa gape in wonder. “This is one of the laboratories. The others are in use so you cannot see them, lest you take more than your due.”
“More than—oh.” Awa saw him tapping his shaved scalp. “My predecessor came here? This Walther was the last apprentice