Late Eclipses
Page 88
Etienne nodded. “There are enough of us in the knighthood that you shouldn’t stand out.”
“Right.” Garm’s illusion had traded my clothes for the livery of Shadowed Hills. I ran my fingers over the embroidered daffodil at my breast. It felt real. I’m not normally that paranoid, but after what Amandine did . . . “You’re sure this is an illusion?”
“Of course,” said Garm, sounding amused. “It’s just a good one.”
“Right.” I was starting to sound like a broken record. “Let’s get going.”
“I won’t be coming with you,” said Sylvester.
That stopped the rest of us. “What?” I demanded, as Connor asked, “Why not?”
“I attract attention. Garm’s illusions are good; they aren’t flawless. I’d rather not subject them to any additional scrutiny.”
I sighed before leaning over to hug him. “Open roads, Sylvester.”
“Good luck.” He hugged me back before letting go and walking deeper into the garden. If there was a way to get from there to where Luna slept, he’d know it.
The rest of us exchanged a glance. Etienne voiced what we were all thinking: “His Grace didn’t tell us to stay together.”
“You’re right. He didn’t.” I looked at him. “Are you suggesting we split up?”
“We’d cover more ground that way.”
“And you don’t want me behind you and armed.”
“Well . . . no,” he said. “I truly believe your innocence. I’m still not comfortable with the idea that you’re a fugitive from the Queen’s justice.”
“I’ll stick with Toby,” said Connor.
“As will I,” said Grianne implacably. One of her Merry Dancers swung out to spin a lazy circle around my head. “It will be educational.”
From the looks on Garm and Etienne’s faces, she couldn’t have surprised them more by announcing her intention to leave the knighthood and become a professional streetlamp. “Are you . . . sure?” asked Etienne, cautiously.
“Do you wish to debate?” There was a cold challenge in Grianne’s tone. If they wanted to fight her on this, she’d fight. And she’d probably win.
“As you like.” Etienne offered a shallow bow. “Garm and I will go left. The three of you may go right.”
“Scream if there’s trouble,” I said. “I’m sure someone will hear you.”
“I’m sure someone will.” Etienne paused. “October . . . ”
“Get out of here. We have a murderess to catch.” I started down the hall, Connor pacing next to me, and Grianne bringing up the rear like a silent shadow with its own mood lighting. Etienne and Garm didn’t call us back. I didn’t really expect them to.
We could hear the other knights calling to each other as we walked through the knowe. They had their voices pitched low, but in a space as enormous and quiet as Shadowed Hills, even whispers carry. It was like walking through a world filled with ghosts. It didn’t help that Grianne’s Merry Dancers were burning a steady, spectral green, making the shadows jump and dance.
Periodically someone would cross our paths, nod, and keep going, even though none of them could have recognized the face I was wearing. I was accompanied by Connor and Grianne; that was all the permission I needed. I was starting to understand how Oleander infiltrated the knowe. If the other knights didn’t look at me closely when I was wearing their livery, with a known killer loose in the knowe, how closely would they look at a new member of the household staff?
Sylvester and I were going to have a talk about security when this was over.
Shadowed Hills is massive on a good day. On a bad day, it’s like walking through a museum. Corridors lead to nowhere, rooms follow rooms, and you find yourself taking turns that make no linear sense. I’ve wanted a map—or at least location signs on the corners—for a long time. “You are here” doesn’t seem as cheesy when you’ve managed to stumble into the eighth library in as many minutes. I tried to take note of the roses carved on the walls, looking for the hidden patterns that Manuel talked about, but they eluded me; I needed them explained before I could start following them.
I let my hand rest on the pommel of the sword I didn’t know how to use as we entered the long hall that led to the receiving room. Sometimes luck is all you have. Mine hadn’t been treating me very well lately; maybe that meant I was due for a break. Connor stepped forward to open the receiving room door. He held it as Grianne and I walked through, finally slipping in behind us.
The receiving room lights were low enough to interfere with even my improved eyesight. Grianne made a complex gesture and the Merry Dancers soared upward, hanging in midair and brightening until they cast a strong enough glow for us to see by.
I glanced at her as we walked toward the dais. “Handy.”
Her expression was as bland as ever as she nodded, but her Merry Dancers shifted color, turning a warm yellow. Maybe she wasn’t as cold as everyone thought. Maybe we just read her wrong.
I waved Grianne to circle the dais to the left, and Connor to circle to the right, while I mounted the two shallow steps to the Ducal thrones by myself. They looked perfectly normal, like they were just waiting for their owners to return, but something about the scene was bothering me. Something that wasn’t right—
A glint of light from one of the Merry Dancers reflected silver off the cushion on Raysel’s throne. I leaned closer, until I was near enough to see the circle of needles embedded in the velvet cushion. Their tips protruded maybe half an inch, no more; just enough to break the skin. With Oleander, that was all they’d need. Each of those needles probably had enough poison on it to kill a Manticore. They would have been easy to overlook. I’d almost missed them, and I’d been looking for something out of place.
I almost had to admire Oleander’s thoroughness. Use Raysel to kill Luna, and then kill Raysel: no loose ends, no untidiness, just a lot of dead bodies. From Oleander’s screwed-up point of view, it was probably the ultimate in “cleaning up after yourself.” When you’re done playing with your toys, throw them away.
“We need gloves,” I said, straightening up. “Gloves, and maybe some pliers.”
“Why?” asked Connor, stepping onto the dais and moving to join me.
“Right.” Garm’s illusion had traded my clothes for the livery of Shadowed Hills. I ran my fingers over the embroidered daffodil at my breast. It felt real. I’m not normally that paranoid, but after what Amandine did . . . “You’re sure this is an illusion?”
“Of course,” said Garm, sounding amused. “It’s just a good one.”
“Right.” I was starting to sound like a broken record. “Let’s get going.”
“I won’t be coming with you,” said Sylvester.
That stopped the rest of us. “What?” I demanded, as Connor asked, “Why not?”
“I attract attention. Garm’s illusions are good; they aren’t flawless. I’d rather not subject them to any additional scrutiny.”
I sighed before leaning over to hug him. “Open roads, Sylvester.”
“Good luck.” He hugged me back before letting go and walking deeper into the garden. If there was a way to get from there to where Luna slept, he’d know it.
The rest of us exchanged a glance. Etienne voiced what we were all thinking: “His Grace didn’t tell us to stay together.”
“You’re right. He didn’t.” I looked at him. “Are you suggesting we split up?”
“We’d cover more ground that way.”
“And you don’t want me behind you and armed.”
“Well . . . no,” he said. “I truly believe your innocence. I’m still not comfortable with the idea that you’re a fugitive from the Queen’s justice.”
“I’ll stick with Toby,” said Connor.
“As will I,” said Grianne implacably. One of her Merry Dancers swung out to spin a lazy circle around my head. “It will be educational.”
From the looks on Garm and Etienne’s faces, she couldn’t have surprised them more by announcing her intention to leave the knighthood and become a professional streetlamp. “Are you . . . sure?” asked Etienne, cautiously.
“Do you wish to debate?” There was a cold challenge in Grianne’s tone. If they wanted to fight her on this, she’d fight. And she’d probably win.
“As you like.” Etienne offered a shallow bow. “Garm and I will go left. The three of you may go right.”
“Scream if there’s trouble,” I said. “I’m sure someone will hear you.”
“I’m sure someone will.” Etienne paused. “October . . . ”
“Get out of here. We have a murderess to catch.” I started down the hall, Connor pacing next to me, and Grianne bringing up the rear like a silent shadow with its own mood lighting. Etienne and Garm didn’t call us back. I didn’t really expect them to.
We could hear the other knights calling to each other as we walked through the knowe. They had their voices pitched low, but in a space as enormous and quiet as Shadowed Hills, even whispers carry. It was like walking through a world filled with ghosts. It didn’t help that Grianne’s Merry Dancers were burning a steady, spectral green, making the shadows jump and dance.
Periodically someone would cross our paths, nod, and keep going, even though none of them could have recognized the face I was wearing. I was accompanied by Connor and Grianne; that was all the permission I needed. I was starting to understand how Oleander infiltrated the knowe. If the other knights didn’t look at me closely when I was wearing their livery, with a known killer loose in the knowe, how closely would they look at a new member of the household staff?
Sylvester and I were going to have a talk about security when this was over.
Shadowed Hills is massive on a good day. On a bad day, it’s like walking through a museum. Corridors lead to nowhere, rooms follow rooms, and you find yourself taking turns that make no linear sense. I’ve wanted a map—or at least location signs on the corners—for a long time. “You are here” doesn’t seem as cheesy when you’ve managed to stumble into the eighth library in as many minutes. I tried to take note of the roses carved on the walls, looking for the hidden patterns that Manuel talked about, but they eluded me; I needed them explained before I could start following them.
I let my hand rest on the pommel of the sword I didn’t know how to use as we entered the long hall that led to the receiving room. Sometimes luck is all you have. Mine hadn’t been treating me very well lately; maybe that meant I was due for a break. Connor stepped forward to open the receiving room door. He held it as Grianne and I walked through, finally slipping in behind us.
The receiving room lights were low enough to interfere with even my improved eyesight. Grianne made a complex gesture and the Merry Dancers soared upward, hanging in midair and brightening until they cast a strong enough glow for us to see by.
I glanced at her as we walked toward the dais. “Handy.”
Her expression was as bland as ever as she nodded, but her Merry Dancers shifted color, turning a warm yellow. Maybe she wasn’t as cold as everyone thought. Maybe we just read her wrong.
I waved Grianne to circle the dais to the left, and Connor to circle to the right, while I mounted the two shallow steps to the Ducal thrones by myself. They looked perfectly normal, like they were just waiting for their owners to return, but something about the scene was bothering me. Something that wasn’t right—
A glint of light from one of the Merry Dancers reflected silver off the cushion on Raysel’s throne. I leaned closer, until I was near enough to see the circle of needles embedded in the velvet cushion. Their tips protruded maybe half an inch, no more; just enough to break the skin. With Oleander, that was all they’d need. Each of those needles probably had enough poison on it to kill a Manticore. They would have been easy to overlook. I’d almost missed them, and I’d been looking for something out of place.
I almost had to admire Oleander’s thoroughness. Use Raysel to kill Luna, and then kill Raysel: no loose ends, no untidiness, just a lot of dead bodies. From Oleander’s screwed-up point of view, it was probably the ultimate in “cleaning up after yourself.” When you’re done playing with your toys, throw them away.
“We need gloves,” I said, straightening up. “Gloves, and maybe some pliers.”
“Why?” asked Connor, stepping onto the dais and moving to join me.
