Chapter 19
Nineteen
Ivy
I’m heading to one of the Quadring’s side entrances after another afternoon class when I cross paths with Anya and a couple of her friends.
The vindictive noblewoman who spent most of my early weeks at the college heckling and harassing me pauses for just an instant, a flicker of apprehension flitting across her face. I don’t think she knows what to make of me after I disarmed her with supposed friendliness.
The fact that I also threatened to let Stavros have her arrested for treason probably plays into her wariness as well.
She settles for a stiff smile and a primp of her hair and sashays on past me while her friends shoot me curious looks.
Ha, Julita says with a triumphant air. You knocked her feet right out from under her without needing to land a single blow.
My body has tensed up in anticipation of some kind of spat. It feels strange to be able to simply relax and walk on.
For all the turmoil I’ve been through with my men and our investigation in the past couple of weeks, my regular life as a supposed assistant has been relatively tame.
I guess I should be thankful that the snobbish nobles have decided I don’t make an ideal target in their jockeying for dominance, settling for disdainful looks if they pay attention to me at all.
I’ve got much bigger enemies to contend with.
Enemies who may be lurking closer than I’d prefer. As I step out of the doorway, a faint prickle of a magic catches my attention.
My head jerks around in the direction it seemed to be coming from—just in time to spot a lithe, scaled form slithering through the grass toward a gap in the wall’s mortar.
It’s a smaller snake than the one I noticed in the forest three nights ago, as slim as my thumb and only as long as my forearm—the perfect size to slip into the school’s walls. And do gods know what inside the Quadring.
As I spring after it, my mind spins with a torrent of urgent thoughts. The rat lashed out at me violently—I have to assume the snake will too. But I only have a matter of moments before it’s glided out of reach.
I want to take this one alive.
My magic flickers up eagerly, offering its services, but I ignore its pull. My hand darts between the overlapping fabric of my skirt and retrieves one of my tiny stashed knives. I yank it through one of the strips of silk and return the blade to its sheath in the space of a heartbeat.
Grasping the swath of fabric I’ve cut off, I pounce on the snake.
It flings its tail like a whip and snaps its head around with fangs bared, just as I expected. But I slam the fabric down over it and clutch it through the layer of cloth.
Be careful! Julita cries, as if I’m not already trying to be.
As I flip the snake over and knot the fabric around it into a bundle, it flails against its silky prison. A seething hiss filters through the cloth.
Once the makeshift pouch is fully closed and secure, the creature squirms for several more seconds and then goes still as if giving up. Or biding its time until it senses a better opportunity for escape.
Julita’s presence shivers. I wonder what they’re trying to find out with all these horrible spies.
“A very good question,” I mutter under my breath.
I push upright from my hunched position by the wall and glance around cautiously. Several students are meandering around the field, but no one’s all that close to me.
I catch one raised eyebrow aimed my way from a nobleman I don’t recognize, too far away for him to have realized what I was doing. I aim a prim smile at him and stride off toward the Domi as if I have nothing to feel awkward about.
Everyone already thought I was a little strange anyway.
My hand remains clamped around the top of the bundle of silk, keeping a firm grip on my captive. I need to summon the men as quickly as possible in case this creature vanishes into dust or a poof of smoke if it’s restrained for too long.
Who knows how the scourge sorcerers worked their illicit magic on the thing?
I can’t go straight to our new meeting room, because Stavros in his infinite wisdom is still holding my enchanted cord hostage. Gods forbid I have free access to an entirely locked and secure room we can’t even tell is within the palace.
But we still have our original meeting spot, even if the archive room seems dreary and cramped by comparison.
I march through the Domi’s main entrance and head past the library doors. It’s just a short distance to the hall of tapestries—
“Ivy! Where are you off to in such a hurry this morning?”
Petra’s clear, melodic voice rings out from the library doorway. I jar to a stop with a silent curse.
Her question was casual enough, but it’ll look awfully suspicious if I charge on by without acknowledging her. And the lesser royal has already shown more interest in me than I’d like.
I tuck my strange parcel close to my gown as I turn to face her. Since it’s the same fabric the skirt is made of, it should blend in.
I don’t trust my knots quite enough to risk stuffing the snake in my pocket.
Petra steps out of the library. Her smile is friendly enough, but her dark eyes look pensive.
“Oh, I’m simply on an errand for Ster. Stavros,” I say with a light laugh. “He doesn’t like to be kept waiting, you know.”
Petra echoes my laugh. “I suppose in his past line of work, most tasks were much more urgent. I hope he isn’t putting you under too much stress.”
“No, not at all. But I’d better get on with it.”
I dip my head to her, praying that she doesn’t try to stall me any further. Her voice doesn’t follow me down the hall, but my old scars itch with the sense of her studying my retreating back.
Why is she so interested in you all of a sudden? Julita murmurs.
I wait until I’ve turned the corner into the hall of tapestries and confirmed that no one else is around before replying.
“Do you think King Konram might have asked her to keep an eye on me—back when he first heard from Stavros that I was helping the investigation? I’m new to the school, after all. ”
It’d make sense for the king to be concerned that I’m so involved in delving into a conspiracy that could have dire consequences for his family.
Julita lets out an uncertain hum. I’d have thought he’d trust Stavros’s judgment more than that. And he didn’t even want to inform his closest staff—I can’t see him revealing all this trouble to a girl who’s only distantly related to his wife. The success of our mission depends on its secrecy.
Maybe the king picked up on Stavros’s recent apprehensions about me. It’s not as if the former general has been all that great at hiding them.
On the other hand, after what happened with Esmae, I’m hesitant to assume anyone who strikes a sudden interest in me has good intentions. Better to treat Petra as a hazard until I have irrefutable evidence that she’s not one.
While I tweak the sconce with my free hand, I spare a glance at the tapestry of Signy. At the three men gathered around her on the hill.
Did she find herself totally bewildered when she realized more than one of them returned her feelings—and was willing to stand with the others at her side?
The stories never give much detail about their romance, making it sound as if her magnificence made it inevitable that she’d win their hearts.
I’d like to think someone selfless enough to take on an entire empire to free her country would have a little more humility than to take anyone’s affections for granted, but who really knows?
The much-celebrated hero of Velduny died before I was even born.
The moment I’ve descended the conjured shadowy staircase into the small archive room, I grope for my locket, flick it open single-handed, and press my thumb to the inside. The signal will tell the men where to find me.
I peer around the room with an odd waft of nostalgia, though it’s only been a couple of weeks since I last came down here.
As if sensing my momentary distraction, the snake makes another attempt at thrashing its way free from the bundle of silk.
I clench my fingers around the gathered edges of the fabric.
If the creature is acting as some kind of spy, we shouldn’t have an unguarded conversation about it. What might the men give away when they rush in to answer my call?
A jolt of anxiety sends me to the desk. I paw through the drawers one-handed and dig out a piece of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink that’s still half full.
I have to pull the stopper out with my teeth while I’m holding the snake’s silk prison, but I manage to wet the quill and scrawl a quick message across the parchment. STAY SILENT.
I’ve just pushed the stopper back into the ink bottle when Benedikt emerges from the wall. “What’s the—”
In an urgent motion, I jerk up the paper with my command. He snaps his mouth shut, his eyebrows arching.
With a shrug, I hope I convey that I realize how ridiculous the situation might seem. Then Alek comes hurtling in through the door from the larger archives, and I whirl toward him with my message raised.
He’s only sucked in a breath when he sees it, his voice catching before he’s released a single word. As he frowns at me in concern, I offer an apologetic smile and swing back around to aim the message at Casimir, who’s come down the hidden staircase a minute behind Benedikt.
It takes another few minutes of awkward quiet before Stavros finally makes his appearance. He glances around at all of us, taking in our expressions and my demand, and folds his arms over his chest with a pointed look.
I set down the paper and motion to my silk bundle. The snake has gone still, so they won’t have any idea what’s going on.
Bracing myself, I feel along the creature’s body through the fabric. It wriggles, but I manage to grasp it between my thumb and forefinger just behind its head.
Keeping the snake secured like that, I loosen the folds of cloth and delve in with my other hand. Gingerly, I ease the green-and-brown-scaled serpent from my trap.
It flings around its tail some more, but it’s short enough that I can easily hold it away from my body. The position of my hand prevents it from taking any bites out of me.
Alek’s eyes widen with a light of understanding. He makes a creeping motion with his hand and mouths, “The rat?”
I nod.
He eases closer, and after a moment, the other men follow suit. It should be obvious to all of them that the animal in my hand is no more clay-like than I am.
Stavros taps the top of its head as if he needs to feel its scales to be sure. Then he draws the sword he always carries on his belt and motions for me to lower the snake to the desk.
I hold it there as still as I can between my hands. The former general braces himself and chops the edge of the blade downward like a chef’s knife, just an inch from my clutching fingers at the creature’s neck.
The snake’s body squirms away from its head—and stiffens. The surface against my fingertips turns harder and rougher.
I lift my hands away from the two clay pieces now lying on the desk.
The unpolished reddish-brown surface has been etched with faint lines to indicate scales and two dots for eyes. It’s not a particularly realistic replica other than in shape.
Alek’s eyes widen. His hand flicks down his chest in a three-fingered tap to the gods.
All sense of the magic in the snake has vanished. I exhale in a rush. “I think we can talk now.”
“You’re just guessing?” Stavros says darkly.
I glower at him, and Alek jumps in with a suitable explanation that doesn’t reveal my magic-detecting ability to Benedikt. “The enchantment on it has obviously been broken. The sorcerers wouldn’t want anyone to be able to test the magic once it’s been discovered.”
Casimir runs his fingers over the clay body. “That’s incredible. It really did look and move exactly like a living animal.”
I wipe my fingers against my skirt, the sensation of writhing scales clinging to them. “None of you have ever encountered or even heard of a gift that could accomplish this?”
Alek shakes his head. “I’d imagine it has to be multiple gifts combined, or some kind of temporary magic gained through sacrifice.”
With that last word, he looks a bit sick.
What kind of sacrifice would it take to bring a lump of clay into something so close to life?
Benedikt leans back against one of the shelving units, tapping his lips. “I’ve kept an eye out for anyone handling clay objects around the campus and the palace. Haven’t noticed anything unusual so far. Pottery isn’t exactly a common conversational topic at the cards table.”
“I couldn’t find any connections between Ster. Torstem and a place where he might be sourcing or working with the clay,” Alek says. “He must be keeping his distance from that part of the conspiracy’s operations. I’ll extend my search and see what else I can find—I’ll make it my main priority.”
I catch Stavros’s gaze. “You should warn the king that it’s not just rats. Maybe the clerics who’ve been watching for more daimon antics would be able to pick up the magic in these creatures and ‘discover’ them on their own.”
Stavros’s mouth tightens as if he doesn’t love taking a suggestion from me, but he can obviously recognize it’s a decent one. “I’ll pass on word to him as soon as I can.”
Casimir frowns, picking up the snake’s clay head and examining it. “What real purpose would these serve? Who would the scourge sorcerers want to be spying on? It seems like a totally different tactic than what they were attempting with the daimon.”
It does, which unnerves me more than I’d like to admit. “Maybe they feel they need to use a more subtle approach after how things turned out before.”
“At least we know,” Benedikt points out. “That keeps us one step ahead of them.”
I’m not sure we’re ahead so much as not as far behind as we could be. But before I can decide whether to put that depressing thought into words, a creeping sensation spreads across my palm.
I jerk my hand toward me in time to see the words flicker across my skin. Tonight, same place and time. Alone.
“What?” Stavros demands, taking in my reaction.
I let out a raw chuckle. “It looks like I’m going to get another chance to dig into the scourge sorcerers’ plans directly—tonight.”