Chapter Seven Faith of Selûne #2
Saeldian spun out of his hold to stamp three times and clap, folding into his arms when they joined to dance spinning circles.
Their neutrality was flawless—they followed Kell’s cues as if they could read his mind.
“You should try it, you know. Maybe if you put someone’s needs above your own, the world wouldn’t end after all. ”
No one could see Saeldian’s instant rejection, but he felt it rustle down their spine. “Really! What an idea. What do you know so far?”
“Lorzok and Jubilee filled me in. You’re right, I have to see it. We can make it upstairs unseen. What then?”
“Head upstairs and take a wander around by the art,” Saeldian said. “There’s a spot we can use to hide while they close the exhibit.”
“And reset the traps.”
“If we’re lucky, we’ll see how they did it.”
“Do you think anyone besides Fimmelden designs them now?”
“It doesn’t matter who designed it. A lock is made to open. The key only matters in clumsy hands.”
The song ended with virtue triumphing over spite and gossip.
The maligned maiden and her beloved were united to dance together in marriage, to smile for all their days.
Saeldian stamped out the last triple, clapped their hands three times in stingy applause, and hooked their arm in Jubilee’s, strolling to the stairs.
Lorzok followed Kell to the exit leading to the comfort room, and together they snuck up the staircase most people had come down.
They had a one in two chance of picking the wrong staircase, and they had.
Kell hardly dared to breathe as Lady Tarm and her attendants climbed the stairs before them, as if too deep a breath would shatter Lorzok’s and Saeldian’s spells.
Four maids continued up the stairs with Lady Elezia, but the rest stood on the landing, backs turned, and settled thick blindhoods over their heads.
They were close enough to slap on the shoulder, but none of them acted like anything was amiss.
Lorzok had blown a pinch of ashes into the corner of the north staircase landing and cast a spell that would dim them from anyone’s notice.
Saeldian gathered them into the corner and cast an illusion that would make the landing look empty—as long as they didn’t create too many places where the shadows weren’t right or where the perspective was odd.
These hooded servants weren’t studying the shadows, of course. But could they sense the team clutched together in the corner? Did any of them feel the puff of their breath unsettling the air?
From the steady, even breaths that beat against Kell’s right shoulder blade, Lorzok didn’t seem worried at all.
Jubilee’s chin, wedged on Kell’s left shoulder, pressed into his muscle, but not so hard as if she were afraid.
From the tension in her thigh, pressed next to Kell’s, she was ready to spring into action as soon as the coast was clear.
Saeldian leaned against his chest, stiff and resentful of the proximity.
Their hair smelled like bay laurel and iris root.
Could the servants smell that, above the beeswax and the mingling of dancers?
Saeldian slouched and shifted from foot to foot, bored and untroubled by the tiny clues Kell worried about.
They must love this. There was nothing better than proving themself smarter than any trap, any defense, or any trick that made a collector sleep soundly at night.
The illusion Saeldian held over them seemed effortless.
Saeldian’s shoulders barely moved as they listened to Lady Elezia instructing assistants, standing almost within arm’s reach.
“Places,” she said, and then, “Inspection?”
The voice that answered was a woman’s. “Clear.”
“Splendid. Phase one, places. Good! Activate…wonderful. Phase two, please.”
Two maids took their hoods off and climbed the stairs to the gallery. Four maids filed past the hidden crew—what if they had to get into the room the four of them currently blocked?—but they continued down the stairs without a pause.
Smart. None of these servants knew the whole disarming sequence. Kidnapping one to get the answer wouldn’t work.
“Phase two, begin.”
Phase two didn’t take long. But only one maid came down the stairs, while the other three doffed their blindhoods to climb up. Was there another pair of shoes tapping down the other side?
“Excellent. Ganadil, Rildur, Feathilia, you may begin.”
Two feet landing, then another pair, and the third simply stepping. A pause. And then—two people jumping, the other one stepping. That was the pressure plates for sure. Activating a pattern on the far end of the floor—
“Perfect. Thank you all. If you wish to change out of your uniforms and join the party, please do.”
They murmured thanks and left by the other staircase nearest them.
Kell hadn’t seen any of it. Only Lady Elezia, directing three teams of servants in activating three sets of traps. Four maids, then two maids, then three footmen. They had enough to activate the trap sets. Were their four enough to defeat them?
Finally, Elezia descended the stairs, choosing their side. She stopped on the landing to lean against the bannister, watching the party whirl along below—then she stood upright, head cocked to follow an unexpected sense.
She sniffed the air. Sniffed again, turning in a slow circle, with frowning eyebrows and a downturned mouth. Lady Elezia inhaled slowly, reading the odors in the air like a gossip column mentioning someone she recognized.
Kell pressed his lips together, but Saeldian’s iris root and bay laurel hair oil filled the air. How far had it spread? When would Lady Elezia move to track it?
Saeldian’s shoulder tensed the instant before they lifted their hand and whispered, “Is that you?”
Lady Elezia lifted her elbow and turned to smell herself.
“Phaugh!”
Their host picked up their skirts and made haste down the stairs. Kell sagged against the wall and learned how to breathe again.
“Wait,” Jubilee whispered.
Kell stayed still, but why did Jubilee hold them up? Elezia was gone—oh. The lights were still bright. The servants hadn’t dimmed them.
Saeldian’s spell didn’t falter, not once, while guards climbed either stairwell, peeked into the gallery, and turned back the way they came, turning half the lamps off as they went.
When they were gone, Saeldian let the spell fall. “Time?”
“Fifteen minutes, almost.”
“Hells. There’s no time for a single mistake. I need one of those minutes, or else I’m all out of big spells for today.”
Saeldian touched their chest, closed their eyes, and murmured words under their breath.
Kell caught You who gave me the power of your splendor in Sylvan, but the way they spoke it had the feel of memorized sounds, not understanding.
This was no time to puzzle over it, and—no. Saeldian wasn’t worth being curious about.
He leaned against the wall and watched Jubilee squint at the doorknob. “Quickened barrel tumblers?”
“Yeah.”
“Cheer up,” Kell said. “We’re on strict instructions to not steal anything else.”
Jubilee shrugged and stood upright. Saeldian’s chant subsided.
“All right, I have one more charge. Let’s start.” They halted at the threshold and studied the floor. “Hells. Jubilee?”
What? Kell pushed forward before he glanced at the diagram in his hands. All the squares in this first area had pressure plates, according to Jubilee. He looked at the inlaid floor and—
“Red Knight help us.”
That drew a chuckle out of Saeldian. “So you see it.”
“I should have seen it when I saw the diagram.”
“I should have seen it when I was up here casing the pressure plates,” Jubilee said.
“Seen what?” Lorzok asked, peering over Jubilee’s shoulder. “Oh no, you couldn’t have, my friend—are you actually? My friend, that is.”
Jubilee paused to consider. “Not yet, but we are a team.”
“Yes.” Lorzok seemed satisfied. “You couldn’t have, my compeer. There were too many people to see the floor in detail.”
“I had the count in my head. That should have been enough to have a hint.”
“Never mind, Jubilee. We’re down two minutes. This is your field. What have we got?”
Why was Saeldian coddling Jubilee like this?
The parquet floor was arranged between blond wood squares and walnut, but this section, eight squares wide on each side, was obviously a lanceboard.
And inlaid on some of those pressure plate–loaded squares was a figure of a game in progress, and that meant that the way to disarm the trap was to engage the correct squares—
But Jubilee was mumbling. “King’s gambit accepted. Lathander’s priest takes Shar’s knight’s pawn? Has to be, nothing else makes sense…”
What was she talking about? Kell was about to ask when he saw the squares next to the board had pieces inlaid on them too. Pieces that had been taken out of play. Jubilee was reading the game like she had watched it.
“But then Lathander’s priest is taken—oh.”
She went silent, reaching out one hand as if to adjust this piece or that. “I’ve got it. Remind me to beat Lady Elezia in lanceboard if we make it out of here. I learned this game when I was eight.”
“Lanceboard?” Lorzok asked.
“Faith of Sel?ne,” Jubilee corrected. “That’s the name for this particular game of lanceboard. It’s famous. Plenty of king’s gambit games are classics.”
Lorzok bent over to look at the black queen in the corner of white’s end of the board. “My family did a brisk trade in lanceboards, but I do not know the game.”
“How do you know that this is Faith of Sel?ne? I don’t doubt you,” Kell said as Saeldian’s expression darkened, “but you knew instantly.”
“Look at the captured pieces carved on the sides. Both of Sel?ne’s rooks sacrificed, one after the other, in the midgame.
Compare that to the board now…Lady Elezia is a romantic.
” Jubilee traced the progress of moves with a pointing finger, verifying every play.
“This particular game was played against a devil, and the priestess of Sel?ne won the game by looking like she was losing.”
“This sounds like an interesting story.”