“I am not an assassin!” she hissed. Thankfully, no one was close enough to hear. She looked toward the bright hospital tents where people still bustled. No one was close enough to have even noticed the bird’s arrival.
She crumpled the note and tossed it into the weeds. She considered throwing the tiny bottle in the same direction but put it into her pocket instead.
Depressed, stressed and angry, she left the crop and hobbled up the battlements to the palace’s outer wall where Naobi had risen. She watched the large moon for a long time. Clouds slipped like white flames across its face.
Dr. Anselm arrived to check on her.
“It’s beautiful,” he said.
“I suppose it is.”
“I wanted to thank you.” She found his loud, friendly voice soothing. “You did a great job today.” He cocked his head. “And I’m not just saying that to pamper Avidan Mwyr’s daughter.”
She raised a finger at him. “No babysitting.”
“No babysitting.” He grinned. Then, “You certainly didn’t need any. Have the reconnaissance teams left?”
“What? I don’t know. I hadn’t heard about them.”
“Maybe they’re already gone. The king sent two detachments down Avenue of Lights.” He pointed vaguely toward domes and statues that cluttered the dark skyline. “From the sound of it, we weren’t the first ones here. A Pandragonian vessel landed to the south somewhere.”
“What is it?” she asked. “You make it sound like something bad happened.”
Light from the tents groped his features as he glanced down at his feet; nostrils, lips and cheekbones became a black puzzle. “Word has it, they were attacked … worse than we were.”
Taelin ached to know if her family had been spared. Her cousin and several close friends lived in the Perch. But how could she get to them?
And how could they have been spared? When she gazed over the copper domes and ancient masonry, the city seemed empty. All she saw were blackened streets and windows. Bright flowers in planters threw ruffling shadows over abandoned brickwork and tar, lit harshly by pools of white-blue lamplight.
Somewhere in the darkness, Taelin could hear a fountain splashing. But the lovely avenues rolled with papers and garbage.
Anselm laced his fingers over the crown of his shaven head. He arched back—stretching.
“Did you see that?”
Anselm snapped back. “Where?”
Taelin pointed. “It was right there. There it is again, see it?”
“Yes.”
Something crept below the wall, slinking through folds of darkness on the east side of a boutique. It was coming toward the palace.
Dr. Anselm’s voice broke the tension. “Our first patient?”
Taelin took her crutches and hopped down the battlement steps, hurrying as best she could toward the gate.
“Wait!” he called. “You can’t go down there! You’re under quarantine.”
Taelin stopped. “It’s not airborne.”
Anselm’s eyes seemed abnormally white. They were wide and solemn with the gravity of her objection. “Listen, this is serious. Now I know you don’t want to—”
“No. No,” she said. “You’re right. I’m being stupid.”
“You’re being concerned.” He walked down the steps, huge hands thrust into the pockets of his crimson trench. “Nothing wrong with that. But you’ve done enough today. Here.” He produced a bottle of pills. “Take one of these before you sleep. It will help with the altitude.”
She accepted the little jar of yellow and purple capsules.
“Now go get something to eat. And sleep! I’ll coax our patient in, don’t worry.”
Taelin knew he was right. He seemed levelheaded. He reminded her faintly of Aviv. With a wave and a smile she turned toward the medical tents and the smell of cooking food.
CHAPTER
14
Sena waited for Caliph to say something. There was no up or down. The darkness in the airship pooled around them. They were fish, in an aquarium, looking out at the mangled lights of humans. White tents wobbled. Doctors’ shadows wrinkled in the night. Sena did not touch him as she thought about the Bablemumish and Pandragonian plots, the whispers in upholstered staterooms and electroplated dining decks that floated below the City in the Mountain—waiting for the High King.
“Did you know anyone here?” asked Caliph.
“Yes.” When Caliph’s wait turned obstinate she relented. “His name was Tynan.”
“Was?”
“He’s gone.”
“Old boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
She felt the hair on the back of Caliph’s neck rise. Tonight it wasn’t the energy pouring off her skin that frightened him. Tonight something darker, behind her, only a foot below the ceiling, was listening. Caliph couldn’t see it but it was there. And she felt it put Caliph’s hackles on end.
“What would you do if you were trapped behind a door?” She drew his attention back to her. “Where you couldn’t see the front of the lock?”
“What?” Caliph looked back at the glowing wind-crumpled tents. They had begun to snap in the wind.
“Never mind. Let’s flip it,” she said. “Here’s your riddle.”
“Riddle?”
“Just listen.
“Pretend you’re in a room. The whole world is in the room with you. Like a giant globe. But it’s not a toy. It’s the real world. With all the people and things on it that you love. They’re real … just small. You’re not standing on the world.”
Caliph scratched the side of his face. “Okay…”
Sena felt the thing in the darkness stir behind her but she kept talking. “So you’re stuck in a room with the world. At the room’s edge is a locked door. Behind the door is Something awful. A Monster. The Monster will eat you if It gets out.”
“So I don’t let It out.”
“It really wants to eat you. It wants to eat the world too.”
“So this is a puzzle where I have to choose whether to save myself or the world, right?”
“Damn you.”
His smile was slow and roguish. “Does this have anything to do with that crazy thing you said yesterday? Are you the monster here?” She watched his face flex the ghosts of hospital light, pulling the radiance of the flapping tents into his cheeks. He wore an expression of mock fear that tried to set things right between them. It was a valiant attempt. She wanted to touch his lips.
Instead, she said, “It’s more complicated than that. The locked door is the only door in the room—that you can see.
“The Monster is banging on that door, trying to get out. Every minute, you hear the door cracking, getting weaker.
“The Monster slides you a key. It tells you that if you set It free, a mechanism will open a second door. A hidden door. If you’re fast enough, if you’re ready to run—you might just get away.”
“Not very reassuring. If I don’t unlock the door, what happens?”
“It breaks through.” She reached out and gently dug her nails into his arm. “It gets you.”
“Nice. So it’s only if I unlock the door that I have any chance at all.”
“Correct. But it’s just a chance.”
“How do I know the monster isn’t lying to me?”
“Isn’t It?”
Caliph laughed. “Not much of a riddle.”
“No?”
He dragged his laugh out until it became skeptical. “Why am I trying to solve this?”
“You don’t have to. All I said was, ’Here’s your riddle.’”
“Which is an implicit invitation.”
“Not necessarily. Not all riddles need to be solved. Some just need to be delivered.”