The door swung open with a metallic screech. Blessed cold air bathed my feverish face, and the last rays of sunset, arrowing beneath a thick pall of clouds, near blinded me. All gods be praised, the chamber was open to the sky.
“In with you.” Falderrene motioned me forward.
I ducked my head lower and stepped in, astonished to discover I could stand straight without touching the ragged timbers of the ceiling as it swooped upward to its conical peak. Not one, but five tall windows opened onto the settling night. Though defensive iron grillwork yet guarded the window openings, only rusted hinges remained of their wooden shutters. A laugh bubbled up inside me, withheld only by my silk mask. Did they think to torment me with exposure to the elements?
Falderrene unhooked a jangling ring from his belt and dangled it in the air. “Shall we toss a coin for who plays nursemaid tonight, friend?”
The pale-haired Jakome snatched the keys and twisted his whey-colored face into a bitter snarl. “I’ve a personal interest tonight. The holy one forbids me interfere, but I’d stay close. He is an animal.”
Falderrene grinned unpleasantly and swept an oily lock behind his malformed ear. “As you wish. Might as well remove his shackles. Not even his gatzé master can retrieve him here. He’ll not escape lest he can fly. I’ll wait on the stair lest he give you any trouble.”
As the pale-haired Jakome bent to unlock my ankles, a survey of the chamber’s furnishings revealed comforts not usual for a common prisoner. A small cabinet held a painted washing bowl, night jar, and neatly stacked towels. The bed, piled with thick quilts, was a rarity—built long enough to accommodate a person of my size. And though the crumbling hole in the center of the stone floor had not held a watchfire for many years, a lamp with a glass wind shield sat on a small round table beside a bowl of apples.
The chains clanked and rattled as my bony jailer stood up again. I shook out my legs, relishing the lightness.
“A meal will be brought shortly,” said Jakome. “The same as we all eat. Though the chamber’s open to the weather, you’ve been left blankets enough. This is no pureblood palace, but Sila Diaglou has no wish to starve or freeze you.”
His wish, though…His face told me that his wish was different and had a great deal to do with sharp knives and stakes through the gut. Would that I could shove the man and all his fellows down the stairs and burn this maniac-infested den until the lead roofs fell in on them all.
The ragged guardsman had carried in my case and set it beside a plain wood chest. Jakome yanked open the case and threw my silks, velvets, damasks, and linens onto the stone floor, searching them briskly. Looking me straight in the eye, he hawked and spat on my spare mask, wadded it up, and threw it atop the pile of clothes. “We’ll see you get proper clothes. When all are brought low, such pureblood fripperies will have no use.”
No use mentioning that I’d done my best to forgo pureblood frippery for most of my life.
He turned the emptied case upside down and shook it. Naught fell out. “That’s it, then,” he said as he stood up again. Tossing the case onto the pile, he waved the guardsman toward the stair. “Get on. Tell Falderrene I’ll set the locks and meet him below.”
Once we were alone, Jakome’s colorless lips curled into a toothy grin. He pulled out his knife and twirled it in his fingers. “I’ve heard you have need of a knife. Heard it from my brethren.”
“Saints and angels!” Surprise and relief turned my spine to jelly. “Do you ever need a recommendation for an acting troupe, say the word! Can you get me out of these?” I held out my bound hands.
“Aye, I can and will. But you must kneel first, pureblood.” His bony chin indicated the floor.
“Why so?” I was already spying out places to hide the weapon.
“Because I’m still thinking whether or not to give you what was promised. Matters have changed.” Venom laced his tongue. “Do your knees bend? I’ve ne’er seen a pureblood kneel.”
I knelt, my spirits plummeting. I knew this kind of man. Give him the deference he wanted and he might relent. He couldn’t have much time until he was missed. “Come,” I said, wheedling, “you were trusted…well paid…”
“Shhh.” He pressed the knife point to my lips, unmasked rage and bloodthirst reddening his white skin. I held my tongue and gave up hope of the knife. Keeping blood and breath would be enough. “The thing is, I was paid to give you a knife if I could manage it without being caught. But if I’ve decided I can’t manage it, who’s going to hear your complaint?”
He spun the weapon in the air and snatched the hilt, then waved the weapon slowly side to side as one might try to mesmerize a dog. “You’re being given what you don’t deserve, as pureblood pups are always given what they don’t deserve. It would please me to carve your throat out.”
I maintained discipline, keeping my shoulders relaxed, my mouth shut, and my gaze somewhere neutral, even when tiny flames rippled along the edges of his blade. The fellow must have a trace of sorcerer’s blood, at the least.
After a few uncomfortable moments, he exhaled in disgust and let the flames die, then began to cut away the silken cords that bound my hands. “Fortunately, you’ve worse to come than I could do to you.”
“Ouch! Careful!” I snatched my hands away and shook off the remnants of the bindings. His last cut had slashed through cords and glove alike, leaving an ugly red smear on his dagger and a fiery laceration at the base of my thumb. “Are you wholly an idiot as well as a scoundrel?”
“Not I, pureblood. Not I.” Sneering, Jakome left the chamber, slammed the iron door shut behind him, and shot the noisy bolt.
Breathing raggedly, I sagged back onto my heels, bent my head to my knees, and tried to slow my hammering heart. When my refocused senses told me that no one remained outside the door or on the stair, I pulled off mask, cloak, and gloves and got to work. Without a weapon I would have to find another way out of this prison. And if Jakome was going to report Max’s bribe to Sila Diaglou, I’d best get out of here fast.
First, test the door. I structured a voiding spell. Releasing magic into the spell, I traced an arc at the bottom of the iron door. The iron remained cold and inert. Neither did the locks respond to my best probing with so much as a spark. Disappointing, but no surprise. I had assumed Sila would have my prison warded to preclude all common spellwork. Jakome had worked his little fire magic with the door open.
I retrieved my leather case and ripped out the false bottom Saverian had cleverly disguised so that I needed no magic to open it. I pulled out her three vials of medicines—blue for me, amber for the prince, clear for the tincture of yellow broom—a useful common remedy that could ream a man’s guts. I had intended to carry these in my pocket once I had been searched, but after Jakome’s words about new clothes, decided I’d best find a place in my cell to stash them. With the open windows, perhaps I wouldn’t need my own remedy.
The clothes chest had no pockets or drawers, but a wooden tray, half its length, had been crafted to sit in the top of it to hold buckles or belts or other oddments. Several objects sat in the tray already: a dice box, a canvas bag of knucklebones, a long narrow board pocked with egg-shaped hollows for playing armaments, and a set of ivory and jet pebblelike game pieces. I emptied the canvas bag, dropped the vials into it, then replaced the bones. I had always been luckier at knucklebones than dice.
Games. From the look of it, they intended to keep me here a while. Which made no sense at all. If Sila and Gildas didn’t want my bent to lead them into Aeginea…or anywhere else…then what, in Iero’s heaven, did they want with me?