Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(94)

“Our sister Harper was only six when Hal went to the army,” Robert said. “It was really hard for her to see him go, so she gave him her thimble so he wouldn’t get pricked.”

“I’ve worn it on a chain around my neck ever since,” Hal said, “as a kind of talisman.” He lifted the chain over his head and handed it off to Karn, hoping he was doing the right thing. Hal couldn’t quiet the voice in his head saying, This is a trick.

Karn weighed it in his palm. “Does it work?”

“Well,” Hal said, “I’m still alive.”

“Ah,” Karn said, with a crooked smile. “That’s your secret.” He tucked it away. “I’ll only use it if I have to,” he said.

“One more thing,” Hal said. “If you see my mother, tell her to look on the bright side. That’s the advice she’s constantly giving me.”

“Look on the bright side,” Karn repeated. “All right. There’s at least a one-in-a-thousand chance this plan will work.”

When he went to turn away, Hal said, “Lieutenant.”

Karn turned, waited.

“Why are you doing this?”

The spymaster gazed at him for a long moment, rubbing his chin. “Let’s just say that I have a weakness for women and children in peril.” Then he was out the door, and Hal heard the click of the lock.





38


VISIT TO THE PIT


It was an odd committee of party planners: Queen Marina, for the carrot; Destin, for the stick; and Lila Barrowhill for logistics. Lila was dressed like a clerk in her scribner blues—all she needed was a pair of spectacles to complete the look. Still, Destin couldn’t help wondering who she really was underneath her many disguises.

He wondered if she knew herself.

A subdued Luc Granger met them outside the Great Hall. His face looked nearly normal save for a certain crookedness to his nose. I’ll have to get the name of the healer who worked on him, Destin thought. Whoever it is does fine work.

“Your Majesty,” Granger said to Queen Marina, “I beg of you to reconsider this visit. I’ve not had time to properly prepare for—”

“If the guest quarters are suitable for families of noble birth, I have no doubt I’ll survive,” Marina said. “His Majesty gave me very little notice that they would be attending this reception, and we must be as efficient as possible.”

“In other words, lead the way,” Destin said.

To Destin’s surprise, Granger did not lead them to the dungeon’s main entrance two floors below the Great Hall. Instead, it soon became apparent that they were on their way to the royal wing of the palace—a place frequented only by the royal family, their most trusted servants, and their most servile favorites.

Was Jarat really housing the hostages in the royal apartments? How was that possible, without Destin knowing about it? Without the entire world knowing about it? Not to mention that it would be totally out of character for the brutal young king.

The way in was through the apartment once occupied by King Gerard’s mistress, Estelle DeLacroix. DeLacroix was no longer in need of it, since she’d been executed on suspicion of plotting to assassinate the king. At the rear of the poor lady’s bedchamber, where the king once found an adder in his bed, was a locked door. Granger unlocked it and motioned them through.

The door opened to a surprisingly large chamber occupied by four blackbird guards, playing cards around a table. They nodded to Granger like they knew him, and one of them handed him a ring of keys.

“This way,” Granger said, opening yet another door to a tiny chamber. From there, a staircase descended into the dark.

It must be a Montaigne family secret, the kind of place you’d keep your brother until you murdered him. Or a traitorous mistress. Or an uncooperative wife.

Or an unscrupulous minion of the king. Destin smiled benignly at Granger.

As they descended the stairs, Granger grew more relaxed, almost chatty. Definitely a bit more daring when it came to taking pokes at Destin. Maybe it was because he was on his own turf. It was disturbing that he’d recovered from yesterday’s interview so quickly.

“So, as you’ll see, the hostages are safe and sound, right under the king’s eye, and totally secure.”

They’d finally reached the bottom of the staircase. Granger drew a second ring of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. After that, it was down another corridor and through another set of doors. Here the air was dank, thick with moisture, and the walls gleamed with sweat. Destin could hear water trickling, and several times they crossed streamlets running across the floor. It was cold, too—a damp cold that penetrated all the way to the bone.

That’s when Destin knew: King Jarat was stupid enough to keep his hostages in the Pit—only a remote, secret part of it, unconnected to the rest. A place where they would never be found by anyone who didn’t know where to look. He sent up a prayer of thanks to whatever god had persuaded him not to bring Matelon along. Even a stoic soul like Matelon couldn’t help but react to this.

He glanced at Marina. Her face was smooth, unreadable. She’s not surprised, he thought. She knew the Montaignes better than most—at least among those who were still alive.

Finally, they reached another checkpoint staffed with blackbird guards—none of whom were known to Destin. They all seemed to know Granger, though. After some whispered discussion, the group passed through.