The Disappearance of Winter's Daughter (Riyria Chronicles #4)(113)

“Don’t suppose it’s just out for a stroll, eh?” Hadrian said, even as he drew his two swords.

“What are you going to do with those? It’s stone. You’d do better with a hammer and chisel.”

“Don’t have those.”

The statue crashed through a copse, kicking the trees into a cloud of splinters. A branch too heavy for Royce to lift landed twenty feet away. Novron was close enough for him to see the marble god’s expression. The normally stoic, proud, and noble features were twisted in vicious rage.

Royce pulled Alverstone out of the folds of his clothes.

“Oh, okay,” Hadrian said. “A dagger is sooo much better.”

“A very sharp dagger,” Royce replied. “When I was on Grom Galimus—”

“Grom Galimus! Sacred ground!” Hadrian burst out. “Get back inside!”

They ran through the doorway.

Having fought the gargoyle, Royce knew all too well the impossibilities of combat with living stone. He had managed to do some tiny damage with Alverstone, but Hadrian was right: A dagger wasn’t a match for a giant. The fall from the roof of Grom Galimus had destroyed the golem, but that wasn’t going to happen this time. Novron the Great looked a whole lot more dangerous than the stone monkey with its useless wings. But the thought that they could hide inside the ruin and wait out the golem like a summer downpour felt like little more than wishful thinking.

“Not going to work,” Royce said as outside they heard, and felt, the rumble of the charging marble giant.

“Why do you say that?”

“The golems-can’t-tread-on-sacred-ground thing can’t be true. I fought the gargoyle on top of Grom Galimus,” Royce said as if admitting some terrible sin. He had to shout to be heard over the hammering of the statue’s footfalls as it closed the remaining distance. “Doesn’t get much more holy than a cathedral.”

Royce and Hadrian waited, each with a wincing expression.

Nothing happened. The footfalls ceased.

Through the open doorway, they spotted a pair of marble legs. They stood still like a pair of birch trunks.

Hadrian looked at Royce and smiled.

Royce shrugged. “Maybe because I was on the roof it wasn’t literally sacred ground? Or perhaps only the altar is sacred.” He didn’t think the golem’s restriction would be that specific, and yet he couldn’t come up with any other reason why Villar’s Novron wasn’t crawling through the door to kill them.

“It’s not reaching in the doorway, either,” Hadrian said. “Just standing there. Maybe it can’t enter the interior space?”

Royce bent down and peered out at the legs. “We can’t stay here forever, but I’m thinking the God of Man might.” Giant Novron also bent down and peered in at them.

“Remember what Griswold said? There’s a time limit. The person animating the golem can’t keep the connection too long or his soul will get stuck permanently, making the golem an immortal, indestructible terror.”

Royce sighed. “And anyone willing to stick around to roast a child’s heart while we were outside searching for him is bound to be the type to go down with his ship, the HMS Revenge. So, waiting for Villar to break the connection might not be such a good plan.”

“Probably not. Good news is that the duchess is safe.”

“Yes . . .” Royce said with a sour look. “By all means, let’s thank Maribor for that.”

“Why not thank Novron. He’s literally right outside.”

Royce frowned. “If only—” he started to say, then stopped as a new thought distracted him. “Villar has to be on sacred ground to summon that thing, right?”

Hadrian nodded.

“And if he leaves it, the golem would kill him.”

“Theoretically.”

“So he must still be here.”

The ruin wasn’t a big place. There were no adjoining rooms except the cell, no cabinets or curtains to hide behind. Just the big dye pots, piles of wool, and the cook fire. Nevertheless, Royce moved around the space, nudging the blankets and looking inside the pots, which were huge but still far too small for even a mir to hide.

Where? Hadrian silently mouthed.

Royce shrugged in frustration. He looked back down at the crates and the piles of wool. He had to be close. He wasn’t in the room with them, which meant . . .

Villar had led Royce on a merry chase across the rooftops of Rochelle. That tour of the city wasn’t random. The mir knew where he was going, what transom led to what windows, what ledges could be leapt to, and what streets were narrow enough to cross at a running jump. He’d been that way before.

Villar has a thing for roofs.

Royce looked up and pointed at the dome.

Hadrian’s eyes widened. He shook his head. “Can’t be. The golem is out there. Why doesn’t it just climb up and kill him.”

“Can’t reach him.”

“But you said the gargoyle—”

“The gargoyle was small. Well, smaller. And Grom Galimus had all kinds of ornaments and handholds. I don’t think Novron can climb up the smooth walls of this temple. Villar, on the other hand, would have no problem.”

“Probably been up there this whole time—that’s why we haven’t found him,” Hadrian whispered. “Now what?”