The Disappearance of Winter's Daughter (Riyria Chronicles #4)(36)

They were entering the plaza, which turned out to be an attractive circle of decorative paving stones that highlighted the area between the mouth of the bridge and the massive doors of the cathedral. The last time they’d passed this way, it had been night and the whole square had been a mass of people jostling to push through a bottleneck, making it impossible to see the giant church’s doors, much less the paving stones. Now the plaza served as a vast open space providing a stunning view of the cathedral’s grandeur.

“His glory,” Royce said.

“What?” Hadrian asked.

“It’s the translation of the cathedral’s name. Grom Galimus means ‘his glory.’ I’m guessing his refers to Novron.” Royce pointed at the sculpture in front.

The statue of the first emperor looked bigger, more impressive in the absence of human clutter, though even at that early hour a few people knelt at its stairs, heads down, praying. Around them, carters were still setting up. The various vendors were busy putting out displays or propping up awnings, although some of the carts had permanent roofs. A flight of pigeons burst skyward as the clang of Grom Galimus’s bells marked the hour, an event that, annoyingly, occurred all day and night.

“So, you’re not mad at me for being so forthcoming with Roland?” Hadrian asked as they passed a bakery where the owner was setting wares out in display cases.

The smell of baking bread came two steps later. Then a breeze blew it away, replacing warmth and comfort with the fishy scent of the river, which wasn’t bad, but the two odors clashed, opposites of each other. One was home and hearth, the other exploration and adventure. Hadrian felt a sense of loss without knowing why. Such was the mysterious nature of smells and memories.

“Thought about it,” Royce replied.

“That’s all? I expected you’d be ranting and throwing a fit the moment we left. I was thinking about excuses to tell passersby.”

“What’d you come up with?”

“Best one was that you were stung by a bee. Although I thought it would be fun to say you were a snake charmer and one got loose in your pant leg.”

Royce shook his head, frowning. “You really are terrible at lying. Need to work on that. In our profession, that’s a serious handicap.”

“So, why didn’t you berate me?”

“Because, as usual, your luck held out.”

Hadrian’s brows rose. “In what way?”

The last of the fog was lifting. The soft white wisps hovered over the water, the morning reluctant to cast off its bedcovers. When it parted, an uncompromised view of the water and the series of stone arches that made up the bridge emerged. Sunlight glinted on the river.

“I think there’s a good chance we won’t need to go on a killing spree.” Royce sounded almost sad.

Hadrian had never planned on a spree of any kind, but he saw no reason to interrupt a current flowing in his direction. “So, you think she’s still alive?”

Royce nodded. “Starting to look that way.”

“I say she might be alive, and you think I’m crazy. The captain of the city guard and a kid at the local carriage shop tell you she is likely dead, and you think she’s alive. Why do you always insist on taking the opposite of anyone’s opinion?”

“Because most people are idiots. But in this case, lack of a body makes a compelling argument. To hear your friend tell it, corpses pop up all over the place, but there’s no sign of the duchess’s? When I thought her husband did her in, I figured she was in a hole under the Estate or, more likely, chained to a boulder under the bay, but now it looks like he’s not involved.”

“Do you think it was the Morgan?”

Royce frowned. “Of course not. There’s no such thing as a monster that stalks city streets and mutilates people.”

Hadrian’s brows rose.

Royce frowned. “You know what I mean: monsters that fear the color blue. The carriage had to be reupholstered because of the cofferer’s blood, which means Devon De Luda was attacked while still inside. That the kid missed such a hole in his logic demonstrates how people are willing to overlook the obvious if it doesn’t fit their beliefs. We’ll know more once we find the driver.”

“How we going to do that? The guy’s practically invisible. No one has any clue who he is.”

“I do. And I know enough to be sure I’m not going to like him.”

Hadrian laughed. “That narrows the search to nearly everyone on the face of Elan.”

Royce started to respond, then stopped and nodded. “Okay, sure, but I’m really not going to like this guy.”





Chapter Nine

The Gold Eater





Genny Hargrave scraped the silver coin across the stone floor. She paused frequently to check the sharpness of the edge, and to listen.

She didn’t hear anyone outside the door or walls. No one to see, either. The door to the little cell, while solid enough to keep her imprisoned, had gaps aplenty. She’d found a handful of spy holes, and at that moment they all agreed: Her captors had left, and she was alone. Genny made the best use of her time by sharpening the edge of the coin, but each scrape chilled her.

What if he comes back while she’s gone? What if he discovers what I’m doing?

He was Villar, and although a last name had been mentioned, it wasn’t clear enough to catch. She was a significant improvement over the mad dog that was Villar. Mad, that’s how Genny thought about him, like a snarling rabid animal. He had a kind of caustic hatred doled out to everyone, for any reason.