The Queen's Poisoner (Kingfountain, #1)(40)

It looked like a very interesting place to explore. How to find the way in?

Owen spent some time exploring various tunnels around where he thought the entrance must be, but realizing it would require more diligent searching, he decided to wait until after nightfall. After supper, he spent time in the kitchen arranging tiles in the shape he had seen, earning some curious comments from the Mortimer girl, which he chose not to answer because he wanted to surprise her. He was eager for nightfall to arrive so he could begin his search. He would need a candle if he were going to explore new sections of the tunnels, so he made sure to blow out his night candle early to conserve the wax.

As he walked the dark tunnels between the palace’s walls later that evening, he remembered his first nights in the palace and how frightened he had been of all the new sounds. He had grown more accustomed to them and could now differentiate the familiar from the strange. The interior ways were narrow, only wide enough for a single person to pass, but they interconnected the major portions of the palace. Most of the tunnels were as tall as the corridors they lined, and in some places rungs were hammered into the stone to provide access to higher floors. In other places, the tunnels were so narrow a man would have to go sideways through them. Those would have been a problem for Mancini, Owen thought with a smirk, but they were sized perfectly for an eight-year-old boy. At various points, they would connect to the tower stairwells, but some towers had secret ways.

Owen rubbed his hands on the stone walls, feeling the grooves between blocks of stone. He counted the floor blocks too, using that as a measure to help him orient himself. At every junction, there was a symbol carved into a flat stone at the corner, which also provided a way to find something in the dark. He normally kept to the main aisles, running the perimeter of the castle. Tonight, he intended to explore some new ones. His fat candle was impaled on a nail protruding from the stubby bronze candlestick he gripped and held before him as he explored. The normal day-to-day sounds of the castle began to abate as he explored, delving deeper into new tunnels that hopefully hid the secret of the garden well.

Part of him was growing anxious. He did not know how long he had been wandering, but he knew Ankarette would be waiting for him in the tower. He wanted to be able to boast his discovery to her, to prove that he had learned his lessons and could find things on his own. But he could not find any path that led there, and he was getting the feeling that he should turn back and continue his quest another night.

But he was also a stubborn little boy and he really wanted to find it, so he persisted and continued the search despite the nagging feeling in his stomach that increased with each step. He was not entirely certain where he was and thought, with a sick feeling in his stomach, that he might even be lost.

A sound whispered from the corridor behind him. It was a footfall. Not the sound of a boot in the corridor beyond the wall. The sound of someone approaching within the tunnel. It was coming from behind him.

The queasiness blossomed inside Owen and a cold sweat started on his brow. Going back was no longer an option. The tunnel was narrow and there was no place to hide, so Owen hurried forward, hoping to find an escape into the main palace corridor. It would be infinitely better to be punished for wandering the hall at night than to be caught in the Espion corridor. His little heart started to hammer wildly in his chest and the blackness in front of him became even darker somehow.

He heard the footfalls again, coming closer.

The boy was starting to panic. Ankarette had warned him this could happen. She had told him it was dangerous to wander the tunnels alone and that he needed to be very cautious and always listen for sounds that were out of place. Such as the footfalls behind him.

The narrow pinch of the corridor suddenly filled in ahead of Owen, the walls closing like an arrowhead. It ended abruptly and finally. It was a dead end.

He gasped with fear and glanced over his shoulder. He could still see nothing, but the steps were getting louder. His mind twisted with regret and shock. He needed to think clearly, but fear had flooded him. He scanned the walls, up and down, looking for ladder rungs to climb. Nothing. Even the ceiling had narrowed, though it was still tall.

His mouth was dry as sand. The wild shuddering in his chest turned into a stampede of horses. He gazed around again, and then he saw the handle latch he had missed. There was a concealed door on one side of the passageway. He almost jerked the latch and flung it wide, and if he had, his time as a poisoner’s apprentice would have ended abruptly. Some faint inner voice, probably Ankarette’s, cautioned him just in time. All the hidden entrances in the palace were equipped with secret spyholes. The spyhole was almost too tall for him, but they tended to favor crouching people. Owen slid open the cover and gazed through it.

It was the king’s bedroom.

Owen knew this because he saw the king inside.

The hearth was blazing, and its flickering light glowed orange off the king’s stubbled cheeks. The king was staring into the fire, one hand supporting himself as he leaned against the mantel. His other hand, from his crooked arm, held his crown. He looked as if he were going to toss the crown into the fire and melt the burnished gold.

There were an infinite number of hiding places in the bedroom. A huge canopied bed made of enormous stained-oak beams, carved and sculpted and glistening with the light. There were fur-lined capes and robes. Several stuffed couches and chairs, any of which would have concealed a small boy. There were chests and wardrobes. Even a garderobe! Owen would gladly have thrown himself down the shaft into the cesspit to avoid being caught. But the door might squeal if he opened it, and then the king would turn and see him. He did not want to imagine what he would say. He couldn’t let that happen!