The Queen's Poisoner (Kingfountain, #1)(71)
“When a man feels threatened,” Ankarette said in a voice as quiet as feathers, “he is apt to do terrible things.” She shook her head. “I don’t think the king has noticed that his spymaster is no longer serving his interests.”
Men rise from one ambition to another. If there was ever a man born to lead the Espion, it was John Tunmore. I’m frankly startled that Ratcliffe managed to capture him. The rat has a gift. His book would be priceless. I wonder if there is anything in it that incriminates me?
—Dominic Mancini, Espion of the Palace Kitchen
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Deep Fathoms
In the months Owen had spent at Kingfountain, the season should have started turning to autumn, but instead, it decided to retreat back to summer. The day the eel was smuggled back into Ceredigion, a heat wave struck the kingdom and turned the castle into a brick oven. It lasted for days.
Sweat dripped down Owen’s nose as he lay on the kitchen floor, fidgeting with the tiles. He had stacked a row up on the bench so that they would fall and instigate a group down lower to collapse as well. His designs were getting more and more complicated.
“It is so hot!” Evie complained, scooting away from him, her back to the wall. She stretched and yawned lazily. “It is never this hot in the North, Owen. Even this late in the year, there is still ice up on the mountains. Did you know there are ice caves up there? Huge ice caves. I have not seen them yet. Papa said I was too young to climb up to them.”
“Mmm-hmmm,” Owen mumbled distractedly. The salty sweat stung his eyes, and he wiped it away furiously. He hated being so hot and irritable.
The windows of the kitchen were fully open, but it did not help against the sweltering heat. Liona was still responsible for baking bread for all the meals, and after hours of standing in front of the boiling ovens, she was snapping at her underlings impatiently. Everyone was upset and short-tempered.
“I wish the king would take us with him when the court moves. It’s moving West, I hear. Grandpapa told me. Would you like to see Tatton Hall again? What is your manor like? Would you like Grandpapa to give a message to your family for you?”
Owen stared at her, his heart suddenly clenching. “Why is the king going West?” He felt a prickle of apprehension. Had this Deconeus of Ely somehow compromised his parents? Worry began to wriggle in his stomach.
“The king always travels, silly. He must administer justice and order throughout the realm. There are always disputes that need resolution. Laws to be enforced. Taxes to be collected, of course. He usually picks a place for his winter court. It takes several months to make all the arrangements, you know. I hear he’s going West this year. Maybe he’ll spend winter court at Tatton Hall? Or perhaps the royal palace Beestone.”
Owen was not sure how he should feel about that. It had been months since he’d seen his family. He was still upset with his parents for abandoning him, whether they’d had a choice or not, but his life had drastically changed in the months since he’d left home. He no longer felt like the same boy he’d been.
“I have an idea,” Evie whispered. “It’s so hot, let’s go jump into the cistern again!”
The idea was absolutely wonderful and Owen grinned his agreement. He toppled the lead tile and they watched the pieces collapse in a dazzling explosion of sound loud enough to awake Mancini, who had been snoring in a chair.
Then Evie grabbed Owen’s hand and the two started across the kitchen, running.
“Where are you off to now?” Liona asked over her shoulder. Jewel was suffering with gout from the heat wave and had asked the cook to watch them that afternoon.
“To dance in the fountain!” Evie yelled back mischievously.
“That’s not proper, young lady!” Liona hollered.
But the two children were both too eager to care about propriety. Owen felt a little twinge of nervousness about jumping into the cistern again, but not only did the cool water sound inviting on such a humid day, he also remembered seeing the treasure, and he wanted to see if he had been imagining it.
The chair squeaked as Mancini got up and started after them. “Hold on, you two!” he said curtly.
“Run!” Evie whispered, tugging hard on Owen’s hand, and the two escaped out the kitchen door and started down the hall, the fat Espion shouting after them. Owen felt laughter bubble up inside him and spill out his mouth. They ran through the halls, nearly colliding with sweaty servants who glowered at them in annoyance. The race only added to their excitement as they went one way and then another, their feet pounding on the polished tiles of the immaculate palace.
Their pace slowed when they reached the rarely used corridors where the window leading to the cistern yard was concealed. They were listening for sounds of pursuit and, hearing none, they approached the familiar tapestry. Evie glanced back one more time and then pushed aside the fabric of the tapestry and shoved at the window, raising it. After helping her scramble up, Owen followed her through the opening.
The sun was beating down on the yard, the heat shimmering on the hot stones. Owen and Evie quickly traipsed to the huge gullet of the cistern and peered down inside. Given the brightness of the light, they couldn’t see very well down the shaft. They heard the water lapping against the columns below, but the markers identifying the depth of the cistern were masked by the glare.