Shadow Scale: A Companion to Seraphina(136)

Heat flared in my chest. While I’d supervised the moving of my things, Jannoula had apparently been spinning myths about me. I’d read the testament; the original “Counter-Saint” was Pandowdy, leader of the insurrection against Abaster, buried alive for his trouble. What could Jannoula possibly mean, calling me that? Nothing good.

“She said you’re a necessary piece of Heaven’s plan,” said the young woman hastily, as if all my mortification were visible in my face. “Everything contains its opposite. That keeps the world in balance.”

I swallowed my irritation and said, “So what do you see up there?”

“A golden light.” She turned her brown eyes skyward again. “They can concentrate it into a fiery orb, like a second sun, or spread it across the sky like a magnificent dome, enclosing our whole city in glory and keeping the dragons out.”

St. Yirtrudis claimed that Abaster had had this power, strong enough to defend a city on his own. Of course, cities were smaller in those days. Now that I knew what the people around me saw, it was less mysterious that Jannoula could have struck belief into so many hearts so quickly. It was hard to deny your own eyes.

It occurred to me that now, while Jannoula and the ityasaari were occupied, I might check in on Kiggs without fear of being overheard. I rushed to my room, leaving the door open a crack so I could hear the others coming back down, and settled on the bed with the thnik Sir Cuthberte had given me. It chirped several times before I heard Kiggs whisper loudly, “Hold on. I’m in a crowd.”

I waited, wondering how he could be in a crowd. I’d assumed he was still in the castle, hiding. At last his voice crackled, “All right, I’ve ducked into the cathedral.”

“You’re in the city?”

“I felt stymied in the castle,” he said. “Out here, I’m checking on the readiness of the garrisons, supplies, wall defenses. Whatever she’s up to, Jannoula seems not to have disrupted our war preparations. That’s good news.”

“How are you checking these things without being seen?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m being seen. I make sure it’s only by officers loyal to me. I told them that business about my not being allowed into the city is a strategic ruse so I can check on certain individuals secretly.” There was a pause, and I could almost hear him grinning. “You’re not the only one who can bluff her way out of trouble, you know.”

I bluffed my way into trouble just as often, but I didn’t argue. “Are you seeing this, uh, improved St. Abaster’s Trap?”

“Isn’t it astonishing?” he cried. “Back when it was just Lars and Abdo, with Dame Okra tossing teacups, I never would have guessed how powerful and beautiful it would eventually become. Selda and I had hoped it might be one defense among many, but I think this could keep the city safe, and everyone in it.”

“Yes,” I said miserably. “Perhaps it could.”

“Can they make it without Jannoula?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Because we need this,” said Kiggs. “Unless you find evidence that she’s sabotaging the war effort or betraying us to the Old Ard, I hate to say it, but her Saint act can wait to be debunked. There will be time to free the other ityasaari from her grasp after all Goredd is free from war.”

“I suppose,” I said, my voice weak.

“Goredd must come first,” he said. “I have to say, though, this is the most astonishing thing I have ever seen.” He spoke as if he’d positioned himself at a door or window of the cathedral in order to keep watching the sky.

“I can’t actually see it,” I said, irritation creeping into my voice.

“Can dragons see it, or not? I should ask the garrison here. You know what it reminds me of? The words of St. Eustace: ‘Heaven is a Golden House—’ ”

I didn’t want to hear it. I said, “As you check on war preparations, would you keep an ear out for news of Uncle Orma? Comonot’s garrison or the scholars in Quighole might have seen or smelled him.”

“Of course, of course,” said Kiggs distractedly, and I felt that he had ceased to listen, all his attention transfixed by the golden sky.



I returned to the chapel. When the ityasaari finished practicing St. Abaster’s Trap, they came down from the tower, laughing and chattering. It seemed Camba had not participated, but it took me a few minutes to notice that Lars and Blanche were missing.

On the stairs, Lars began shouting for help.

“Blue St. Prue!” said Dame Okra, pushing past me. Lars staggered through the doorway, Blanche over his shoulder. Dame Okra helped him carry Blanche into the chapel and lay her down before the hearth. Blanche was not unconscious, as I’d supposed, but weeping silently. She wrapped her arms around her head and curled into a ball.

A rope still connected her to Lars.

“Not again!” cried Nedouard. He was at Blanche’s side in an instant, taking one of her slender hands and feeling her pulse. Single scales dotted her skin like scabs; bruises purpled her throat.

“Sorry,” sobbed Blanche. “S-sorry.”

“She waited until you’d gone downstairs,” said Lars miserably, his gray eyes rimmed in red. “Wrappedt the rope around her neck and jumpedt. She almost took me with her this time.”