Shadow Scale: A Companion to Seraphina(62)

“It is,” said Josef, smiling tightly. “And what I’ve done is very simple. I marched on the capital. The Regent, believing my troops were intended to help fulfill our promises to Goredd, let me walk right in. And now he is dead.”

“The capital, the court … had nothing to say about this?” I said.

“My brother earls might have been a thorn in my side, had they demanded consensus, but their Erlmyt was canceled due to rumors of plague in Fnark.” Josef exchanged a significant look with Jannoula. “By the time they learn what has happened, it will be a history lesson, not news.”

I stared hard at Jannoula, wondering what that look had meant. Had the rumor of plague been her idea? Was she advising Josef?

She stared back brazenly.

“I’ve sent messengers to the earls,” Josef was saying. “They’ll know in two days, and they’ll have no choice but to accept it. I can’t inform Ninys yet, since Count Pesavolta is bound to tell Goredd. Queen Glisselda is not to know until the time of my choosing.”

“Which is when?” I asked, tearing my gaze away from Jannoula. “When she needs Samsam’s aid and you’re not there?”

“Goredd has allied itself with dragons,” said Josef, tossing his hair out of his eyes. “A true follower of the Saints, any real Samsamese, cannot countenance that. I have Heaven on my side, Seraphina. Not only the valedictions of St. Ogdo and the strictures of St. Abaster, but the endorsement of a holy hermit.”

I glanced at Ingar in some confusion. Josef noticed where I looked and said, “Not him. He’s her disciple. Allow me to introduce Sister Jannoula.” He held out an arm toward her. She lowered her gaze and rose with a bashful curtsy.

We came to it at last. I folded my arms, unimpressed by Jannoula’s bashful act. By the look in Josef’s eyes, he was clearly smitten—though religiously or romantically, I wasn’t sure. Maybe it was too fine a distinction to make.

She was no holy anything. I couldn’t fathom how this charade of hers connected to her gathering of the ityasaari.

“Well, you’ve thoroughly fooled the new Regent,” I said aloud, addressing her as if it were just the two of us, still in my head. As if we were old acquaintances. Josef would surely wonder about that. “Does a prison cell count as a hermitage now?”

“How dare you?” cried Josef, stepping between us.

Jannoula lay a hand on his elbow. “Please, Your Grace. I can defend myself from unbelievers.”

“I’ve seen miracles,” said Josef stoutly. “I’ve glimpsed the light of Heaven blazing around her, you soulless fiend.”

I met Jannoula’s eye and held it; she hadn’t told the new Regent that she was my fellow soulless fiend, it seemed. I had the advantage. I said, “It’s true that one of my parents was a dragon.” I pointed at Josef’s holy hermit and her walleyed sidekick, Ingar the Librarian. “It’s true of them as well.”

“You lie!” cried Josef.

I held my tongue, waiting to see how Jannoula would play this, trying to glean something of her purpose from how she treated the new Regent. Her face was inscrutable, a mask.

It was Ingar who broke the silence. “Is this not glorious, Blessed?” he said in Samsamese, clasping his fat hands together. “This is what we’ve been waiting for, the others of our kind.”

Josef turned the tiniest bit green. He swiveled slowly to face Jannoula and said, “Explain yourself.”

Her face became the picture of mournful contrition. I knew that face well; my heart hardened against it. She bowed her head and said, “Seraphina tells the truth, my lord. I … I did not wish you to know. I feared you would reject me, as so many have before. I was imprisoned for what I am, by people who could not see beyond it.”


She undid the silver buttons along the sides of her sleeves and then rolled the material back from her forearms. Even though I knew what I would see, the pity and horror of that day came back to me in a rush; apparently my heart was not as hard as I’d believed. Josef stared at the knotted, scarred skin where she’d been burned.

“They peeled off my scales,” she said softly, “and sealed the wounds with white-hot iron.”

I clapped a hand to my mouth. She’d never told me that part.

Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “Heaven pitied me, and I lost consciousness. That’s when I saw the Saints, who spoke to me and blessed me.”

Josef’s sharp face had softened into sorrow. He was moved by her story and looked more sympathetic—dare I say human?—than I’d ever seen him. As I watched, his expression changed again; his eyes widened in awe and his mouth fell open. He gasped and dropped to his knees, his gaze transfixed on the air around and above Jannoula.

Ye gods, said Abdo, plainly awed. Her mind-fire is … it’s a conflagration.

Of course I could see nothing. Is she manipulating his mind?

Abdo tilted his head sideways, studying the situation. Not the way you mean; she’s not hooked into him the way she’s hooked into Ingar or me. It’s something else.

“Forgive me, Blessed,” said Josef, touching the hem of her gown. “Clearly, the Saints chose you in spite of your heritage.”

“Or because of it,” she said, eyeing him narrowly. “To teach you a lesson.”