Shadow Scale: A Companion to Seraphina(71)

I couldn’t help smiling; she knew her cousin well.

“Unfortunately, he won’t be here,” continued Glisselda.

“What?” I cried. “Where will he be?”

“Ah,” she said. “I ought not to divulge too much over a thnik, but I believe I may say that the old general begins to think Eskar’s plan has merit. He’s coming to Porphyry, and dragging Lucian with him.”

So Comonot had apparently gotten over his reservations about bringing the war south to Goredd. I tried to glean how Glisselda felt about that, but her voice gave me no hint. “I need you to finish in Porphyry, Seraphina,” Glisselda was saying. “The Ardmagar will arrive in about two weeks; Eskar and the knights at Fort Oversea have been told to make ready. All your pieces must be in place, too. You and the ityasaari will travel home with Lucian.”


“Indeed!” I squeaked. My heart had leaped at the mention of home.

Or of Prince Lucian.

Glisselda scolded lightly, “I’m jealous of you two.”

“Y-you are?” I said cautiously, uncertain what she was implying.

“By Allsaints, yes. Here I am, Queen, stuck in one place, and you two get to go gallivanting all over in my name. It’s terribly unfair.”

I relaxed a little. “You’re envious.”

“That’s what I said!” She sounded snippy now; I was trying her patience. Her innocent intention and my guilty conscience weren’t meshing.

A voice in the background spoke quietly to Glisselda, and she said, “St. Daan in a pan, I’ve got to go. Keep me apprised of your progress.”

“Of course,” I said, but she had already switched off her device.

I walked back up the breakwater, my heart torn two ways. Along with my guilt, of course, came its opposite and cause: the joyful anticipation of seeing Prince Lucian Kiggs so soon.





I returned by way of the harbor market, where I bought some lighter clothes, some olive oil salve for my scales, and a large embroidered pillow as a gift for Naia.

Abdo’s auntie loved the pillow, but she still made good on her threat to take me to the baths. I survived it by observing everything with an academic, dragon-like detachment: the nautical mosaics across the domed ceiling; the greenish, mildly musty water; my old-fashioned Goreddi shame at being naked; the elderly watching me closely with amusement; and the fact that I was the palest, scaliest person there.

It was all very curious. I might write some sort of treatise.

I had been happy to give Abdo a day to himself while I visited the embassy and the baths, but when he didn’t get up the next day, I began to worry. I had two weeks to find the other ityasaari—and Orma—before Kiggs and Comonot arrived, and surely Abdo wanted Paulos Pende, the ityasaari priest, to free him from Jannoula as soon as possible?

Speaking in a low voice so Ingar wouldn’t hear, I asked Naia after breakfast, “May I wake Abdo? He had hoped to visit the temple of Chakhon soonest.”

Naia looked appalled. “I doubt that,” she said. “You must have misunderstood.”

I thought back to our last conversation on the subject, aboard the ship. In fact, he’d been unenthusiastic. “Why wouldn’t he want to go?”

She pursed her lips, her eyes darting toward Abdo’s curtain, as if she weren’t sure how much he would want her to tell me. “He quarreled with Paulos Pende and parted on bad terms. I doubt the priest would want to see Abdo, either.”

Ah. Abdo’s reticence on the subject began to make sense. But if the old priest wouldn’t see Abdo, surely he’d see me. Maybe I could broker enough of a peace that the old man would agree to unhook Jannoula. Besides, Paulos Pende was the logical place to start if I was to find the Porphyrian ityasaari. I’d glimpsed the temple of Chakhon yesterday as I’d passed through the Zokalaa.

Ingar had sidled up behind me while I talked to Aunt Naia. He was a problem. I didn’t want him spying on my progress and keeping Jannoula apprised, but he would surely follow me around like a dog.

I decided to take the bald bookworm to Porphyry’s renowned library, the Bibliagathon—where Orma had been researching half-dragons. I could lose Ingar there, and maybe take a quick look for my uncle. We set off before noon, toward the heights of the wealthy west side of town.

“I’ve heard … so much …,” puffed Ingar. I’d been climbing the hill too fast for him, but he wasn’t one to let a little thing like lack of breath stop him from talking. “My own library is … not inconsiderable.…”

I paused so he could rest. His hairless head sweated rivulets and was alarmingly red. I looked away, at the city spread below us like a colorful bowl, the harbor a splash of violet soup at the bottom. Ingar leaned against a shady garden wall; vines vomited gaudy pink flowers through a crack above his head.

“I’ve had it sent to Goredd,” he said when he could finally put together an entire sentence without panting.

“Had what sent?” I’d lost the thread of his thought.

“My library,” he said. “Jannoula wants to build Heaven on earth, and what else can a paltry fellow like myself contribute? It wouldn’t be much of a paradise without books, you must agree.”

“Heaven on earth?” I said. This was new. “What is that supposed to be?”