Page 49 of Crucible of Chaos

‘Why are we wasting time here?’ she asked. ‘You said there were demons roaming the abbey grounds– so who cares where the monks have go—?’

‘Three hundred monks once occupied this abbey,’ Estevar said, bowing his head to step beneath a door and into yet another empty cell. He beckoned for Caeda to bring the lantern inside. ‘The towers serving as lairs for the Hounds and the Trumpeters couldn’t hold half that number. So where are the rest?’

Like the other sleeping chambers they’d examined, this one was austere, yet cosy. There was just enough room for a cot on one side and a small oak writing desk on the other. Three shelves stuck out above the cot, presumably for clothing, and a chamber-pot sat in the corner. A single window not much bigger than a man’s hand was set in the outer stone wall, allowing the faint blush of moonlight into the room. The desk, shelves and chamber-pot were all empty, the bed scrupulously made, all of which cast doubt on the possibility of its former occupant having fled in the night. The departure had been planned.

‘Most of the brethren abandoned the abbey eight days ago, after the statues were destroyed,’ Caeda said. ‘They interpreted the destruction as an omen that the gods were about to bring vengeance down on Isola Sombra. That’s what the Margrave of Someil’s knights told the villagers when they rode through the streets, waving their axes in the air and warning everyone to flee, anyway.’

‘How many would you say did abandon the island?’

‘All the villagers but for Malezias and me, though many had already cleared out for the winter before the storms came. I wasn’t exactly counting the monks, but there was a long line– maybe a hundred and fifty?– trudging across the causeway, with whatever possessions they had. That was the day after the statuary was destroyed.’

Half the brethren, Estevar thought.Were you really so distracted, Venia, that you couldn’t sense something terrible was amiss?

‘What is it?’ Caeda asked, looking up at him. ‘What does it matter if some skittish monks took off rather than clean up the mess left behind by the storm? How will that help us cast out the demons if they return?’

‘It won’t.’

‘Then what are we doing in an empty dormitory cell?’

Estevar walked over to the cot, bent down and, out of habit, lifted the thin mattress in case the previous occupant might have left something behind. There was nothing there. Not that he’d expected to find anything.

‘Do you see this cot, the mattress, the bedding?’

‘I’m not blind.’

Estevar let the mattress fall back into place, pulled the covers down and patted the pillow. ‘Lie down.’

‘What?’

‘Lie down on the bed.’

She cast him a suspicious glance. ‘Three weeks ago, I followed similar instructions from a man I’d trusted my entire life, only for him to strap me down to a table, inscribe sigils on my body and then toss me off a cliff.’

‘I suppose the sea water washed away the markings?’

Her hand went to the collar of her shift, closing it tighter around her neck. ‘What?’

‘Forgive me, my mind was wandering,’ Estevar said, moving to the doorway so as not to block her passage. ‘Please, lay down on the bed for me. I will stay outside the room.’

She set the lantern down on the desk. The light made the grey of her eyes appear to roil as if they were windows looking out on a storm. ‘I’dpreferthat you give me a reason for why you’re asking me to lie down on some flea-ridden monk’s cot.’

‘Because it isnotflea-ridden. You claimed a moment ago not to be blind, but I believe both of us have missed the obvious.’ He gestured once more towards the cot.

Caeda did as he asked, but not before first checking to make sure the door couldn’t be locked from the outside.

She does not entirely trust me, he thought.Good. We have that in common.

After flopping down onto the bed with a huff, Caeda lay on her back and stared up at the ceiling. ‘There’s nothing there,’ she said. ‘So if this was supposed to be som—’

‘Investigations are rarely about deciphering secret codes. What I need you to do is awaken your other senses, Piccolo. I am going to step away from the door, but I promise not to try to lock the door or leave you here. I ask only that you take a moment to experience this room as one of the brethren might.’

‘And afterwards you’re going to explain the point of all this?’

‘It is night-time,’ he began, his voice low, ‘when—’

Caeda’s arm swung up to point at the tiny window. ‘I can see that it’s night-time.’

Estevar stifled a groan, recalling why, years ago, he’d refused to mentor new Greatcoats in the art of investigation. ‘It is night-time,’ he repeated patiently, ‘and you have reached the end of your day’s labours, completed your studies and said whatever prayers to the gods best soothe your spirit. You’ve had your supper in the refectory, bathed in the lavorium and at last returned to your room. Tell me, young monk, what is it like, this life of yours?’

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