Page 42 of Court of Shadows
“How odd,” Mary said, gazing over at me. “Do you think he’s fibbing?”
“Obviously,” I muttered. “There are two more men I wouldn’t mind asking to pack and go.”
Through the closed door to Mary’s room I heard Mrs. Haylam’s voice. She was calling, or rather shouting, my name. I slammed my head back against the wall, frustrated. Could I not have one moment of peace alone with Mary? Was that so much to ask?
“Duty calls,” she said sadly, reading my thoughts.
“As ever. Will you be terribly cross if I go? I promise to come to you again soon, friend. I’ve missed you so much, it lifts my spirits to see you getting better.”
Mary reached out her hand and I crossed to her, squeezing her warm little fingers and smiling. “I will only be cross if you stay away too long.”
“You’re an angel,” I said, turning to go. “Or... well, whatever the equivalent would be, you know, for us.”
Her amused laughter followed me out the door, and I tried to hold on to it, tried to wrap it around me like a shield. At least she was on the mend; everything else may have been odd and confusing, but her steadfastness gave me a drop of hope.
I took the steps quickly, aware of a strange emptiness in the house. Other than in my horrid dream, I had not seen a single Resident all day. They had been swarming Mary’s door previously, most likely to protect her from whomever killed Amelia, but now they were gone. Then I remembered my conversation with Mr. Morningside, and wondered if they had been sent to scour the grounds for the wolf monster. That made sense, considering they could cover far more ground than any of us on foot and blend inconspicuously into the shadows of the trees.
Mrs. Haylam waited, foot tapping, in the foyer. She looked haggard, tired, with noticeable smudges of purple under her eyes, her bun drawn up more tightly than usual. All bad signs.
“Have you seen to Mr. Breen’s room?” she asked without a word of greeting.
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied obediently. I was in no mood for a fight, and neither, clearly, was she.
“And the washing from yesterday, you hung it up?”
“Yes, and the pantry is swept.” Half-heartedly, I added in my head.
Mrs. Haylam’s good eye swept over me as if it could detect deception. She nodded then and pointed to the green door behind me. “Mr. Morningside wants you back to work. You can socialize later.”
I gave her a polite curtsy and turned toward the door, then stopped and told her as she returned to the kitchens, “Thankyou for giving my... For giving Croydon Frost a room.”
“Don’t thank me, girl. If it were up to me, he’d be sleeping in the barn.”
“No arguments there,” I said, and I heard her cackle before I opened the green door and let it swallow me up.
Year One
Journal of Bennu, Who Runs
We made land briefly at Knossos before gaining passage to Pylos aboard an Athenian merchant ship. I had never been at sea, and at first the constant rolling and rocking made me ill for hours on end. By the time we reached Pylos, I felt like an accomplished sailor, accustomed to the sway of the deck and growing fond of the fresh salt tang on the air.
Nothing could prepare me for the beauty of Pylos, with its crystalline waters and the crisp white houses piled on the coast, explosively green fir and cypress trees hugging the towns like a thick emerald shawl. Arriving at dusk, we watched as the city above began to glow faintly with lanterns, then guard fires lit along the walled walkways as we began our climb buffeted at our backs by the cooling sea wind.
“It will be good to sleep on firm ground again,” I said to my companion. We both wore voluminous ivory hoods that draped around our necks. They served to hide his unusual markings and my heavy satchel.
Khent peered at me from under his deep hood, smirking. “And it will be good to eat mutton again. I tire of all this fish.”
I had noticed his peculiar eating habits in Knossos. He ate almost no onions or barley with his meals, and he took his meat and fish off the fire long before I would consider it edible. But then he was an odd sort in general, I found. He often heard things clearly that I could not, and slept fitfully, waking at the tiniest disturbance. But he was otherwise an amiable traveling companion, and I was grateful to no longer be facing these dangers alone.
We took our time entering the city proper, for our legs had become accustomed to the sea, and it felt good to walk and stretch, and to look about and see more than just turquoise in every direction. I was winded and ready for rest when we passed under the gates. It was a time of peace, and we were not questioned, for weblended in well with the busy ebb and flow from the docks.
“It will be more difficult to find shelter here,” Khent warned me. “Mother and Father are worshipped everywhere, but here temples to the old gods are more vigilant. We may be better off at an inn.”
“Our safe houses are being watched,” I agreed. “They are not safe anymore.”
Khent nodded, and together we pushed through the crowds lining the streets. The market had begun to close, and merchants and buyers alike were beginning to close up and head home. “I do not know how far Roeh’s influence has spread, but the Dark One has servants everywhere. Necromancers and poison-fingered demons, beautiful women that lure you away and rip out your heart in the night... We will be hunted from every direction, my friend. The sea was a reprieve, but that refuge is no more.”
“The Dark One,” I murmured. I could see Khent searching for shelter, eyes canted up as he checked each passing door for signs of an inn. It seemed, too, as if he were inhaling more, sniffing, as if his nose could lead him to a safe destination. “Meryt and Chryseis spoke of him once, but only in whispers. I don’t know how anyone could worship an evil thing.”
