Page 43 of Tomb of Ancients
“A deal over breakfast,” he crowed after Mary had brought us a light meal of cheese, fresh bread, and what could be spared of the dried venison. She had resumed her role at the house almost at once, as a distraction, maybe, or habit. “Under siege and yet we’re practically civilized. Do you think they ate so well while the horse was being rolled into Troy?”
“I don’t think I care,” I said, exhausted. Mother’s peaceful presence had helped, but being chained to a bed had made sleep a near impossibility. “If you want to make a deal, then Dalton should be here, too.”
We sat at one of the small tables adjacent to the pianoforte,not far from the windows facing the west. It was the farthest room in the house from the shepherd’s property, likely an intentional choice. There had been no signs of activity along the fence, but that made me more nervous. It had all the makings of the calm before the storm, and my foot bounced beneath the table, giddy and alert.
“He has already agreed to recover the book,” he told us, pouring sugar into his tea and stirring it with deft little circles. He was positively singing with cheer. “Your display last night pushed him over the edge. He came to me early this morning and made his offer.”
My appetite was not what I expected it to be. Mother did not eat, either, but held her teacup as if simply for the pleasure of it. I choked down some of my own but took no interest in the leathery venison.
“So Dalton will find the book; then do we depart for Constantinople? How will we make the journey?” I asked.
Mr. Morningside gagged on his scone. “Louisa, you rascal, what makes you ask that?”
Ah. So Dalton had left out the small detail of the diary. I forced myself to take a drink of tea and look casual, but my hands trembled. I wanted to keep my possession of the journal a secret from him for as long as possible. There was every chance that Mr. Morningside would try to rig this deal to his advantage, and I wanted one tiny thing up my sleeve just incase. After all, he had told me himself that I was part of the game, and I needed to act accordingly. “You are in our game now, and in this game, running only takes you to the edge of the board, it does not remove you as a piece.”
“The entrance, the place where the books can be destroyed... It’s far to the east, in a salt plain. Dalton told me about it, about you and Mrs. Haylam going there when you were all much younger, just after...” I glanced nervously at Mother, but she didn’t seem bothered. “Just after the Schism.”
“Ah, so it is Dalton after all who is the rascal. No matter. Yes and no, Louisa, there is an entrance at Lake Tuz, but there are many, many entrances. I know of one much closer, in fact. You could be there by morning if you left now on horseback.”
I nodded and frowned, feigning puzzlement. Yet what he said made sense. When I’d met the Binder at Cadwallader’s, it had been in a space that was nowhere, and perhaps this place where Henry wanted us to go was similar, a destination between worlds, hiding somewhere in the shadows.
“He also told me there were riddles,” I continued. “As part of our arrangement, I want you to give me the answers.”
“Of course,” Mr. Morningside said. “Dear Louisa, there’s no need to look so cunning. It’s my greatest desire that you should enter the Tomb of Ancients safely and fulfill our bargain.”
At that, I could not hide my interest. I set down my teacup and leaned slightly toward him across the table while henonchalantly buttered his scone again.
“So you’ve been inside,” I said, repeating his name for the place. “The Tomb of Ancients.”
“Inside? No. No, I’m afraid there are certain limitations that prevent me from entering,” he said. The sigh of frustration that followed seemed genuine, but then, he was a very talented actor. “You, however, should have no trouble infiltrating, so long as you follow my instructions and use your wits. I can only help you so far, Louisa, for I do not know what awaits you inside.”
“But the books can be destroyed there?”
Beside me, Mother winced. I was now a book, having Father’s knowledge of ours buried in my head, and that meant I, too, could be destroyed there.
“Yes, it is where the books are created, I know that to be true,” Henry said, and I could tell he was choosing his words carefully. He flecked a bit of crumb off his jacket and fixed me with one of his wide, charming smiles. A curl of black hair fell roguishly in front of his yellow eyes. “But we must not discuss it aloud in too much detail—it is a protected place, and I am not eager to call out its guardians. I will write down your instructions, the better to avoid detection.”
I shuddered at the thought of anyone getting cut in half by an angry scorpion creature.
“If you insist.”
Mr. Morningside studied me over his cup, perhaps diviningthat I knew more than I let on. But he said no more on the subject and drank his too-sweet tea. “Then it’s settled.”
“I wouldn’t say that. How do I know you will uphold your end of the deal? I am risking my life to destroy that book. You could simply refuse to help me once I return. No, I think you should remove Father’s spirit from me now, before I fix your problems.” I sat back in the comfortable chair, enjoying his brief but visible discomfort.
He tugged at the bottom of his jacket and looked at me askance. “We will put it down in writing, of course, Louisa, and I always honor my contracts.”
“That doesn’t satisfy me.” I dug my finger into the tablecloth, holding his gaze. “If I return from the Tomb of Ancients and you do not remove Father’s influence over me, there must be some penalty.”
“Such as?” He leaned down toward the floor, then produced quill and ink from a leather satchel. Having arrived in the sitting room after him, I had no idea he had brought his tools along, waiting for just this moment.
“Such as...” I paused, but the answer occurred to me quite readily. “Such as the deed to Coldthistle House and all within it. The Black Elbion included.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snorted, smoothing out the parchment next to his breakfast. “That’s hardly fair, Louisa. Be reasonable.”
“Reasonable? A book for a book, it’s the definition offair, and the house is for my life, the one I might easily lose in the tomb. Those are my terms, Morningside, you are free to refuse me and find another way to unmake the white book.”
I hated the feeling of his eyes burning into mine, and that I wanted constantly to turn away. This was a test, and I was determined to pass. He had, of course, slanted the terms of the deal to his advantage, but if this was a game, then I would not be easily played. At last, he sat back, wetting the pen and putting it to paper.
