by J. V. Jones
Tessa nodded, instantly seeing the same thing as Emith.
A floorboard creaked to her left, and although she didn’t look away from the pattern, Tessa was aware that Ravis had come to stand by her. His smell reminded her of the night they’d slept side by side on The Mull, and disguising the gesture as a sleepy stretch, she reached out with her free hand to touch him. His hand came up to meet hers, and for a brief moment their fingers locked.
“Does this mean anything to you?” she said to Camron, returning her hand to the painting. “Spark any memories, resemble anything you know?” As she spoke, Tessa stroked her finger over an especially thick clot of blue pigment. Surely Ilfaylen could have done a better job of thinning his paints?
Camron shook his head, but slowly. “I’m not sure. There’s something about it . . .”
Tessa circled the clot of pigment with her index finger.
“Miss,” Emith said, “those XXXs remind me of the salt grass we passed on the way here.”
“That shape there”—Camron hit the center of the board—“the square with the corners sliced off, is similar to the shape of the main hall. But it’s not drawn to scale, and the other shapes surrounding the square don’t match the adjoining rooms.”
Tessa flicked at the clot of pigment with her fingernail. The lump broke off from the parchment and went skittering to the floor.
Emith caught his breath. The bones on Camron’s wrist cracked as he leaned forward another degree. Ravis shifted his weight from foot to foot, causing his kid leather tunic to swish.
Lying within the crater of blue paint was a shock of pure gold.
A sharp thrill coursed down Tessa’s spine. Blood pumped to her face. The hand that held the board shook, causing the illumination to shake along with it.
Emith stretched out a steadying hand. “It’s an underpainting, miss. A marker.”
“A marker, eh?” Ravis moved closer, touched the pinpoint of gold.
Tessa swallowed hard. She was having difficulty breathing and didn’t want Ravis to know. After a moment she had collected enough breath to speak. Tilting the board toward Camron, she said, “Is this a plan of Castle Bess?”
“I’m not sure. I can’t make any sense of it. I think I recognize one or two shapes, but that’s all.”
Scraping the last traces of pigment from the gold, Tessa studied the pattern. Everyone was quiet. The fire dimmed. A few moments passed and then she looked up, not at the three men forming a circle around her, but at the room they all stood in.
Details, she reminded herself. Details.
Fixing every angle of the kitchen in her mind, Tessa looked down again at the pattern. Her cheeks felt so hot, she was sure they must be glowing red. Her spine ached near the back of her lungs. Gaze skimming across the board, she tried to pick out the shape of the kitchen amid the dozens of forms incorporated in the design.
She found nothing. Her eye jumped from color to color, from shape to shape, unable to find a match. Frustrated, she banged the board against her knee.
“What’s wrong, miss?”
Tessa waved her hand at Emith. “I thought I would be able to find the shape of the kitchen somewhere in the design, but it’s not here.” As she spoke, she flicked her fingernail over a second, less pronounced pigment clot. There was nothing but thinned sepia base paint beneath. She tried a handful more. Nothing. Which meant all the other clots and ridges were there purely to disguise the one holding the gold.
Emith made a polite hmming noise. While Tessa had been scraping pigment, he had been studying the pattern. “That one there”—Emith’s hand hovered above the board, not daring to touch it—“looks like it might be the same shape as the kitchen, miss.”
Tessa followed the line of Emith’s hand. He was indicating a tiny oblong shape, no bigger than a baby’s thumbnail. It matched the shape of the kitchen exactly, right down to the recess housing the hearth.
Reaching up, she planted a kiss on Emith’s cheek. Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner: nothing was drawn to scale. She had been looking for something large to match the size of the kitchen itself. Yet Ilfaylen knew he couldn’t draw a true plan of the castle—it would only cause too much suspicion—he had to draw something that didn’t look like a plan.
Emith, startled by the kiss, actually took a step back. “I could go and take a survey of all the other main rooms in the fortress,” he said. “It might help us get some perspective.”
Tessa wondered if he volunteered such a thing just to avoid being kissed again. She shook her head. “No. It’s not just a case of scale. It’s perspective as well.” Thinking for a moment, glancing from the large square Camron had pronounced as the main hall to the tiny shape representing the kitchen, she felt her scalp begin to itch. Yellowy green pigment had been used to color both. “What floor is the great hall on?” she asked Camron.
“The second floor, like the kitchen.”
“And how many floors does the castle have in total?”
“Four counting the cellar.”
Tessa checked the color of the oval shape surrounding the speck of gold pigment. “Didn’t you say that beneath the cellar was a maze of old tunnels and caverns?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then that would count as five floors, wouldn’t it?” Seeing the puzzled look on Camron’s face, Tessa continued. “There’s only five pigments used to color these shapes. What if each color represents a floor? The kitchen and the main hall are on this floor. Then this shape in blue here”—she tapped the oval containing the gold—“must be on a different level.”
Camron put a hand on the board. “If you’re right, then that would account for the fact that none of the shapes adjoining the great hall correspond to the actual rooms.”
“Yes,” Tessa said quickly, “because they represent rooms on different levels. See, there’s an amber-colored room here, what looks to be a passageway just by it in sand red. Ilfaylen jumbled the whole thing up because he didn’t want people to look at it and see a plan of Castle Bess. He wanted everyone to think it was just some abstract design.” She could barely contain her excitement. The whereabouts of the copy had been hanging in full view of the castle and its occupants all along.
“What we have to find out, then,” Ravis said, “is which color corresponds to which floor.”
Camron nodded. “The sepia color is the ground floor. I recognize the shape of the inner bailey.” He indicated a large circular shape. “And this”—his hand strayed to a long, sandy-colored oblong with many side branches—“looks like the great corridor that runs beneath the battlements. So that would place it as the top floor.”
“Then we have amber and blue left.” Tessa’s gaze didn’t leave the pattern as she spoke. “The cellar and the level that lies beneath it.”
Emith coughed. “I may be mistaken, miss, but surely the blue color represents sea level.”
Tessa smiled at Emith. He looked ready to flee if she made another attempt to kiss him. Turning to Camron, she said, “Are the cellars above or below sea level?”
“Above. To stop them flooding in extreme high tides.”
“Then the tunnels and caverns below the cellar are at sea level?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s where Ilfaylen hid the copy.” Tessa stood. “Are there any oval-shaped rooms down there?” As she spoke, her eyes skimmed across the board, checking all the other shapes colored in blue. There were about seven in all, mostly long oblongs representing corridors.
“I’m not sure. One of the caverns beneath the east wing might be oval—”
Aaarrh!
As Camron said the word oval a scream ripped through the air. Everyone stood still. No one breathed. Camron and Ravis exchanged glances. A second scream sounded, and then a mighty bang shook the castle. Tessa felt the ground beneath her feet vibrate. Her skin prickled. Eight fingertips dug into the pattern.
“Harras,” hissed Ravis, his hand stealing to his knife. “Tessa, Emith, take those ca
ndles and head down into the cellar.”
Tessa opened her mouth to speak.
“Now!”
Another scream sounded. Cut off prematurely, it was replaced by a deep, rumbling noise. Camron’s face paled visibly. He moved toward the door.
Emith looked to Tessa for guidance. She nodded. “Do as Ravis says. You take the candles. I’ll take the bags.”
“Water, miss.” Emith’s voice quivered. “I’ll need water for the pigments.”
Ravis cut across the kitchen, plucked a pitcher from a shelf, and filled it with water from a bucket. He thrust it at Emith. “Here. Take it. Now go.”
Tessa wanted to speak. She needed to tell Ravis that the Barbed Coil was capable of creating things far worse than the harras—whatever had chased her onto the causeway was darker and more massive than any harrar—yet Emith was already at the door, and the look on Ravis’ face barred any kind of talk.
He drew his knife. “Camron, how do they make their way down to the cellar and the level beyond?”
Metal squealed in the distance as Camron turned to Tessa. “The stairway at the end of the corridor will lead you down into the cellar. Once there, follow the north wall until you can go no farther. Eventually you’ll come to a flight of steps—only they’re not really steps at all, more rough-hewn rocks. Take them and they’ll lead you into the tunnels.” He placed his hand on Tessa’s shoulder. Even through the fabric of her dress she could feel how cold his flesh was. “It’s very dark down there. You have to be careful. Some of the deeper passages might be waterlogged.”
Tessa swallowed hard. All her previous excitement over working out the details of Ilfaylen’s painting was gone. This wasn’t some game, arranged so she could show off her newfound skill for reading patterns. This was real. Grabbing Emith’s bags from the kitchen floor, she followed Camron and Emith out of the kitchen. Ravis brought up the rear.
As they came upon the staircase Camron had mentioned, Ravis leaned forward and whispered in Tessa’s ear. “Stay down there until I come and get you. Take this—” He handed her a small pack. “There should be enough food and supplies here to keep you going for a few days.”
Tessa was frightened by the tone of his voice. “Food and supplies?” Above her head, she was aware of footsteps pounding on stone. Someone called out an order. Looking ahead, she discovered Camron was no longer at the foot of the stairs. Something dropped in her stomach: she had lost her chance to wish him well.
Ravis ignored everything going on around them. He looked only at Tessa. “If the worst happens and the fortress is breached, I want you and Emith to stay in the level below the cellar for as long as you can. Don’t venture up here for any reason. Do you understand?”
“But—”
Ravis put his hand on her lip. His scar was a white line cutting his mouth in two. His eyes were no longer dark. They were black. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said. “Stay down there and keep yourself safe.”
Tessa looked at him a moment, then nodded. She couldn’t speak.
“Good,” Ravis murmured. “Now go.”
T H I R T Y - T H R E E
R avis ran toward the noise. Although he had never been in Castle Bess before tonight, he was familiar with its layout. Garizons built all their fortresses much the same.
In his mind he was counting men. Three screams meant three dead, maybe more. After switching his knife to his left hand, he drew his sword. In the distance he caught a glimpse of Camron running across the inner courtyard. His hair was dark with sweat. Ravis considered calling out for him to wait but pushed the idea aside. Camron would heed no one until he got to the gate.
Just as Ravis stepped onto the fine gravel of the courtyard, a low animal cry tore through the air. It sounded like a wolf, only deeper, colder. Every hair on the back of his neck stood upright. He had heard the harras cry out to each other in the Valley of Broken Stones. It was nothing like this. Swallowing great lungfuls of air, he cut across the courtyard, following Camron’s footsteps to the gate.
The smell hit him less than a minute later. It made him gag. Once, many years before, he had been commissioned by a Terhas warlord to patrol the perimeter of his estate. One morning he had stumbled upon two men digging up a patch of earth. They were retrieving the bodies of two cattle thieves whom the warlord had posthumously pardoned. Dead and buried ten days, the bodies fell apart in the workers’ hands as they raised them. Ravis still remembered the stench. The air smelled of it tonight. Of corrupted flesh, damp soil, and death.
Spitting to clean his mouth, Ravis approached the inner bailey. A handful of men were in the process of barring the gate. Camron was to the side, talking to a young man with dark hair. Two archers were positioned high in the east gate tower, firing at targets on the far side of the wall.
Ravis ran his fist across his scar. Things were worse than he thought. The outer bailey had been breached. Something had broken it down and was now in the main courtyard of Castle Bess.
The sound of the sea grew louder as they made their way to the second flight of stairs. Stone flags grew rougher, wetter. Many rocked as Tessa stepped on them, revealing damp undersides alive with crawling insects. It was very dark. Even with the two candelabras fully lit, they could see only a few paces ahead. Light hitting the granite walls was converted to a dull amber sheen that strained the eyes. From time to time odd pinpoints of light sparkled as if caught in the bevel of a jewel. Emith said it was the quartz in the stone.
Heavily laden with all of Emith’s scribing equipment, Tessa struggled to put one foot in front of the other. The ceilings were so low, she was forced to walk with her back not quite straight, and her lungs ached with the strain.
Crates, chests, covered furnishings, beer barrels, stuffed and mounted animal heads, boards hung with rusting armaments, archery targets, and a variety of metal cages and clamps that might have been torture devices were all packed along the facing wall. A salty, moldy sea smell permeated everything, and as Tessa and Emith turned at the end of the corridor and headed down a flight of rough-hewn steps, it grew worse with every step.
One of the candles snuffed out, then another. Tessa and Emith exchanged glances. A thin breeze brushed past their cheeks. Tessa felt her toes getting wet. Dips in the steps had formed pools of water, and ancient-looking tide marks of white salt banded the surrounding walls at various heights.
“If the copy is down here like you say it is, miss,” Emith said, “let’s hope Brother Ilfaylen had the foresight to store it somewhere high.”
It took several minutes to descend the steps. Emith offered many times to assist Tessa with the bags, but she held on to them stubbornly herself. All sorts of items jostled together with each step; painting boards rattled, pigment pots chimed, and mixing shells clicked together like crabs. Emith spilled a lot of water from his pitcher, but he maintained he didn’t really need that much, “just a drop.”
When finally they reached the end of the steps, Emith was the one who decided which direction they should take. “This way should lead us beneath the east wing,” he said, picking a narrow tunnel that was barely wide enough for two people to stand in side by side.
Breath laboring heavily, Tessa followed him. Her mind was in two places: here with Emith on their way to find Ilfaylen’s copy, and abovestairs with Ravis and Camron. Unconsciously she picked up her pace. Although she and Ravis were floors apart, they were working for the same end, and it suddenly seemed important that she find Ilfaylen’s copy as soon as possible. Time was running out. Even if Ravis and Camron did succeed in defending the fortress against the harras—or whatever in God’s name they were—Izgard and his armies might arrive straight after. Tessa felt her scalp tighten around her skull. Once that happened they were trapped.
“Miss, are you all right? You look pale.” Emith held one of the candles up to her face.
“I’m fine. Really. We have to hurry.” Even to her own ears her voice sounded unsteady, and Tessa glanced down, avoiding Emith’s gaze.
/> The tunnel led steadily downward. Passageways branched off every few steps, and from time to time Tessa caught sight of cavelike chambers. Darting light from the candles revealed glimpses of high ceilings spiked with stalactites, cut stone walls built around great fists of natural rock, and pools of still water that seemed an unnatural shade of blue. Occasionally Emith would stop, pop his head into a chamber, and pronounce, “No. This one’s not oval, miss.” The echoes produced were maddening.
Abruptly the tunnel came to an end. Three ways presented themselves: two fairly wide tunnels marked with broad chisel strokes where stonemasons had chipped away at the rock, and a third, narrower opening that was little more than a fissure in the granite wall.
Emith moved toward the first of the wide tunnels. “This will take us under the greatest part of the east wing.”
“No.” Tessa spoke so sharply, Emith took a step back. “We go this way.” She raised her arm in the direction of the slit in the rock. Something about its shape reminded her of the misshapen date on Ilfaylen’s pattern.
Emith looked at her a moment, blinked, then stepped toward the slit, raising the candelabras as he did so to improve the light. Tessa was glad he didn’t question her choice, as she hardly knew the reason behind it herself.
The fissure was a maw of jagged rock. As Tessa squeezed through, the sleeve of her dress snagged on a sharp edge. When she pulled her arm away, the fabric tore, sending echoes ripping through the cavern. Tessa cursed. She felt blood rolling down her arm. Forcing herself through to the other side, she was met by Emith shaking his head.
“No oval here, miss.”
Tessa looked around. They were in a small, low-ceilinged chamber consisting entirely of natural rock. The ground was hard and uneven, and water had formed pools in the low points. Seams of crystal glittered around the walls.
“Is there a way through?” Tessa asked, rubbing the scrape on her arm.
Emith glanced quickly to his right. “Not really, miss.”
Following his gaze, Tessa saw a small opening at the base of the cave wall. It looked barely large enough to squeeze a body through. When she looked up, Emith was shaking his head.