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“They’re not.” Everyone turns to look at me. “The king wants to leave him here to avoid upsetting the queen with his presence in Amboise and causing her to fret over him.”
Sybella makes a sound of disgust. “More likely, if Beast is left here, the king can quickly dismiss whatever arguments she tries to bring up.”
The Arduinnite shifts on the wooden bench, tugging at her skirt. “Does anyone know exactly where he is being held?”
“He is in one of the cells in the dungeon at the bottom of the central tower,” Sybella says. “There are four guards in the guardhouse, but none in the dungeon itself. Some of the rooms are cages, but not Beast’s. His door is thick oak bound with iron, with nothing but a small square opening. Even without the iron grate that covers it, it is too small for me or even Yannic to pass through. There are no windows, no drains. Nothing but twelve feet of thick stone wall. What about your favorite weapon?” she asks the charbonnerie.
“Fire won’t work,” he says. “Stone doesn’t burn, and even a diversionary fire in that enclosed space would likely kill us all with its smoke before we could get him out. Not to mention that said smoke would likely draw too much attention our way.”
“And if we disable the guards, we have just announced our presence and lost the advantage of surprise and stealth, and the hunt will be on,” the Arduinnite says.
A melancholy silence engulfs us.
Father Effram sets the chalice of wine aside to make room for the ciborium. “So we must get past the guards, get Beast out of his cage, make sure no one sees us, get him out of the palace, and make sure no one discovers it.” He looks up. “And get him out of the city.”
“That will be the easy part,” Lazare says. “Once he’s out of the palace, we’re free.”
“It is not just the palace but the palace grounds,” I point out. “The larger gate that connects the palace to the city will be heavily manned, even at that hour.”
“You people and your gates,” Lazare grumbles. “The river, then. A boat is easier to get ahold of than horses, anyway.”
Aeva cuts him a glance. “But far less reliable. Or steady.”
“And you still have to get everyone over two walls,” I remind him.
The charbonnerie swears. “I’ll figure something out.” Sybella eyes him as if she is considering taking one of his kidneys as hostage on that promise. “I will,” he says.
“Sybella and I can handle the guards,” I tell the others. That pulls her attention from the charbonnerie. She—just barely—resists asking me how.
“Without killing them?” Lazare challenges. “Because that will alert every—”
“Without killing them.”
Lazare blinks lazily, then is on to the next obstacle. “How do we get him out of the palace?”
I look at Sybella, almost embarrassed to ask the question, as it seems like something I should know. “Is it possible to use the shadows to cover him as well as us?”
“I . . . I don’t know,” she says, clearly never having considered it before.
“Try it.” Aeva’s suggestion comes out more like a command.
Sybella studies the small group, skipping Lazare, who has some command of shadows as a follower of the Dark Mother, and the Arduinnite, as they move more quietly than a shadow itself. And who knows what innate powers Father Effram possesses that he has yet to share with us. “Yannic? Would you come here?”
The little gnome grins and hops up from the pew, pleased to have a role to play. “Let’s try over by the wall. The shadows are thicker there,” I suggest.
Forcing myself to ignore all the others watching us, we retreat to the back of the chapel. “How would we do this with another person?” I murmur.
Sybella shrugs. “When you think of the shadows enveloping you, simply think of them bigger and wrap them around Yannic as well.”
It is so simple, and yet it also tests the bounds of the gift itself. For the longest time I thought it merely an exhortation by the convent to use the shadows, work with what material we had. But since I returned to Plessis and met Sybella, the shadows have felt like they offer more protection than simple opportunity.
“One, two, three—” Sybella says, then the entire room gasps, letting us know that it has worked. When we release the shadows, the little man—Yannic—shivers. “Are you all right?” Sybella asks him. He nods and rubs his arms, as if chilled.
The lone soldier in the room, Poulet, clears his throat. “But just to be safe, we should also find a guard’s uniform. That way if the magic fails, Beast won’t be fully exposed.”
Father Effram sets the Eucharist plate down. “I can take care of that.”
“Will a uniform be enough to get him past the tower guards? Or the city gate, for that matter?” Aeva asks.
“Likely not.”
“Would he have a better chance during daylight? When there are more people about?”
“If he were a normal person, yes,” Sybella mutters. “But he stands out too much.”
“Not to mention the rumors that have already circulated about him turning into an actual beast of some sort.” Father Effram does not look at Sybella and me, but he might as well have.
I turn to Lazare. “What if we had someone at the gate? Someone who would let us pass?”
“Who?” Sybella demands.
“I’ll tell you later,” I murmur.
“That’s all well and good,” Lazare says. “Until the guards check on the prisoner the next day and see he’s not there. Then the search is on.”
The small chapel falls silent as we think. The only sound is the click of Father Effram’s rosary beads as he runs them through his fingers.
Sybella says, “If I were to remain here for a few days after he is gone, it would prevent them from assuming we plotted together.”
“You’re not playing sacrificial lamb,” Aeva says. “Beast would have all our heads.”
Sybella scowls at her. “I wasn’t planning on it.” Although I suspect she would do exactly that if it came to it.
“With the rumors floating around,” I murmur, “I think General Cassel is the only one who would venture down there to check on Beast. It would be ideal if he could be called away for a time. At least until the court left for Amboise.”
“And who has the authority to order such a convenient thing?” Lazare asks.
“Not the queen, surely,” Sybella murmurs.
I weigh the risks. “I might know someone,” I say slowly.
Lazare studies me more carefully. “You have been a busy little thing here at court, haven’t you?” His sharp humor reminds me of my aunt Fabienne. You could not help but smile, even as it cut you.
“Who?” Sybella a
sks, soft enough for my ears only.
“Do you trust me?” I murmur.
To her credit, her hesitation is so small as to be nearly invisible. She nods. “Then I will tell you, later.”
“But even if Cassel is gone,” Lazare points out, “the guards feed Beast once a day. Surely they’ll notice.”
“Not if we put someone else in there,” Father Effram says.
“Who would go without a fight? Or wouldn’t scream for help once we shut them in there?” Poulet asks, mildly appalled.
“Someone who couldn’t talk.”
All eyes turn to Yannic.
“Don’t even think of sacrificing Yannic,” Sybella tells Father Effram.
“Of course not. I was thinking of the bear.”
The long moment of silence that follows this announcement reassures me that I am not the only one who is uncertain I’ve heard correctly. “What bear?” Poulet asks.
“The one in the courtyard,” I murmur.
“That’s absurd,” Sybella says.
Lazare is a bit more respectful, but then it’s not his lover who is imprisoned. “How do you see that working, Father?”
“We’ve already established that the guards are afraid of Beast, it is difficult to see into his cell, and his roars of fury have kept everyone away. I’ve heard they even draw straws to see who must bring his day’s meal. No one will know—certainly not for two weeks, and possibly longer.”
He looks to Sybella and smiles brightly. “If we were to place the poor bear inside, who would notice? Even if he were seen, there is a good chance everyone would just claim Benebic had finally turned into the beast he has always been.”
