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CHAPTER 39
Before I go to the Sanctum, there’s something I must do. I splash cold water on my face and step into my working skirt. Remi won’t need me for climbing today. I’ve finished all the inspections and signed off on the supports for building the ceiling, though that work was delayed by Magister Thomas.
I lace my boots quickly, then let myself out the front door without bothering to eat whatever it smells like Mistress la Fontaine burned. A light rain has begun to fall, the sky indicating it will last for several hours at least. The streets are nearly deserted at this early hour, and I’m halfway to the Montcuir home before I see another soul.
Simon’s third-story shutters face the street, open enough to see shadows moving within. I doubt he ever went to bed.
The other windows of the house are dark, indicating no one else is up. I lean against the front of the house, cursing myself for not having thought this through. I’ll have to return at a more reasonable hour.
“Miss Catrin?”
I whirl around, coming face-to-face with Lambert Montcuir.
He ducks his head in apology. “I’m sorry to startle you. Are you looking for something?”
His kindness gives me courage. “I was hoping I could talk to Simon,” I admit. “I need to tell him I’m sorry, among other things.”
Lambert frowns. “I’m not certain that’s a good idea. He’s… not in a forgiving mood.”
“I know,” I say. “But I have to try. Even if he won’t listen, I have something important to give him.”
He glances up and down, as though trying to see what I’ve brought, before tilting his head toward the house. “Then please allow me to facilitate that.”
To my surprise, the front door is unlocked. In explanation, Lambert holds up several sheets of paper covered in writing. “I was only gone for a few minutes. Simon sent me to the Palace of Justice to fetch these.”
I enter first at Lambert’s polite gesture. Once he bolts the door, he indicates he’ll follow me up the stairs. I’m a little self-conscious about putting my backside at his eye level but relieved it’s not Oudin behind me.
My hands are trembling with anxiety by the time we reach the third floor. Lambert takes the lead and enters the room after a quick knock, but I hesitate just outside. Though I know Simon has a temper, and I’ve seen signs he’s capable of violence, I’ve never been afraid of him until this moment.
“I found what you asked for, Venatre,” Lambert says. “And I’ve brought someone who needs to speak with you.”
He steps aside, sweeping his arm out in presentation. His support gives me enough resolve to move forward into the room. Lambert offers me a small, sympathetic smile before turning to the table and setting down the pages he brought.
The entire wall around the city maps is covered with sketches now that drawings of Mother Agnes and her sitting room havebeen added. On the table lies the architect’s hammer, dried blood flaking off in places. I can see the engraved words from where I stand. Oudin is here, too, and he pivots from where he stands next to the gruesome wall papering.
Simon looks like he’s aged ten years in a few hours. Pale skin stretches across angular cheekbones, emphasizing the purple rings under his eyes. Uneven splotches of color darken his face as he gapes at me. “What are you doing here, Cat?”
I pull Madame Emeline’s braid of hair from the pocket of my skirt. “When I got home, I realized I still had this.” I set it on the table and step back, twisting my hands. “But mostly I wanted to…” My voice fails.Apologizesounds pathetic, so I finish with, “explain some things.”
After a long moment, Oudin crosses between us and grabs Lambert by the upper arm, urging him toward the door. As he passes, I catch a whiff of alcohol.
“Let’s let them sort this without an audience, Brother,” he says. Then, because he’s Oudin and he’s disgusting, he leers at Simon. “After all, we’ll be able to hear from my room below if things get really interesting.”
Lambert yanks away, reminding me of the night Perrete died, when their roles were reversed, but Simon sighs and nods. “That’s enough for now, Cousin, get some rest. Thank you for your help.”
With obvious reluctance, Lambert follows his brother. I don’t speak until the noise of them going down the stairs fades. “Have you drawn any conclusions about what happened?”
Simon’s gaze bores a hole right through me. “That is something you no longer have the right to know.”
“Has my assistance been replaced by Lambert’s?” He was present before, but more often as an enforcer of Simon’s orders, not an investigator. “And Oudin’s?”
“Again, not your concern.”
“Where is Juliane?” I push out. “That I ask as a friend.”Friendmight be assuming too much, but I care about her.
Simon sighs before answering. “Not likely to wake for a few hours. She’s been having more and more problems. I may have to forgo her help as well as yours.”
I doubt learning what I’d withheld will do her mental state any good, either. “Please, Simon…,” I begin, raising my hands in appeal. “You have to understand.”
