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It was not a question, so Lin said nothing. She could sense the gaze of the Sault on her. There was little suspense in it. No one really expected an outcome different from every other Tevath they had lived to see. But Lin—Lin could feel her hands shaking likeleaves at her sides. Only the long practice of patience that being a healer had taught her enabled her to cling to the semblance of calm.
“They say all wisdom comes from the Goddess,” said the Maharam. Lin heard someone behind her whisper; it was unusual for the Maharam to say more than the required words of the ritual. “Do you believe that, Linnet, daughter of Sorah?”
Reminding me that he knew my mother.Lin gritted her teeth. Her knees were trembling, her palms wet with sweat. She said, “Yes.”
The Maharam seemed to relax minutely. “My dear,” he said. “Are you the Goddess Reborn?”
Long ago, when she and Mariam were young, they had swum together in the stone pools of the washing room in the Women’s House. Diving underwater, they would call to each other, seeing if the other could understand their words through the rippling distortion of the water. She heard the Maharam like that now, as if his voice came down to her through echoes, as if she stood not at the bottom of a shallow pool but on the floor of the ocean.
Are you the Goddess Reborn?
She clenched her fists at her sides, so hard her fingernails bit into her palms, breaking the skin.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes. I am.”
—
They poured through the broken doors of the Shining Gallery, assailants dressed in ragged scraps of old military uniforms, red and black, their faces blank, featureless. In the jagged light of the swinging lamps, they had the look of creatures out of nightmare: They wore close-fitting caps, their faces painted in white and black greasepaint to resemble skulls. They carried a motley assortment of weapons: old axes, maces, and swords. One swung a banner above his head: the image of a golden lion, pouncing on an eagle.
And suddenly Kel was in the square, watching as the Castelguard dragged the group of vociferous protestors away. Their banners, stitched with the victorious lion, the bleeding eagle. Theirshouts—repeated later at the Roverge house, when the Charter Families had listened from the terrace and laughed:Death to Sarthe! Blood before union with Sarthe!
They had not had their faces painted then, nor had they had weapons; they had seemed a little ridiculous, even. No longer.
Kel turned, grabbed Conor by the shoulders. Shoved him behind the arras. He yanked the dagger out of his boot. It wasn’t much. Not enough to protect Conor, if it came to it. He glanced back, saw Conor with his back against the wall, eyes wide.
“Stay here,” Kel snarled. “Stayback.”
He dropped the dagger, kicked it across the floor to Conor. Turned back to the Gallery. It had been seconds, and the place was a melee. The silk screen behind Jolivet had come down, and the room was full of Castelguards. Half of them dashed toward the high table, moving to encircle the Queen and Counselor. Vienne had pushed Luisa behind her. She was screaming at the Castelguard, words Kel could not hear but could guess: demanding they protect the Princess, demanding they give Vienne a weapon, too.
The dancers had scattered. Some of them were hiding among the clustered trees of the false forest. Kel could see their bright clothes, like fireflies in the dark. The half of the Castelguard who were not protecting the high table had flooded into the center of the room, swords flashing. A second false forest, this one of steel.
They met the intruders with a clash, and Kel could smell blood in the air now, sharp and coppery.
The Castelguard whom Kel had seen stabbed in the belly lay nearby, on his back, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. A silver-and-black scarf was caught in the branch of a tree overhead, flickering in the wind from the open door. Kel ducked and rolled, sending himself skidding across the floor as he’d done with the dagger. He fetched up beside the dead guard. He knew his face—one of the Castelguards who’d let him into the Trick to see Fausten.May he pass through the door unhindered,Kel thought, gripping the hilt of theblade embedded in the guard’s belly. It came free with the sound of steel scraping against rib bones.
Kel rolled to his feet. Now he was armed. And—
“Fuck,” he whispered. Because Conor had not stayed put, or stayed back, as Kel had told him. He had come out from behind the arras, dagger in hand, and as Kel watched, he flung himself onto one of the skull-faced assailants knocking him to the ground. He stabbed down, plunging the dagger between the Skull’s shoulder blades. When he jerked the blade back, blood gushed, a scarlet spray across gold brocade.
Kel reversed course, and began to cut his way toward Conor. The floor of the Shining Gallery was a boiling whirlpool of white, black, and red. The red of Castelguards, the darker red of blood, slicking the floor. A Skull—it was hard to think of them as anything else—lunged at Kel, who parried and thrust, savagely burying his sword between the man’s ribs. He crumpled, blood running from the corners of his mouth, mixing with the white greasepaint on his face.
Some of the nobles had joined the guards on the floor. Kel saw Joss Falconet brandishing his sword, a slim silver blade. Montfaucon had drawn a thin dagger from his brocaded cuff; Kel saw him slit a Skull’s throat before plucking a half-full wineglass from a nearby table and downing the dregs. Charlon had waded in like a bull, unarmed but swinging his fists. Lady Sardou had produced a jeweled misericorde from the bosom of her dress, and was laying about her with ferocity.
In that moment, Kel knew he had been correct to always go armed to Dial Chamber meetings.
But where was Antonetta? He was used to having his entire focus be on Conor—whom he could see engaged in battle with a Skull, slashing away at his opponent without regard for the rules of swordplay Jolivet had taught them—and to have it split was disorienting. But he could not do anything about it; Ana had taken upresidence somewhere behind his eyes, and he could not stop them searching for her. Looking for the flash of gold silk among the teeming mass—
And there she was, a silver dagger in her hand. She was near the doors, her mother behind her, looking stunned as Antonetta dispatched a Skull who had come too close with a kick to the knee and a swift slashing cut to the shoulder.Those secret sword lessons must be good ones,Kel thought. The Skull collapsed, bleeding and clutching at his arm, as Antonetta dragged her stunned mother by main force out of the room.
A few were following—safety seemed to be outside, but the path to it was a bloody trek through flashing blades and mounting chaos. Kel was halfway to Conor now. His progress was slow, each step a bloody fight. He decapitated a Skull with the sweep of his blade, ducked low to sever the ankle tendons of another. He stopped short of cutting the man’s throat. Better if some of them survived the night, a small rational voice in the back of his head told him. They would need to be interrogated. There was awhyto all this, a why Kel could only guess at—
And then there was a shriek from the high table. Kel looked over and saw Sena Anessa stagger back. A black arrow protruded from her shoulder.No, not an arrow,Kel thought, rising to his feet,a crossbow bolt—
Anessa slumped, blood pouring down the front of her dress, and Luisa screamed. She was struggling in Vienne’s arms and she pulled free suddenly—only for a moment, but it was long enough. Even as Kel turned to look, to see where the first bolt had come from, the second arrowed through the air. It plunged into Luisa’s chest with enough force to lift the girl off her feet.
She slammed into the wall behind the high table. The bolt that had gone through her body must have lodged itself between two stones—later, it would be discovered that this was exactly what had happened—for it stuck fast. It stuck fast, and Luisa, who must havedied the moment the bolt went into her chest, hung limply from it, dangling against the wall like one of the butterflies Kel had seen in Merren’s flat, pinned to a specimen board.
Vienne let out a terrible, heartbroken, shrilling cry and flung herself at Luisa. Kel could not bear to watch; he turned and saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, partway up the wall—
