“You have been pursuing me since I left the Tower,” I said, almost to myself.
“I wanted to find you, you see, in the hope of persuading you to use your, ah, burgeoning power in service of the One-Eyed God. But you proved … elusive. Now that I know Patrick Foley had a hand in concealing you, that makes much more sense, of course.”
“And why do you want to resurrect bone magic anyway? I thought the Temple hated it.”
“Oh, we do. But it has its uses. After all, it was the vanquishing of bone magic that brought the Temple to power in the first place. You may have noticed, my dear, that tensions are running high in Virelith, and that many have become … disillusioned with the Temple. What better way to bring them back to the fold than a second conquered plague? Carefully controlled, of course, and swiftly overcome by the faithful disciples of the One-Eyed God. An excellent way to remind them of who truly has their best interests at heart.”
“You can’t do that,” I said blankly. “I can’t help you do that.”
“Then I am afraid we will not come to an agreement,” he said.
“But you can’t bring back thePlague!”
“We are not bringing back the Plague, not really—merely the threat of it. A few carefully chosen settlements will feel its effects, of course, but it will be swiftly quashed. And Virelith will rest secure in the knowledge that the Temple will always protect them, if given their loyalty and allegiance.” He paused to take a sip of his wine. “So, my dear Lady Edevane—have we reached an understanding?”
My mind raced. Of course I couldn’t let the Pontiff bring back the Plague, however controlled he believed it would be. But I needed to get to the book, and Mother. She would know what to do. She would help me. I just needed to go along with it for now.
“I cannot promise I will succeed,” I said slowly, “but I will do my best.”
The Pontiff stood and took a candle from his desk. “I am delighted to hear it,” he said. “Please, follow me.”
He walked me out of his study. “There is an entrance to the catacombs below this very palace,” he said. “I would suggest a glass of wine and a night in our guest quarters before we venture down, but something tells me you don’t want to wait. And as I hear that Mirthwater is under a siege, of sorts, perhaps that is wise. Come.”
I followed the light of the Pontiff’s candle as he led me down through the palace. We passed several guards and servants along the way, who bowed low as we passed, but the Pontiff didn’t so much as acknowledge them. Soon we were beneath the surface, in the underground portion of the building, and descending even lower.
Finally, the Pontiff stopped at a door and gestured for me to enter, holding his candle at such an angle that I couldn’t quite see inside. Baldbeak had been flapping after us, and he perched now on a glim set high in the wall opposite the doorway.
“After you, my dear,” said the Pontiff.
I stepped in and frowned. “What—”
The door slammed shut behind me, and I spun around. There was a small, barred window in the door, and the Pontiff smiled at me through it, his face lit ghoulishly by the candle he held beneath his chin.
“I do so appreciate your offer of support for the Temple, and we would be delighted to accept. Forgive me if I don’t immediately trust your, ah, change of heart. I will take you to the book in the morning—there are some people with whom I must meet first.”
“Let me out of here!” I yelled, hammering on the door.
“My dear,” he said in feigned surprise, “you asked for sanctuary from your enemies, and I aim to provide it. This cell hasthick stone walls and a solid door, and I am sure you will find it quite comfortable.”
“You need me!” I yelled. “You need me to get Mother out of the book!”
“Very likely. But I am certain that you will comply whether or not I honor our agreement. I have my ways, you see.” He smiled. “We will speak more later, when you are calm. I hope you spend a peaceful night in the meantime.”
“Bastard!” I yelled as he walked away, the little halo of light from his candle snuffing out. I battered my fists against the door and shrieked in frustration, then sank to the ground, sobbing. Stupid. I felt so stupid. Baldbeak flapped his wings against the door and clawed at the window in agitation, but of course even his powerful beak and claws were no use against iron.
“Hello?” came a voice. “I say, hello?”
There was someone in the adjoining cell.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but are you all right?” asked the voice. A voice like dry paper rustling. A familiar voice. I wondered if I was finally going mad, but Baldbeak gave a screech of surprise.
It is the man from the book place, he said.The one who was in the fire.
“Book Man?” I said incredulously, lifting my tear-wet face to the small square of light cut by the glim outside the door. “Is that you?”
A pause, and then: “Netta?”
“You’re alive!” I scrambled to my feet and clasped the bars in the tiny opening in the metal door, craning to see something, anything. “Come to the door!”
