“And you truly believe that she has sealed herself within it somehow?” said a voice cool and sweet as wine.Milady.Milady was here. I started to shiver. Milady and the Pontiff were working together now? Patrick put a steadying arm around my shoulder.
“Apparently it was accidental, during a confrontation of some sort with her daughter. My man’s report was confused at best. Whatever happened, it seems we cannot use the spell to resurrect bone magic without first extricating her from it.”
“I am glad you called on us, Your Holiness,” said Milady.
Us?
“It seems our goals align. A monarchy more dedicated to the Temple and the control of magic can only benefit us all.”
“That is my hope,” said the Pontiff. “And you think you might be able to … untangle your sister? She seems to have built in certain wards that make such attempts … challenging.”
“I would imagine so, but I anticipate being able to unravel them,” Milady’s voice went on. “We were estranged, yes, but Margotte was my sister. The same blood runs in our veins. Perhaps stronger, because the magical skill wasn’t watered down by whatever poor fool she bedded to make the girl.”
Another voice came echoing down the passageway. “I cannot stay too long away from my men,” it was saying.
“I will usher you out through the passages immediately when we are done,” said the Pontiff. “If this works, your siege will be unnecessary. When all Virelith is devoted to the path of the One-Eyed God once more, the Temple will ensure that you take your rightful place on the throne.”
“Pretty words, Your Holiness.”
Because of the strange way sound behaved in the catacombs, there was no way to tell how far they were from the Tomb of Kings. But I knew immediately who was speaking, and my heart started to beat fast as a hummingbird’s wings in my chest. Ban Morin was with them. The thought of him made me feel like I might actually throw up. I rested my forehead on the cool stone of the tomb and tried to take deep, slow breaths.
“It’s all right,” said Patrick, rubbing his thumb almost imperceptibly against my shoulder where he still held me. “I’ve got you.”
I shook my head vigorously, my eyes screwed tightly shut. “He’s the worst of all of them.”
“Don’t move too much,” he whispered. “They shouldn’t be able to see or hear us, but we should still be cautious.”
When I felt well enough to open my eyes again, I could seethe swinging, erratic light of a glim on a long pole approaching from the passageway, slicing the dark into ribbons. They must be nearly upon us. My body was trembling despite myself, and my Hair felt like it was shivering in sympathy. Although I was still irritated with Patrick, I couldn’t deny that his arm around me was comforting.
“I care not for your faith, old man,” Ban Morin was saying. “But if you bring me to the throne, I will ensure it endures.”
I shifted position. My legs were starting to cramp.
Patrick rubbed fiercely at his chin, frowning. “I should have seen this coming—Milady and Ban Morin joining with the Temple. I should have known.”
“It’s all right. You were terribly busy with your own schemes.”
“And the Pontiff had the book all along,” said Patrick bitterly, choosing to ignore me.
“They’re going to use it,” I said. “They’re going to release the magic. They might bring back the Plague!”
“Clever,” Patrick admitted.
“It’s evil!”
“Oh, undoubtedly. But clever, nonetheless. No wonder Milady threw her lot in with them.” He chewed his lip. “But I suspect …”
“What?”
“Sybil will not want to share power. She will turn against the Pontiff sooner or later. I’m just wondering whether it will be sooner.”
“The Pontiff and Ban Morin don’t seem like the types to share power, either.”
When the three of them did enter the Tomb of Kings, their presence filled it completely. In the glim-light, their faces were etched sharp and sinister—the Pontiff, suddenly looking very short and round beside the others, Milady’s queenly form … and Ban Morin.
Ban Morin was holding the metal pole upon which theglim swung from its chain, moving it from side to side to illuminate the whole room. Behind them was a guard, pulling a small wagon holding a number of spellbooks.
“Cheery,” Ban Morin remarked.
