“Keep up, please,” the acolyte said.
I hurried after her as she led us to the far side of the nave, where a little door opened into a long pillared gallery hung with tapestries depicting the adventures of the seven great saints of the Fourfold Faith. Part of me wanted to linger, to take in the details and artistry, but the task at hand and our guide’s agitation prevented any thought of that. She was fairly trotting now, her basket swinging in time with her footsteps. At the end of the gallery she halted.
“Wait in here, if you would. I’ll fetch Master Pennaret,” she said, and jogged away.
We watched her go. “Maybe it’s her day off,” I said.
Teo snorted, then clapped his hand over his mouth and looked at me with an expression of such abject mortification I couldn’t help but ease his mind.
“Master Teo, I spent my childhood helping the garden-folk grub up mudroot and threadpotatoes for breakfast. Snorting is practically a compliment.”
“But, my lady, you’re a Daired—”
“I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“They’re here, Learned Pennaret,” the acolyte said, reappearing with a man in the gray embroidered robes of a subcantor. He was a tall man, surprisingly young, black-skinned and handsome in a bookish, bespectacled way. He peered at the two of us over his spectacles with an amused expression.
“Hmm,” he said. “I see. Thank you, Sarianne, you may return to your duties.”
I curtsied as the acolyte scurried off. “My name is Aliza Daired, sir, and I was told you could help me. I need to speak with the High Cantor.”
“An honor, Lady Daired. I apologize if my acolyte was abrupt. What with preparations for Saint Ellia’s Day and everything else going on, all my acolytes have been rather on edge today. I am Tavin Pennaret, High Cantor Tauren’s right hand. May I ask why you need to see him?”
For a moment I debated. Master Pennaret seemed a rational sort of man, but given the state of his acolytes, I wondered if it would be wise to inspire unnecessary unease. “Well,” I said carefully, “Lord Daired and I have reason to suspect there is a plot against the kingdom.”
“A plot? From whom?”
Now to put Captain Teg’s theory to the test. “The ghastradi.”
The subcantor’s brow furrowed. “I see,” Pennaret said after a moment. “Well, my lady, you’d better come with me. This is no place to talk.”
Chapter 17
Unmaker
We followed him down a corridor off the main gallery, this one a good deal less ornate than the last. Teo strode at attention at my side, looking more and more comfortable in his role as bodyguard. “Here, my lady,” Pennaret said, and ushered me into a small study at the end of the hall. Two lamps burned low on a desk covered in papers, notebooks, and an enormous copy of the Book of Honored Proverbs, its pages earmarked and worn with use.
“Lady Daired, I’ll wait outside,” Teo said in a stiff, formal voice. “By your leave.”
“Thank you, yes.”
Pennaret closed the door most of the way, leaving, at Teo’s glare, a crack wide enough to reassure the young man that I was not in any danger. And to ensure he hears our conversation, I thought with a little smile. We were both getting the hang of this.
The subcantor cleared the only chair in the room. “I do apologize for the mess, my lady. Sit, please.”
“Is the High Cantor really not here?” I asked as I sat.
“He is here,” he said, pacing behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back, “but before I take you to see him, there are a few things I need to understand and a few things you may need to understand. When you say ghastradi, what exactly do you mean?”
“Exactly what you imagine, sir. Shadow creatures riding the souls of the willing.”
“And they’re moving against the kingdom?”
“Along with the Tekari.”
He was silent for a moment before he resumed pacing. “I wish I could say this surprises me, Lady Daired, but it doesn’t. For weeks now the city has been uneasy.”
“Aye, so I’ve heard.” A new thought struck me. “Learned Master—”
“Please. I’m far from master of anything, and I’m much more learning than learned. Master Tavin is fine.”
“Master Tavin, are you familiar with creatures called An-Eskatha? Eldest, in Arlean.”
He tapped a finger against his chin. “It doesn’t strike a chord, but that doesn’t mean much. Oldkind tongues were not my area of study in Quaternary. What are they?”
“Creatures that came before the Oldkind.”
“Many scholars and loremasters would say there is no such thing.”
“So do the dragons.”
“You have reason to disbelieve them?”
I thought of the Green Lady’s dripping, faceless facade, her lips drawn back over that void of a mouth, and the writhing shadows of the weald-wraiths. “I’ve met them, sir.”
There was an uncomfortable pause as he absorbed this.
“Do you know if the High Cantor might know more?” I asked.
“If anyone did, it would be Cantor Tauren, yes.” He opened his mouth as if to say something, changed his mind, and then reconsidered. “Lady Daired, I will take you to him. I should not, but this is old lore and well beyond me. Come.”
He stood and opened the door. I motioned for Teo to follow the subcantor, intrigued despite my growing apprehension. Instead of returning to the tapestry gallery, Pennaret led us to the right, where the corridor grew narrower, terminating in a broad staircase dimly lit with flickering lanterns. A gate of intricate ironwork across the top stair prevented our going any farther. Pennaret fished among his robes for the key.
“What’s down there?” I asked.
“Answers, or at least questions that may mean more to you than they do to me.” He touched the gate and drew back as it swung open. “That’s odd. I thought he locked it.”
The sound of distant voices drifted up to us. Pennaret drew in a sharp breath and fairly flew down the stairs. I looked at Teo, weighed the risk against my growing curiosity, and followed the subcantor.
It was a long staircase, much longer than I expected, and curved slightly so that we soon lost sight of the agitated Pennaret as he plunged downward, his sandals slapping against the stone. Another breathless minute and Teo and I reached the bottom, where yet another wrought-iron gate waited. The familiar diamond pattern wove in and out of the four holy sigils, throwing crosshatched shadows on the steps. It too was unlocked, left ajar by Pennaret’s passing. I pushed it open and stopped cold.
“Oh . . . my,” Teo breathed behind me.
The Abbey had been built on the highest hill in Edonarle, but until now I’d never thought to wonder what lay beneath it. Ruins, I’d assumed, the architectural compost of centuries built up like sediment, in which the foundations of the Abbey and the palace complex were laid. That was partly true. The walls rising on either side of the vaulting hall were rougher at the bottom, pieced together from stone of various colors and textures, but as they stretched toward the ceiling, the uniform gray stone of the outer Abbey took over, arching like the ribs of some gigantic creature high overhead. The light of the lamps barely illuminated the ceiling.