He sat on the top stair and handed his boots to Ilsabet, who fed them to the fire in the hearth. He pulled off her gloves and did the same to them, then let his own fall from his hands into the flames. The two vials he had gathered from the room below were heavy in his pocket. Later, he would put on new gloves, pull the vials out, and clean them well, for they were needed now as never before.
"Are there any drawn plans of the castle?" Ilsabet asked. "If so we could trace the places the spider might exit."
"I don't know of any, but I think the wall goes all the way down to the dungeons. It's possible the spider is still in the room and I can't find it."
He closed the trapdoor, took a hammer and nails, and began nailing it shut.
"What are you doing?" Ilsabet asked.
"I don't want anyone finding the door and going down," he said.
"Anyone spying on you deserves what he gets."
"But someone might manage to get out of the room and die in here, and I could give up this space as I have the one below."
"Such a delightfully lethal pet, yet so fragile that someone could easily step on it and never know," Ilsabet said, her eyes sparkling. He hadn't known how much pleasure she'd gotten from his fear until now.
"Then track its venom through the castle."
Ilsabet hadn't considered this. "How long do the spiders live?"
"I've had it twelve years. I understand that if you feed one regularly it'll live a century or more."
"Well, there's plenty to eat in these walls. Maybe there'll be a dearth of rats for a time."
"Pray that we have an infestation. The spider is a lazy animal, and it needs fresh meat. You might also want to consider putting netting around Lekai's cradle."
Her look of horror twisted into a sardonic smile. "We're all gamblers now. I'll leave you to your bath."
Throughout the day, Peto had sought some understanding of what Jorani's parting words had meant, but nothing came to him. He did, however, listen to the footsteps of servants coming and going in the hall, and felt relief that everything sounded normal. Later, Lekai was brought to him. They slept together. Peto liked to think they shared their dreams. When he woke, the child was gone, and Jorani sat beside him once more.
"I survived," Jorani whispered. "Now let's see if the fates intend for me to cure you."
The liquid flowed down Peto's throat again. This time his heart raced less quickly, and the tingling in his hands extended to his arms.
"There's no one here but you and me, Baron. I won't tell anyone about your progress. Now try to wake."
Peto's eyelids fluttered, and with a sudden burst of will, he managed to brush his fingers against Jorani's hand. Peto had felt such euphoria only once before-on the day his son had been born.
"We seem to be on the right track," Jorani said. "By the end of the week, we'll know how far you can recover. We'll have to. I'm just about out of this potion, and the means to make more has, shall we say, moved out of my grasp for a while." He told Peto about the room, and the spider with its lethal web. "Fortunately," he added, "I think the effects of the antidote don't wear off. We'll go as far as we can with what I still possess, then you'll have to wait until I can collect the ingredients again. That may take some time."
After Jorani left him, servants came to bathe the baron. When they were done, they covered him with a blanket and left.
Peto lay in the darkness, wiggling the fingers of his right hand. He was hardly surprised that the strength in his sword arm was returning first.
The castle grew quiet until the footsteps of the guards patrolling the halls were the only sounds he heard. Peto had just begun to doze off when lisa bet came to him.
She walked past the guards and into his chamber, latching the door behind her. He saw the candlelight flickering through his closed eyelids, felt the heat of her body as she stretched out beside him.
"Peto," she whispered and kissed him as passionately as she had before.
A wave of revulsion coursed through him, a revulsion all the more terrible because he was helpless to push her away. His expression could not have changed, yet he was certain she guessed his emotion.
She laughed, and kissed him again.
"Someone's been plotting against you. Tomorrow Shaul is going to find evidence linking your poisoning to the escaped rebels. Someone will have to pay for this crime. Fortunately, we have a few rebel sympathizers in chains below. I'll have to think of a suitable end for them.
She lay a hand on his cheek, gentle as any lover's.
"No rebel escaped, of course. Shall I tell you how they died?" Softly, she whispered the tale of the book she had found at Shadow Castle, of Emory, and of Arman, and how they'd feasted together.
When she'd finished, she kissed him again. "I've much to do tonight. I'll give Lekai a kiss for you when I see him," she said. Her body moved away from his. He heard her footsteps heading for the door. As she opened it, he felt a cold, damp draft.
"Go down and shut those doors!" Ilsabet screamed at the guards in the hall. Peto had never heard such fear in Ilsabet's voice before. The servants had been speaking of the unnatural fog for days. He wondered how thick it had become.
The shut doors kept the fog out of the upper floors of the castle but did nothing to dispel the dampness in the lower halls and the dungeons.
The newest prison guard made the night rounds of the dungeon passages. He hated the work-the rats were bolder at night and the dampness so thick he seemed to swim through it-but lack of seniority gave him the most despised duty.
He carried a smoky torch in one hand, a pike in the other. So far, he hadn't had to use the weapon, and he hoped he never would. When he reached the farthest occupied cell, he saw a thin beam of light in the passage beyond it. He leveled the weapon and went on. "Who's there?" he whispered. "Identify yourself, or I'll call the guards."
"It won't be necessary," came the reply. The form moved closer, and he recognized the baroness.
"My lady, why are you here?" he asked.
"Making sure everyone is doing his job," she said.
As she walked toward him, her foot slipped. He reached out to break her fall.
"Thank you," she whispered and reached up, stuffing an oily rag into his mouth.
The following morning, Peto was hurriedly washed and dressed, then lifted from his bed and placed on a slant-backed settee. With his body covered, he supposed he looked as if he were recovering, or were somehow controlling the mock trial Ilsabet orchestrated.
Three of the rebels were brought up in chains from the dungeons. Peto smelled the scents of filth and fear, heard them whispering to each other, trying to keep their courage up in the face of damning evidence.
A guard had been found dead outside their cell, a poisoned rag just out of reach of the prisoners. The pike that they'd probably hoped to take had rolled beyond their reach as well.
"They may have hoped to get the keys to their cell," Shaul explained, "but that was impossible, since the night guards never carry them." Shaul slipped on a pair of gloves, brought out the poisoned quill, and compared the oil on it to the that on the rag used to kill the guard. "I've shown it to Lord Jorani. He agrees that it is the same."
"How would we know?" one of the prisoners said defiantly. "Do you think the fates came to us in our cell and handed us the poison? You'd best look to your own nobles if you want to solve this death."