His horse stumbled a step, not enough to fall, but sufficient to break its rhythm and slow it. The thief sped on; the spear wall opened to allow her through, then closed again to prevent Gill from following. He brought his horse to a halt and wheeled around, spotting his companions some distance away. His horse was anxious and breathing hard—as was its rider.
Gill looked back at the guards, steadfast in their determination to not let him pass, and swore. There was nothing to be gained by trying to force his way in. He would be swamped by the guards’ greater numbers and killed, and that would be the end of it.
He turned his horse and rode back the way he had come. They would have to find another way.
CHAPTER 5
Ysabeau trotted her horse toward the palace, through streets far quieter than she would have expected even at that hour. The City Watch were a stronger presence than normal and there was an uncomfortable atmosphere about the city. It wasn’t something she could put her finger on, but things were definitely not right in the city of Mirabay. It felt like a black cloud had descended, which at any moment would burst into rain.
If the increased numbers of patrolling watchmen had imbued the city with a foreboding attitude, the number of guards at the palace gates made her suspect something very serious was going on. She was not accustomed to be stopped, so when the guards made her wait for her identity to be confirmed by the palace before allowing her through, she was convinced that there was trouble.
She had to wait for over an hour, glaring at the guards impatiently all the while, until a clerk from the Prince Bishop’s office came down in person to escort her. They rattled up the cliffside in the elevator, its creaky nature barely disguised by the plush cushioning on the benches. The winch-operated platform generally accommodated those aristocrats and merchant potentates who lacked either the ability or the desire to make their way up the long, winding, tree-lined avenue that led to the main palace building.
As she quickly swept through the palace, she passed clusters of whispering courtiers, all of whom fell silent once they became aware of her presence, probably not wanting to be overheard by someone not a member of their inner circles.
The Prince Bishop’s offices were in the same part of the palace as the king’s—close to the centre of power, but hidden behind its majesty. Ysabeau wondered if she got her preference for operating from the shadows from him. Having been without a father for the greater part of her life, she felt odd referring to anyone by that title, let alone the Prince Bishop of Mirabaya, one of the most powerful men in the world.
He wasn’t there when she arrived. His clerk showed her into his office to wait. Dominated by a large desk, the office wasn’t much to look at. It was very much a place to work, rather than a statement of wealth or power, unlike many of the offices she had been in—usually to assassinate their occupants. The clerk was one of the few who knew who she was—knew the reason she was the only person the Prince Bishop completely trusted—so she was left alone to wait where others would be closely watched.
She wondered if the Prince Bishop was smart to have so much faith in her. She was his daughter, and blood was thicker than water, but after her mother died, she had sworn to always look out for her own interests, to hells with anyone else. Should her long-absent father be exempted from that? Sometimes she wasn’t sure if he should, although for the most part he seemed to be trying to make amends for the years he wasn’t around. Which, to be fair, was because he hadn’t known about her.
Also, he had saved her from the Intelligenciers. That was a big debt, and one she felt would never be completely settled, no matter what she did. Perhaps giving him this Cup would do that, and finally show him how much she was worth. Nevertheless, she wondered if his seeming absolute confidence in her fidelity led him to take her for granted.
The door opened and she stood. Her father, the Prince Bishop, walked in, giving off that air of authority that so many men desire, but few manage to achieve. He was dressed in his usual powder-blue vestments, the uniform of his religious office, even if his temporal one of first minister occupied most of his time. He looked tired, even more than when she’d departed on her last mission, and he had looked exhausted then.
“Please tell me you bring good news,” the Prince Bishop said.
No “hello.” No “how was your journey.” No “good to see you.” Ysabeau forced a smile. She’d make him wait for what he really wanted to hear.
“I bring mixed news,” she said, deciding that he deserved the bad news first. “Your detachment of Spurriers arrived at the temple with a prisoner. That woman you sent, the one who’s good at magic? She allied with him and they killed most of your men, the commander included. Oh, and there were dragons. Two of them. Both still alive when I left, so they’re still a problem.”
The Prince Bishop turned puce and let out a breath like a hiss. “That doesn’t sound like ‘mixed’ news.” He took a moment to consider the information, the veins in his temples throbbing. “Is there anything else?” he said between gritted teeth.
She chewed her lip and thought for a moment. “Oh, yes. The big dragon. It turned into a man.”
“It turned into a man?” the Prince Bishop said, his voice laden with disbelief.
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “Really was something to see. Can’t say I expected it at all.” She paused for a moment. “Rather gruesome to watch, though. Not sure I’d want to again.” She was enjoying toying with him, no matter how childish it might have been. Still, it was time to get on with things.
Taking her purse from her belt, she hefted it in her hand. “I also bring a gift, which I think will improve your day substantially.” Ysabeau pulled open the purse and spilled the Cup into the palm of her hand. The Prince Bishop’s eyes widened as soon as he saw it.
The Cup was a curious little thing. Round and with an engraved lip, it bore a resemblance to a sugar bowl. It was made from Telastrian steel, a rare and expensive metal found mainly in the Telastrian Mountains, on the other side of the Middle Sea—hence its name—although small deposits could be found elsewhere, such as in the mountains on Mirabaya’s southeastern border. Delicate, swirling blue patterns ran through the metal’s dark grey substance. The Cup was beautiful in its own simple way, but there was little to make it remarkable.
“You found another Cup,” the Prince Bishop said. He took his from a pocket in his cloak, and looked at it, then at the one Ysabeau held. They were identical. “It was at the temple?”
She nodded. Although he had a Cup already, he had confided in her that he didn’t understand it, and only seemed able to use a fraction of its reputed power. He had hoped the Temple of the Enlightened, another of the discoveries from the trove of ancient, forbidden knowledge he kept secreted away under the city’s cathedral, would teach him how to properly use the Cup, so he’d sent her to find out. She hadn’t—things there had gotten too dangerous, very quickly—but hoped this new Cup, and what she did know about it, might make up for that fact.
“What good is another Cup if I don’t know how to make them give me the permanent power they are reputed to?” he said. “I presume you were successful in finding that out?”
She shook her head, knowing that her response would frustrate him, and that soon enough he would vent his frustration at her, if she allowed it to build too much. She hoped to alleviate that.
“The reason the one you have doesn’t work the way you think it should is because it’s already been used, and they only imbue their full power once.”
“This one hasn’t been used?” His voice changed instantly from growling malevolence to something brighter, hopeful. Desperate.
She smiled and nodded. “Untouched. The last of its kind. Other than that, as best as I was able to tell, it works the way you think it does. You just have to drink from it. And all your dreams become reality.”
The Prince Bishop’s eyes widened in delight, then narrowed. “You’re certain? Certain that this is how it works?”
The intensity of his delivery made her doubt herself. She shrugged. “I think so.”
“That’s not good enough,” he said. “This is the last one? You said this is the last one.”
She nodded. “That’s what the dragon said in the temple.”
“It spoke?”
“Well, yes. It was in human form at that point.”
“Astonishing,” the Prince Bishop said. “But if this is the last one, I can’t take the risk of wasting it.” His voice rose. “I need to know for certain. I need to know the correct way to use it. This Cup might be the answer to everything. I can’t waste it.”
He paced across the office to the window and stared out into the darkness, tugging at his goatee in agitation. After a moment he turned back to her. “Tell me about the temple. What did you see?”
“It was incredible. Ancient, yet perfectly preserved. That would be because of the magic, I suppose. The whole place was filled with sculptures and covered with inscriptions.”
“Inscriptions. Were you able to read any of them?”
“Of course not. I couldn’t even tell you what language they were in.”
“Couldn’t you use your limited magical ability to decipher them?”
She smiled wryly, the dig at her disappointing magical talents not going unnoticed. She wondered if he would ever get over it, but supposed the wound must be particularly sore now, after she had delivered the news of his new protégé’s betrayal. It seemed that he was to be ever disappointed by those he placed his hopes in.
“No,” she said. “I’ve always directed my ‘limited magical ability’ toward things that are useful to me. I’ve never included millennia-dead languages on that list.”
The Prince Bishop let out a breath with a deep sigh, then walked over to his desk and slumped into the chair. In that moment, Ysabeau regretted the attitude she had adopted, and wanted nothing more than to console her father. It felt as though there was a gulf between them, one she could never hope to cross. In any event, she knew that consolation was not what he desired.
“It’s possible that there was more detailed information there on how the cups were used. Probable.”
He fixed his gaze on her. “I need you to go back. Right away. I’m sure the danger has passed by now, so you’ll be free to carry out a more thorough investigation. I’ll have some scribes and linguists from the university accompany you, to copy the inscriptions and start working on translations.”
Ysabeau gritted her teeth. She hadn’t even taken the time to have a drink of water, let alone the lavish meal, hot bath, and ten hours of sleep she’d promised herself during the exhausting ride back from the temple. She’d been running on empty for hours, and it was only having the end in sight that had kept her going.
“Take a room at Bauchard’s and get some rest,” the Prince Bishop said. “I’ll need a little time to get the team I have in mind organised. Naturally you can put it on my tab.”
“Naturally,” she repeated. There was no asking. He gave his command, and expected it to be followed. No other man alive spoke to her like that, treated her like that. Still, he was her father, and had been there for her when she had most needed him. She smiled and tried to relax. He was ordering her to Bauchard’s, a place of luxury, and she was so tired.
“I’ll send word when I have everything in place.” He stared at her with that expectant look he used to indicate that it was time to leave. Obedient, Ysabeau stood and headed for the door.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he said.
She realised she was still holding the Cup. She lifted it and allowed her tired gaze to dwell on it a moment.
“I think you should leave it here,” the Prince Bishop said. “For safekeeping.”
“Of course, Father,” Ysabeau said. She placed the Cup on his desk, rather than into his outstretched hand, and left. As soon as the door closed behind her, she realised she had forgotten to ask him about the odd mood in the city. Conversations with the Prince Bishop were usually like that—dealing only with the things he wanted to deal with. At this point, she was so tired she didn’t really care anymore.