Dray looked over, but then turned his attention back to his injured brother. The men had their weapons arrayed on the floor close at hand. Spears, knives, a bow and a brace of arrows.
Kit hovered close. “I don’t know. It’s one of the places I can’t see. I’m sorry, Caim. I can try again. It’s just…”
“No. We’ll go together.”
“Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not too late to change your mind.”
Oh, but it is, Kit. It’s been too late for a long time.
With a grim smile, he kicked open the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
They rode through the foggy streets while chunks of hail shattered on the cobblestones. Huddled under the hood of her cloak, Josey shivered and kept her eyes on the street. Between the freezing rain and the howling wind, speech was next to impossible. Not that she had much to say to the men surrounding her.
Somewhere out in the storm, the assassin was headed for a safe place to lick its wounds. And they followed.
By the light of her soldiers’ lanterns, she could see Hirsch, astride his steed in an intersection of three streets. The adept leaned over in the saddle, his face nearly touching the soaked ivory mane of his little steed. Every few breaths he would look down at a glass case in his hand while the rest of their party-pitiful as it was- waited a respectful distance away. Josey sat between Captain Drathan and Hubert. The captain had wanted to bring more men, but Hirsch had insisted on fewer. As they argued the merits of strength versus stealth, Josey sided with the adept. Enough of her men had died already.
The Crimson Tigers, Volek and Merts, made up the rest of the small company. The two sat on their fierce- looking horses a few paces from the group, no doubt conversing about stratagems. After the assassin’s attack, Major Volek had refused medical care despite the nasty bruise on his forehead. Josey supposed he was ashamed for some perceived failure, but she didn’t see what he could have done differently. They had been caught ill prepared and paid the price.
Likewise, the sergeant, insisting that his injuries were negligible, had also asked to accompany them. When he stripped the sling from his arm and flexed it to prove his readiness, Josey didn’t have the heart to deny him.
After what felt like a short lifetime, Hirsch turned his steed northward and took off down a narrow street at a canter. Josey choked up on the slick reins as she headed after him, her protectors keeping pace on either side. She couldn’t help thinking about what they would do when they finally cornered the assassin. Under their oilskin ponchos, each guardsman carried a crossbow with steel-headed bolts designed to penetrate heavy armor, but so far mundane weapons hadn’t proved effective against the assassin, and Master Hirsch didn’t have the resources to enspell them. For the thousandth time in the last couple days, Josey wished Caim was here.
A strong smell cut through the rain. It took only a moment’s concentration to identify the combination of distinct odors-mud, fish, and garbage-that was the river. She clenched her thighs together, which made Lightning toss up his head in irritation. Patting his neck, Josey forced herself to relax. She trusted in the adept. She had to.
The street climbed to the top of a steep embankment. The river, swollen with rainwater, rushed past on the other side. Josey steered her steed away from the edge and tried not to think about what might happen if she were to fall into those turbulent waters.
They passed a row of houses on the bank’s landward side. The storm and the dark made getting her bearings difficult, but Josey guessed they must be getting close to the Processional, which meant they were approaching the city cemetery. Josey had too many memories of that place to suppress them all. The most recent, and the hardest to dismiss, was the day she had “buried” Caim. The mere thought of it produced a twinge in her breast. Damn you, Caim. Will I ever see you again?
Josey reined up. The adept had halted before a decrepit brick building.
“Is this it?” Captain Drathan asked over the clamor of the storm.
Hirsch nodded weakly, and Josey was seized by a pang of regret. Master Hirsch had spoken to her alone before they left the palace.
“I forged the letter, lass,” he’d said to her with pain in his eyes, not all of it physical. “My order didn’t send me. Truth be told, they banned me from coming.”
When she confessed she didn’t understand, the adept bowed his head. “But I had to come. Too much rests on your success. Earl Frenig was a great man. A great friend. I should have done more…”
In that moment, an image popped into Josey’s head, of a small ivory plaque bearing a face. Hirsch’s face. He’d been one of her foster father’s coconspirators.
“Master Hirsch-”
“He loved you, lass. I couldn’t live with myself if I let you be torn down by the same bastards who took his life.”
Brushing raindrops from her eyes, Josey dismounted. The building the adept had indicated looked like an apartment home. The brick was worn, showing traces of a distant whitewashing. The windows were empty holes, their canvas panes torn or nonexistent. Sleet rattled on helmets and armored plates as the guardsmen threw back their ponchos and checked their weapons.
Captain Drathan, sword in hand, peered at the building through his visor. “Majesty, this situation gives every advantage to our enemy.” He pointed to the gaps on either side of the building, at the windows and roof. “They can come at us from any direction, and it would take an entire company to secure all the ways in and out.”
Josey helped Hirsch climb down from the saddle. “Forget about securing it, Captain. We’re going inside.”
He opened his mouth, but she didn’t give him a chance to argue.
“All of us. Make it happen.”
As Captain Drathan turned away to instruct his men, Josey studied Hirsch. The adept’s condition was deteriorating. His face was as pale as a fish belly, and he shook as he leaned against her.
Hirsch gave her a wan smile. “Not as bad off as I look, no doubt.” His voice was barely audible over the storm. “Anyway, it’s got to be done and there ain’t no one else to do it.”
Josey tried to smile. Hubert saved her the awkwardness of having to mouth an encouragement that the adept neither wanted nor needed.
“Majesty.” Hubert leaned close to be heard. “Major Volek suggests we move inside quickly. Something about too many places for hidden eyes to watch us out here. I can’t say I disagree. This place makes my skin crawl.”
“I agree, and this weather isn’t making things any easier.”
“We could burn the place down,” Hubert suggested. “Safer than entering the spider’s lair.”
“No. We don’t know who’s inside. There could be innocents. Have Captain Drathan find us a way in.”
Hirsch lifted his hand, his index finger pointing to a cellar door set against the side of the building. With a nod from Josey, Hubert hurried over to the captain, and together with the guardsmen they approached the entrance. Josey helped Hirsch over the muddy ground. The soldiers pulled open the cellar doors as Josey and the adept came over to stand beside Hubert and the captain. The light of their lanterns showed worn stone steps falling away into darkness. Before the freezing rain washed them away, Josey saw wet patches on the steps. Footsteps.
While Josey shivered against the adept, Captain Drathan selected two to remain outside with the horses, giving them strict orders to ride back to the palace for assistance if the party was gone for longer than a candlemark. The other two he sent down the stairs first. As the soldiers descended, crossbows held ready, the circle of their lantern’s light pushing back the darkness, the captain looked to Josey.
“Majesty,” he said. “I would prefer that you return to the palace.”
She shook her head, sending droplets of icy water flying from the ends of her hair. “No, Captain. We will all go in together. Lead the way.”
With a nod, Captain Drathan took up a lantern and went down the steps. Hubert and Josey each took one of the adept’s arms. Although Josey had the feeling Hirsch didn’t want the aid, he didn’t complain. The major and Sergeant Merts came last, both men wearing grim expressions beneath the half-visors of their helmets.
They went down a dozen steps to emerge into a crude root cellar. Strange smells filled the place. The brick
