“Let’s go,” she said. “I left him a note about where we’re going.”
“Miss,” he said. “I asked for him because it is likely to be dangerous . . .”
“I’m aware,” she said, holding up the bundle.
“And what’s that?”
“My father’s sword,” she said. “In case of trouble.”
He couldn’t argue with that, though he had some small discomfort with any civilian walking about armed, especially with a sword. While he didn’t know her or her capabilities, he could tell she was determined. She didn’t hesitate at the idea of coming with him. “And you’re prepared to use it?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you hear about the guy who killed everyone at the Letters Ceremony last spring?”
“No, I didn’t,” Minox said.
She gave him a slight smirk. “Because I stopped him. All right?”
Fair enough. “I didn’t get your name.”
“Kaiana,” she said as she led him toward the east gate. “Kaiana Nell. You say we’re going after the Blue Hand?”
“That’s where this investigation is starting.”
“Then let’s go,” Miss Nell said. “I have my own account to settle with them.”
Dayne’s walk led him to the history library at the Royal College, and some brief discussions with the librarian there and a bit of unsatisfactory research. The problem was he wasn’t sure what he needed to look for, but a nagging voice in his head told him it was something in the history of the city.
The words of the parable of Saint Keller came to him again. “Hold close those that are dear, thy beloved friends, and do not fear to share your burdens with them, for their counsel and wisdom shall guide you.” Maybe he needed to talk it out. It was already past midday, he should eat something as well. So, even though it felt like he was admitting some sort of defeat, he went to the Nimble Rabbit.
“There you are!”
Sitting around the usual table were Hemmit, Maresh, and Lin, with Jerinne planted at the end, a wide grin on her face.
“What are you doing?” Dayne asked.
Jerinne shook her head. “Waiting for you to work your way over here, I think. I had checked over at the Parliament and you were gone, and I left you a note, and came here. Took you long enough.”
“I’ve—I’ve been thinking about the missing children,” Dayne said, confused by what was going on. “It seems to be more widespread than we—or at least there’s a specific incident.”
“What’s up?”
“The giant took a child—a baron’s child—and it’s possible the giant has a grudge against the baron’s family.”
“Personal?” Hemmit asked. “How is that?”
“Someone named Gurond?” Dayne asked. “A noble family that lost their fortune?”
Hemmit shook his head. “I don’t know the name.”
Lin scoffed. “So this giant goes through Dentonhill, and Callon Hills, and saints even know where else, but no one sees him? How?”
“Sewers?” Jerinne asked. “We heard he used a passage in that basement. Maybe he mostly stays underground.”
“There’s a whole slew of tunnels, catacombs, and quarry digs beneath the city,” Hemmit said. “Who knows how those interconnect?”
Lin shook her head. “Yeah, but he’d need a bridge or a boat to get across the river. He’d be seen.”
The answer was on the edge of Dayne’s memory. He knew he had read something, a story, a piece of the nation’s history, that was exactly what he was looking for. But he couldn’t think of it.
“The Necropolis of Saint Terrence Cathedral,” Maresh said quietly while sketching.
That was it.
“Yes!” Dayne said.
“The what?” Jerinne asked. “Is this something to do with Terrentin? Are we doing gifts?”
“Lady Mirianne has made it very clear she’s doing gifts,” Lin said.
“No, no,” Dayne said. “Saint Terrence Cathedral, it’s part of the Royal College campus. So, during the Inquest, and then the Incursion of the Black Mage, Reverend Ottom Elt was sneaking people out of the city, and then when Oberon Micarum was captured—”
“And held prisoner in the Bench,” Jerinne said.
“Elt helped sneak Xaveem Ak’alassa, Hanshon Alenick, and . . . the Ch’omik warrior—”
“Nancel-akra,” Maresh offered, looking up from his sketches. “The three were able to secretly enter this part of the city to rescue him. The details weren’t in any of the accounts, save Xaveem’s journal, where he notes coming through a passage. An ‘underbridge’ across the river and through—”
Dayne jumped in, very excited. “Through the Necropolis of the Blessed House of Reverend Elt, which later became—”
“Saint Terrence Cathedral,” Jerinne said, her face showing the same excitement Dayne was feeling. “So you think this Gurond came to the north side through that ‘underbridge’? You find it, maybe you find the way to him.”
Dayne’s heart fell. “Except entrance to the Necropolis is forbidden to all but the clergy of Saint Terrence. And maybe the underbridge is just a legend. There’s no way we can—”
“I’ve been there.”
They all looked to Maresh.
“Been where?” Lin asked.
“The Necropolis. The underbridge. All of it.” Maresh poured himself another glass of wine and casually sipped at it.
“What do you mean you’ve been there?” Hemmit asked, his voice jumping an octave.
“It’s not like we were joined at the hip at RCM,” Maresh said. “Art students had access to certain archives, and . . . it was not unheard of to make an . . . excursion. Especially for the Charcoal Club.”
“The what?” Lin asked.
“This is the first I’ve heard of this,” Hemmit said. “What is the Charcoal Club?”
Maresh gave a sly grin. “It’s . . . it’s kind of a secret society of artists at RCM, going back for generations. And part of the rite of passage is to sneak into the Necropolis and make a sketch by candlelight.”
“Of one of the tombs?” Dayne asked.
“Sure, of the tombs,” Maresh said, in a tone that implied that was not the correct answer at all.
“I have a new level of respect for you,” Hemmit said.
“Here’s the point,” Maresh said. “I’ve been down there. I know how to
