Ezekiel crept past them down the long hallway, deeper into the mansion.
The next hallway he turned onto was even less well lit. The walls were a light blue color, and only every four or five torches were lit. On these walls, there were paintings of landscapes and pastorals.
He hurried down this hallway as well, trying to be as silent as possible.
When he reached the emperor’s bedchamber, there was a guard posted outside the door. But the man was dozing over a mug of ale. He wasn’t even standing anymore. Instead, he was sprawled out by the door, his back against the wall, his head nodding forward, his hand still gripping the mug.
Gingerly, Ezekiel stepped over him.
He eased open the door to the emperor’s bedchamber.
It creaked loudly.
Ezekiel winced.
“Bartholomew?” called a voice from within the room. “Is that you?”
Ezekiel stiffened.
Beside him, the guard stirred. “Sir?” he mumbled.
Light within the emperor’s bedchamber, a candle moving. Someone was coming towards the door.
Ezekiel leapt backwards, but then he stumbled over the guard’s outstretched legs.
The guard raised his head, eyebrows furrowed.
Ezekiel shook his head at the man, putting a finger to his lips.
The guard stumbled to his feet.
“Bartholomew?” called the emperor.
The guard drew in a deep breath.
Swearing inwardly, Ezekiel grabbed the guard from behind, wrapping his arm tight around the man’s neck. “Don’t tell him I’m here,” he breathed in Bartholomew’s ear.
Bartholomew struggled.
“Tell him everything’s fine,” Ezekiel said, tightening his grip.
“Everything’s fine out here, sir,” Bartholomew said, but his tone wasn’t very convincing.
“Good,” came the emperor’s voice. “I think I’ll be going for my walk, then.”
Walk? What? It was the middle of the night. Ezekiel didn’t understand.
Bartholomew started to speak. “Sir—”
But Ezekiel tightened his grip again, cutting off the guard’s breath. He struggled again for a moment, and then lost consciousness.
Ezekiel dropped him. The guard wouldn’t stay out for long.
Ezekiel darted inside the emperor’s room again. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Grab the emperor and knock him unconscious as well? Use the time that the emperor was out of it to scour the room for the keys he wanted? He didn’t know. He was acting, not thinking.
But immediately, he spied the emperor on the other side of the room, at the other door. The emperor’s back was turned, and a ring of keys glittered in his left hand.
Ezekiel watched from the shadows.
The emperor opened the door on the other side of the room. He disappeared through it.
Ezekiel darted across the room after the emperor. Carefully, he opened the door and peered outside.
The emperor was walking down the hallway with a candle, humming to himself.
Ezekiel slid through the door and closed it carefully. Keeping his distance, he followed the emperor.
The emperor was wearing a sleeping gown, and his feet were bare. He seemed perfectly at home wandering through the hallways.
This was odd, of course, but maybe it was only the affectation of an old man. Maybe he simply liked to take walks at night. But he did have those keys, and he could only have taken them with him if he meant to unlock something. Could it be the door that Gabriel had told him about?
They were heading in the proper direction, going towards the wing where Ezekiel had met Leah the day before.
What else had Gabriel told him about this place? Not much. It was a secret room off the dungeon, and the servants thought that Honor’s body might be there.
It made no sense. If Gabriel hadn’t distracted him so thoroughly, maybe he would have asked more questions. Why would the emperor have a key to a secret room off the dungeon? Why would he keep Honor’s body there? What was the emperor doing with Honor’s body, anyway?
No, it was ridiculous. There was probably no good reason to follow the emperor at all. What would probably happen was that someone would notice him skulking about like this. He’d be questioned, and his answers would sound idiotic. His father would be notified, and any chance he had of making things right with his father would be ruined.
Ezekiel considered stopping.
But he’d come this far already. Besides, he was curious as to where the emperor was going. If he really was going to this secret underground room, Ezekiel wanted to know why. And he was desperate to find out if it had something to do with Honor.
He stared intently at the emperor’s back, never taking his eyes off the man unless he turned a corner. And then Ezekiel got around the corner too and got a good look at the emperor again.
He was paying such close attention to the emperor that he didn’t see a table jutting out of the wall—directly in his way.
Just in time, he caught sight of it out of the corner of his eye, and he course-corrected so that he wouldn’t collide with it.
And he didn’t run straight into it.
But he didn’t quite have enough time to avoid it entirely. His lower leg brushed the corner.
The table wobbled, and the brass decorations on top clattered against each other.
Ezekiel flinched.
The emperor halted.
Ezekiel sucked in a breath.
The emperor turned slowly.
Ezekiel flattened himself against the wall behind the table, fading back into the shadows.
The emperor’s gaze swept over the table and over the place where Ezekiel was standing. Then they swept back.
Ezekiel’s heart thudded in his chest. He was sure that the emperor could see him. The man was looking right at him.
But the emperor only shrugged and turned back around. He continued walking, humming to himself.
Ezekiel let out a slow sigh of relief and continued his pursuit.
The emperor turned down another hallway.
Ezekiel went after him, keeping his distance, though. After that little incident, he felt it was wise to stay as far back as possible.
A few steps into the hallway, and Ezekiel realized that he was definitely back in Leah’s wing. There were the steps she’d hurried down to intercept Gabriel.
Was the emperor going to that room?
The emperor stopped walking and crossed to a door. He was still humming. He went through the keys until he found the one he wanted. Fitting it to the key, he swung the door open.
Ezekiel’s eyes widened. In the light of the emperor’s candle, he could see that the door opened onto a stairway. Leah had been right. There was a locked staircase here.
The emperor went through the door and began descending the steps.
Ezekiel had to hurry to catch the door before it closed. For all he knew, it would lock behind the emperor. He squeezed through the door and let it shut behind him.
Now he was in a dark narrow stairwell. It curved round in a spiral, so Ezekiel couldn’t see the emperor ahead of him. But he could see the light of the emperor’s candle, hear the sound of the man humming.
Ezekiel started down the steps. It smelled musty in here, wet. There was a faint scent of salt and fish and seaweed. Did this room open onto the sea, or was it simply like the dungeon itself, with the water sloshing up through the floor at high tide?
The emperor stopped humming.
Ezekiel almost stopped moving, afraid that the old man knew he was being followed.
But then the emperor began to speak. He was muttering to himself, and it was too indistinct to make out.
Ezekiel hurried down the steps more quickly, trying to get closer. As he drew nearer to the light of the candle, he began to be able to hear what the emperor was saying.
“…don’t know what’s keeping that boy. He should have been here by now. How long does it take to make a necromancer, anywa
y? Why, I can’t keep so many down here in the mansion, or we’ll have more accidents.”
Ezekiel had no idea what the old man was talking about.
“Really,” the emperor was saying, “my children are all colossal disappointments. Must make sure it’s safe here, though. Must make sure the bars are holding up.”
And then, abruptly, the steps stopped.
Ezekiel could see the emperor ahead of him, ambling into the room and holding up the candle. He knew that he should back up, out of sight. If the emperor turned, he’d be able to see Ezekiel.
But then Ezekiel saw the rest of the room.
He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Nothing, he supposed, because he thought it ridiculous that Honor’s body would be here. But deep in his mind, he’d pictured stacks of bodies, all piled up on each other, hoarded here for the emperor for some inscrutable reason.
That wasn’t at all what he saw. Instead, there were bars—iron bars, thick and strong, barnacles clinging to them. But that wasn’t so surprising. After all, this was on the same level as the dungeon.
There was something moving behind the bars. A lot of somethings. He could see them milling about in there, and he could see limbs and arms. They were people.
But no, their skin…
One moved close to the bars, and he saw porcelain white skin, so unmarred, so young. And then the face, sweet and beautiful—sculpted features of a child, skin translucent and elastic. But pale. Finally, the eyes. The eyes were always the worst. Ezekiel hated looking into their eyes, because their eyes were empty and dead. It was the most dreadful part because it didn’t fit. Otherwise, they seemed very alive—the picture of youth. But those eyes. Those eyes were the eyes of people long, long dead.
They were revenants in the cage.
The emperor was keeping revenants in the bottom of the mansion. And he’d said something about an accident.
Well, keeping revenants so close was an accident waiting to happen. It was dangerous, and it was against the law. Revenants inside the fences had to be killed immediately. These revenants shouldn’t be here. Why was the emperor—?
But he never finished the thought, because he saw something else. Something that made him weak all over, made his bowels clench in horror, made it impossible to breathe.
He recognized one of the revenants.
And it was Honor.
TWO: DARK FERVOR
CHAPTER SIX
Ezekiel moved forward like a man in a dream. He couldn’t control his limbs. He was transfixed by the sight of his dead sister in that cage. Here she was, underneath the emperor’s mansion, her eyes dead and dark, but her body alive.
He had seen revenants before, but they had always been outside the walls and fences, and they had never seemed like real people. They were no one he’d ever known, and most of them were dirty, wearing filthy rags that clung to their bodies. They scraped at the walls, their jaws wide open, and they looked like animals—not people.
But this was Honor. His sister. She was still wearing one of her own dresses, and it hardly looked mussed. She cocked her head at him.
He couldn’t help expecting her to speak his name, for her expression to light up in recognition.
But that moment never happened, because she was dead. She was moving around, looking alive, but she was gone.
Ezekiel reached for her just the same, and a lump formed in the back of his throat. Honor, he thought. My sister.
“What are you doing down here?”
Ezekiel looked up, his movements slow and jerky like a drunken man.
The emperor. He’d forgotten about the emperor. He was down here with the emperor, and he’d meant to keep out of sight, but now here he was, stumbling out into the open, without a care for being noticed.
The emperor raised his candle, trying to get a better look. “Who are you?”
Ezekiel looked back at Honor. “My sister.” His voice was thick with unshed tears.
The emperor blinked. Then he nodded slowly. “You. You’re the boy from Caroly, here asking questions.”
“Why is my sister a revenant?” Ezekiel reached for her again. “Why did this happen to her?”
“Don’t put your hands so close to the bars, you idiot!”
Honor grabbed him.
Ezekiel’s heart skipped. He tried to yank his arm away, everything he’d ever learned about revenants flashing through his brain. One bite is all it takes. Once they bite you, you’re one of them, and there’s no escape. Panic shot through him, and he tugged against her grasp.
She dug her fingers in, and she tried to pull his hand up to her mouth. But his wrist collided with the bars. She moved her head towards his flesh, her jaws opening wide.
Ezekiel struggled, terror coursing through his veins. He let out a strangled sound of fear.
“You idiot,” said the emperor, rushing forward, brandishing the candle.
Honor’s teeth were inches from Ezekiel’s fingers.
The emperor drove the candle—flame first—into Honor’s eye ball.
Everything went dark.
The hold on Ezekiel’s hand loosened. He fell backwards.
In the darkness, he could hear the sound of the emperor grunting, of feet scuffling on the floor.
Then… silence.
Ezekiel struggled to his feet. He blinked, trying to see in the pitch black.
The emperor made a sound of disgust. “You there, boy?”
“Sir,” said Ezekiel.
“Not bit, then?”
“No,” said Ezekiel.
“Good,” said the emperor. “Then, the way I see it, I just saved your life, didn’t I?”
Ezekiel was shaking. “Yes… yes sir.”
“Wonderful,” said the emperor. “Then, you owe me.”
“I… thank you, sir. Thank you—”
“The only thank you I want is for you to keep your mouth shut about this place and what you saw here. You understand that? Don’t tell anyone. Not your family, not your wife, not your pet dog.”
Ezekiel swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
The sound of feet shuffling across the floor, and then the emperor cursed. “I’m going to have to feel my way back up the steps in the dark.”
“I… I’m sorry, sir.”
The emperor snorted. “I’ll have the body of your sister fished out of there, and you can burn it. What you tell your family, I don’t care, but not a word about this place.”
Ezekiel hesitated. “But sir, why are they down here?”
“Not. A. Word.”
* * *
Gabriel, son of the emperor, stared into the flames of the funeral pyre. It was late morning, and he was standing next to Ezekiel as they watched the last of his sister’s remains be consumed.
It had taken all of Gabriel’s tenacity to get information out of Ezekiel, who had returned last night to his room in the inn disheveled and shell-shocked. Ezekiel had roared at him to get out and go away. Gabriel had refused, and Ezekiel had caved almost immediately, not forcing the issue. Gabriel could see that something had happened to the other man, but Ezekiel kept saying he’d sworn not to tell anyone. Gabriel had to cajole and wheedle and do everything in his power to get Ezekiel to confess, but eventually, the whole story came pouring out.
Gabriel was astonished. Revenants? His father was keeping revenants in the mansion? That was against the law because it was so dangerous. Why would he do such a thing?
“I have to find out what he’s up to,” he’d said.
“No,” Ezekiel had said. “No, you can’t do anything. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
Since Ezekiel was clearly upset, Gabriel didn’t press the matter. Not then.
And not later, because a messenger came midmorning telling Ezekiel that he could collect the body of his sister. Ezekiel seemed to be even more troubled about it, and he didn’t even protest when Gabriel accompanied him to the place where the body was being kept.
Honor’s body barely looked human. Her face h
ad been burned and ruined, and she was leaking the strange, thick, black blood that all the revenants seemed to have. She looked mangled and distorted, like something that had once been a person, a very long time ago, but was now nothing but destroyed.
She had to be burned, though. The skin on revenant bodies continued to grow and regenerate even after the destruction of their brains. Even now, the skin on Honor’s face was trying to regrow itself from the places it had been damaged. The only way to ensure that it stopped was to burn her all away.
So, Gabriel and Ezekiel had taken a carriage out to the outskirts of town and built a funeral pyre.
Now, they stood together, both silent.
Gabriel tried to imagine what was going through Ezekiel’s mind. The other man must be suffering very deeply. Gabriel wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do this with one of his sisters’ bodies. Especially if it was Michal’s. Michal was the only full sister he had. The others were only half. He was fond of all of them, but he was closest to Michal.
Unfortunately, all Gabriel could think of was how to get to the bottom of what his father was up to. He felt guilt about thinking that, because he knew that he should be supporting Ezekiel, who was in pain. But he couldn’t help it. He kept trying to figure it out. A secret room under the mansion full of revenants.
He couldn’t see what his father would want them for.
Revenants weren’t good for anything except eating people. Keeping them down there could only cause harm to the people in the mansion. They gave the emperor no advantage that Gabriel could think of. He wanted to ask Ezekiel questions about what he’d seen and heard. He wanted to know if his father had said anything at all. He needed to know it word for word. He needed to get to the bottom of this.
But instead, he stared solemnly into the funeral pyre and scolded himself for wanting to question Ezekiel at a time like this.
Ezekiel himself was quiet. He didn’t want to say any words over his sister, nor did he cry. If anything, he seemed angry, his mouth set in a firm line, his eyes steely.
Gabriel felt for him. But he wasn’t good with things that were serious. He never had been. He didn’t know how to comfort Ezekiel either. All the things he could think of were sexual and probably inappropriate. But he wished strongly that he could do something to ease Ezekiel’s pain, even if he couldn’t concentrate on it. He did care about the other man—more probably, than he should have, considering they’d only known each other a very short time.
Empire of Rust Page 7
