The Queen of Dreams (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 6)

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  "Then why did you defend him so strongly?" he asked.

  "Instinct? Loyalty? Maybe I was afraid they'd push him out the hut as he'd suggested before. Or maybe it was in opposition to Nasrine. What do you think of her?" I asked.

  "Brilliant, but she's hiding something. She won't talk to me, barely acknowledges my existence, a mistake for her since it's given me a chance to observe her," he said.

  "And?"

  He rubbed his hands together as he chewed on his thoughts. "She's...I don't know...observing? Calculating?"

  "She was lying about searching my room. That wasn't idle curiosity. I think she came here for another reason, and I'm afraid it might be to stop us. The Ottoman Empire borders Russia. What if she's been turned to their side?"

  Santiago rubbed his stubbled chin. "Maybe. But she's not who I'm worried about. If what you say is true about Morwen on Gallasid, I think we're all in deep trouble."

  "Don't you think she would have hid the body better?" I asked.

  "If she's been afflicted with madness, why would she do something rational?" he asked. "And she's an expert alchemist, even more than I. She's probably forgotten more about the subject than I've ever learned, and I studied at the library. She could have killed him with poison or gas."

  Studied at the library. The term gave me the shudders, which made Santiago look away.

  "If she were mad, I doubt she'd kill William that subtly, which is why I think it's Nasrine. Stars and stones, I can't imagine it'd be anyone else," I said.

  "If I could examine the body, I might be able to figure out why William died, but I'm locked in here," he said regretfully.

  "No, you're not," I said.

  He scrunched up his face. "Did you gaze at the Yolgothi as well?"

  "No. I merely picked the lock while we were talking," I said.

  "Are you sure that's wise? Aren't you worried I might hurt you?" he asked.

  "Are you taking your potions?" He nodded. "Then I'm safe. Probably more safe in your presence than the others since I don't trust them."

  "Even Brassy?" he asked.

  I searched my thoughts, chewing on my lower lip. "No. Not Brassy. Golem's glass arm or not, if she'd been the one, we'd see it on her face," I said.

  "She's an excellent actress. She could have been a traveling mummer," he replied.

  "So could you, but I still don't believe it was Brassy," I said.

  Conveniently, the room with the cage was far away from the main living area, so there was little chance we'd encounter anyone.

  We reached the stairs, and Santiago stared into the darkness, his lips curled with displeasure. They were steep and narrow and gave me a little vertigo.

  "There was light when we came with William's body," I said.

  "Are you sure this is the way? I feel like something is staring up at us from the comfort of the darkness," he said.

  "Have you seen any other stairs in the hut? This has to be the way," I said, and started moving down.

  Despite what I said, doubt crept in and filled me with an oily uneasiness. The previous time, four of us had been carrying William's body on a blanket, and we'd had room to spare on each side. This time, I could touch both walls without stretching my arms to their full extent and the severe angle of the stairs made me lean back.

  After thirty steps or so, I stopped. The light framed Santiago's broad-shouldered shape behind me, hiding his face in shadow.

  "I don't remember it being this many steps. Let's go back up. I'll check around the area for a second staircase," I said.

  "I can't say I'm not glad to be returning to the top," he said in a quiet voice as if worried he might bruise the silence.

  Back in the lighted hallway, Santiago stayed in the cubby of the stairs while I went in search of a second stairwell. The hallway turned and wrapped around in a U-shape, and I found the music room, which meant we'd found the correct stairs.

  When I turned to go back, I felt something pass me like a breeze. My head snapped around, but I saw nothing. After a moment, I returned to Santiago, who lurked in the darkness of the stairwell like a ghostly spider.

  "Have you ever felt a breeze in here?" I asked.

  "No, why?"

  I shook my head, dismissing the worry as nerves. "Probably my imagination. This is the staircase. Let's go down."

  This time, I counted the steps, and we made it to fifty before I stopped. The air had gotten colder the farther we went. The light at the top was a small rectangle, like an angular moon shining into the patient darkness.

  "There's more steps this time," I said.

  "Maybe that's a hint from Morwen," he said.

  "You think she knows we're here?" I asked.

  He moved in the darkness, but I couldn't see his features to understand the meaning of the gesture. "She didn't know the hut had changed before. It could be the Yolgothi madness affecting her, or just a feature of the hut. Do people normally travel with her? Or the others?"

  "I think others did at some time. I'm not sure. This hut is more mysterious than the owners themselves. We know so little," I said.

  "But without further examination, we shall stay as ignorant," he said, with a heaviness.

  "Onward into the darkness, then?" I asked.

  He breathed out a sigh. "Onward."

  Before I took another step, I put my hand out as if I were holding a torch, and tapped the well of magic in my head. Rather than flinging it out, I coaxed it to ooze to my hand, like spilled ink spreading on chunky parchment.

  A purplish flame flickered to life, surrounding my hand in a nimbus. The sorcery burned away the darkness until we could see another few meters or so.

  We reached the bottom after another twenty-three steps. The icy cave wasn't far ahead, but it took a couple of moments to convince my feet to move forward.

  When we reached the icy blue cave, we found the ice created a pale illumination, releasing me from duties as a torch. The relief of letting the magic fade was palpable, and I rubbed the flesh of my hand afterwards to massage away the tingling.

  William's body lay exactly as we'd left it. I think if it'd been moved, I wouldn't have been able to stay and would have run up the stairs. We teetered over to it, careful not to slip and fall.

  Santiago was uncharacteristically twitchy, his head swirling around as if he were looking for an offending hornet. Pale breath that matched his hair came out his lips in limp puffs.

  "What is this place?"

  I crouched down, using William's body to keep my feet from sliding out. "I don't know, but we should get busy. Neither one of us want to stay here."

  He nodded and joined me, crouching on his heels. Santiago systematically examined the body, starting with the head and moving down to the arms, hands, torso, midsection, legs, then the feet after taking off his shoes.

  He had a patient manner, fingers expertly manipulating the body, pinching, searching for hidden wounds. Santiago's white hair fell over his face, but I could see his lips moving as he talked to himself.

  While he worked, I couldn't help but keep watch on the darkness at the back of the cave. The shape of the ice cave reminded me of a frozen throat. Though the floor was flat, I had the impression that if I walked forward I would tip and slide into an icy belly.

  "Help me take off his clothing. I need to see every inch of his body," said Santiago.

  Together we undressed poor William. He was a fit youth, chest flat and ribs showing slightly. Santiago raised an eyebrow when he unbuttoned the breeches.

  "You mistake me for a Puritan," I said.

  He chuckled under his breath.

  With the body naked, Santiago continued his examination, lifting his testicles for hidden injuries. We turned the body over and he checked the back. After rubbing his chin, he picked up the shirt William had been wearing and examined it closely.

  When he was finished, Santiago sat on his rear, frowning. I joined him, though the cold seeped through my clothes. I rubbed my arms.

  "What kille
d him?" I asked.

  "I don't know," he said. "The only mark I can find is a faint blackening on his back right by the left shoulder blade. The shirt shows a similar marking in the same location. But he could have sustained that anywhere. It probably has nothing to do with his death."

  The faint injury stood out after Santiago's explanation. It almost looked like a candle had been held up to a parchment, not enough to catch fire, but to burn a hazy of smoke into the paper. Or in this case, his flesh.

  "A burn, but not a burn?" I asked.

  "Something like that," he said, grumbling as he climbed to his feet. "We should dress him."

  Putting clothes back on a dead body was significantly more difficult than taking them off. We were struggling with the shirt when I tilted my head.

  "Do you hear that?" I asked.

  Santiago concentrated, then nodded. "Tapping?"

  "Yes," I said, glancing at the icy throat. "It sounds like its coming from down there."

  "Down?" He raised an eyebrow.

  "Back. Down. Either way, I don't like it."

  My mind conjured memories of Orthoni, the metal-legged art-loving spider from Matka's realm. I could almost imagine her crawling out of the darkness.

  Buttoning William's shirt was made difficult by my frozen fingers. I fumbled with each one, glancing at the back of the cave before I started the next. The tapping was growing louder.

  Finished, we waddled out of the cave using each other for support on the ice. Back in the hallway, we were presented with a new dilemma. After a short walk, we found a cross path that was in the place we'd thought we'd find the stairs.

  "Where are the stairs?" asked Santiago, looking over his shoulder.

  I held my sorcerous flame up, examining the walls for signs. In the upper section, the walls looked wooden, like weathered planks constructed into a furnished hut. On this level, they were made from something older, like petrified wood. They had a stone feel when I touched them, despite having wood grains.

  We tried going back to the cave and then the other direction, but that led down a long hallway. It went at least twenty meters before we gave up and returned to the crossway. Passing the icy cave, I noted that the tapping was a little bit louder.

  "What if Morwen has gone mad already and we're trapped in the hut forever?" asked Santiago.

  "We don't know that. It could be that these lower levels change more often. She said the hut is filled with more rooms than in all the palaces of Europe. It could be that she only keeps the ones at the top steady, letting the rest roam. Maybe it's her undermind that controls them," I said.

  "Your explanation isn't helping our situation," said Santiago.

  "It's just a guess," I said, shrugging.

  Using the cross-passage as a base, we tried the other three hallways. The one on the left went on for a long time until it came to a stone door with the outline of a humanoid shape. The man (or creature) had an overlarge head and a round body.

  The second passage led to another four-way, so we returned and tried the third. It was long. We passed one door that had a colorful eye painted on the outside. I had no urge to open it and find out what was inside.

  We used this method, exploring in a deliberate manner, but found no sign of the stairs. A few hours into the search, we stopped, both of us hungry and especially thirsty. The colder air left my muscles sore.

  "I feel like we're getting further away," he said. "Part of me wants to open one of these doors we've passed and hope that my room lies on the other side."

  Thinking of the Star Eater and Neva, I said, "That wouldn't be a wise idea. Morwen and her sisters keep many dangerous things in here. I'd prefer we not release them upon the world like Pandora."

  "I said it was a hope. You don't think me that daft, do you?" He smirked.

  "If we wander for a few days, we might be inclined to try one," I said.

  My thirst grew as the hours lengthened, especially since I had to maintain my sorcery for light. I could feel the well emptying and wondered if I needed to rest, but the thought of sleeping in the darkness unnerved me enough to continue.

  At one point, we passed a nearly featureless door. I wouldn't have even noticed it except that my fingernail caught on the edge when I was trailing my hand along the wall. A faint, but distinct vibration that made my teeth hurt came from beyond the door. Without a way to enter, we left for safer paths.

  After another couple of hours (as time in the darkness was difficult to measure), we came upon a huge room that echoed with our steps. Concentrating on my sorcery, I extended the range of light, but it was still no match for the size of the room.

  Walking across it took at least twenty minutes. The whole time I felt like something was following us just out of range of my light. Santiago was twitchy as well, though both of us were too tired to keep up the alertness the whole way.

  In the middle of the room, we found a spiral staircase going down. Neither of us wanted to attempt that path, so we marched past with nary a word.

  On the other side, we found a grand archway made of stacked stone at least three meters wide and tall. At the center were double doors made of a glistening ebony substance that absorbed my sorcerous light. Upon moving closer, I realized the doors contained an inner luminance, like seeing a lantern through a fog.

  Even without touching them, I knew the doors were held with a powerful magic. It radiated from them like heat from a massive bonfire, and I couldn't stand next to the doors very long. I retreated a few meters away.

  "Whatever is in there is supposed to stay in there," I said.

  Santiago revealed a tired smile. "Are you sure my room's not beyond there with a bed made of feathers and goose down? I bet there's a feast laid out with goblets of red wine and roasted turkeys."

  "There might be a serving wench or two for you as well," I said.

  "Delightful. And what would you like? A rack of lamb, a good ale?" he asked.

  My heart longed for Catherine. "A bath, I suppose."

  He sighed like a winsome lover pining. "Oh sweet luxury, why do you taunt us in this eternal darkness?"

  "Santiago, you're just making me—"

  The words turned to ash in my mouth when a large boom echoed across the room. It sounded like an anvil had been dropped onto the floor.

  Without words, we moved in the other direction along the wall. I strained to hear over my heartbeat and the quiet slapping of our boots against the floor. We found a hallway further down and went in without considering where it might go. We were already lost, what did it matter?

  With the great room and the strange archway behind us, we trudged for another couple of hours, no longer trying to remember our path. The light from my sorcery flickered with effort, barely keeping the darkness at bay.

  When at last we decided to stop and camp so we could continue the search with renewed energy, we came upon a stairway going up.

  With trembling limbs, we climbed, and a few short of two hundred steps later, we returned to the lighted hallways. Santiago returned to his cage, and I locked it. I told him I would return later and discuss what we had found, but neither of us had the energy to keep our eyes open much longer.

  Back in my room, I found Brassy asleep on the bed. She lay on top of the covers. Her sack of belongings was back on the chair next to the table.

  She was curled into a ball, the glass arm laying away from her like a clock hand in the ten o'clock position. After removing my boots, I climbed onto the bed carefully so as not to disturb her, slipped beneath the luxurious covers, and promptly fell asleep.

  Chapter Twenty

  The weeks passed and the murderer had not been identified. Brassy spent her time with Santiago reading plays. Ben studied in a library that Morwen had brought up from the depths of the hut. He was trying to find something about the Library of Inverness or the Uthlaylaa that might help him. Nasrine worked day and night on the shield-busting invention that she'd brought into the hut, sleeping on a thin pallet with her greasy
tools scattered in a wide arc.

  Morwen spent her time in the main room, sitting in a high-backed chair facing the otherworldly landscape seen on the walls like a captain at the helm. Yet, there was no wheel or steering mechanism, only her mind.

  I preferred to read books on the Ottoman-styled couch and watch the landscapes flow past. I couldn't find my copy of The Myths of the Old World, but Morwen's library had a few other tomes that sparked my interest.

  To my surprise, Ben Franklin came stumbling in bleary-eyed, shirt hanging loose and ink smudges up and down his arms, and plopped down next to me, nearly spilling tea out of the cup I had perched in my hand.

  "Are thee well, Ben?" I asked.

  Ben rubbed his eyes and tried to tame his unruly hair. "I'm not unwell, anyway."

  "No luck on the Uthlaylaa?" I asked.

  He scratched at the long stubble on his face and grabbed a teacup, sloppily filling it, before sitting back and then draining it in one gulp. He let the empty cup rest against his chest.

  "If there was something there, I would have found it," he said. "Even now I can see words floating through my vision from all the books I read, or scanned. Mercy, by the end I was just flipping through them, stopping randomly to get a gauge of the contents, before eventually throwing them into a pile with the others."

  "You don't seem as affected by it as before," I said.

  He looked me square in the eyes. "No. Before, yes. When it first happened, right after the battle, even while you were defending me, I was hearing voices whispering in my head, telling me to do terrible things. When I slept I had dreams so awful I shudder to even think about them now. The first few days I was afraid to leave my room, especially after William died."

  "Is there any chance you could have done it and not remembered?" I asked.

  "I'm certain that I would remember," he said.

  "That's good enough for me," I said.

  He hesitated, bit his lower lip for a moment, then leaned forward, his voice lowering to a whisper.

  "There is one time that something strange happened, that maybe I lost consciousness for a bit," he said, the memory straining the muscles in his face. "I was walking down the hallway and then my body seized up, like a cramp, except it was everything. I came to on the floor in a cold sweat. Afterwards, I went back to my room and slept for who knows how long. But when I awoke, I felt much better."