The King's Questioner

by Nikki Katz

  “Do you have any suggestions for lodging?” Kalen asked as the boy gathered the reins.

  “There are a few places along this road, or uptown.” He glanced up the mountain cliff. “Some people stay at the monastery. They’ve opened a section to lodging, and it’s the cheapest option by far.”

  Kalen nodded. That was exactly where they would go. “Where is it?”

  “Unfortunately, it’s on the other side of town. You’ll have to wind your way up and along the path.”

  “Splendid.” Cirrus frowned and tightened his cloak. His teeth had started to chatter, despite the continued beading of sweat on his forehead.

  “Where might an apothecary be?” Luna asked.

  “Uptown as well.”

  Luna snaked an arm around Cirrus’s lower back and urged him forward. “Come on. The sooner we get you something for the pain, the better your disposition will become.”

  “I doubt that,” Kalen said as he set off at a brisk pace down the path. They reached a break in the road that branched off to the left. Steep steps were cut into the cliff to lead up to the next level.

  “Excuse me.” Luna flagged a young woman, dressed in furs, who walked along the street. “Is that the only way up to those shops?”

  “If you don’t want to navigate the steps, you can follow this street to the end where it curves around. It’s a little more gradual.”

  Luna thanked the woman and turned to the boys. “Which way?”

  “Stairs,” Kalen said at the same time Cirrus replied, “Street.”

  She took Cirrus’s good arm and turned to walk down the street.

  “Wait. Why does he win?” Kalen asked.

  “Because he’s injured.”

  Kalen eyed the stairs again. “I’ll go that way and try to find the apothecary. No sense wasting time.” He had bounded up ten steps to a landing before they had walked even a yard along the street.

  Kalen’s breaths came heavy and fogged the air by the time he reached the top of the steps and turned slowly around to look at just how many stories he had climbed. It felt as if he could topple over and spear himself on one of the weather vanes sticking out of a rooftop below. A sense of vertigo sent his body swaying, and he backed away from the edge. He took in the length of the street, spotting the apothecary shop sign a few doors away.

  A tinkle of bells and a blast of warm air greeted him when he opened the door. A fire popped in a hearth in the corner, and a woman stood behind a marble counter. She wore a long dress and a white fur cape draped around her shoulders. Dark hair was piled high and heavy on her head, with loose strands tumbling haphazardly down her back.

  “Welcome, how may I help you?” Her voice was low but soft.

  “My friend is on his way. He was bitten by a mountain cat, and I was hoping to get something to ease his discomfort.” Kalen glanced at the wall of jars opposite the window. They were filled with powders and liquids—bright blue and dull gray, powdered yellow and glowing green—and loose tea and bits of what could have been bone or bark or stones.

  “A mountain cat?” Her eyebrows knit in concern.

  “Yes, we were attacked a few hours outside of town. Our horses were the intended victims. My friend chose to intervene.”

  “I’m glad you escaped mostly unscathed, and of course I can help. I will put together something for infection and pain, but I’ll definitely want to examine the wound.”

  She introduced herself as Jules as she placed a small metal stand on the countertop and filled it with empty vials. Deft fingers opened jars, and she carefully measured powders into a mortar. She used a pestle to grind the coarse powder into something finer before using a dropper to add a pale liquid. A pitcher on the counter held water, which she poured in until the concoction bubbled and turned a burnt amber color. She filled three of the vials and stoppered them.

  The door flew open, and Cirrus and Luna stepped inside. Luna stomped the snow off her feet and threw back her hood at the warmth in the room. The apothecary’s eyes widened as she took in Luna’s hair and eyes before she turned to Cirrus, who stood silent near the door, gripping his arm. She beckoned him over and had him sit on a stool at the counter. He breathed hard through his nose, and his skin paled as he slipped off the cloak and Jules undressed the wound. A hiss escaped him as she slowly removed the fabric from his skin.

  “They’ll need stitches. At least these two”—Jules pointed where the top teeth had sunk into Cirrus’s bicep—“where the punctures are deepest.”

  Cirrus’s face whitened even further. “I’m not really a fan of needles.”

  “Seriously?” Luna stared at him. “Don’t you go into combat and stab people? You’re afraid of a needle?”

  Cirrus tossed a glare over his shoulder at her.

  Jules walked behind the counter. “I’ve got something to help.” She crouched, her dark curls hardly visible over the top of the marble slab. When she stood again, Kalen inhaled sharply.

  Nestled in her arms was a small chest, swirls tracing its sides.

  “Put that away,” Kalen said. He stepped in front of Cirrus to protect him.

  Jules frowned as she placed it on the counter, her fingers pushing at the clasp. “Just wait a moment—”

  Kalen was reaching out to grab the box when it popped open. His concern didn’t seem quite as pressing as it had before. His shoulders fell, and the warmth of the room eased all the tension from them.

  Jules lifted a pendant, and the world seemed right again.

  Similar in style to the cracked one buried in the chest on the island, this pendant had a silver base, and the crystal was a clear blue. She reached over and draped the pendant around Cirrus’s neck.

  “What is going on here?” Luna looked at everyone like they’d gone insane.

  “It’s a calming stone.” Jules motioned for Kalen to step behind Cirrus. “Would you mind helping me to keep him still?”

  “Where did you get it?” Kalen moved over and gripped his shoulders.

  “Someone made it for me, a local artisan in town.”

  “We need to meet her,” Luna said.

  “Him.” Jules arranged a needle and thin thread on the counter.

  Kalen’s mind churned, despite the soothing calm of the crystal. Him. Not a her. Not the princess.

  Luna leaned in. “We need to meet this person.”

  “May I ask why?” Jules glanced at Luna as she threaded the needle. “He doesn’t create these for just anyone.” She positioned Kalen’s hands such that he gripped Cirrus’s shoulder firmly in one hand and held the prince’s wrist with the other.

  “We can provide money,” Kalen assured her.

  “I definitely need one of these,” Cirrus said. “I could probably sleep through the night.”

  “I’ll see about making an introduction.” Jules held the needle above Cirrus’s arm. “Take a deep breath and exhale. This will hurt.”

  He winced but otherwise remained still as she deftly stitched up the puncture wounds. She knotted the string and bandaged Cirrus’s arm before removing the pendant from his neck.

  His good hand lifted as if he wanted to grab it, but Kalen kicked at his foot where it rested near the stool.

  After Jules locked the magicked jewel away, the room felt suddenly colder, life suddenly less serene. Kalen tensed as the urgency of their mission returned. The sooner they were on their way to finding Reign, the better.

  Jules turned to them. “I will send a message to see if he’s available this evening, after I’ve closed the shop. Return here in a few hours?”

  Kalen nodded. “We will see you then.”

  CHAPTER

  16

  The monastery loomed in front of them, a massive stone structure that seemed like it had erupted from the mountain itself. The portico was tall columns and shadowed stripes as they approached, the sun ready to sink behind the mountain at their backs.

  The heavy doors stood open, and Kalen was the first to step through the entranceway and into a sm
all room with arched doorways on either side. Through an opening at the back of the building, he caught a view of the thin columns and darkened lawn of the cloister beyond. Cirrus scooted closer to Luna as they entered the dimly lit quarters. Sconces flickered along the walls, but a heavy blanket of dreariness and cold settled over the trio.

  A lone brother stood near a desk; he lifted his head slowly and peered at them. “May I help you?”

  “We were hoping to find lodging here, Brother,” Kalen said.

  The man blinked and then slowly appraised Luna, as if debating allowing her access. He appeared to have all the time in the world. “Two rooms remain vacant. How many would you need?”

  “Two would be perfect,” Kalen said.

  The brother led them down a narrow hallway to the left. After a sharp turn, they entered the chilled and damp dormitory hall. The sconces here were hardly functional, providing very little light outside the small circle around the flame.

  Most of the doors were shut, but two at the end remained open. “Here we are,” the brother said. “Meals are in the refectory, and a bath can be brought to you for a charge.”

  “Yes please!” Luna didn’t even wait for a response.

  They thanked the brother and entered the rooms. Kalen and Cirrus took the first one. Inside, the furnishings and decor were as barren as one would expect: two small beds, two trunks, one round table, and one shelf holding a bowl and folded gray towels. Luna popped her head into their room a couple of seconds later. “Window glass is loose. You can remove it quickly and climb out in an emergency.”

  “Thanks,” Kalen said. “While you enjoy a bath, I’m going to go search for the catacombs I saw in the monk’s memory.”

  “I’ll join you,” Cirrus said, but Kalen shook his head. “With your issues with the dark, I’d rather you stay here for now. Unless you’d like some assistance in dealing with those fears?”

  “You’re not going into my head again.”

  “Not even if it might help? Perhaps there’s something else locked away in your memories … an event occurred that you refuse to recall. If I could find it and unlock it, we could face this aversion and conquer it.”

  Cirrus shrugged. “I’m good. You go exploring; I’ll take a nap and rest my arm.”

  “And take a bath,” Luna said. “You could really use one.”

  Kalen bid them warm bathing and walked down the hallway to where he had seen a staircase. The steps were wooden planks that led to a landing. They turned the corner, and the steps became natural stone cuts. Some were wide, some dropped farther than others, but all of them were uneven. His footsteps echoed off the rock walls as he approached the bottom floor, where a locked door cut into a side wall. Kalen hoped it led to the underground cemetery. He palmed the key around his neck with one hand while he dug his picks out of his jacket pocket with the other. The stone was cold against his knees as he knelt and began to work on the lock. It seemed new, made of solid silver, and slid open quickly. He tucked away his tools and rose to a stand. The door was heavy and thicker than a simple wooden door. The inside edge was coated in a thick bronze metal, and etchings bordered the door as he walked through it.

  Behind the door was a tunnel lined with flickerfly sconces. He followed it, drawn by something he couldn’t quite explain, twisting through the tunnels, not knowing if he dove deeper into the mountain or back toward the town. He passed through the occasional room with crypts opening up on either side, but he kept moving forward, almost tripping in his haste.

  Time had stalled and he debated stopping. Only one more archway and he would call it a day. He entered a large space and halted. He took it in, the reality of it in some ways clearer and in other ways dimmer than in Gabriel’s memories. The cavernous room was supported with columns at regular intervals, and a skylight let in the early evening rays.

  Unlike Gabriel’s memory, there was no singing. No sound at all.

  He walked past the skylight and into a narrow tunnel that led off to the side. A breeze whipped through the hallway, as if it came in through the cracks in the walls. It tugged at his hair, at the hem of his cloak, and he followed it to see where it led.

  The tunnel ended, and he entered another wing with high ceilings and multiple skylights down its length. Archways on either side led to small crypts filled with ornate headstones and stone coffins. He peered into each of the crypts but saw nothing.

  He began to wonder if Gabriel had been hallucinating in his memory. There was no evidence at all that Reign had ever been in these catacombs. Perhaps she didn’t exist. Perhaps this journey had been for naught.

  He reached the last doorway and peered inside. The room was dark, lit with three scattered flickerfly lamps along the floor against the side wall. A lone coffin, stone and tiny, sat in the center of the room. The headstone was broken, but he imagined the date range would have been a short one. He ground his teeth together and looked past the coffin.

  Scraps of fabric, in varying faded shades, lay scattered along the floor. A book rested open near the wall, the pages yellowed and brittle-looking. A chipped pitcher of water sat next to what looked like a plate filled with crumbs.

  Could these have belonged to Reign? Could she have lived here?

  He peered at the book, an old edition of children’s tales. The fabric looked like what the girl had worn in Gabriel’s memories.

  There was no way to tell how long the items had been left here. It could have been days; it could have been years. Most likely somewhere in between. And if Reign had made it out, there was no way she would return.

  Which left Jules’s artisan contact as his next hope. The amulet’s power to project emotions was so very similar to Reign’s ability that they had to be related.

  * * *

  JULES WRAPPED HERSELF in a fur overcoat and locked the door to the apothecary shop behind her. “He agreed to meet at a tavern across town. I’ll make the introduction, and then I must be getting home.”

  The street stretched in front of them, the shops all still open, windows brightly lit but doors shut against the cold. Tall wooden posts lined the edge of the cliff drop-off. Atop each sat a large, bright bulb filled with flickerflies. Smaller bulbs were strung on wire to crisscross over the lane where the darkness seemed to sheer off into an abyss.

  Jules directed them into a doorway set away from the street. A sticky warmth immediately settled over Kalen. The room was stifling with body heat and the flame from the hearth. He slid his cloak off and draped it over the back of a chair as they settled in at a table in the far corner to wait. Cirrus ordered ale for him and Luna, and a cup of tea for Kalen. Jules declined his offer.

  The drinks were arranged on the table when suddenly a thin, tall, fair-haired man stood behind Jules. Kalen recognized him as the man in Gabriel’s vision.

  She made introductions.

  “Nero, these are the people I spoke of.”

  “Can we get you a drink?” Cirrus reached for the pitcher with his good hand, but Nero shook his head.

  “I’m fine, thank you.” His watery eyes were hooded as he took in the seating arrangement.

  Kalen scooted his chair to the side to make room. Nero grabbed an empty chair from the table nearby and slid it over. “So Jules said you would like to commission me to make a jewel?”

  “We are considering it,” Kalen said. “I was wondering if you could tell me more about the process. How quickly could we purchase one?”

  Nero leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Cirrus took a sip from his mug. “We have the money.”

  “It’s not about the money. I am not divulging information. It takes a certain type of talent—”

  He was cut off when the door burst open and a chest-heaving giant of a man burst in. “Jules? Is Jules here?” His eyes landed on the table. “Kristoph is on the ledge. He’s raving.”

  Jules leaped up and raced after the giant. The entire tavern seemed to swell and move to follow them.

  Nero’s ey
es narrowed, and he rose from the table. “I must attend to something. Let’s reconvene tomorrow, shall we?” With that he slipped out through the kitchen.

  The trio glanced at one another and at the two different doors.

  “I’m on it.” Luna rose and followed Nero.

  Kalen and Cirrus pushed their way through the crowd to the street. The temperature felt like it had dropped another twenty degrees, and Kalen tightened his cloak. A crowd had gathered near one of the posts.

  “Step back!” someone yelled. “Let Jules through.”

  The group retreated only slightly. Nobody wanted to give up prime viewing of the unfolding drama. Through a slight gap, Kalen made out a figure standing at the edge of the cliff. He had his back turned toward everyone, his head tipped, and he mumbled to himself. Jules approached.

  “Get away.” He clenched and unclenched his hands. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He glared at the crowd and yelled it again.

  “Who is he?” Kalen asked a young woman standing on the fringes of the crowd.

  “Kristoph works at the stables. A horseshoer by trade.”

  “Any reason you can think of why he’d be acting this way?”

  She shook her head. “Usually he’s the happiest person in the city. Loves his job. His wife is pregnant. This is unlike him.”

  “I’d like to take a look at his memories,” Kalen muttered to Cirrus. He wanted to know exactly what had happened.

  A gust whipped up from the canyon and tugged at the knit cap Kristoph wore on his head. His arms reached out unsteadily to the sides.

  “Kristoph, move toward me.” Jules motioned him toward safety.

  Kristoph blinked in her direction. He glanced over his shoulder and lurched forward as if he hadn’t realized how close to the edge he had backed himself.

  She held out a hand, and he grasped it.

  “What am I doing here?” he asked.

  Jules tucked his hand against her side and made her way through the crowd. “I’m not sure, but you’re safe now.”