Nerissa twitched involuntarily. “You’re going to leave me here alone?” She pointedly eyed the glow lamp in his hand and added, “In the dark?” In truth, she wasn’t particularly nervous about being left in the dark. It wouldn’t be the first time she had improvised a torch, and now she would have no trouble using her pendant to light one. She could even make use of the book’s crystal, if it was genuine. But this man didn’t know any of that, and she resented the fact that he was willing to leave her behind in utter darkness.
“Ah, I didn’t think about the light. I’m sorry. That would be a rather cruel thing to do,” he replied, sounding genuinely abashed. He strode across the room and rummaged around in the space between two of the cloth-draped objects. As he did so, the covering slipped off one, revealing the top quarter of an oil painting in a burnished frame.
A painting. Suddenly, Nerissa recognized the items in the room for what they were. The thin, rectangular objects stacked against the wall were paintings, and the oddly shaped forms elsewhere must be sculptures. That was why this place had reminded her of the treasury. The stranger had said this was a storeroom, and it was—not for old furniture or threadbare rugs, but for art.
“I know there’s an old oil lamp in here somewhere,” he commented.
Hearing that voice, in a place surrounded by paintings, sent a wave of realization washing over Nerissa. Her fingers curled even tighter around the fire-fire pendant. She knew exactly who this stranger was!
Amon. She wished there were some way to let the others know she was with him. Then they wouldn’t have to be worried about her safety. As his name and the wish coursed through her mind, the stone gave off an unexpected flare of heat. Afraid she had inadvertently activated the crystal’s power, she dropped the stone. It gave a gentle tug when it reached the end of the leather cord and came to a rest against the outside of her shirt.
“Here it is,” Amon said, finally backing away from the gap with a lamp in hand. “There’s a match drawer in the base.”
Unaware of her newfound knowledge, he handed the lamp to Nerissa and headed toward the door once again.
“I’m sure I won’t have any trouble lighting it, though I’d still rather not stay here alone,” Nerissa pleaded as she racked her brain for a way to stall him. Despite Charis’ persistent suspicions about his behavior, Nerissa had always thought highly of Amon. Until now, it had been an opinion based on instinct more than evidence. But the fact that Amon had chosen to give the book to the Ohanzee, instead of his uncle, only confirmed that her initial trust in him was not misplaced. With all of Amon’s connections in Maze and Nyx—and his closeness to Casimer—he could be their greatest ally yet.
“This storeroom is below my house. If I took you any farther, you would learn my identity. I sent the note and arranged to hand over the book the way I did so that I could maintain my anonymity. I think giving you the book and helping you get away from the Senka is more than generous on my part.”
Nerissa rushed forward as he ducked under the low-hanging doorframe. What she was about to do was a bit risky, yet it was the best chance she had to convince him to cooperate. “Wait!” she exclaimed in an attempt to catch him before the door closed. “It’s no wonder you are going to such great lengths to remain anonymous. If your hand in tonight’s events were ever discovered, the punishment for your treachery would be far greater than for an ordinary person. But it’s too late to conceal your identity. I already know who you are, Amon.”
Amon spun around so fast he banged his head on the doorframe. “Are you threatening me?” he growled.
“No! Quite the opposite, actually,” Nerissa replied hurriedly. “I’m proposing a partnership.”
His eyes narrowed into slits. “I told you that I have helped as much as I intend to. I’m already regretting having done that much.”
“If not the Ohanzee, perhaps you would be willing to partner with the Heiress of Chiyo?” Nerissa pushed back her hood to reveal her face.
Amon pulled off his own hood and held up the glow lamp to study her appearance, his brows drawn together in puzzlement. “Although you do strongly resemble the late Heiress, there are several reasons why claiming to be her is a preposterous idea. In addition to the fact that she passed away months ago, she was also a she.”
“It seems my disguise is a bit too convincing,” Nerissa replied with a mirthless laugh. She reached around the back of her neck to release the clasp on the voice-altering choker. “You see,” she said as her voice returned to its true high and light tone, “I’m not quite dead yet.”
Amon’s face went pale. “It can’t be.” He stared at her in disbelief. “Nerissa?”
Nerissa nodded, and Amon’s demeanor changed from incredulity to comprehension in the blink of an eye. His hand shot out and he pointed, jabbing at the air in front of her in uncharacteristically unrestrained excitement. “It all makes sense now! I thought Charis had been working with the Ohanzee this whole time, but it wasn’t them that she was helping. The nameless ‘friend’ she lent the book to was you. That’s why she was willing to part with it! She was sneaking around eavesdropping on my conversations and snooping through my things in a misguided attempt to help you. And you’re why she was so eager to come here for the festival.
“I can’t believe it. I assumed that she must have interacted with the Ohanzee during her visits with you at the Manor and that she was assisting them as a way to avenge you. I never suspected for a second that she was actually meeting with you.”
“Well, being presumed dead is a pretty good way to throw off suspicion.”
Amon snorted softly. “I suppose it is. This changes everything. There are so many questions I want to ask, but I have a feeling it would be more productive to talk to both you and Charis at the same time. I already know that she won’t give me any straight answers.”
“Would you expect anything less of a true friend?” Nerissa said with a wry smirk.
“No, I suppose I wouldn’t,” Amon admitted. “Come, this way.”
Nerissa ducked through the doorway a step behind Amon and was surprised to discover that it lead to a second room and not a passageway. In contrast to the storeroom they had just exited, this one, though rudimentary in amenities, was clearly intended to be used for lodging. Bunk beds were oriented against three walls, and the fourth wall was taken by a set of shelves that held a variety of preserved fruits and vegetables. Most of the remaining floor space was occupied by a handful of cots stacked with blankets and pillows. The soft scent of lavender soap filled the room, hinting that they had been washed recently.
Amon strode between the cots to another door on the opposite wall. He lifted the wooden bar set across it and motioned for Nerissa to step through.
“I wonder what kind of storeroom needs to be barred from the inside?” Nerissa mused as he withdrew a key from his pocket and locked the door behind them. When he didn’t respond, she added, “On the other hand, it does look like an ideal place to stay out of sight for a while.”
“Those have been used for many different functions over the years, I’m told,” Amon said with a noncommittal shrug.
Nerissa was sure the room served some purpose for his group, but it seemed he was still reticent to reveal too much information.
He extended his arm so that the glow lamp illuminated a set of steep stone stairs that lay a few meters in front of them. “Watch your step. This is the original staircase connecting the storerooms and the kitchen to the canals. It was fashioned by widening the natural openings, and the steps were carved by hand. They are neither as wide nor as deep as those we’re accustomed to, nor are they particularly flat.”
With no handrails for her to grasp, Nerissa followed Amon slowly upward, keeping her arms out to either side so that she could steady herself on the stone walls. “It must have been a colossal task to hollow out enough stone to create those storerooms.”
Amon’s soft chuckle echoed off the narrow walls. “Those are naturally formed chambers, though I
was told that the doorways were widened by hand. Even so, the openings are smaller than normal.” He ruefully rubbed the spot where he had banged his head on the low-hanging doorframe earlier. “It’s a quirk I tend to forget about, much to my dismay.”
“So you’re telling me this wasn’t the first time you and the doorframe have met?” Nerissa teased.
Amon responded with a snort of morbid amusement. “Unfortunately not.”
Nerissa started to laugh, but at that moment, she misjudged a step and her foot slipped off the edge. Only the fact that she already had her arms out prevented her from falling. She slapped her palms against the walls to brace herself and let out a sigh once both of her feet found solid ground again.
“We’ll reach a stopping point where we can take a break shortly,” Amon said, clearly mistaking her sigh of relief as one of exertion. “Going up these stairs can be quite taxing until you get used to them. There used to be a pulley system overhead to facilitate moving crates and barrels up to the kitchen, but it was removed at the same time the old entrance to the canals was sealed up. Neither of them were needed anymore after the canals were discontinued as a mode of transportation.”
“I think I saw the outline of the doorway when we were in the tunnels.” Nerissa wiped her hands on her pants and paused long enough to check her palms for cuts. Finding no more than a few minor scrapes, she resumed climbing—cautiously—upward. “How do you know so much about this house? I’m not sure even the Royal Manor had as much history surrounding it.”
“I doubt that it could. This house is one of the oldest in Maze, making it among the oldest in all of Renatus, and it’s been in my family ever since it was built. Because it’s an important piece of our history, my father taught me everything he knew about it,” Amon said. The pride in his voice was evident. “Well, I suppose he didn’t share everything he knew with me. Some things I didn’t learn about until after his death.”
Perhaps it was a trick of the ear induced by the odd way every sound seemed to reverberate off the walls, but there seemed to be a strange undertone in his voice as he added the last bit. Was it anger or grief? It might have been a mixture of both. Either way, Nerissa thought it best not to press him any further on the matter.
Neither of them said anything more until they reached a landing area at the top of the stairs a short time later. On the right-hand side of the platform, the staircase took a ninety degree turn, and Nerissa could see that the steps from this point onward were distinctly more modern in appearance. Those must have been added quite recently—or at least, far more recently than the set they had just ascended.
The stairs weren’t the only interesting feature, however. Amon took a few steps forward and held out the glow lamp so that it illuminated yet another door. “My family crest,” he said, his voice filled with affection as he skimmed his fingers over the elaborately carved wood. “This is the original kitchen door. It’s been sealed up as well, but the woodwork was so beautiful they left the door in place and bricked over the frame from the inside. My housekeeper comes down here every week to polish it.”
Nerissa joined him for a closer look, her curiosity piqued by the triangular braid of vines that formed the outline of the shape. But her excitement was short lived. Although the spiraling design created a striking illusion that made the pattern appear to rise out from the surface of the door, there were no other triangles to be seen.
Her eyes traced the angles and lines a moment longer and then she gasped. She was wrong! Like a leaf hidden within a forest, there was a pattern within the pattern—one so subtle she had almost missed it, despite it being the very symbol she and her companions had been seeking. The thorns and petals decorating the vines created such a tangle that, at first glance, they obscured the fact that the design wasn’t actually made from a single, spiraling vine. When you looked beyond the cluttered details, it was possible to see that the pattern was, in fact, comprised of a series of vines arranged into concentric triangles. Six vines, in six concentric triangles. Each one was oriented at a slight angle relative to the one before it to give the impression of height.
Nerissa gazed up at Amon’s face in disbelief. “I’ve seen you use your seal, and it’s not this. It’s the dragon crest of Marise’s Royal Family.”
“I would have thought you, of all people, would understand since your family was in the same situation,” Amon said. “Even though this is my father’s family seal, I use the Royal Family’s because my mother’s crest takes precedence.”
Nerissa closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. He was right. She should have been able to figure that out. After all, it was the very thing her father did upon marrying her mother. “Well, if this book came from your father, and that really is his family crest, then there’s a high probability that it is indeed the one we’ve been searching for.” She patted the messenger bag where the book was still tucked away. “I can’t wait to take a closer look at it.”
Amon reached toward a bell pull that was situated beside the carved door, gave it a tug, and then turned toward the newer set of stairs. “Let’s not waste any time then. Our final destination is right this way.”
Chapter 10
Rats in the Wall
Charis
Charis took a sip of her tea and returned the cup to its saucer without prying her eyes away from her book. Though the tea had grown tepid, the need for warming it was not enough to roust her from her comfortable roost beneath a heaping pile of blankets. She was perfectly content to remain here on the chaise in Amon’s study, unmoving, until she ran out of pages. Tomorrow morning, Amon’s carriage would come to carry her back to Niamh, and she was determined to finish this book before then—no matter how cold the tea became.
As she turned to the next page, there came a soft rustling sound from somewhere close by. Had the rat come back? She cocked her head to the side, straining to hear the sound again. Nothing. The room remained silent. Still, perhaps she should finish the book in her room. She wouldn’t be as comfortable sitting in the bed as she was on the chaise, but the room was blissfully free of rodents.
Her gaze flicked down in search of her bookmark, and the source of the rustling then became evident. The corner of the last page she had turned was bowed out slightly where it had caught on the course fibers of the wool blanket. The tension in her shoulders eased. It had just been the sound of paper brushing across fabric.
She shifted her position and patted down the blankets so that the pages could turn freely. Several more minutes passed, and then she heard it—the sound she had been dreading since the previous day.
Scratch, scratch.
This time she was certain. There was no mistaking that sound. Even though her toes were tucked into a gap between the cushions of the chaise and therefore nowhere near the floor, Charis’ knees shot to her chest. She didn’t care what Thea said yesterday. That sound was not caused by birds nesting in the eaves.
The rat was back.
Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch. Scuffle, scuffle.
Charis’ eyes widened in horror, and she drew in a sharp breath. Not only was the rat back, but by the sound of it, the furry scourge had brought reinforcements.
“Thea!” She didn’t screech as she called the woman’s name. Definitely not.
The door opened and Thea appeared instantaneously. “Is something the matter?” The housekeeper’s face was flushed with concern. “I was on my way to invite you down to the kitchen. I have freshly baked shortbread cookies and a kettle of hot water on the stove.”
Charis pointed a quivering finger at the bookcase. “The rat is back!”
Thea’s expression changed from concerned to cross in an instant. “I’ve already told you, there are no rats in this house.”
The scratching sound came again, and Charis shot the woman a resentful glare. Thea opened her mouth to protest once more, but if she spoke, Charis didn’t hear her. A sudden movement in the corner of her vision drew the entirety of her attention to the oth
er side of the room.
The bookcase was swinging outward, and two people emerged from the hollow space behind it.
“Amon?” Charis squeaked, too stunned to move. And then, the second person stepped out from behind him, and her jaw dropped in shock. “N-n-Caeneus? Y-y-you’re the rats?”
Nerissa slid her sheathed sword from her waist and propped it against the side table before dropping wearily onto the end of the chaise. “You thought we were rats?” she asked under her breath.
At first, Charis wondered why Nerissa was keeping her voice low instead of speaking normally, then she noticed that the voice-altering choker was no longer around her friend’s neck. That was a surprise. Then again, this entire turn of events was utterly bizarre. So much for a quiet night spent reading.
“It’s a long story. More importantly, how did you end up here—with him, of all people?” she whispered, hoping for some kind—any kind—of explanation.
“I’ll tell you about it later. For now, let’s just say Amon helped me out of a bind,” Nerissa murmured, but she didn’t get to elaborate any further.
“I told you there weren’t any rats,” Thea asserted as she leaned over the pair to hastily draw the curtains.
“You were right; however, I would hardly consider these two to be ‘birds in the eaves,’ either,” Charis retorted.
Thea ignored the biting remark and bobbed a hasty curtsey to Amon. “I can’t apologize enough, Amon. This is entirely my fault. I’ve been in the kitchen awaiting your signal for over a half an hour. Even though I came up here as soon as I heard the bell, I wasn’t able to get her out of the room fast enough.”
“There’s no need for you to accept blame when there is none, Thea. We were listening to your conversation from the other side of the wall. Once I knew it was only you and Charis in the room, I didn’t see any need to wait. She’s going to find out about the hidden room soon enough anyway,” Amon said.
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