“Falgriz,” Sven said at last, as if he were looking at a ghost. “Looks like you’ve gained an ugly trophy up top too. And a sizable gut down below.”

“Flattery won’t get you out of this.”

“It did the last time.”

A smile creased the giant’s eyes in spite of the scowl that crossed his scarred brow.

“He’s the one who lied to the Komizar for me,” I said.

Griz whipped his gaze at me. “I didn’t lie for you, twinkle toes. Let’s get that straight right now. I lied for her.”

“You’re a spy for her kingdom?” I asked.

His lips curled back in disgust. “I’m a spy for you, you blasted fool.”

Sven’s eyebrows shot up. This was obviously a new development for him too.

Griz jerked his head toward Sven. “All those years stuck with this lout gave me a little knowledge about courts, and a lot of knowledge about languages. I’m no traitor to my own kind, if that’s what you’re thinking, but I meet with your scouts. I carry useless information from one enemy kingdom to another. If royals want to throw their money away for the tracking of troops, I’m happy to oblige. It keeps my kinfolk from starving.”

I looked at Sven. “This is who you were stuck with in the mines?”

“For two very long years. Griz saved my life,” he answered.

“Get it right,” Griz snarled. “You saved my neck, and we both know it.”

Orrin and I exchanged a glance. Neither one seemed pleased about his spared life or in agreement over who saved whom.

Sven rubbed his stubble, studying Griz. “So, Falgriz. Do we have a problem?”

“You’re still a dense bastard,” Griz answered. “Yes, we have a problem. I don’t want her leaving, and I assume that’s what you’re here for.”

Sven sighed. “Well, you’re partially right.” He nodded toward me. “I’m here to spring this knucklehead, and that’s all. You can keep the girl.”

“What?” I said.

“Sorry, boy. King’s orders. We’ve got an escort waiting just on the other side of the river.”

I lunged at Sven, grabbing him by his vest. “You lying, filthy—”

Griz yanked me off Sven and threw me to the ground. “Don’t be messing with our new governor, Emissary.”

Sanctum guards began running over after seeing me jump Sven.

“Not much of a guard, are you?” Griz said to Orrin, who hadn’t moved to protect Sven. “At least look like you know what you’re doing, or you won’t last long around here.” Orrin drew his sword and held it menacingly above me. Griz cast another warning scowl at me. “Just so we all understand each other. I don’t care if you all drown in the river or beat each other senseless, but the girl stays here.” And then just to Sven, “The stitchery’s an improvement.”

“As is the needlework on your skull.”

Sven and I eyed each other. We had a problem. Griz stomped off, telling the approaching guards to go back to their posts, the matter was settled, but as I watched him walk away, I noticed the Assassin standing in the shadow of the colonnade. He stood there with no apparent destination. Just watching us. And even after Griz had long passed, he continued to look in our direction.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

It happened when I took my boots off. The heavy clunk of the heels hitting the floor. The shoes. The whisper. The memory. The knowing chill that had settled across my shoulders the first time I heard their footsteps. Reverence and restraint.

It hit me suddenly and violently, and I thought I was going to be sick.

I leaned over the chamber pot, a damp sweat springing to my brow.

They had changed everything but their shoes.

I swallowed the salty sick taste on my tongue and fanned my anger instead. It flamed to a rage and propelled me forward. I bypassed the guards and used the hidden passage. Where I was going, I could not have an escort.

*   *   *

This time when I strode through the catacombs and then down into the cavern where piles of books waited to be burned, I gave no care to the loudness of my footsteps. When I got there, no one was in the outer room sorting books, but the far room was dimly lit. I saw at least one robed figure within, hunched over a table.

The inner room was almost as large as the first, with several piles of its own waiting to be hauled away and burned. There were eight robed figures within. I stood at the entrance watching them, but they were so consumed with their tasks they didn’t notice me. Their hoods were drawn, as was their practice, supposedly a symbol of humility and devotion, but I knew the purpose was as much to block out others so they could remain focused on their difficult work. Their deathly work.

The priest I had met with back in Terravin had sensed something was amiss, even if he hadn’t known exactly what it was. I wouldn’t speak to the other priests of this matter. They might not all agree where loyalties lie. I realized now that he had tried to warn me, but if the Komizar had coaxed these men here with promises of riches, I might be able to sway their greedy hearts with greater treasures.

I looked down at their shoes, almost hidden by their brown robes. They seemed out of place here instead of tucked behind polished desks.

I had grabbed a large volume from one of the piles of discards as I walked in, and now I threw it to the ground. The loud smack echoed through the room, and both the seated and standing scholars turned to see me. They showed no alarm, not even surprise, but the seated scholars left their chairs to stand with the others.