Shadow Magic (13 page)

The squires jumped as the tiles tumbled down, shattering at their feet.

Then, huffing and puffing, Gabriel caught up to his squires. His eyes bulged when he saw Thorn. He shoved one of the boys against the wall. “What are you waiting for?”

“It’s not safe. He’s throwing tiles down on our heads!”

“I don’t care!”

“But, m’lord—”

“What are you, scared? It’s not high! I could climb that with one hand! It’s easy!”

“Then why don’t you?” snapped the squire, unable to help himself.

Gabriel slapped him. “
I
give the orders. Or shall I tell my father that you didn’t obey me?”

The squires began to climb.

Thorn picked up another broken piece of tile, dragging his fingertip along its sharp, jagged edge. He was tempted to throw it; he couldn’t miss at this range. But these squires weren’t his enemies; they were being bullied by Gabriel into coming after him, and they didn’t deserve a chunk of slate in their foreheads. Thorn put it down and took off again.

When will they give up?

The roof went on and merged with another. Castle Gloom stretched off in all directions. A life spent climbing trees and running along boughs gave Thorn a sure and light foot, and he moved swiftly across the roof.

He dropped onto a second roof, one patched with holes, and the tiles underfoot creaked. The old timber supports groaned as he stepped forward.

Not good.

Thorn reached the end of this roof and realized there was a gap between it and the next. The width wasn’t the problem—only about five feet. It was the depth. Fifty feet straight down and…kersplat.

Maybe there was another, safer route?

Just then the first of the squires reached the top. The boy shuffled warily toward him. He saw that Thorn was trapped and drew out his dagger.

Thorn’s heart pounded. He focused on the spot in front of him. The morning dew shone on the black slate. Putting one foot in front of the other, he swung his arms to build momentum.

Then he jumped.

As he landed, his left boot slipped. His back hit the roof, knocking the wind out of him. His head cracked a few tiles, and they fell away.

No, no, no…

He started to slide down the roof feetfirst, faster and faster with each second. He dug in his heels, trying to slow himself down, but he was already going too fast and the slope was too steep.

Somewhere far below he heard tiles smashing on the cobblestones.

His stomach lurched as his feet slipped over the edge into open air. Thorn just had time to cry out before he fell off the roof.

H
ow do I prove Gabriel was the poisoner? And how do I prove it before they cart me off to Prism Palace?

She needed to be sneaky. If Uncle Pan found out that she was doing her own investigation, he’d probably keep her locked up in her rooms until Halloween. And if Mary did? That would be much, much worse.

Anyway, that wasn’t going to happen. Deviousness was going to be her middle name. Which was a lot better than her
actual
middle name, Hecate.

Father wouldn’t have just sat around waiting for others to sort it out; he’d have done it himself. “Leading from the front,” he called it.

I’ll be leading from the shadows.

So, where to begin?

At the beginning.

In the cellars, where the wine for the feast was stored and opened.

Lily approached one of the servants, the boy who had carried in the goblets on the night of the engagement feast. She knew that he’d already been interrogated by Tyburn, but she had a few questions of her own.

“Hello,” she said.

The boy almost dropped the wine bottle when he saw her, pale and darkly dressed, standing right behind him.

“Looks like you’ve seen a ghost,” said Lily.

“Er…”

“So, what’s your name?”

“Um…David?” He stepped back. Then bowed. “M’lady.”

“Ah, David. Do you work here?” She looked around the cellar. Plenty of the racks were rather empty-looking. That couldn’t all be due to the feast, could it?

Or was it Uncle Pan? Even he couldn’t drink
that
much.

“Er…yes, m’lady?”

“Good. It’s just…” How could she put this? “I’m trying to work out who tried to poison me. It wasn’t you, was it?”

“Aargh…” David turned ashen. And started shaking.

“That was just a joke. Of course it wasn’t you. I know who it was but just need your help proving it.”

“Urrgh…”

“Now, you can tell me—it was Gabriel, wasn’t it?”

“M…M’lady?”

“Gabriel Solar? Dresses all pretty but with the face of an imbecile? My fiancé?” How that word made her want to vomit! “Did he put something in my goblet?”

“M’lady, I don’t know anything! The steward gave me the tray with the goblets already filled! I just carried it up from the cellar!”

“Ah, the steward. Of course. And where is he, this time of the morning?”

“The kitchens, m’lady,” said David, still pale and shaking.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Lily had to admit this was more enjoyable than being stuck in her rooms. If it carried on like this, she’d probably be finished by lunch.

Well before Lily reached the kitchens, she heard the noise of it: pots and pans clanking, and the cook bellowing orders. The smells followed: bread baking, soups simmering, onions and garlic sizzling, and a hundred other herbs and spices mixing with the roasting meat.

A maid rushed out of the kitchen door with a tray of toast and marmalade. There was a bottle of wine, too, and Lily guessed it was on its way to her uncle. She took a deep breath and entered.

The cook waved her rolling pin at the baker, then the butcher, and next the boy who was struggling with fresh loaves piled in his arms as he wove between the tables and scurrying maids. She ruled the kitchen, a general in an apron.

Waves of heat rippled across the flour-covered floor as oven doors crashed open and slammed shut. Over the spit turned two big sheep carcasses, the fat hissing as it dripped onto the coals.

Now which one was the steward?

She stopped a servant as he lumbered past, a sack of flour on his back. “Excuse me, but I’m looking for the—”

“Can’t you see I’m busy, girl?” The man adjusted the load. “Though I’d never thought I’d see the day we’d be feeding the Solars and their kin.”

“I was just wondering—”

“I said…” He looked up and glared angrily at her. Then he froze, and the anger flipped into terror. “M’lady, I didn’t know it was you. Er…”

“The steward. Where is he?”

“Over there, with the ladle.” He forced a stiff smile up onto his frightened face. “What I was saying about the Solars…I meant it’s a blessing by the Six themselves that we’ve such fine guests. They light up the room, as it were. And I’ve never seen a more handsome lad than Gabriel. Ridiculously handsome.”

“Yes, Gabriel is certainly ridiculous,” Lily replied. She spotted the steward and left the servant with his flour.

The steward was testing the soup, sipping delicately from an iron ladle.

“Morning,” said Lily as brightly as she could.

The steward spluttered. “M’lady?”

Why had everyone stopped working? She tried to ignore all the eyes upon her.

Devious. She had to think devious. Devious and subtle.

First, she needed to put him at ease. She wasn’t entirely sure how to speak with servants, but it couldn’t be that hard, could it?

“Nice weather we’re having, isn’t it? For this time of year. And those socks you’re wearing, pure lamb’s wool? I bet they must keep your toes
very
snug.”

The steward stared at his socks, then back at her. His expression was pained. “Er…my socks, m’lady?”

This was working out brilliantly. Now perhaps she should pay him a compliment? Yes, to gain his trust.

“I love what you’ve done with your hair,” Lily pointed at the few tufts around his ears. “Simple, yet elegant.”

“My hair?”

There, she had his complete confidence. “So, I was wondering, about last night. You didn’t happen to see who tried to poison me, did you?”

The ladle dropped from his fingers and clanged on the flagstone floor.

Lily paused. That seemed rather guilty, didn’t it? She pressed her fingertips together and put on her hardest stare. She’d often faced it from her father when she was caught making trouble, and she’d always crumbled under his cold gray gaze. Now it was time for her to try it. “You seem very nervous. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

Was he in on the poisoning? Gabriel wasn’t the sort of person to do his own dirty work, not when he could get a minion to do it for him. Maybe he paid the steward to pour the poison into her goblet? Yes, all the pieces were falling into place. Lily bet if she went to his room she’d find a bag of Luminean sovereigns hidden under his bed.

Perhaps he was still working for Gabriel; after all, the poisoning had failed yesterday. He might try again, and when better than at breakfast?

She looked suspiciously at the soup.

“Lilith Shadow!”

Uh-oh.

Mary bustled through the watching cooks and serving girls, one hand dragging a weeping David, the other hand clasping the usual red ledger.

Lily turned to the steward. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.” She spun around to face Mary. “Do you sleep with that book?”

“I use it as a pillow,” said Mary unapologetically. She pulled David up. “What have you been saying to this poor boy?”

“Nothing!”

“So you didn’t accuse him of trying to poison you?”

“Of course not!” Lily glanced over to the trembling steward. “Not him, anyway.”

Mary let go of David and rubbed her temple. “I can feel it coming on, one of my
special
headaches. You’re going to be the death of me, my girl.”

Lily took Mary’s arm and pulled her to one side. “Shh,” she whispered. “Don’t tell anyone, but I think I know who killed Custard.”

Mary clutched the ledger to her chest. “You do?”

“Right here, in this room.”

“Lily…”

Lady Shadow tilted her head slightly. “It’s him. The steward.”

Mary opened her mouth to speak. Then shut it. Then opened it.

Then grabbed Lily by the collar.

“Ow! You’re choking me!”

“Come on. We’re leaving.”

“But what about him?” Lily said loudly, pointing first at the steward and then at the big pot on the stove. “For all we know, he’s poisoned the soup!”

Mary spun around and glared at the steward. “Have you?”

“N-no, Mary. Of course not.”

“Satisfied?” said Mary.

Lily glowered. “Of course he’s going to say that.”

Mary snatched a spoon out of a cook’s hand and filled it with soup.

“Mary, don’t!” Lily warned.

Mary swallowed it. She grimaced.

Lily gasped. “What’s the matter? Did he put poison in it?”

“Worse.”

“Worse?” Oh no! She didn’t want Mary to die!

“Garlic,” said Mary. She waved the spoon at the steward. “Did I or did I not tell you that the earl doesn’t want garlic? It gives him fierce wind! How’s it going to be, him sitting at the table next to the duke’s son, when he can’t control those weak bowels of his?” She flung the spoon at him. “There’ll be war!”

So the soup wasn’t poisoned. Maybe Lily had been wrong about the steward. She decided to take her leave. There was still plenty of investigating to be done. Better she go quietly, so as not to interrupt…

But Mary must have had eyes in the back of her head. “You stay right there.”

“I
am
Lady Shadow, you know,” said Lily, trying to reclaim some dignity. “You can’t order me around.”

Mary stood up on her tiptoes so the two of them were, almost, eye to eye. She put her stubby forefinger on Lily’s nose. “Did you say something? Or was that a mouse squeaking?”

Lily decided not to say anything more.

“Now listen to me, Lily.” Mary’s voice dropped to a low and malevolent whisper. “You will go straight back to your rooms. You will stop bothering my staff, and you will leave this business to the likes of Tyburn. Do I make myself clear?” She raised a hand before Lily could answer. “No, don’t speak. Just nod.”