The tip of Robles’ cane rapped lightly on the floor of the carriage as the horse-drawn vehicle hurtled along the cobbled avenue leading to the palace. Her employer smelled faintly of pipe smoke and appeared irritated, as if still infected by the day’s earlier moods.

  Neither had he said a word since they had embarked on the journey, which had thrown Kaddie decidedly off-balance. Her fingers were a tangled knot in her lap. She had a thousand questions but knew full well they were unlikely to be answered.

  A wealthy section of the city flew by outside, one she had never seen before, so she focused on the view, hoping it would quell her growing irritation. The avenue was wide and tree-lined. There were no cracks or potholes in the street. The cobbles were smaller and laid just so, and there was no evidence of street grating, as if this particular part of the city was in denial of its larger, below-ground sibling, underpinning its neat and tidy skirts.

  The streetlamps shone as if they were polished and the storefronts were isolated and wore bright but tasteful paintwork. Large houses were set back on either side, fronted by flowers, fountains and statuary. Armed men and women stood at their front doors.

  “Our fair captain’s missing guards, no doubt.” Robles’ cane ceased its rapping.

  Kaddie stared at him. “Something’s about to happen, isn’t it? In the city, I mean.”

  He let out a sigh and leaned back in his seat. “Let me offer you a truncated lesson in Terohas politics. Unofficially, the city is controlled by four families, not one, no matter who has muscled their way into the palace. Right now those families are Lassing, Theed, Kanales, and Addaro. Try and remember. Try and keep up.

  "Once in a generation, two if we’re unlucky, one of the lesser houses makes a bid against the current ruler. In the meantime, the city holds its breath, while the other families increase their security until matters have been resolved.”

  “It’s happening now?” She stared at him, horrified.

  “Not yet.”

  “But—”

  “We’re the city poisoner, Kaddie, and no matter what happens, if we’re called for, we do our duty.” The carriage took a sharp left and almost pitched her out of the window. They swept by a huge, ornamental gate that bore a single sentry, and Robles grunted. “Lassing is being remarkably lax, considering the circumstances.”

  Kaddie risked another look outside, but her view of the gate had been supplanted by a high stone wall.

  “Tell me,” Robles continued. “When you first arrived at the city, did you notice anything out of the ordinary?”

  “Everything was out of the ordinary. I’d never been here before.”

  “Any guardsmen arriving on horseback?”

  “No. Just crowds of people running toward the gate. The bell was tolling,” she added.

  “Hmm…”

  “Does that horrible man have something to do with this?”

  “Harrow? Undoubtedly. He’s allied with someone.”

  “He’s not from here.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “His clothes, his mustache.”

  “He’s from Enthas, and that’s enough, for now.” His hand waved dismissively.

  “But why did Captain Young—” she began.

  “Shh. You’re here to listen and observe, understand? Your valued opinion, I’ll ask for later, yes?”

  Kaddie nodded, entirely happy with the arrangement. The carriage rounded a curve and began to slow. Looking down at her coat she noticed one of her button’s threads was coming loose, but it was too late to do anything about it now.

  When their ride ground to a halt, Robles alighted first. He offered her his hand, allowing her to step down onto a narrow street bordered by high walls. The paving below her feet was slick with drizzle. To her right, a few paces away, the lower section of the wall bore a door, plain, formidable, constructed of dark wood.

  “Rule number one,” her employer said as the carriage left them alone on the cobbled alley. “Never, ever, enter the palace via the main gate.”

  “So as not to bring undue attention?”

  “Exactly. The rule extends inside the walls, too. Attention can be dangerous in a place like this.” He strode forth to the door and raised a burnished metal door-knocker. It was almost too high for the likes of Kaddie to reach, and when it fell, a heavy, ponderous clunk was accompanied by the distant sound of harmonious bells.

  The lower half of the door below the knocker gave way, and they both had to duck in order to enter.

  A man greeted them, his broad shoulders blocking Kaddie’s view of the interior. “Robles, you old villain.”

  There followed an odd routine of hand-clasping and back-slapping, completely out of character for Robles, or so she assumed. Obviously, this would be an afternoon of surprises.

  Looking back over her shoulder, she caught sight of the door-knocker mechanism attached to the upper interior side of the door. It consisted of an array of ropes and pulleys that ran upward at an angle and disappeared toward the hall’s gloomy ceiling. The atmosphere was damp, tainted with the smell of lye and cooked meat, an odd combination.

  “So, who’s this, then?”

  “Groach, may I present my apprentice, Kaddie Loxton.”

  The man gave her an odd look before raising an eyebrow at the poisoner. “She reminds me of someone.” And he said no more as her employer gestured for silence.

  Kaddie frowned. Secret handshakes, boisterous behavior, and now this.

  The man recovered himself and held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Kaddie. Are you managing to cope with this old fool?”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Just about.” She shook the man’s hand and sighed with exasperation as he exploded into laughter.

  He stepped aside and bade them enter, allowing her to see for the first time, the full interior of the palace’s great service hall.

  The kitchen was to her left, the laundry to her right where six men and women labored over giant wringers and huge barrels of steaming water. The kitchen was busier still, and as Groach and Robles hurried her along, she caught glimpses of piles of vegetables, roasts on spits, boiling cauldrons, and hands chopping with shiny blades as if their lives depended on it.

  At the hall’s rear, Robles led her through a door that swung back and forth on its hinges. Beyond it was a stone-floored passageway. It was dark and reminded her of the subterranean tunnels and their atmosphere of interminable weight.

  Groach was no longer accompanying them and Robles had now adopted her frown. “No one here to greet us.”

  “Do we know where we’re going?” she whispered.

  “Yes, although—”

  Shadows played ahead in the gloom, and moments later a tall silhouette advanced toward them.

  “Ah, Poisoner Poole.” Robles’ voice had grown unusually soft and silky.

  “Robles,” the figure barked. Both parties stopped, paces from one another. The difference in greeting compared to the last one was extremely noticeable. Kaddie’s hackles began to rise.

  “You brought an assistant?”

  “Yes, yes. I’m afraid my mind isn’t what it used to be.”

  No hands were shaken, no backs were slapped. Kaddie followed silently in the men’s wake. As for her demotion to the role of assistant, she assumed there was a reason for it. Not for nothing, perhaps, had Robles offered her his earlier advice. She would, therefore, attempt to remain unnoticed and observe as much as she possibly could.

  Out beyond the dim passageway and into a cavernous hall the likes of which she had never seen before. Its walls were blinding white, its lanterns shining gold. Her stout shoes sank into a brightly-colored, heavily-piled rug that was placed just so on a marble floor. The ceiling lay a breathtaking distance above her head, and flights of stairs curled grandly upward from each corner.

  Realizing her mouth was open, she snapped it firmly shut. Poisoner Poole was attempting to set a considerable pace, hampered by Robles who had acquired a mysterious limp. Was he doing it on purpose? The slower pace gave Kaddie the opportunity to surreptitiously study their new companion. What was it about him that placed her on edge and inspired her employer’s playful contempt?

  Maybe it was the robe. He was an extraordinarily thin man and the garment flapped uncontrollably against his frame as he walked. It was decorated in all manner of embroidery and was the kind of garment her grandmother continually railed against. Kaddie was sure she would have twisted her lips at the sight of it and muttered “Charlatan,” well within the man’s hearing range.

  Nonetheless, she had encountered so-called charlatans before, none of whom inspired her current reaction. He’d made her feel wary as soon as he had appeared. And there was Robles, willfully poking at the hornet’s nest.

  They headed to the far corner of the hall, passing by a number of people dressed in flamboyant clothing, huddled in tight, whispering groups, all barely glancing in their direction.

  The atmosphere of opulence made her feel shoddy, a sensation that became worse as they climbed the stairs and walked the upper floors, so festooned with art and furniture that the idea that she remain unobtrusive became ridiculous. Even Robles appeared slightly shabby surrounded by ornately carved furniture and beautifully painted murals.

  They continued their climb until ornamentation gradually gave way to practicality. The murals ceased, chair legs became straight and lacked gilding.

  Poole was now waving at two men standing guard, some ways ahead. On arrival, the men opened a set of doors, allowing Poole, Robles, and Kaddie into the chamber beyond.

  Inside the room, Kaddie immediately detected the stench of illness. This was someone’s bedroom. Heavy curtains had been drawn across the windows. The subsequent gloom added to the dour, sick atmosphere, and she wanted nothing more than to pull aside the thick drapes and allow in some fresh air and the afternoon sun.

  Instead, she followed Robles to an overwrought four poster bed where a young woman lay, partially covered in blankets. Kaddie’s eyes kept drifting toward Poole as the two men spoke. His entire body language spoke of propriety and there appeared to be little sympathy for the girl’s plight. Robles had named him a poisoner. If that was so, why were they here? To provide a second opinion?

  She stepped as close as she dared. The gloom made diagnosis difficult. Still, there was enough light to reveal a yellowish cast on the girl’s skin. The whites of her eyes bore a similar tint. Looking down past the damp chemise and the border of blankets, the body lying beneath suggested a skeletal gauntness. The girl was wasting away.

  At the other side of the bed were two women, both sitting with their heads bowed. Neither had acknowledged the new arrivals, as if they were focused on contemplation, or simply didn’t care if the entire city had arrived at the girl’s bedside.

  Robles reached into his jacket pocket and handed Kaddie a small sheaf of folded papers, and a crudely-sharpened pencil. She was to make notes, obviously, but based on whose observations?

  Poole approached one of the women. He stooped low and whispered. A moment later, the woman stood. Her dark hair was piled ornately on her head and she was wearing a beautiful, floral silk dress. Kaddie had no idea who she was, but she saw Robles drop his odd demeanor and straighten immediately.

  Another glance at the girl beneath the covers and she recognized the resemblance. But where the daughter’s face registered sickness and exhaustion, her mother’s wore a mask of cold fury.

  “Her father might have requested your presence, Robles, but I forbid any more poking and prodding. My daughter has already suffered enough.”

  Robles inclined his head. “With your permission, Madame, a polite inspection of her hands, head, and shoulders?”

  Kaddie took a step back and began scribbling frantically across the paper while Robles sat on the edge of the bed and began his examination, splaying the girl’s fingers before moving to her throat. When he was done, she had four pages of notes and the side of her middle finger was numb where she had gripped the pencil.

  She glanced toward Poole and the mother. The woman’s face hadn’t changed, but Poole was biting his lip and regarding Robles with suspicion.

  Her employer stood, walked a short distance from the bed and beckoned to the others. Kaddie was now alone with the girl and the second woman who had remained silent throughout the examination. She could hear Robles’ voice, followed by that of Poole. None of them were paying her any attention as she sat on the bed and reached out.

  Abruptly, the sick girl’s fingers curled around her hand like claws. Their grip was surprisingly strong. Eyes regarded Kaddie without blinking.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Nianne.” The word emerged as a harsh whisper.

  “Don’t worry. You’re strong. You’re going to beat this.”

  The woman at the opposite side of the bed gasped, rose to her feet, and nearly tripped over her own skirts as she approached and whispered to the girl’s mother who immediately returned to the bedside.

  “What are you doing?”

  “There’s strength in her grip, Madam. Determination,” Kaddie said. She felt Nianne’s fingers curling tighter around her hand. The girl was continuing to stare at her at the expense of all else. Over the mother’s shoulder, she saw Robles, his eyebrows raised.

  “She’s looking at you,” her mother declared. “The first true sign of life we’ve seen for days.”

  Robles and Poole began talking at once. “Perhaps,” Robles managed, eventually, “it’s a question of communication? They’re of similar age, after all.”

  “Simple communication will not cure this girl,” Poole blustered.

  “Might help with diagnostics and treatment, though, wouldn’t you say?” Robles offered the man a wan smile.

  The girl’s mother leaned across the bed and firmly shook her daughter’s shoulder. “Nianne. Say something then we can help you.”

  The girl closed her eyes. Her hand relaxed and fell through Kaddie’s fingers.

  “Oh, this is impossible.” The woman rose and stepped away from the bedside.

  “Perhaps my assistant could sit with her for a while.” Robles raised an eyebrow.

  Kaddie shrugged, “I’ll need a chair.”

  “Take mine,” the mother said. “I have other duties to attend to, after all.”

  “Until the early eve, than?” Robles extended his hand. “The notes?”

  Kaddie handed him the small bundle of papers, wondering what he’d make of them. For despite his remarks to Poole earlier, regarding his forgetfulness, she didn’t believe a word of it and consequently the notes consisted entirely of her own observations.

  “I’ll have Torrell return to collect you.” He tucked the papers into an inner pocket, and a moment later, he, Poole, and the girl’s mother swept out of the room, leaving Kaddie with the sick girl, and the older lady who had tattled on her, earlier.

  She dragged the vacant chair to her side of the bed and retook her position. Reaching out once more, she held the girl’s hand.