The Eyes of God (50 page)
Authors: John Marco
“We will,” replied the other girl. She smiled mischievously. “The king’s coming to read to the queen again, hmm?”
“Yes, and get that filth out of your mind,” said Jancis sharply. “Freen, the king might want something to eat or drink while he’s here. Be ready, all right?”
“I’ll be here,” said Freen. Then he laughed, adding, “Where else would I be?”
The woman Jancis said good-bye, then turned and walked off. Gilwyn panicked. He knew he needed to reach her, for only she could lead him to the dark-haired girl. But King Akeela was coming; there wasn’t time to waste. Carefully he followed Jancis out of the scullery, trying to match her footsteps so not to make a sound. The others around the table returned to their conversation. Gilwyn caught a curious snippet of it as he left the room.
“ ’course he reads to her,” Freen was saying. “What else would he do with a crone like Cassandra?”
Gilwyn ignored the comment, following Jancis as closely as he could, dodging behind furniture and open doors. The deeper they went into Lionkeep, the more beautiful and elaborate the place became. There were still no windows but the hall was effusive with light, brightened by candles in ornate candelabras and iron sconces clasping smoky torches. Brocaded tapestries covered the walls, and soon the stone floor gave way to thick, crimson carpet that smothered the sounds of Gilwyn’s footsteps. A wide archway beckoned up ahead, revealing a royal-sized chamber beyond. Gilwyn knew he was leaving the servants’ area and entering the queen’s own. Jancis continued on through the archway, into a round room with a high, domed ceiling where suits of armor and royal crests decorated the walls. But she didn’t pause to regard them, continuing instead through the huge room into another, equally elaborate hallway, much narrower than the first. Gilwyn ducked behind one of the armored displays, trying to remember the way he’d come. The wing was vast indeed, and with King Akeela coming he had no time to waste. If he lost his way, he’d certainly be discovered. So he spied Jancis from behind the empty armor, and when he saw her round a corner he followed her once again, hoping she would soon lead him to the dark-haired girl.
But she did not. Instead, she passed through another arch and entered a room that took Gilwyn’s breath away. It was flooded with light, and Gilwyn had to squint against the brightness. He realized suddenly that it wasn’t torchlight he was seeing this time. This was sunlight, pure and white, and it streamed in from the roof of the chamber through an elaborate glass ceiling, a gigantic web of windows and panes arranged to catch the traveling sun. The chamber was alive with plants and blooming flowers, colors and varieties Gilwyn had never seen. The strong perfume of the lilac and honeysuckle wafted over the threshold. Gilwyn slowed to an entranced crawl as he followed Jancis into the chamber. He had heard that the queen had a private conservatory, but he had never imagined one so vast and lovely. The expense alone was staggering. As he crossed into the chamber, feeling the warm sun on his face, he glimpsed Jancis near a stand of rose bushes, smiling as she blindly admired their red blooms. Her hand moved over them smoothly, feeling their petals and nimbly avoiding their thorns. Nearby was a bench strewn with gloves and an old pair of shears, while beside the bench sat a bucket, filled with freshly cut flowers. Jancis located the roses she wanted to cut, then felt around for the gloves and shears and went to work, humming happily to herself in the peace of the conservatory.
Gilwyn slipped soundlessly into the chamber. Dazzled by the light, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He looked up and noticed great shades on all sides of the conservatory, huge sheets of white canvas that could be pulled across the glass ceiling to block out the sun—or unwanted eyes. Queen Cassandra’s legendary shyness was once again evident, but because the shades were open he didn’t expect to see the queen here now. He had hoped to find the dark-haired girl, but Jancis was alone in the chamber, and Gilwyn knew he was out of time. He had to act now, before the king arrived.
Moving quickly, he dropped behind a stand of fruit trees and dug the note out of his pocket. The little roll of paper was perfect for Teku’s small hand. The monkey spied the paper inquisitively.
“Here,” Gilwyn whispered, holding it out for his friend.
Teku obediently wrapped her hairy fingers around the note.
“Now, bring it to her,” said Gilwyn. He stepped out from behind the squat trees and pointed at Jancis, still humming and pruning her roses. Teku took her master’s meaning at once. Without a sound she slipped down from Gilwyn’s shoulder and bounded toward the unsuspecting woman. Gilwyn braced himself. Jancis might scream when Teku touched her, or run with fear. But Teku was a very gentle creature, and when she reached Jancis she sat and stared up at her for a moment, considering the best way to get her attention. Finally, the monkey let out a small cry.
“What . . . ?” Jancis started at the sound, turning her head in confusion. Having gotten her attention, Teku reached out with her free hand and gave Jancis’ skirt a tiny tug. Jancis shrieked. She dropped the shears, barely missing Teku, and pulled the work gloves off in a panic. Teku continued chattering, trying to tell Jancis of her presence.
“What is that?” Jancis cried. “Get away!”
Gilwyn was aghast. He wanted to shout at Jancis, to tell her not to be afraid.
Just take the blasted note!
Teku, seeing Jancis’ panic, quickly took another tact. She put the note in her mouth, jumped onto Jancis’ leg, and quickly scrambled up onto her shoulder. Now Jancis was frantic. Her arms flailed, trying vainly to dislodge the unknown creature, but Teku held tight. Like a well-trained acrobat, the monkey wrapped her tail around Jancis arm, then stretched out to force the note into Jancis’ hand. When Jancis realized what was happening, she stopped fighting. Her fingers quickly felt the paper in her hands. Teku leapt quickly off her arm and darted across the conservatory back to Gilwyn.
“What’s this?” said Jancis. Slowly she unrolled the note. And although she could not read it, she seemed to know what she was holding—and what had attacked her. “A monkey.”
Gilwyn’s jaw dropped. Fearing he’d somehow been discovered, he began backing out of the chamber.
“Is someone there?” Jancis queried. “Please come out. Don’t be afraid.”
But Gilwyn was afraid, so afraid that he bolted out of the conservatory without looking back. Teku clung to his shoulder as he maneuvered out of the conservatory, through the carpeted hallway, back past the ornate domed room, and finally toward the scullery where Freen and the two chambermaids were finishing up. There he stopped, panting, just out of earshot of the trio. Finally, when they all went back to work, he slid out of the scullery and through the forbidden doorway, back into the freedom of the abandoned garden.
His heart galloping, he struggled to catch his breath. Teku teetered on his shoulder, dazed from the mad dash to escape. The sunlight struck Gilwyn’s face; he laughed when he felt its touch.
“I did it!” he exclaimed.
Teku tugged his ear in annoyance.
“Oh, sorry,” Gilwyn corrected.
“We
did it.”
“We
did it.”
He leaned against the wall of the keep, a huge smile on his face. Now that his note was delivered, the dark-haired girl would read it. She would know to meet him here tomorrow night. At last, he would see her again. An odd feeling of pride stirred in him.
“I’ve got things to do,” he said absently. If he were to meet her, he would need a bath. And clean clothes. “And a gift,” he told himself. She was a lady; he couldn’t meet her empty-handed.
“Teku, we have to go into town,” he told his companion. His eyes narrowed in thought. “And I have to think of something I can sell.”
Cassandra had just finished her midday meal and was relaxing with a book when Jancis breezed into her chamber. The look on her friend’s face startled Cassandra. She lowered her book into her lap. Jancis seemed out of breath. Her skin was pale and her movements were clumsy as she entered the room.
“Cass?” she probed. “Are you in here?”
“Jancis?” Cassandra studied her friend. “What’s the matter?”
Jancis drifted closer to Cassandra’s chair. “I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Maybe good news.” She shook her head. “Something strange just happened to me.”
“What?” Cassandra asked, alarmed. She got out of her chair. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I . . . I just had the oddest experience.”
“Jancis, you’re not making sense,” said Cassandra. She went to her friend and made to guide her to the vacant chair, then noticed the roll of paper in her hand. “What’s that?”
Jancis began to laugh. “That’s what the monkey gave me!”
“Monkey? Jan, you’d better sit down. . . .”
“It’s a note, Cass.” Jancis put the paper into Cassandra’s hand. “I was in the conservatory cutting flowers. There was a monkey—at least I think it was a monkey. It gave me this paper.”
Cassandra was hardly listening. “What would a monkey be doing in the conservatory?” she asked, guiding Jancis toward the chair.
Jancis wouldn’t sit down. “No, Cass, listen to me. A
monkey.
Who else has a monkey but that old librarian, Figgis? And who would have Figgis send you a note?”
monkey.
Who else has a monkey but that old librarian, Figgis? And who would have Figgis send you a note?”
It sounded like babble to Cassandra. Then, horribly, she understood. She looked down at the note. Her hand began to tremble.
“No,” she whispered. “That’s not possible. . . .”
“Read it, Cass,” Jancis urged.
“No . . .”
“Read it!”
Cassandra couldn’t read it. She couldn’t believe what Jancis was suggesting. But suddenly it all made sense. If Lukien was going to write to her, he would need to deliver the note secretly. And only Figgis knew Lukien well enough to risk himself. It had been years since Cassandra had seen Figgis, but she remembered the little monkey he always had with him. Could that creature still be alive?
“Why give it to you?” Cassandra wondered. “Why not just send me the note?”
“I don’t know,” Jancis confessed. Her smile suddenly melted with concern. “Cass, do you think . . . I mean, could it be?”
To find out, Cassandra had to read the note. She paused, staring at it, then took a deep breath and unrolled the paper. The note was very brief and she read it in moments. But it wasn’t the contents of the note that caught her breath. Rather, it was the signature. Cassandra turned and collapsed into the chair.
“It’s from him,” she said. She hardly believed her own voice. “It’s his signature.”
“Is it?” asked Jancis incredulously. “What’s it say?”
“Your adoring servant. . . .”
“What?”
“That’s how he signed it—‘Your adoring servant.’ Just like last time.” Cassandra’s mind skipped back through the years, recalling another note she had received, way back before she was immortal. She had never forgotten that first note from Lukien, nor the way he had signed it and all the notes thereafter.
“He saw us in the garden the other night,” said Cassandra. “The note says so. He wants to meet me there tomorrow night.”
“The garden? How’s that possible? How could he have possibly seen us?” Jancis pried the note from Cassandra’s hand, frowning because she couldn’t read it for herself. “It’s incredible. Why would he risk coming back?”
“I don’t know. Maybe that’s why he didn’t use my name.” Cassandra smiled forlornly. “He called me his ‘dark-haired beauty.”’ She looked up at her friend. “He’s come back for me, Jan. He wants to see me again.”
“But you can’t go,” said Jancis.
“Tomorrow night,” said Cassandra dreamily. “After all these years.”
“Cass, don’t even think it. You’ll die if he looks at you!”
Beneath her blouse, Cassandra felt the warm glow of the amulet. Its immutable power pulsed against her skin. She put her hand to her chest, feeling the Eye of God under the fabric. It had kept her alive for sixteen years—but it had also kept her prisoner. She wanted desperately to see Lukien again.
“We don’t even know there’s really a curse,” she reasoned. “We’ve never tested it.”
“Of course we’ve never tested it! If we did you’d die.”
“I don’t care,” snapped Cassandra. She leapt from the chair, wanting to tear the amulet from around her neck. Around her rose the walls of her splendid prison—beautiful, unyielding stone without a single window, without a single shaft of sunlight.
“Cass, don’t be mad,” said Jancis. “You can’t risk it.”
Cassandra closed her eyes, considering her choices.
To see Lukien again, or live forever as Akeela’s prisoner.
She made up her mind in an instant.
26
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