The Queen's Poisoner (The Kingfountain Series Book 1) (18 page)

Later, the two were huddled underneath blankets to dry off by the bread ovens and Jewel was regaling Liona and Drew with the tale of their exploits. Owen was colder now and shivered under the blanket, not wanting to run upstairs for a change of clothes from his limited wardrobe.

“That was fun,” the Mortimer girl said, wiggling her bare toes at the crackling flames. “I don’t regret it.”

Owen hugged his knees and tried to stop shivering. “You . . . you said your father . . . let you climb . . . waterfalls.”

She nodded eagerly. “The water up in the North is so much colder. At the bottom of the waterfall, the one called Mist Falls, there is a little pond. There’s a big rock at the edge of the trail and you can climb it and jump in. All the boys and girls from the valley do it.”

“You’ve done it?” he asked, impressed.

She nodded, her eyes wild with the memories. “It’s still a little scary, because the stone is so high. But I love the feeling I get in my stomach when I jump. Like I’m flying. I can’t wait to bring you there. My papa took me my first time. He held my hand and we jumped together. It makes it easier when you jump with someone else the first time. The water is
so
cold. It’s like ice, only wetter. You have to swim back to shore before you get too cold. Papa said you can lose your wits if you’re cold for too long. But after we climbed to Mist Falls, we would sit on the edge and eat some wild berries and throw the stems into the mist below. My mother never knew about it. She’s afraid of falling. But I’m not. It would get a little windy at times, but that just means you need to be more careful.”

“Did you ever jump off?” he asked.

The Mortimer girl looked at him as if he were the stupidest person in the world. “Of course not! Some villagers tried it, but they’ve all died. Some people break their arms or legs slipping down the trail. But just because you
can
get hurt, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t climb waterfalls. I’m so grateful someone had the courage to build that bridge. I’m sure it was dangerous work. But they did it, and now everyone can see what it’s like to stand on top of such a waterfall! It captures your heart, Owen.” She had a faraway look in her eyes, a brightness and eagerness that made him yearn to see it for himself. Then she looked at him and patted his knee. “When we go up North, I’ll take you up to Mist Falls. I’ll hold your hand as we jump off that rock, just as my papa did for me. After that . . . you won’t be afraid of anything.”

The warmth from the ovens made his cheeks burn, but he was still cold beneath the wet clothes. He could picture himself standing on a mountainside with the Mortimer girl next to him. The thought of jumping off a waterfall made his head buzz.

“Owen, guess what!” she whispered, leaning toward him. “I found it!”

“What?” He shook his head to clear it.

“I found where that wall leads from the castle! I saw it out a window. It leads to a small courtyard and there’s—”

“The cistern,” Owen interrupted, gazing at her.

Her eyes went wide. “You saw it?”

He nodded.

“I think I found the way in,” she said conspiratorially.

I’m beginning to wonder if the alliance I’ve struck with the queen’s poisoner will be fatal. Ratcliffe insists she invaded the king’s bedchamber last night shortly before midnight. That cannot be true because she was, in fact, with me at that time discussing the king’s enemies and which nobles are most likely to fall next. It’s my opinion it will be Lord Asilomar. The king has set up a trap to test his loyalty. He will fail. I’m wondering when mine will be tested. If Ratcliffe knew that I was working for her, I’d be thrown into the river.

—Dominic Mancini, Espion of the Palace Kitchen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Deep Cisterns

Owen and the Mortimer girl faced each other over a Wizr board in the library. Each move was painstakingly slow. Owen could have won several times already with the tricks he had learned from Ankarette, but the goal wasn’t to win the game. The goal was for Jewel to fall asleep. Owen had added some additional ingredients to her tea and the old woman was making a bold effort of fighting off the effects. She sat in a stuffed chair, and the needlework in her hands kept bobbing and dipping.

“I think she’s almost asleep,” Owen whispered, moving the next piece.

His companion gazed surreptitiously at the old woman in the chair. Jewel’s mouth had sagged open and her breath had begun to pull in and out in curt little gasps.

The Mortimer girl almost giggled as she looked back at Owen with her bewitching eyes that were part green, part blue, part gray. She wore a dark green velvet dress with cuffs that matched her hem. Her dark hair was swept back behind her.

“You were right,” she whispered in reply. “She normally doesn’t fall asleep like this when she’s watching us. But choosing a boring game like Wizr, and playing it so quietly . . . just look at her. Should we go?”

Owen nodded. They had several hours before the effects of the tea would wear off. The Mortimer girl grabbed his hand but paused to move one of the game pieces with her free hand. “Threat,” she said after the move, indicating a surprise attack he had not expected. Leave it to her to show talent at a complicated game she found boring. “Come on!” she said, tugging him to follow.

The two crept away from the library, their footfalls silenced by the thick carpet. As soon as they were past the doors, they broke into a run. Owen let her guide, as she knew the way. There was always a thrill to being naughty, and he could tell it was coursing through them both. There were servants all around, but everyone in the palace knew about Owen Satchel and the Mortimer girl, and there were only a few grunts and warnings not to get underfoot.

Their destination was a side corridor by the servants’ quarters. The level of dust on the floor showed it was not well traveled. A big, sturdy door met them at the end of the corridor. Owen had tried it before and found it locked, so he had never been back again.

The Mortimer girl grinned at him mischievously. “There is a window in the door. I dragged that basket over and stood on it, and that’s how I saw the secret place.”

“But the door is locked,” Owen said, yanking on the iron latch. It rattled but did not loosen.

“I know, but look over there. See the tapestry? Why would there be a tapestry in the middle of a hall that no one uses?”

Owen hadn’t noticed it before, and it did look a little strange. The tapestry was suspended from an iron pole fastened into the stone. The Mortimer girl winked and walked over to it, then pulled it aside. The tapestry concealed a curtained window.

“The curtain is thick enough to disguise the light,” she explained. “Look how dusty the window is too!”

Owen saw the window had a bar latch and he pulled on it. It was stuck. They exchanged a look and then gripped it together, wrestling with the bar latch. It was tight as a drum.

“I couldn’t do it myself,” she gasped. “But I thought . . . the two of us!”

Owen squinted and frowned, pulling even harder. The latch finally shifted and swung back, knocking them both to the floor. She landed on top of him and they had to stifle nervous giggles.

“It’s open!” she squealed excitedly. Rushing back to the tapestry, she pushed it aside and shoved at the glass. The window groaned open. “Help me up!” she said.

Owen grabbed her around the waist and helped her onto the windowsill.

“It’s covered in vines.” She scooted around and grabbed a fistful of vines and began lowering herself down.

“How far down is it?” Owen asked, his worry growing.

She let go of the vines and dropped down. Her face was still visible from the window. She beamed at him. “Not far! Come on!”

Owen listened for sounds of anyone approaching in the corridor, but heard nothing. He climbed up onto the windowsill on his own and scooted off and jumped. There was brickwork on the ground outside and the shade from the vines helped conceal him and the Mortimer girl. He reached back and slowly shut the window, making sure to leave it ajar so they could get back in.

There was ivy everywhere, smothering the wall. She had a leaf of it sticking to her hair as she peered at the walled-in courtyard.

There was the well hole in the middle.

“Come on,” she whispered, taking his hand and starting to creep forward. They both looked and listened for any warning sounds. Their boots scuffed on the bricks. Owen gazed up and saw Ankarette’s tower. If she was looking out the window, she would be able to see them. The sun was high overhead, making their shadows small at their feet.

“I love wicked ideas like this one!” she said with delight, searching around for any signs they’d get caught.

They approached the well hole. It went down like steps. There were runners and gutters that led to the eight points, and he could discern a slight slope in the bricks. This well made the water run down into it.

“So, this is the cistern?” Owen said. They reached the outer rim and stared down into the huge dark circle.

“That’s what my grandpapa said. It collects rainwater during the winter. It goes under the palace quite a ways. That’s why there’s no dungeon. The palace was built on a cistern!”

Owen had never heard that word before she had first said it to him. The black gaping hole was wide enough that they could have stood across it without being able to reach each other. But he intuitively understood the structure. “It doesn’t lead to a water spring, which makes sense since the palace is on a hill. It would be hard to carry water up from the river every day.”

“Exactly!” she said excitedly. “The cistern catches the water and holds it.” She stepped down into the first ring of stones, trying to pull him along, but he yanked his hand away.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his stomach twisting with fear.

“I want to look down!” She tried to take his hand again, but he stepped back. “Oh, come on, Owen! Let’s just look!”

He was curious but cautious. His brush with danger outside the king’s chamber had rattled him, and he wasn’t feeling very courageous.

“Hold on,” he said. He wanted to come down at his own pace. She shrugged and hurried to the edge so she could kneel down and stare into the abyss. Her eyes lit with wonder. “Look how
deep
it is!”

Owen frowned. There was no way he was going to let her enjoy it all by herself. He stiffened his lip and marched down to the edge. “Move over.”

She scooted to the side and their heads almost touched as they leaned in. He felt her hair brush against his. It made him feel . . . funny.

The cistern was half-empty. The waters rippled beneath them and he could see their own reflections warped on the placid surface. The chamber was deep, very deep. There were columns of stone and buttresses supporting it. There were numbers and little gashes carved into the column nearest the hole. The numbers meant how deep the water was and he could tell by the numbers at the top of the column that the cistern was just over half-full.

“There is a lot of water down there,” he announced.

The Mortimer girl brushed hair over her ear and gripped the edge of the cistern opening before lowering her head deep inside.

“Hello!” she called out, and her voice echoed. Owen thought she was insane.

“Why did you call out?” he demanded.

She pulled her head back up. “I wanted to see if there was anyone down there. Maybe there’s a water sprite!”

“Water sprites aren’t real,” Owen said stiffly.

“Yes, they are,” she contradicted.

“Have you ever seen one?”

“Just because I haven’t doesn’t mean they’re not real. Don’t be stupid, Owen. Of course they’re real. Papa said so. He said there is treasure under the deepest fathoms of the sea. Ancient swords that can’t rust. Magic rings. There’s another world there that we can’t see. The ocean is its own kingdom.” She looked him in the face, her eyes wide and sincere. “I’m not making up stories, Owen. It’s true. The people who drown are those who try to join the water sprites but fail. They fail because they’re afraid.” She gave him a determined look. “I’m not afraid.”

He looked at her, his stomach doing some twisting and turning. He admired her for her courage. Her fearlessness. And somehow, he knew what she was going to suggest before she announced it.

“Let’s jump in!”

Owen hastily rose and backed away. “That’s foolish!”

“No it’s not!” she laughed. “I’ve jumped from higher rocks into colder ponds than this. It’s fun!”

He could not believe his ears. “But how will you get out?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. The same way they get the water out. This is where the water comes in. I don’t see any chains or ropes, so there’s got to be another place where the water is drawn.”

“But you could drown!”

“I’m a very good swimmer. Can’t you swim, Owen?”

“I can
swim
,” he said, offended.

“Then jump with me!” she said, eyes blazing. She reached out her hand again.

His heart hammered violently in his chest, and his mouth went so dry with fear he felt he couldn’t talk. The fear crippled him, making his ears buzz and his knees weak. He could taste bile in his mouth. His eyes started to water.

The Mortimer girl watched him closely. Her excitement was still evident, but she seemed to sense what was happening to him. She walked around the drain hole and stood in front of him, nose to nose. Then she took his trembling hand in hers. “You’re afraid. I know. But you have to
trust
me, Owen Kiskaddon. The water is deep enough. We won’t get hurt. I don’t know everything that will happen, but we’ll find our way out. Let’s do it together! Jump with me. That’s how I did it the first time. With Papa holding my hand. It’s scary! It really is. But we’re going to have so much fun. Trust me, Owen! Trust me!”

He stared into her eyes, still unable to tell what color they were. He couldn’t speak. His tongue was too thick in his mouth. He was terrified out of his wits, but he didn’t want to disappoint her. For once, he wasn’t thinking of the risks or the odds of injury. There was just this moment, her warm hand in his, and his trust in her.

“We can do it!” she coaxed.

She led him back to the lip of the cistern. He stared down, and the water looked even farther down this time. It looked as if they were standing on Ankarette’s tower. He felt his stomach lurch. He was going to be sick.

She stood next to him, her hand linked with his.

“Are you ready?” she whispered.

Owen nodded violently, trying to swallow.

“Take a breath and hold it. On three.”

He felt as if his whole body would shake apart.

“One!”

This was madness. Why was he doing this?

“Two!”

He stared down at the water. He took a huge gulp of air and held it in his chest. He squeezed her hand as hard as he could, hoping it would hurt her.

“Three!”

They jumped.