Page 75 of Embrace the Serpent

Though the palace was open to the elements, a heaviness fell upon me as we crossed the threshold. A moaning wind came to greet us, and a chattering rose in its wake, dried leaves, shattered pottery, delicate ornaments, the debris little critters had brought in, all of it bidding us welcome.

An echo came from the grand hall, a phantom whisper of laughter and music. A song I could almost remember—

Rane’s breath caught.

“Don’t worry,” I whispered to him. To the horse, I said, “You can put us down.”

It tossed its head:No. And then for good measure, it glanced back at me with a rude look that said:You fool.

It took the stairs by fives—I gripped Rane tighter as we tilted—and then trotted confidently down a hallway. Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the roof, illuminating patches of vibrant green moss and wildflowers that grew like a patchy carpet over marbled floors. White and cream marble, with accents of smoky pale blue—sea glass, maybe—and I had barely finished the thought that green would complement it well, when we turned a corner and new accents of pale green showed through the patches of moss.

At the end of the hallway, the horse nudged open a door.

A large bed, with tatters of silk hanging from the canopy. A line of dolls sat on the dresser. The colors were faded, muted, like a half-remembered dream.

The roof had stubbornly hung on in this corner of the palace, protecting this room from the vines and the salt air.

The horse shifted under me, and I held on as it lowered itself to a kneeling position before the bed. Grimney thumped down first. I slid off, catching Rane as he toppled sideways, and lowered him slowly onto the bed. His arm fell with a thump and a cloud of dust billowed up. I sneezed. Oh. The mutedness of the colors—it was because a thick layer of dust covered everything.

The coverlets were moth-eaten and molding, and I rolled them aside, cajoling Rane to shift over to the relatively cleaner sheets. Rane put up little fight and collapsed obligingly.

“I’m perfectly all right,” Rane slurred.

I snorted. Behind me came several thumps, like a little stonegolem was walking away. “Grims!” I called, but he kept going, and the horse followed him.

Rane’s eyelids fluttered and squeezed shut.

“Okay,” I said, “I can do this.”

I grabbed the dagger from his belt and cut off his jacket, and then his shirt. The wound in his side, where the first arrow had gotten him, was leaking a thin stream of blood, but it was already closing up.

The half an arrow sticking out of his chest was the bigger problem. Faintly, around the wound, Rane’s skin had become pale and silvery. My fingers hovered. It didn’t look like the arrow was causing it.

I needed supplies.

Kitchens and useful places were usually on the first floor, and that was where I headed. There were untouched candles covered in dust and flint beside them, and with light, my task became easier. The kitchens were bare, and the pantry was covered in the sludge of what may have once been food. At last, I found a windowless room lined with wooden shelves, where the twiggy fossils of plants hung from the ceiling, and a large countertop was covered with labeled clay pots and a series of mortars and pestles. Perhaps the lords of this place had once had an apothecarist.

The pastes and plants were too old to be of use, but in one of the drawers I found sheets of bandages. I also grabbed a small round pot, and a flint and some of the dried herbs to use as kindling.

In the courtyard, there was a waterspout and a small pump beside it, carved to look like horses with fish tails. The handle groaned and wouldn’t give, not until I gave it a good kick. Something shifted, and when I put my whole weight on it, it gave. It screeched and sludgepoured out, dark and murky. I worked the pump until clear water poured onto the flagstones, and only then did I fill the pot. The water smelled mildly briny, but there was no trace of rot.

Back in Rane’s room, I built a fire in the fireplace, and hung the pot over it.

As the water heated, I unwrapped the peri tablecloth and had it set itself. It was our only source of food, even if I did have to scoop out each tiny morsel that materialized, until I’d gathered enough for four ordinary-sized mouthfuls.

Small bubbles rose in the water. When it came to a roiling boil, I took the pot off the fire.

A thump came at the door. Grimney held handful of herbs.

“What are these?”

“Prrdys,” he said.They’ll help stop the blood.

“How do you know that?”

“Frrdyn zzrd lyd.”

“You’re not older than me,” I said. “I made you seven years ago.”

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