Page 32 of House of Dusk
“So surely he won’t wander the labyrinth long,” Penthea went on. “And maybe he’ll find love in his next life.”
It was all Sephre could do to nod. Thankfully Timeus came to her rescue, offering a proper invocation. “May the gods guide him. It sounds to me as if he found plenty of love in this life.”
Penthea nodded, actually smiled slightly. If nothing else, the visit seemed to have comforted her. But it hadn’t given Sephre any answers.
“Did you...that is, do you know the meaning of his tattoo?”
“Tattoo?” Penthea looked puzzled.
Sephre cleared her throat. “The inking he had, on his back.”
Penthea shook her head. “I had no idea. I’ve no notion where he could have gotten such a thing. I doubt he’s ever been more than ten miles from the village.” She frowned. “What was it?”
“A...star sign, we think.”
“Maybe it was a tribute to the soldier he loved,” offered Timeus. Sephre cut her eyes to him. The boy was either utterly naive, or far more clever than she’d given him credit for.
She plunged onward. “Was anything strange going on before he died?”
Penthea blinked. “Strange?”
Right. If there had been skotoi roaming about, someone would have raised an alarm long before this.
“There was a stranger in the village,” piped the little girl.
Penthea shushed her. “I’m sure that’s not what the sister means, Naida.”
“But she asked about anything strange,” Naida insisted. “A strangerisstrange.”
Sephre’s skin prickled. “Do you get many travelers here?”
“No,” said Penthea. “But it was probably just one of the merchants who come through every summer. Naida doesn’t remember them, that’s all.”
“No,” said the girl. “He wasn’t a merchant. He had a sword.”
“A sword?”
“He was very handsome, too, even though he didn’t have any hair. I think maybe he was a hero in disguise, like in the shiny pig story.”
“You mean Breseus and the Golden Boar?” asked Timeus, doubtfully.
Naida nodded. “You didn’t see him, Mum, because you were busy at the dye pots. But hewasa stranger, because he didn’t even know how to get to Kessely. I told him,” she continued, puffing up with pride, “and he gave me a gold coin to thank me!”
Penthea started. “A gold coin? Where is it?”
Naida hesitated, perhaps realizing she ought to have kept that part of the tale to herself. But she dug into one pocket, producing a small, glimmering disk.
Penthea murmured a prayer. Sephre leaned forward, squinting at the coin. “May I see that, Naida? I’ll give it back,” she added quickly.
The girl allowed her to take it, though her eyes remained fixed on the coin as Sephre turned it in her fingers.
It was old. The olive boughs marked it as Helissoni, but she didn’t recognize the profile stamped into the metal. And no wonder. Helissoni history was crammed full of monarchs. Blood inheritance was rare. There were always plenty of claimants naming themselves this or that great hero reborn.
Some only ruled for a few months. Or, in the case of one very unlucky queen, nine days. Most of them had currency minted in their honor. Sephre turned the coin over. Her fingers froze.
The opposite side was stamped with another image. A ring. A serpent biting its own tail.
She offered the coin back to Naida. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Naida, do you remember what color the man’s eyes were?”
