Page 49 of The Silver Spider
“Where you going, Auntie Sere?”
Serephone halted, startled by the name. Only her sisters and mother called her Sere. To hear it here, and on the lips of a girl, who was her niece.…
“I’m hunting a dragon,” she said.
She’d begun her search outside the building, searching for hidden or discreet entrances. They hadn’t brought him through the front door—a tall, delicate vase and a painting on the wall still hung, untouched. The floors unscratched by claws or a scuffle. Surely there would have been some signs. And besides, bringing a prisoner in through the front door was uncouth. She just couldn’t imagine Dawnthorne according an intruder that kind of respect. They would have taken him through a different entrance, most likely as close to where he was now being held as possible.
The little girl skipped closer, two braids over her shoulders, a sly smile on her face. “I know all the secret spots. I’m the youngest here. No one can catch me if I don’t want to be caught.”
This girl would be a terror when she was older.
“I’m on a scavenger hunt for doors,” Sere said, casual. “I wanted to count all the doors to the house, even the ones that are secret.”
Iona watched her, eyes knowing. “You want to find the dragon man.”
Serephone smiled, widening her eyes. “I love to play hide and seek. Where do you think he’s hiding?”
“I could find out. Thorny would be maaaad.”
Serephone stifled a sigh. Thorny would, indeed, be mad. And she couldn’t subject a child to possible danger if, as Iona’s mother said, there was a special surprise awaiting Serephone’s attempt to rescue the ‘dragon man.’
“I don’t want Thorny mad at you,” she said. “Can you draw me a map in the dirt?”
Iona frowned. “I want to come, too.”
“Your mother would kill me.”
“That’s right. She would. Okay.”
Iona ran along the path until she found a garden bed she liked, then crouched down, sticking her fingertip in the moist earth. Serephone glanced around, kneeling next to the girl as she began gathering bits of stone and leaves, using her finger to create a crude map. She’d gathered the stone and leaves without touching them. Serephone stared.
“All the stones are doors. The leaves are where Thorny has babysitters.” Iona scowled.
“Babysitters?”
“Men with sticks that keep girls out of places they don’t belong.”
It sounded like Iona was mimicking someone—Serephone wondered if it was Thorny.
“Guards, you mean. Good. That’s good information, Iona. You’re good at this game.”
Her conscience pricked her, just a bit, but she had a sneaky feeling the girl knew exactly what she was doing. Serephone remembered being that age. She remembered Cinvarra being that age. And Cinvarra had been far from stupid, or naive. Their mother hadn’t wanted them raised innocent, just protected.
“When you find the dragon man will he let me pet him?” Iona asked, standing and wiping her hands on her dress.
“I don’t think that’s likely. But we’ll think of some kind of reward. Dragons hoard treasure, don’t they?”
Iona nodded, satisfied. “I like treasure. The more sparkly, the better.”
* * *
Serephone sentIona on her way and spent another two minutes studying the map, committing the markers to memory, trying to visualize the translation between a child’s interpretation of distance and landmarks and reality. From the map she estimated there were several entrances; the front door, a kitchen side door for staff and deliveries, another side entrance that led to private gardens and a fourth entrance Iona had dubbed the hidden entrance. She’d drawn a square a distance from the main house.
Serephone followed the mental map, strolling, pausing now and then to examine some piece of intricate architecture or a bit of the landscaping, playing her part as the curious house guest giving herself a tour. She circled the house—a mansion, really, and as she looked up, counting windows, she estimated at least eight bedrooms. And those were just the rooms with windows facing the outside.
Circling farther and farther outside the perimeter of the main house, it became obvious once she’d turned a corner and began strolling down a walking path perpendicular to the main driveway leading from the front gate, that Iona’s square represented a small stone house sitting quaintly in the middle of the formal gardens. The kind of thing a guest might mistake for a storage shed for gardening tools.
A fountain nearby gave Serephone an excuse to sit, trailing her fingers in the water as she looked around, enthusiastic interest on her face. She had to take care not to overdo it, though. She wasn’t enthusiastic about anything by nature, and certainly in this circumstance looking too pleased by her present circumstances would raise suspicions. She didn’t think for one moment that she wasn’t being watched, even if haphazardly. Dawnthorne would assume, either from his own arrogance or mistaken conclusion of her loyalty towards Amnan that she would not try to escape. Or maybe the strength of his wards around the home assured him she could not escape, so watching her was unnecessary. After all, what harm could a mostly human spawn do?
