Page 64 of The Lost Reliquary
The man removes the pipe from his mouth, a blank expression on his face as he considers. He’s heavyset, with sleepy eyes and a coppery-brown complexion. Finally, he nods. “How many?”
Tychus’s expression sours. “I’d recommend—”
“Two.” I step forward. “Well, four. Two humans, two horses.”
“The Petrel has clean beds and stables both,” the man promises, also ignoring Tychus. “M’name’s Hiram. Need anything, you ask me.”
“If I may interject,” says Tychus, appearing as if he just stepped in horse shit, “I truly think your tastes might be better served by—”
“This will do.” Nolan oozes gratefulness, though. “Thank you so much for taking the time to guide us into the city. Your help has been invaluable.”
Unable to protest further without added suspicion, Tychus can only nod. “I hope your business in Cyprene goes smoothly.”
“And the same to you.” Nolan smiles. “May the Flame warm you.”
Tychus doesn’t return the blessing.
Hiram, the innkeeper, eyes him as he departs, but with no more curiosity than someone watching a duck float by on a river. Then, he turns to us. “One room or two?”
“Two,” we say in unison.
Twenty-eight
Divinity cannot die. It can be weakened, it can be worn down to its nadir and kept there, but it cannot be killed. The storm rages. The blight remains. The tide bears its terrible spoils. And faith, if it persists, will one day be rewarded with their return.
—EXCERPT FROM CONFISCATED HERETICAL TRACTS
SOON,MORTIMER ANDBUTTONSare set up in a dry, cozy stable, and I’m in a dry, cozy little room nestled in the eaves of the guesthouse. It’s on the small side, but there’s a convenient stair that leads directly to Nolan’s room below. I utilize this immediately, tapping sharply on the door until he throws it open, looking vaguely annoyed. Undeterred, I push past him into the room.Rooms.Probably not as grand (or as expensive) as wherever Tychus had in mind for us, but there’s a charming sitting area, adjacent bedroom, and, best of all, a private bathroom.
“You have a tub?” I jump into the empty porcelain basin. “I’m using this.”
“Good,” Nolan calls. “You smell like you’ve been on a ship for a week.”
“I smell like I’ve been marinating in the scent of your puke for a week.” I abandon the tub and return to the sitting room. “Are those lemon slices in your water pitcher? I barely got a clean blanket. Next timeIget to play the rich merchant.”
His expression hardens. He’s got the letter I found on the Renderer out, apparently in the process of examining it again. “This isn’t a game.”
“I know that.”
“Then act like it.”
And here I thought his mood would improve being back on land. Silly me. “At least we know we’re in the right place.”
“That doesn’t help us narrow down where to look for the heretics.” He plunks himself down into an overstuffed chair and peers at the signature. “Are these letters in an alphabet? Glyphs that represent words or some instruction? For all we know, what these symbols mean drawn on the wall and in the context of that letter are two entirely different things.”
It’s true. “Well, it’s clear they’ve been around since Jogue’s time, so they must be familiar. We could just, y’know,asksomeone.”
“Without knowing what it says? Or what that reveals about us?”
“Fine.” I snatch the letter away. “We’ll figure it out on our own. But it’s too late to start searching the city, or for your attitude. So, I vote for dinner.” Nolan’s mouth thins. “Oh, sorry, is your tummy still feeling icky?”
He doesn’t move from the chair. “Have something sent up.”
I want to protest—the common room downstairs seemed a lot more interesting than being stuck up here alone with Nolan—but the sour set of his demeanor keeps my mouth shut. Instead, I stomp downstairs, find Hiram behind the bar, and repress the urge to see if he has any jellied eel or fermented fish for my dear employer. “What’s on the menu today?”
Hiram stops drying the mug he’s holding and thinks, as if more than one task at a time is too much. He doesn’t strike me as the swiftest sort, but there’s a thoughtfulness to his countenance that tells me he’s no fool either. “I’ve got stew now or roast chicken in a little while.”
“We’ll take both, upstairs. And wine.”
