Mist Rising by Eve Langlais

Chapter Forty-One

Once Jannae left,the Soraers were free to talk.

“I can’t believe we’re inside the Citadel,” Hiix muttered, wandering the room with its massive bed covered in a soft, plush blanket. There were even pillows!

“Inside but not exactly free to roam around by the sounds of it,” Agathe complained.

“Give it time. We just got here. Do you really think the library is as big as they said?” Venna clasped her hands and rocked on her heels, humming with excitement.

“I don’t see why they’d lie. But don’t get your hopes up too high. Apparently, the King’s scholars have been looking and haven’t found anything.” Agathe didn’t want them to have false hope.

“Doesn’t mean we give up. Sometimes, all it takes is a different perspective.” Venna’s optimism was almost too much to take.

Hiix burst it. “Do you really think you, an outsider, will find a clue no one else has?”

“I will if the Goddess guides me.” Venna remained resolute in her belief. To her, the Goddess could do no wrong. As a woman who enjoyed the company of other women, she didn’t fare well outside the Abbae. Finding like-minded individuals was hard in a world where the sexes had predefined roles and women were too cowed to question them—and afraid to explore feelings that didn’t conform.

“What’s the plan?” Hiix asked Agathe.

She shrugged. “We look for something that can help us against the mist.”

“What about your other plan?” Hiix hinted.

Venna pursed her lips. “She’s obviously not going to do anything rash. Agathe knows she needs to do some research and find out more about what’s going on.”

“Backing down now when I might never get a better chance?” Only while within the Citadel could she possibly get a chance to strike and succeed.

“Just saying you should keep an open mind. Find out more. Because once the King is gone, there’s no going back.”

Agathe wanted to say that nothing would change her mind, and yet, even she wasn’t that petty in her desire for revenge. “It’s not like they’ll let me near him anytime soon. While I wait for the right moment, I promise to find out more about what he’s been doing with the magic he’s been stealing.”

Because he’d almost definitely used some to save them in that attack. What else did he use it for? Because it obviously wasn’t to keep those within the Citadel young. The way she felt some mornings, she wished she still had access to it.

“Food!” Venna exclaimed, having discovered a tray with a dome that, when removed, showed plates with fresh fruit and baked goods. A carafe of fresh water tasted divine after a journey where they sucked stale fluid from leather canteens.

As if they were watched—and hopefully not listened to—the moment they finished their meal and ablutions, a knock came at the door.

An unknown soldier stood there in his silver armor. “I’m to take you to the library.”

That was the only thing he said no matter how many questions they tossed at him.

What’s your name? How long have you worked here? Why are there so many closed doors? Many with locks. It was as if the entire Citadel were partitioned, with each major entrance to an area guarded by at least one or more soldiers.

The library was several floors lower and a good, brisk walk from their rooms. The silver guards on duty didn’t turn their helmets as their guide opened the reinforced door.

Unlike some of the blander halls they’d traveled, the library had an antechamber with a dry fountain in the middle. Surrounding that space were several arches.

The guard pointed to each one in turn. “Library. Art. Relics.”

“What’s the fourth one?” Agathe asked, noticing he’d ignored it.

“Conservatory.”

“Like a garden?” Hiix asked with interest.

“Used to be. It’s dead now.” The most the guard had said since he’d fetched them. “When done, return to the entrance and someone will escort you back to your rooms.”

“No need to bother. I’m sure you soldiers have more important things to do. We can find our rooms on our own,” Agathe offered breezily.

The soldier eyed her and let his expression detail his thoughts on her offer before he turned on his heel and left them.

“Isn’t he just a lovely lad?” Hiix muttered.

Venna, on the other hand, didn’t care. She’d already aimed for the library, where they joined her at a more leisurely pace. They met Herral, the man in charge of it, and a good thing they had his help, as it turned out to be grander than expected.

Floor-to-ceiling bookcases rose more than one level. The middle of the room held a few long tables and chairs, most of them being used by scholars, their heads bent over books. Interestingly enough, it wasn’t only men studying.

Seeing the amount of material, a spark of hope lit inside Agathe. Perhaps something had been missed.

“Oh my, this is exciting.” Venna practically had vapors as she chattered to Herral about where to start.

Hiix snorted. “I don’t know about you, but I’m more interested in the art. Pictures are worth more to me than words.” Hiix didn’t like to admit that her reading skills were limited.

Agathe could decipher many texts but found herself too restless to sit and browse. She followed Hiix to the gallery where the art proved fanciful in nature. Many of the paintings with their vivid depictions reminded her of the map she’d seen in that old room in the catacombs under the Abbae. Vistas that didn’t resemble the King’s Valley at all. Bodies of water with massive sailing ships, so big people appeared as mere specks riding in them. The lakes could never hold anything that size.

The strangest ones, though, were of a lush land with massive, jutting monoliths so tall they pierced the clouds in the sky. As if an artist had reversed the Abyss with the King’s Valley. Quite the imagination.

There were no pictures of people. Not a single one. But there were a few sculptures of fanciful creatures she’d never before seen nor imagined, such as the horse with a horn on its head and another rather corpulent creature with a long snout and big, floppy ears.

While Hiix perused the art more closely, Agathe wandered next door to the relic room that mostly contained fancy cups and jewelry. It even had a massive mirror with an ornate frame. Its opaque surface reminded her of the broken one Belle had found at the Abbae. Agathe reached out fingers but hesitated. She withdrew them without touching.

The next exhibit was a ring and a matching necklace set with dull stones. Boring. Most of the items were useless, more ornate than practical. She exited the room and eyed the library with all the books.

She really should be helping, but curiosity drew her to explore the final room, the conservatory, which held no live plants or illuminated lamps as promised. It didn’t stop her from stepping inside, the light from the atrium enough to make her away around without running into anything.

At the far end, against the wall, she discovered another dry fountain faced by a stone bench. A good spot to sit and stare at the statue in the middle of the empty basin. An actual statue of a person. It reminded her of the Goddess in some respects, as it had a commanding air, a sword in one hand and a skull in the other. Modeled after who? Agathe wondered. Certainly not the King.

The style reminded her of the only statue of the Goddess she’d ever seen, a part of a stone garden in the Eighth. She’d held a similar pose but with a broken arm and a chipped robe.

As Agathe stared at the stony visage, she couldn’t help but think something was off about it. Standing, she stepped into the basin and ran her fingers over the stone. Smooth. Cold. The craftsmanship was incredible.

Did it hide something? She put her hands on the surface and blacked out.