Bone Palace, The - Amanda Downum Page 0,77
again. The glow lined the angles of stone stairs and brushed a low curving ceiling. “Shall we?” he asked.
Savedra caught herself touching the pocket that held the striga coin; she swept her hand in a gesture of invitation instead. “Lead on.”
Tight spaces had never bothered her, unlike heights, but the chill closeness of the stairway was still oppressive. Her shoulders brushed the sides and she was glad she wasn’t any taller; Iancu stooped like a hunchback.
The panel at the top of the stairs took a moment of fumbling with, but finally opened to a thin wash of daylight. She hadn’t realized she’d been hoping till her hopes died—the room was a skeleton, bookshelves and tables picked clean. The old woman had mentioned a workroom, and she supposed this might have been that. But no sign of any sorcery remained now, nor any clues.
This room had the largest window in the castle, a paired casement that swung inward with a screech when Savedra tugged at the latch. Ice stung her face, falling harder now. A rusting balcony lined the outside ledge—nothing that would save anyone from a fall, but wide enough to become yet another home for birds. That was all that Carnavas was home to, it seemed—birds and rats and cats, and if Varis had come here maybe that was all he’d found as well.
A crimson glitter caught her eye amid the filth and feathers that clung to the railing. She stooped, grimacing as she flicked aside debris to retrieve something that gleamed red and gold.
She stumbled back at a raucous croak. The giant raven from the tower—or another just as big—wheeled past, so close she smelled the musk of his feathers. She retreated quickly, shoving the window shut behind her.
“Are all the birds in Sarkany that big?”
She asked it lightly, but Iancu frowned. “No,” he said. “And I don’t like the look of these.”
A sharp crack made them all jump. A black shape vanished from the other side of the window as Savedra looked up. The raven. Another shadow wheeled past, and another. Talons struck the glass again.
“Perhaps we’ve outstayed our welcome.” Iancu said, urging them back into the passage. As the panel swung shut behind them, they heard the sharp whine of splintering glass.
“Definitely time to go,” Ashlin said, taking Savedra’s arm for the long step back into the library.
Too late. The library windows burst inward with a howl of wind. Savedra threw up her arm to ward off splinters; it saved her life as a giant raven struck her.
Talons closed on her forearm and she screamed. She’d felt the force of a falcon landing on a glove—this was worse. She stumbled and fell to one knee, her other hand rising against the blinding storm of air and feathers. Someone else cried out. Steel sang. She scrambled back, groped for a weapon and found a book. Leather and parchment blocked the striking beak that meant to take her eyes. She couldn’t reach her knife.
Bone and feathers crunched. Blood sprayed hot across her face and hands and the buffeting weight was gone. The bitter gamey taste of it filled her mouth as she sucked in a breath.
Ashlin stood over her, sword drawn and bloody, equally splattered with red. Her eyes were black and wild. “Out, out!” Savedra read the shape of the words on her lips—she couldn’t hear over the roar of wind and her own heart.
As she scrambled up she glimpsed the fallen bird, cleaved nearly in half by Ashlin’s blade, and another across the room that Cahal must have slain. Curtains billowed in the draft, and ash thickened the air. Beyond the splintered glass teeth in the window frame, more winged shadows circled. Her boots skidded in moisture as she ran; she didn’t know whose blood it was.
She felt the door slam shut behind them. After the brightness of sky the dim hall blinded her. When her vision adjusted she saw Cahal and Iancu leaning against the door. Both men were tousled and grime-streaked but seemed unharmed.
“Are you all right?”
Savedra hadn’t realized she’d fallen to her knees until Ashlin crouched beside her. She looked down, and regretted it as pain followed her glance. Her right sleeve was shredded and quickly soaking with blood. Her left hand was merely scratched, but stung like a fiercer wound.
“Shit.” Ashlin glanced down the length of the hall and swore again. “Everything here is filthy.”
“Here.” Iancu stripped off his coat, baring clean linen beneath. With a slit of his dagger and three