to be a deadly assassin…”
The girl sucked hard on her cigarillo, breathed a gray curse.
“… jessamine is the obvious acolyte to blame. not necessarily the correct one…”
“Who else, then?”
“… who is the third most skilled novice in venomcraft…?”
“… Probably Hush? But Osrik and Marcellus are up there too.”
“… and any of them are capable of the stealth required to have done this…”
Mia drew on her smoke, thoughts racing in her head. Jessamine had to go. But if she or Diamo were to simply end up dead, the Ministry would immediately suspect her. And all that was irrelevant at any rate. No sense in pondering Jessamine and Diamo until she knew what the judgment over Carlotta would be. Her stack of problems would shorten considerably if the Ministry just cut her throat …
Instead of simply stewing, Mia set back to work on Spiderkiller’s formula. Hunched on the ruin of her bed, scribbling thoughts in her leather-bound notebook. Hours passed in the gloom, Mister Kindly offering what little help he could. The puzzle took her mind off the Ministry, the possibility that all her well-laid plans might come crashing down in a few hours’ time. What would Mercurio say if all this went to pieces?
Focus on what you can change, he’d counsel. The rest will sort itself.
Mia sighed.
One way or the other.
A knock on her door hours later pulled Mia up from the arkemical dance in her head, back into the dim light. She’d unwittingly chain-smoked her way through half her remaining cigarillos, the cup beside her bed piled high with ash. Her throat felt raw, her head swimming. She crushed what was left of her smoke out, grimacing.
“Maw’s teeth, I’ve got to cut down.”
“… there are more dangerous things around here to put in your mouth…”
Mister Kindly peered at her through the gray pall.
“… dweymeri boys, for example…”
“O, bravo. Been working on that one for a while, have we?”
“… most of yestereve…”
“Time well spent, then.”
“… there are more dangerous ways i could—”
“All right, all right. Enough. The last thing I need to hear before my execution is you criticizing my choice in penises.”
“… ridiculous things, all. if ever proof was needed of your creator’s malevolence, look no further than between the legs of the average teenaged boy…”
Knock, knock, knock.
“Acolyte. You are summoned to the Hall of Eulogies.”
Mia rose from her bed. No fear in her belly. Heartbeat steady. She hid a dozen blades about her person, determined that she’d go down fighting if it came to her end. Wondering what awaited her beneath the statue’s gaze.
Six Hands waited outside her bedroom door, hoods drawn over their eyes. Shahiid Mouser stood beside them, his blacksteel blade in his belt. The man’s familiar silverware smile was nowhere to be seen.
“Shahiid,” Mia nodded.
“Come with us, Acolyte.”
Mia was led down the corridor toward the Hall of Eulogies. She could feel Mister Kindly in her shadow, drinking her fear fast as he was able. Still, it was beginning to seep through now. Sweat on her palms. Lightness in her belly. She’d not die on her knees like some sniveling child. But she’d worked so hard. Come so far. To stumble and fall at the eleventh hour over something like this?
The darkness swelled around her, pressing in on all sides. Responding to her rising anger. Her budding anxiety. It was hers to command, if she wished it. If only she had the will to reach out and seize it. She’d done it before. Not so long ago. Fourteen years old. Walls of stone. Screams in the air. Blood on her hands.
Don’t look.
The Ministry were assembled beneath Niah’s granite gaze. The acolytes also. One fewer than there’d been the last time they gathered here. Tric was looking at her, agony on his face. She shook her head and pressed her lips shut. Silently warning him to do the same.
Stained-glass light spilled over the floor, bloody red and ghostly white, the choir singing in the background. Mia was ushered to an empty place before the Ministry. The faces of the assembled Shahiid were grim, the Revered Mother’s darkest of all.
“Acolyte Mia. The Ministry has consulted extensively over Acolyte Carlotta’s death. Though conclusive proof of your guilt is lacking, the blood found in your room and the hand favored by the killer cannot be ignored. Moreover, your motive is irrefutable. With Acolyte Carlotta dead, you stand best placed to finish top of Spiderkiller’s hall. Aside from the words already spoken this morning, do you have anything to add in your