The Ippos King (Wraith Kings #3) - Grace Draven Page 0,17
her at her host’s carelessness, but all she did was bend to gather and pocket her winnings. “Any idea what room it’s in?”
“Still in the kitchen.” He gave a brief nod to the soldiers who’d risen as well and motioned for them to stay where they were. “The maids are standing on the tables, and the cook is stabbing at anything that moves. What’s the best way to catch Brishen’s fine gift?”
As tall as she was, Anhuset had a much easier time matching his pace than Bryzant did as they headed back to the fortress. “Use yourself as bait. I’ll do it. I’ve done it before. It’s easy enough if you’re quick.”
That sounded ominous, and Serovek wanted to ask her what she planned to do and how often scarpatines terrorized the kitchen staff at Saggara, but they reached the scene of mayhem before he had a chance.
The kitchen was in an even worse state than when he left it only moments earlier, and Bryzant had joined the maids perched on the preparation table, his weapon of choice, a rolling pin.
At Anhuset’s sharp whistle, everyone froze. All gazes settled on her as she held up a slender finger tipped with a sharp black claw. Her eyes shone like gold coins. “Stay still and quiet,” she said. “Otherwise I won’t be able to hear the scarpatine.”
No one argued, and all watched with wide eyes and bated breath as Anhuset pulled a knife from a sheath on her belt and made a shallow cut on the underside of her forearm. Blood trickled from the wound to splatter on the floor in crimson drops. She walked a few steps in one direction, leaving the sanguine equivalent of breadcrumbs in her wake. The silence in the kitchen breathed even when the occupants did not.
Her patience and bloodletting were rewarded when a scrabbling, clicking noise rose from under the shelter of a corner cupboard. A pair of black pincers emerged first, their ends snapping together. The scarpatine inched forward, revealing the rest of its armored body, including a tail that arched over its length, venom dripping from the tip to drizzle down the segmented carapace. Its back legs were longer than the front to accommodate a pair of venom sacs the size of hen’s eggs. Five pairs of eyes on short stalks swiveled in multiple directions before locking onto the drip trail of blood Anhuset had left on the floor.
A mass shudder swept the crowd. Even Serovek, who thoroughly enjoyed the Kai delicacy that was scarpatine pie, swallowed back a knot of revulsion when the insect’s proboscis emerged from a space between its jaws to suck up the blood.
Anhuset spared a glance for the cook who stood nearby. “Hand me your apron very slowly,” she said in a quiet voice. At his uncomprehending stare, her tone sharpened. “Now.”
Serovek tensed when the man did as she ordered, but in quick, jerky motions. The movement alarmed the scarpatine, which whipped around with a hiss to face this new threat and leaped at the cook.
Once more, pandemonium erupted as people not already standing on the furniture, leaped to any elevated space they could reach. A few tried to escape the kitchen altogether, only to find themselves facing Serovek’s daunting form blocking the door. His glare dared them to try and shove past. There was no way he’d open the door and chance the scarpatine escaping into another part of the citadel. They’d never find and capture it.
The creature was fast, but Anhuset was faster. She darted after the scarpatine, leaping over upended chairs and broken crockery while eluding the flailing elbows of terrified scullions.
A pounding on the kitchen door vibrated the wood against Serovek’s back. Voices called from the other side, inquiring, demanding entrance. “Margrave, what’s happening?”
Serovek held the door shut and narrowed his eyes in warning as three of the younger scullions—lads no more than twelve or thirteen—considered their chances at going through him to get out of the kitchen. Their fear of the scarpatine was fast overriding their deference to their liege. “All is well,” he bellowed over his shoulder to Carov on the other side. “Just give us a few moments.”
Anhuset had cornered the scarpatine not far from the hearth. Its tail struck at her, flinging droplets of black venom to sizzle on the floor planks. She danced out of the way, avoiding most of the splatter. The droplets that landed scorched the leather of her boots, leaving behind an acrid scent and tendrils of oily