“For Christine. Louis-Cesare has been looking for her for a century; he has some strange obsession with the woman. I thought if she was under my control, I would hold him. I went there to strike a bargain with Elyas. I would protect him from any retribution from Alejandro, but I wanted the girl.”
“But you didn’t get her,” I said as I started staggering back toward the arena. I just hoped like hell that the stairs were still there.
“No, thank the gods!”
“What happened?”
“I arrived to see Elyas and was told he’d retired to his study. I went along and knocked, but there was no answer. I went in and found him, trussed up like a Christmas goose.”
“Why didn’t you do something? You could have saved him—”
“I could have done nothing of the kind. I’d seen this trick a time or two, and one look was enough. The wax was already soft. Removing the blade would have dislodged it and merely killed him sooner.”
“You could have tried to heal him, then.”
He made an exasperated sound. “That sort of thing may run in your line, but mine isn’t so gifted! And even had it been, it is doubtful I could have helped him. You saw his throat—it wasn’t slit; it was bisected. He was seconds away from death, and there was nothing to be done about it.”
“So that’s what you did? Nothing?”
“I attempted to question him, to find out who was responsible, but he was groggy. I couldn’t get anything useful out of the man and was about to summon his second when Louis-Cesare showed up.”
“The study was soundproofed,” I pointed out. “You couldn’t have heard him.”
“The charm doesn’t work when the door isn’t fully closed, and in my surprise, I hadn’t bothered to pull it shut.”
I tried to think back, and it seemed to me that he was telling the truth—about that much, anyway. The study door had been partly open when I arrived, sending a wedge of light out into the hall. That was how I’d known where to go.
“I heard the servant conducting him down the corridor,” Anthony continued. “And . . . an idea presented itself.”
“You left him there, knowing he would die and that Louis-Cesare would be blamed.”
“And that I would get him off. He was never in any danger, other than to his pride. Which could stand a prick or two, I might say.”
“You planned to force him to remain under your control, practically as a slave!”
Anthony sighed wistfully. “It was perfect. I should have known; the Fates have always hated me.”
I stopped because we’d reached the door to the arena, or at least I assumed it was behind there somewhere. A massive fall of dirt, bricks and rock blocked the way. The whole damn thing might have caved in, or it could be a localized fall caused by a weak spot in the tunnel. And there was only one way to tell.
I swore under my breath, letting the flashlight play over the rough ceiling, or as much of it as I could see through the hanging cloud of dust. I could see where the old bricks had given way, letting through a ton of dirt and a cascade of long white roots. In the flickering light, they looked almost like grasping fingers, reaching out—
Okay, yeah. Enough of that. I’d been down here a little too long, listening to Anthony’s ravings. I needed to get us both out of here, although it wasn’t looking promising. The only way through the fall, assuming there was one, was going to be at the very top. I had a sudden vision of myself having to shimmy through on my back, the rock inches from my nose, another cave-in just waiting to happen . . .
Have I mentioned that I really, really hate little dark places?
But there wasn’t much choice in this case. I tucked the flashlight in my belt to leave both hands free. “I’m going to check it out,” I told Anthony. “Stay here.”
“As opposed to?” he asked wryly.
“I’ll be right back,” I promised. I wasn’t sure who I was reassuring: him or me. From Anthony’s expression, I think he figured that out, but he didn’t say anything. I started to climb.
It was about as fun as I’d expected. It was pitch-dark except for the bouncing beam of the flashlight, which never seemed to be pointed where I needed it to be. And even when it was, it mostly highlighted the choking dust cloud, which wasn’t helping me see or breathe. I misjudged the distance and cracked my head on the rough ceiling, and then my foot fell through a gap in the loose earth, causing a mini-avalanche.
My feet managed to find purchase at the last second on a section of brick that had all come down in a piece. I held on, hiding my face in my jacket and trying not to breathe as a few hundred pounds of dirt flowed over me. It finally stopped, and I looked up, blinking dirt and dust out of my eyes.