Chimes at Midnight

“Is there really a challenge to the Queen’s throne?”


I pinched the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes. “Okay, Li, I would love to explain everything right now, but I honestly can’t, because I’m about to keel over from iron poisoning, as is Tybalt, as is the Crown Prince in the Mists. Please, please, can you just give me the number for the Library?”

“No,” said Li.

“What?!” I opened my eyes to find Tybalt staring at me, apparently startled by my outburst.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t—the Library doesn’t have a number in that sense. But I can have Mags call you.”

“Please,” I said, swallowing the urge to yell. “Now.” I hung up before Li Qin could ask any more questions. In my current mood, I would have started screaming, and that wouldn’t have done either of us any good. Losing my temper would be just one more complication.

Speaking of complications . . . I looked around the treasury, feeling the pit drop out of my stomach, and finally voiced something that had been nagging at the edges of my awareness since we escaped the dungeon. “Where’s Dianda?”

“There are two possibilities,” said Tybalt. “Either she is unaware of the guard’s duplicity and calmly awaiting our return, or she has been overpowered. No matter which it is, we will do her little good in our current condition.”

“I know, but—” My phone rang. I answered without hesitation. “Hello?”

“Toby?” This time the voice was less familiar, and had a British accent. I let out a relieved breath, taking a split second of comfort before snapping back to business.

“Mags, Tybalt and I are in the royal treasury. We’ve both been exposed to a lot of iron—I’m not sure how we’re still standing, but I don’t think it’s going to last much longer. Is there anything in here that we could use to treat the symptoms? Anything you’ve heard of the Queen confiscating, or that was traditionally in Gilad’s custody?”

Mags paused. “You know, I don’t usually get questions this interesting.”

“I’m thrilled to have made your day more fun, but my day is the opposite of fun. Please. What should I be looking for?” If she said “nothing,” that was it; we were done. The fuzziness was spreading, and we needed medical care if we wanted to avoid collapsing in the Queen’s knowe and missing the fight completely.

“Um . . . there should be a gray earthenware flagon somewhere in there. The current Queen confiscated it from the reigning monarchs of the Kingdom of Silences when she overthrew their government. There will be a cruet with it.”

“Hang on.” I lowered the phone, turning to Tybalt. “Look for a gray earthenware flagon, and something called a ‘cruet.’ What the hell’s a cruet?”

“A smaller pitcher, of a very specific design,” said Tybalt, already moving away from me, toward the shelves. “Ask if they match.”

I raised the phone. “Do they match?”

“Yes.”

“They match!” I called. Into the phone, I said, “What do we do once we find them?”

“Fill the flagon from the cruet,” she said. “It should be a thick green liquid. Drink it.”

“That’s always the answer when we’re talking about thick green liquids, isn’t it? Okay. We’ll get right on that. If Quentin asks, tell him we’re fine.”

“Will I be lying?” Mags asked dubiously.

“Right now, I don’t know. Open roads.” I hung up before she could ask any more questions, turning to scan the room. It was a mess in here, a disorganized jumble of stolen treasures and unique artifacts that hadn’t been well organized before we had a major fight in the middle of everything. There was a heap of what looked like old vases in one corner. I picked my way toward them, leaving bloody footprints behind me.