The nobility called Skyline Palace “the Jewel of Adro.” It rested on a high hill east of Adopest so that the sun rose above it every morning. Adamat uttered a quiet curse after the man and turned around, looking up at Skyline. “You’re here,” a gruff voice said.Īdamat stepped from the coach, just having time to snatch his hat and cane before the driver flicked the reins and was off, clattering into the night.
Adamat waited for the coachman to open the door. You were once the eyes staring back from the darkness. Still your heart, old man, he said to himself. Ī little part of him, the part that had once been a police inspector, prowling nights such as these for the thieves and pickpockets in dark alleys, laughed out from inside. Perhaps they should light the garden lanterns. He could hear his heart beating, thumping, frightened, his stomach tightening.
Adamat stared out into the gardens at the black maws where the hedge mazes began and imagined shapes flitting back and forth in the lawn. Manhouch used enough of their taxes for his personal amusement. Tonight the gardens were dark.Īdamat was fine with this. Skyline had so many lanterns, it could be seen all the way from the city even on the cloudiest night. Odder still, as they continued along the wide path amid the fountains, there were no lights. Adamat clutched at his pant legs and peered out the window. The carriage approached the front gate of Skyline and moved on without a stop. Yet who listened to soothsayers these days? Adamat reasoned it would give him a cold and wondered why he had been summoned out on a pit-made night like this. The soothsayers in Noman’s Alley said it was a bad omen.
It was humid even for early spring in Adopest, and chillier than Novi’s frozen toes. The morning was not far off but dawn would have a hard time scattering the fog.
Yet this summer coat provided no defense against the chill snaking through the carriage window. It’d been half a decade since he’d even seen this jacket, but when summons came from the king at this hour, there was no time to get his good one from the tailor. He tugged at his sleeves, trying to coax more length, and picked at the front of the jacket where it was too close by far around the waist. Adamat wore his coat tight, top buttons fastened against a wet night air that seemed to want to drown him.
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