Chasing Shadows (38 page)

“Are you sure you’ll be okay until tomorrow?” she asked, her hands flexing anxiously at her side. “It could get infected.”

“It will be just fine,” he said in a low, reassuring voice. “But I have to finish this first.”

Sarah nodded. “Okay. Then I should get some more salve for tomorrow.” She knew the leather medicine sack Charles had given her was somewhere in her room, still half full. But she needed to immerse herself in distraction to take her mind off of the waiting and
wondering
. She hoped focusing on a task would abate the sickening knot in her stomach, and she couldn’t think clearly right now with Damien standing so close.

She could tell that he sensed the lie in her words, but he also seemed to be aware of her need to keep busy. He offered a half-smile, the corners of his eyes tinged with sadness and deep empathy. “Why don’t you do that?”

They shuffled out of their hideaway. “Until tonight, then.” He shot her a promising smile as he unlocked the door, and Sarah quickly turned away before she again saw the contents of the room.

She wandered the castle, trying to recall the directions she had been given days ago to find the professor’s lab. She kept her head down and made several wrong turns as she wandered aimlessly. Numbness crept over her mind, which was a relief, in part, though it made her thoughts feel muddled as she meandered through the maze of doorways and corridors. She couldn’t get a clear grasp on anything and had to consciously focus her thoughts on just making it to her destination, which was made even more difficult by the fact that she hadn’t thought to bring a candle with her.

The staircase she was descending ended abruptly. She glanced down each of the halls and tried to recall which direction she was supposed to go.
Straight ahead, right?
she asked herself, hoping it might trigger a memory.

The sound of someone’s muffled cough echoed down the corridor to her right, and she knew the dungeons were down that way, reminding her that Charles was in the passageway directly in front. She took a few steps that way and jerked to a halt, staring into the darkness that she knew led to the cells.

The physician was in there. How many opportunities would she have to talk to the man who had treated the king during his illness? Out of everyone, he had to know something or have been a part of the plot itself.

With a final look down the lighted corridor that led to the professor, Sarah quickly turned before she lost her courage and started off toward the dungeons.

~Chapter 33~

Navigating the dark passageway was difficult, and Sarah kept a hand on the wall as she shuffled with careful steps into the blackness. Her fingers slid over a slimy stone, and she jerked her hand back, stifling a shriek of disgust as she scrubbed her palm down her skirt to remove the goo. Spotting a small, flickering light up ahead, she quickened her pace and tried not to dwell on the possibilities of what she might have touched.

As she drew nearer, the light began to take shape and was joined by several others. Though sparse in number, torches were mounted along the passageway; they gave off enough light that Sarah didn’t have to concentrate so hard on her footing, but she knew this also made it easier for guards to spot her sneaking around. With this in mind, she kept close to the wall, careful not to brush up against any suspicious substances.

She saw the split in the passage and could just make out the faint outline of the cells up ahead. Crouching at the fork, she peered down each of the corridors, recalling that Damien had ordered for the physician to be kept isolated. If they wanted to keep him sequestered, they would have put him somewhere remote, but where could he be?

When Karen had been imprisoned, Will had snuck Sarah down here. It was hard to be sure with the disorienting darkness, but she was almost positive that the two of them had come through one of these passages. She tried to remember if they had passed any secluded cells, but it seemed so long ago now. It felt like her mind was adjusting to time here, and it really did feel as though four months had passed since that day.

Hoping to jog her memory, she swept her eyes over her surroundings, but everything was shrouded in shadows and difficult to make out. Not seeing any guards, Sarah stepped out into the center divide, hoping to get a better look at her options. The faint sound of jangling keys suddenly reached her ears from behind, growing louder. Alarm spread through her when she realized that someone was headed her way.

She immediately ducked into the darkest passage on her left, trying to get her breathing level, and moved quickly away from the approaching guard. Her foot caught on a loose stone, and it skidded across the floor. Sarah winced at the slight sound. It hadn’t been loud enough for the guard to hear, but she didn’t want to draw the prisoners’ attentions, either. The last time she and Will had been here, they had caused a stir among the captives, who pleaded loudly with them for help. She couldn’t risk them alerting the guard to her presence, however inadvertent it might be.

Moving down the line of cells with quieter steps, she looked at the occupants for the first time. All of the prisoners here were men, both young and old. Thankfully, most of them had slept through her noisy misstep, lying in the corner of their cells, their arms wrapped around their filthy clothes to warm themselves. A few of the younger men appeared otherwise engaged with staring off into space, though one boy was quietly rolling a small round stone back and forth across the floor between his hands. The sound had probably covered her stumble earlier.         

Holding her breath as the scent of their filth reached her nostrils, she lengthened her strides. A wall appeared suddenly before her, forcing her to go right or left. Each narrow hall led to the door of a cell, but only the one on the left was locked and had a lit torch mounted just outside the door. That had to be it!

Her heart thumped noisily in her chest as she crept down the passage and neared the bars of the cell. She caught a faint, unintelligible murmur coming from the inside and swallowed. A lone figure was hunched over in the back corner, facing away from her. He was talking to himself, etching words into the stone floor with a jagged rock. Shadows hovered in the corners of the twelve-by-twelve foot room, making it nearly impossible to distinguish the crudely scratched writing on the walls. But although some of the markings had been gouged deeply into the stone or were freshly etched onto the walls, Sarah could make out enough to see that it was one word repeated over and over, covering the walls and just now starting to take over the miniscule floor space, clearly defining a madman’s obsession.  

Someone’s been busy,
she thought, disturbed over the unreadable markings.

Sarah reached up to wrap her fingers around the bars and then thought better of it, folding her arms around her middle. The man appeared engaged, but she couldn’t just wait around until a guard spotted her and dragged her away. She hoped being friends with Damien had given her a certain amount of immunity, and she was not going to miss this opportunity because she felt awkward about interrupting a one-sided conversation. She cleared her throat loudly, then shot an anxious look over her shoulder.

The man flipped his free hand in the air in a dismissive gesture, but he didn’t turn her way. “My thanks,” he commented sarcastically, scratching at the ground.

Sarah blinked, surprised. He’d barely acknowledged her. She shook her head, though he couldn’t see the gesture. “I’m not a servant.” Her words echoed off the arched ceiling, and she grimaced.

The physician’s head whipped around, and he was off his knees in a flash. She heard the rock clatter to the floor, but he didn’t stoop to retrieve it. His eyes were wide as he wrung his hands in front of him. He didn’t seem to know what to make of her presence. “P-Pardon me, miss,” he stuttered. His voice was soft, but hoarse from disuse. “A mute has been servicing me here—that is why I replied so informally.”

She was taken aback by his alert gaze and the clarity of his tone. She realized that despite his odd mutterings and obsessive writing, he sounded completely lucid.

Sarah was already shaking her head in dismissal. “Don’t worry.” His shocked gaze remained fixed on her, and she shifted her weight to her other leg as she considered what to say. After half a minute of total silence, she whispered, “I’m Sarah.”

The name didn’t seem to ring any bells with him. Ten seconds ticked by before he seemed to collect himself. He stepped toward the bars, keeping a respectable distance between them. “Malcolm Devlin, miss. I am—” He cleared his throat and pulled himself up to his full five-and-a-half-feet. “I
was
the physician to the royal family.”

He was so dirty and thin, making him appear smaller and older than she knew him to be. Sarah wished she had thought to bring something for him—water, food, an extra blanket—though this had not been her original destination.

“That’s why I wanted to speak with you.” She jumped at the segue, the words running together in such a rush that she hoped he understood. “I’m not supposed to be here, but you were the one who treated the king before he died, correct?”

The physician’s face became suddenly suspicious. “Yes,” he replied slowly, shuffling backward a fraction of an inch. “It’s common knowledge.”

Sarah gripped the bars, pressing her face as close as she dared. “Did anything about his sickness strike you as unusual?”

He was already shaking his head, retreating to the back wall. His dark eyes were wide with fright. “No, no. It was a potentially contagious infection—quite typical.” He pointed down the passage. “You need to leave.”

“I’m not here to threaten you. I just want the truth.” Her eyes searched his nervous face; he didn’t look like he wanted to talk, and she knew she would have to goad him. Knowing he wasn’t in a position to cause her harm, she threw caution to the wind and gave up all pretense of curiosity. “You must have known something was wrong. Did they pay you to keep the secret? Or did you poison the king yourself?”

She didn’t think it was possible, but his eyes rounded even more. “I would never—they didn’t—” The physician seemed at a loss as his lips worked silently. “It was an infection. . . .” His voice faded, and he bit his lip, gaze riveted to the ground.

Sarah softened her tone. “If you didn’t do it, then who did?”

He seemed to debate whether or not to trust her. Then he moved forward, grabbing the bars below her hands. She pulled back a few inches to put some distance between them as Malcolm fidgeted in place, his gaze darting about nervously.

“Who, Mr. Devlin?” she prodded, then thought to add, “You can trust me.”

“I am telling you the truth when I say that I cannot be certain.” His answer was careful and gave away nothing.

“But you suspect someone.” It was written all over his face and in the anxious way his gaze shifted around his cell and the empty hallway.

Malcolm waved his head from side to side. “A few of us have our suspicions,” he answered slowly. His eyes snapped to hers suddenly, all at once alert and intense. “His disease was unnatural, miss. The progression of it . . . I spent months treating him, and nothing about the illness aligned with what I’ve learned. I tried everything, but because of my lack of knowledge, I could not treat him. I suspect it was untreatable.” The regret in his eyes was clear in the muted torchlight.

She remembered Will thwarting an attempt on the king’s life once, overturning a goblet of poisoned wine. Obviously, it had not been the only attempt.

Sarah’s pulse picked up in excitement, and she asked the one question that she hoped would receive a straight answer. “Do you think it’s possible that a poison could have done that to him? Over such a long period of time?”

He studied the ceiling, as though the answer were hidden there. “Yes, it’s quite possible, if administered in low doses over time.” He expelled a sigh, and Sarah tried not to be so obvious about holding her own breath. “I consulted the lord Cadius on the matter after the first month, but he recommended that I continue on with the treatment I was administering and not mention the idea of a toxin to anyone. Since he was the king’s advisor, I was required to obey.”

Gripping the bars a little tighter with her slick palms, Sarah swallowed back her eager questions; the man was clearly lost in the past, brows drawn in regret.

“I should have known.” Malcolm’s words were so quiet she almost missed them. His bleary gaze was fixed on the wall just over her shoulder.

Sarah angled her head to better see his face. “What should you have known?”

When he did meet her eyes, his lips turned up in a bleak, humorless smile. “Even you suspect the same man we all do
.
” She noticed that he never mentioned Cadius by name. The man was like a ghost that haunted them all.

“If I had acted on my doubts, I might have been able to stop him.” Whatever color life underground hadn’t yet sapped from his skin drained from Malcolm’s face in that moment. “And now I am here because I’m the last piece of the puzzle.”

Sarah pressed closer to the bars, shaking her head. “You’re in here because you
attacked
Damien,” she reminded, feeling instantly defensive of her friend.

“No,” he whispered hoarsely. “I remain because they want me out of the way.”

That much made sense, but she still didn’t understand why he had fought with Damien and said as much to him. His hands covered hers in an instant. Startled, Sarah tried to pull free, but his grip was intense, frail fingers clinging desperately to her and pinning her hands around the bars. The scraped metal grated her palms. “It wasn’t as it seemed. You need to go back to the room—”

Sarah’s head whipped in the direction of the hall. She heard the same rattling of keys from earlier and knew the guard was coming back this way. She turned to Malcolm. “I have to go.” She tried to slip her hands free, but his grip only tightened.

“You must come back soon, my lady.” His eyes burned with desperation. Sarah said she would, but he must have sensed her half-hearted agreement. He pressed his face against the bars. “I’m the only thing keeping them from getting away with this,” he whispered, trying to make her understand. He emphasized his next words, eyes burning feverishly with desperation and fear. “
I. Won’t. Have. Long
.”

She nodded, knowing the guilty party wouldn’t allow such a small player in the game to foil their plan. “I promise. I’ll come back soon.”

He let her slip free, and her eyes scanned his cell one final time before escaping down the corridor. She hid around the corner of the other secluded cell across the hall, waiting in the dark for the guard to pass before dashing up the stairs. As she ran, her adrenaline kicked in, clearing her mind. Pieces of the word Malcolm had been scratching into the floor suddenly took shape in her mind. Not a word, but a name.

Lisandro.

But maybe she had read it wrong, or the light could have played tricks on her eyes, giving the illusion that the crude markings were all one word. She shook her head at that. Damien’s name had been written all over the cell and from so many different angles; it would be nearly impossible to mistakenly read
every
one of them. But then why Malcolm’s obsession with the name Lisandro? Was it a guilty conscience fixating on the man he had wronged? Did he wish for retribution against Damien for commanding that he be put in here, or was it something more? 

Her mind became occupied with trying to tie in this latest confusing piece of the puzzle and decide if it held any relevance to the greater mystery, or if the carvings in the cell truly
were
the obsessive ramblings of a madman. Sarah glanced around, realizing that she had gone the wrong way, and started to panic until she saw the cracked door at the top of the stairs, spilling a modicum of light onto the first few steps at the top of the narrow staircase. As long as it led up and away from the dungeons below, then she could find her way from there.