CHAPTER THIRTY

Leoneyis

Owen knelt on the floor, arranging the final pieces of a massive tile tower that was so delicate it was already starting to wobble. He felt Fountain magic seeping into him, replenishing him from the earlier drought. Justine was working on an embroidery nearby, but she occasionally glanced over at him and Evie on the floor, their heads nearly touching as they concentrated on the final pieces.

He had shared with Evie every detail of his confrontation with Tunmore in the tower. Speaking the words out loud had allowed him to sift through his thoughts, arranging what he knew and did not know. He knew he lacked all the pieces to solve the riddle.

“How did Severn react to Tunmore’s death?” Evie asked, handing him the final tile.

Owen shook his head. “He was surprised but not sorrowful. I would almost say he exulted in the man’s downfall.”

“But you didn’t tell him what you told me. About the chest.”

“No, and neither did Mancini. I’m sure the Espion will be watching the sanctuary. But Mancini thinks the Fountain is a superstition. He can’t see the treasure. Now that Tunmore’s gone, I might be the only one who can. I think Mancini took Tunmore’s words as the ravings of a madman before committing suicide.”

“But you think there’s more to it,” Evie said softly. Her eyes were shifting colors at the moment, moving from silver to blue to green. She was deep in thought.

“It is so frustrating!” Owen complained. “All these hints and secrets are maddening. When I faced Eyric, I could tell he had been told something. A legend? A secret? I’m not sure what it was. But it influenced him greatly. And he tried to influence me to join him. But how could I without knowing more? I don’t relish being someone’s fool.”

“I know,” Evie said sagely. She reached out and patted his hand. “No one does. You’re wise to be wary about what Tunmore said. He implied that some sort of imminent danger was coming and you were the only one who could prevent it. That would naturally make you curious, but it could well be a trap.”

Owen looked into her eyes. “He literally gave his life because of this information. It was like a burden he had been carrying, but he told me what I must do without explaining why. If I listen to him, if I carry the chest to St. Penryn, won’t that implicate me in a greater plot? Yet if I tell the king, what will he say? He is Fountain-blessed himself. Will he seek the treasure?” Owen frowned and tried to tame his frustration. “I remember something Ankarette said. That Dunsdworth’s father could see the treasure in the waters but could not claim it. It drove him mad and he drowned himself.”

“You nearly drowned yourself trying to get it too,” Evie reminded him.

“No I didn’t!”

Evie shook her head, exasperated. “I remember it very well, Owen. I was worried about you. You were under the water for so long. There was something wrong about what you were doing. I could feel it.”

He continued to frown at her, but there was some truth in her words. “I don’t know what to do, Evie. I’m so confused. Our kingdom is about to be invaded by three men, Eyric, Iago, and Chatriyon are going to fight us—and one another—to lay claim to Severn’s crown.”

“Iago doesn’t want the crown, but go on,” Evie said simply.

Owen squelched the sudden pang of jealousy. “Well, the man wants something. My point is that we’re about to be invaded. But there is something else happening as well. Something we can’t see. Another player moving on the board. It has something to do with the past, but it’s affecting us today. And at the center is this myth about the Dreadful Deadman. I’ve told you about the whispers I used to hear from the Fountain about the Deadman. I still hear them. Somehow I’m part of this prophecy.”

Evie blinked. “Are you the Dreadful Deadman?” she asked him.

Owen stared at her. “Why do you ask that? Of course I’m not.”

“Think on it, though. You told me the story long ago. You were stillborn. And then you came back to life. Just like you brought Justine back from the brink in Edonburick. This power you have, Owen. This is not a superstition. It’s real. I’ve seen it. Maybe you are the fulfillment of that prophecy.”

Owen continued to stare at her, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He was feeling the flow of the Fountain all around him, in him. Then he heard its whisper.

You are not the Dreadful Deadman. But you will be one of the first who will see him.

A shudder rippled through Owen, and Evie looked at him in alarm.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I’m not,” he said, shaking his head. “But the Fountain told me he’s coming. That I will be one of the first who sees him.”

The room grew quiet and still. Even Justine had stopped her needlework. Her eyes were dark and serious, as somber as the overriding mood in the palace.

“I can’t tell Severn,” Owen whispered. “Not yet. I need to know more myself.”

Evie nodded. “Let’s go see Polidoro. He’s been studying the myths of King Andrew since he arrived. I know nothing about St. Penryn, as I said earlier, but I imagine he might.” She paused, then said, “I don’t think you should tell him about your ‘visions,’ if that’s the right word. He feels a great depth of loyalty to Severn. I’m not sure I would trust him entirely.”

“That’s good advice. Let’s go see Polidoro. Would you do the honors?” he asked, motioning toward the starter piece that would knock them all down.

Evie smiled and obliged.

Polidoro Urbino was an interesting, intense fellow. Tall and rail-thin, he had skin that was well leathered from the elements, silvering brown hair that was always neatly slicked back, and intelligent eyes. He wore the court fashions of Pisan, which were more gaily colored than Severn’s favored black, and he had a reedy voice that made him sound always breathless. He was a man of many flowering words, great curiosity, and it was obvious that he was completely in awe of Evie. Owen gave Justine a warm smile and nod as she sat down on a nearby chair.

“I tell you Lady Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer is the wisest creature in all this vast kingdom,” he crooned, pumping Owen’s hand vigorously as a pleased, rapturous smile stretched his lips. He bowed to Evie with a deep flourish. “King Severn has a jewel in his kingdom to be certain. I was just going over the court records of the Maid of Donremy, an interesting tale. I know you’ll like to read them as well, my dear. I am so pleased you took the time to visit this lowly court historian. If I can be of any service to you whatsoever, you know you only need ask.”

Evie was smiling a little from the barrage of flattery. Justine rolled her eyes. “Master Urbino, there is something I’d like to ask you. I think your knowledge would help settle a dispute I have with Owen.”

Polidoro bowed again. “I am yours to command, my lady. The two of you make an excellent pair, if I might say so.” He straightened and tapped his lip. “I’ve always been struck by you. What point of conflict could exist between such kindred souls?”

“It’s a geography question, actually,” Evie said. “Owen told me that the sanctuary of St. Penryn was in Westmarch, but I disputed that it was once laid claim by Occitania. Can you settle the matter for us?”

Owen loved how deftly she had posed the question.

“St. Penryn, St. Penryn,” the historian muttered, tapping his lip. Then he clucked his tongue. “I’m afraid, my dear, that neither of you scores the point on this match. You are both wrong.”

Owen looked at the historian curiously. “I’ve seen the map of my duchy, sir, and I’m quite certain I saw St. Penryn on it.”

Polidoro shook his head and offered a wizened smile. “No doubt you saw the sanctuary there, but did your map also show the land of Leoneyis? Of course it didn’t. It’s all underwater now.”

Owen felt a jolt in his heart. “What did you say?”

The historian nodded vigorously. “The kingdom is gone. Leoneyis is part of the King Andrew legend. It’s where King Andrew was slain by his bastard son. Well, not slain to be exact. He was mortally wounded, unto the point of death. They put his body in a boat and sent it over the falls. Shortly after, the land of Leoneyis was flooded. Only a few souls survived. The sanctuary of St. Penryn was on higher ground, and the people who had fled there survived. It’s one of the reasons sanctuaries offer protection today! Fascinating, isn’t it?”

“You are saying that the history of the sanctuary privileges of Our Lady go back to this time?” Owen asked. The story was hauntingly similar to the vision he’d experienced as their ship entered the harbor at Edonburick. He wondered how many more drowned cities existed.

The historian shook his head. “No, those practices existed before. Those who survived the great flooding helped reinforce the belief. I’ve heard that fishermen off the coast of Westmarch continue to draw objects from the drowned households out of the waters around there. There are dealers who specialize in that trade. I’ve heard that buyers in Brythonica pay enormous sums.”

“Brythonica?” Evie asked before Owen could.

“Indeed. The duchess is a great collector of historical artifacts. I thought everyone knew that. Did you know that one of King Andrew’s greatest knights was from Leoneyis? He was banished to Brythonica for having an affair with the king’s wife.”

“Can you tell me where you found that history?” Evie asked, her tone one of intense curiosity.

“It’s not history, my lady Elysabeth. To be sure, there are many who claim King Andrew was real, but there is no evidence whatsoever that he was a real king. These legends are entertainment. That is all. But if you are interested, I would recommend an Occitanian poet. I think I have a translation somewhere in here, and when I find it, I’ll bring it to you.”

“Thank you, Master Urbino,” Evie said with a pleased smile.

“So you see, you both were wrong. While St. Penryn is technically off the coast of Westmarch, it is actually considered part of Leoneyis. It is where King Andrew met his fate, and they say—” he added with an amused chuckle, “—it is also where he will return again. I hope you found the tale diverting.”

“Indeed,” Owen said, giving Evie a meaningful look. The three young people left the historian’s chamber, listening to him chuckle and hum to himself as they walked away.

Owen pitched his voice low. “The treasure in the cistern had an ancient look to it.”

Evie shot him a dangerous glance. “Do you think it came to be there after Leoneyis flooded?”

“I think I would like to find out,” Owen said. “Assuming, of course, that the cistern hasn’t frozen over yet.”

“I don’t think it’s that cold,” Evie said.

“Where are we going?” Justine asked worriedly. “I don’t like the sound of this.”

Owen looked at Evie. “Have you ever told her?”

Evie shook her head. “It was our secret. Remember?”

Owen turned to Justine. “Are you afraid of heights?”