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Chapters (70)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. DRAMATIS PERSONAE
  5. Prologue
  6. PARODOS
  7. ACT ONE
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. ACT TWO
  20. 12
  21. 13
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. 16
  25. 17
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. 20
  29. 21
  30. 22
  31. ACT THREE
  32. 23
  33. 24
  34. 25
  35. 26
  36. 27
  37. 28
  38. 29
  39. 30
  40. 31
  41. ACT FOUR
  42. 32
  43. 33
  44. 34
  45. 35
  46. 36
  47. 37
  48. 38
  49. 39
  50. EPIPARODOS
  51. ACT FIVE
  52. 40
  53. 41
  54. 42
  55. 43
  56. 44
  57. 45
  58. 46
  59. 47
  60. 48
  61. 49
  62. 50
  63. 51
  64. 52
  65. 53
  66. EPILOGUE
  67. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  68. The Locked Tomb Trilogy
  69. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  70. Newsletter Sign-up

Abigail Pent said gently, “Lieutenant—” but Dyas was saying, low and fast, and this time to Harrowhark herself: “Is this really how it happens? You know of no hope for her?”

“She had eight metal projectiles spun at high speeds through her midsection,” said Harrow. She knew that some people took comfort in the idea, so she added: “She would have died very quickly after her heart was destroyed.”

“No,” said the lieutenant, and now Harrow thought she seemed dazed. Her fingers kept working the hilt of her rapier, from which hung a neat scarlet riband. “That’s not … Don’t know why I thought … No.”

“You have faced down a monster that is likely to be the doom of many, and many less able than Captain Deuteros,” said Ortus. Harrow regretted not making him take a solemn pledge of silence, to walk the place as the mute and intimidating bulk his father had been; but only a very obedient idiot of a cavalier would have stuck to that. “I include myself among the latter. Is there no hint of our salvation?”

Abigail said, “Ortus the Ninth is right, Lieutenant. If there are any details, anything else you might be able to tell us—you’ve taught us so much already, even if the price was too high.”

The lieutenant drew herself up again. Her mouth was now a calm line that betrayed nothing but classic Second House stoicism. Harrowhark admired her for that.

“One,” she said crisply. “The Sleeper can move from its coffin. Two, the Sleeper can pass through necromantic wards. Three, Teacher told us not to wake it. I don’t know what does. Noise doesn’t.” (“Not necessarily, no,” said Pent, who never did truck with unconditional statements.) “Four, it’s carrying a rifle.”

“Like something from an old story,” suggested Ortus.

“Like something. That’s all the facts I have,” said the lieutenant. “Don’t want to guess. One more thing—I’m not saying this with absolute certainty. I only got a glance before the lid closed and the plex fogged up again. But there’s something else in the coffin. The Sleeper’s lying on it.”

The lieutenant closed her eyes, though her precise posture did not shift. When she opened them, she said, “I don’t know if this matters. But it looked like a standard-issue infantry sword.” She added, with Cohort precision: “A two-hander.”

19

TEN MONTHS BEFORE THE EMPEROR’S MURDER