CHAPTER 9
I sleep straight through to the next morning, which allows Remi to give Magister Thomas his account of my return first.
“It wasn’t meant to do that,” I try to explain. For some reason I feel compelled to defend what happened, though if the architect knew I was being watched that night, he’d probably never let me out of doors alone again. “As soon as they realized how strong the tea was, they took it away. I only had a few sips.”
Remi stabs his sausage with a knife. “I’d hate to see someone under the influence of a full cup,” he mutters. “You could barely string two words together.”
“That’s because I was asleep,” I snap. “I went straight to bed.”
“I know, Kitten. I carried you there.” Remi rolls his eyes, then glances at the architect. “I mean, I took you to your door.” Not entering my room is the one rule he’s never attempted to stretch.
In response to that hated nickname, I rake my fingers through the air like claws and hiss at him.
“Enough,” Magister Thomas says. “What did you tell the venatre, Catrin?”
I straighten my face before answering. “I said I heard a scream,saw a man running, went looking, and found her body, Magister. Nothing else.”
“Nothing about Perrete coming here?” the architect asks, and Remi’s green eyes bulge.
Technically I didn’t. “No. I said we knew her and that you sometimes gave her money,” I admit. “But that you hadn’t done so in a long time.”
Magister Thomas’s lips push out from his beard, a sign he’s displeased.
Remi chokes down his mouthful and gasps, “She camehere?”
“She came, she demanded money and I refused, she threw a tantrum, then she left,” the architect says. “That’s all.”
“Threw a tantrum?” Remi points a thumb to the workroom door. “Shedid that?” The magister nods wearily. “Did she take the hammer, too?”
He sighs. “After she used it, yes.”
My eyes widen. I hadn’t realized the hammer was actually missing. If Perrete had it with her, robbery could’ve been the motive for her murder. The tool is engraved with the architect’s name, though, so it would probably be melted down for the gold plating.
The magister focuses on me, a deep sadness in his gray eyes. “Does the venatre suspect anyone?”
I nod. “Oudin says there was a Selenae man in the Sanctum Square that night. I think the venatre will be looking for anyone else who saw him.”
Magister Thomas throws his two-pronged fork down on his plate in disgust. “Curse that idiot! He’s going to get someone killed.”
Remi snorts. “Just a Selenae.”
“The People of the Night are exactly that,” says the architect sharply. “People.”
“Moon worshippers,” Remi mutters at his remaining sausage. “Magicians and heretics.”
Magister Thomas sits forward. “Don’t be ignorant, Remone. They no more worship the moon than we worship the Sun.”
The theology is something few bother to understand, but Mother Agnes drilled into us how the Blessed Sun is a gift from a higher power. We honor and praise it with temples to capture its beauty and show our appreciation, but it is not a god. I have no idea how Selenae could feel the same way about the moon, however. Its light isn’t strong or constant enough to support any kind of plant life on its own. Even the moonflowers which cover their walls need the sun. But that something greater lies Beyond the Skies is something we all agree on.
The architect continues, “If you don’t understand our religion, you cannot expect to properly build a Sanctum like ours.”
“I don’t need your lectures!” Remi jumps to his feet. “I’m not a child!”
The magister only raises his eyebrows. “Then don’t act like one.”
Remi storms out without another word. A few seconds later, we hear him stomping up the stairs to his room on the third floor. I turn to the architect, astonished. “What was that about?”
Magister Thomas rubs his face tiredly, then pulls his hand back to grimace at the cuts on his fingers. “I wouldn’t promise to put him in charge of the transept expansion in two years.”