The Queen's Poisoner
Page 84
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“What’s wrong?” Owen asked, kicking around. The water was tugging them deeper into the dark cistern.
“Swim!” she shouted, and started paddling her arms and kicking with her legs. Owen began to swim as well, trying to reach the safety of the stairs, but the current was too strong. They were being sucked deep into the throat of the cistern. Fear made him forget the treasure he had seen down below.
There was light coming from the far end. He hadn’t seen that before. Was there an opening in the cistern? Then he heard the sound of rushing water, the sound of a waterfall.
“Owen!” Evie shrieked, realizing it at the same time he did.
The cistern was draining into the river.
The stairs were far away now, and the shaft of light from the opening was a pale spear in the darkness that was growing larger as the current pushed them farther and farther from safety.
“Grab a column!” she shouted. She reached for the nearest one, but her fingers slipped on the wet stone.
Owen tried to grab one too and his fingers managed to stick. He grabbed Evie’s wrist and clung to her, but the force of the waters pulled him away from the column and they were both swept into the current once more.
The maw of the opening loomed closer and they could hear the water spilling over its edge. Would they be able to stop themselves from going over? He didn’t think so, not with how fast the water was moving them.
“Owen!” she said desperately, grabbing his waist in terror.
There was nothing to hold on to. There was nothing to grab. The boat was gone. His mind whirled frantically, but then, with the shushing sounds of the water, he felt a stab of peacefulness. His mind opened to the possibilities, quick as lightning. He needed something heavy. Something so heavy the waters couldn’t move it.
The treasure.
“Hold on to me!” he shouted at her fear-stricken face. “Hold tight!” Instead of swimming against the current, he swam with it and went down. Flailing, his foot struck against something hard on the bottom. It was too dark to see, but he felt with his hands and discovered a handhold, the rung on a chest. He grabbed it tightly with one hand and felt himself slipping, so he grabbed it with both. Evie clung to his belt, holding on for dear life. He was running out of air, but at least they weren’t moving. The chest was saving them from being swept away. Why was there treasure on the floor? Who had left it there? How had someone dragged one of the chests away? Why?
His lungs burned painfully. He wanted so badly to breathe! He felt Evie’s hands slipping away. He needed to act quickly if he were to save them both. He pulled on the ring and dragged himself over the chest, so that he could plant his feet on either side of it. The chest was big, probably up to his waist. It slid a little on the ground when he jostled it, but it was too heavy to be dragged away.
Breathe.
The thought came to his mind and he started to panic. He felt he should just breathe in the water, but he knew he would die if he did. As Evie had told him, children drowned all the time. He needed air! He wedged the chest between his legs, freeing his hands, and then grabbed Evie’s arms and pulled her away from his belt. He pushed her up toward the surface, holding her by her boots. He felt the current tugging her away, but he held on fiercely, determined not to lose her.
She was screaming. Even under the water, he could hear her voice. Bits of blackness drifted in front of his eyes. He was fading. Falling asleep.
He was drowning.
He felt his muscles tingling and burning. They were near the opening where the water spilled out, he realized. A big square of light could be seen overhead. Owen felt peaceful as he stared at it. His lungs stopped burning. Everything slowed down and he felt one with the waters.
Breathe.
The thought didn’t sound so frightening now. Owen opened his mouth.
Evie was gone. He blinked in confusion. When had he let go of her? He heard the pattering of a fountain, could almost smell the scent of honeysuckle and other garden flowers. Strange that he could smell so deep underwater.
Then strong hands grabbed him beneath his arms and pulled him up. His face broke the surface and then air was suddenly filling his chest again. Delicious, yeasty air that made his bones sing.
“Up, lad! Up!” It was Mancini’s voice.
Owen spluttered dreamily and saw Evie clinging to the fat spy’s neck, her hair dripping into her face. Her dress drooped as well and she hung limply, looking too tired to move. She stared at Owen in relief and he could tell she was struggling not to cry.
Mancini hauled Owen up under his arm and started tromping back toward the stairs. The waters rushed around him, but enough had drained that it was down to his middle, and it appeared to have lost some of its power.
“Swim!” she shouted, and started paddling her arms and kicking with her legs. Owen began to swim as well, trying to reach the safety of the stairs, but the current was too strong. They were being sucked deep into the throat of the cistern. Fear made him forget the treasure he had seen down below.
There was light coming from the far end. He hadn’t seen that before. Was there an opening in the cistern? Then he heard the sound of rushing water, the sound of a waterfall.
“Owen!” Evie shrieked, realizing it at the same time he did.
The cistern was draining into the river.
The stairs were far away now, and the shaft of light from the opening was a pale spear in the darkness that was growing larger as the current pushed them farther and farther from safety.
“Grab a column!” she shouted. She reached for the nearest one, but her fingers slipped on the wet stone.
Owen tried to grab one too and his fingers managed to stick. He grabbed Evie’s wrist and clung to her, but the force of the waters pulled him away from the column and they were both swept into the current once more.
The maw of the opening loomed closer and they could hear the water spilling over its edge. Would they be able to stop themselves from going over? He didn’t think so, not with how fast the water was moving them.
“Owen!” she said desperately, grabbing his waist in terror.
There was nothing to hold on to. There was nothing to grab. The boat was gone. His mind whirled frantically, but then, with the shushing sounds of the water, he felt a stab of peacefulness. His mind opened to the possibilities, quick as lightning. He needed something heavy. Something so heavy the waters couldn’t move it.
The treasure.
“Hold on to me!” he shouted at her fear-stricken face. “Hold tight!” Instead of swimming against the current, he swam with it and went down. Flailing, his foot struck against something hard on the bottom. It was too dark to see, but he felt with his hands and discovered a handhold, the rung on a chest. He grabbed it tightly with one hand and felt himself slipping, so he grabbed it with both. Evie clung to his belt, holding on for dear life. He was running out of air, but at least they weren’t moving. The chest was saving them from being swept away. Why was there treasure on the floor? Who had left it there? How had someone dragged one of the chests away? Why?
His lungs burned painfully. He wanted so badly to breathe! He felt Evie’s hands slipping away. He needed to act quickly if he were to save them both. He pulled on the ring and dragged himself over the chest, so that he could plant his feet on either side of it. The chest was big, probably up to his waist. It slid a little on the ground when he jostled it, but it was too heavy to be dragged away.
Breathe.
The thought came to his mind and he started to panic. He felt he should just breathe in the water, but he knew he would die if he did. As Evie had told him, children drowned all the time. He needed air! He wedged the chest between his legs, freeing his hands, and then grabbed Evie’s arms and pulled her away from his belt. He pushed her up toward the surface, holding her by her boots. He felt the current tugging her away, but he held on fiercely, determined not to lose her.
She was screaming. Even under the water, he could hear her voice. Bits of blackness drifted in front of his eyes. He was fading. Falling asleep.
He was drowning.
He felt his muscles tingling and burning. They were near the opening where the water spilled out, he realized. A big square of light could be seen overhead. Owen felt peaceful as he stared at it. His lungs stopped burning. Everything slowed down and he felt one with the waters.
Breathe.
The thought didn’t sound so frightening now. Owen opened his mouth.
Evie was gone. He blinked in confusion. When had he let go of her? He heard the pattering of a fountain, could almost smell the scent of honeysuckle and other garden flowers. Strange that he could smell so deep underwater.
Then strong hands grabbed him beneath his arms and pulled him up. His face broke the surface and then air was suddenly filling his chest again. Delicious, yeasty air that made his bones sing.
“Up, lad! Up!” It was Mancini’s voice.
Owen spluttered dreamily and saw Evie clinging to the fat spy’s neck, her hair dripping into her face. Her dress drooped as well and she hung limply, looking too tired to move. She stared at Owen in relief and he could tell she was struggling not to cry.
Mancini hauled Owen up under his arm and started tromping back toward the stairs. The waters rushed around him, but enough had drained that it was down to his middle, and it appeared to have lost some of its power.
