Free Three for a Letter by Mary Reed, Eric Mayer Page B

Porphyrio,” the girl called to Zeno as he approached.
    “And what did he tell you?” Zeno spoke calmly but shot a glare toward Minthe.
    “That’s a secret,” replied the girl, wrinkling her nose as if annoyed he’d asked. Though Zeno had heard her laughing not long before, her solemn little face revealed no sign of humor.
    “We’ve been having a pleasant little chat, sir,” put in Minthe. “I was just about to bring her back.”
    She stood, a short woman but straight and angular, with long silver hair that stirred in the sea breeze. Zeno couldn’t help thinking that her bony face with its high cheekbones must have given her a most striking appearance when she was young. If she lived long enough she would again be beautiful.
    “Would you like me to make a protective charm for her?” the woman inquired.
    “Certainly not,” Zeno snapped. “We mustn’t undo all of Godomar’s tutoring, Minthe. And as for you, young lady,” he said, trying without much success to look and sound severe, “I fear I must forbid you to wander about unaccompanied until we can be certain it’s safe to do so.”
    The child hopped down from her perch. “I know what you’re thinking, Zeno. It’s about Gadaric, but you don’t need to worry. Why, what do you suppose Minthe and I were laughing about just now? But don’t ask. That’s a secret too!”
    ***
    Peter followed John to the front door of Zeno’s villa. Having posted excubitors along the paved drive leading up from the coast road, Felix accompanied them, but even though they were protected, Peter glanced around the lush surroundings with increasing trepidation. As they passed through the gardens, he had noticed several statues of horrifying blasphemy set here and there among the riot of flower beds as well as numerous shrubs pruned into the likenesses of fantastic creatures. A bronze mechanical owl that unexpectedly hooted at the visitors from its perch on a marble tree stump near the wide terrace in front of Zeno’s house had given him a terrible fright.
    Worse, the villa’s polished wood door had swung open as the men stepped up to it, but no servant waited in the exceedingly narrow and unusually short vestibule. The door had opened of its own accord.
    Peter trod stoutly forward anyway, determined to accompany his master to the end, even into Hell itself.
    He was therefore not completely surprised when the outer door thudded shut behind them without apparent aid, but he was certainly shocked when the lamp set in a wall alcove sputtered and suddenly died, leaving the vestibule in darkness.
    Felix cursed in a disgustingly obscene manner and John uttered a short, sharp phrase in a foreign language that, going by the tone his master used, Peter was happy he was not able to translate.
    There was a grating squeal and the marble beneath Peter’s feet vibrated in the manner that the pavement of a forum moved when a heavy cart passed by. The inner door of the vestibule opened a crack, spilling some light into the space in which they were trapped.
    It stopped moving.
    Felix stepped to the door and tried to force it open, his shadow swimming around the now dimly lit vestibule as he struggled. Instead of obliging, the door clanked shut again.
    “Stand away,” he finally growled. His sword came out of its scabbard. “This could well be a trap.”
    He pounded on the inner door and shouted a command that it be opened in the emperor’s name, his voice booming around the enclosed area.
    Again the floor vibrated slightly and again the door creaked open just enough to allow a little light to enter.
    Footsteps approached and then a woman’s voice spoke reassuringly.
    “Don’t worry, you in there. It keeps jamming even though Hero’s tinkering endlessly with the mechanism. I’ll have you out very quickly.”
    A thinly shaped object was thrust through the narrow illuminated opening. Felix raised his sword but the object proved to be an iron bar with which the woman on the other side