‘A woman from the Street of Red Lanterns has been murdered. She slept secure in
the most guarded House in Sanctuary and yet someone was able to kill her leaving
the mark of serpent fangs on her neck.’ Cythen spoke the words Lythande had
taught her, though they were far from the ones she would have freely chosen.
Though the Sanctuary woman believed it impossible. Prism’s eyes grew wider,
rounder and the glassy membrane fluttered wildly. Finally her eyelids closed
and, as if on cue, the loose, dark clothing she wore began to writhe from her
waist to her breasts, from her breasts to her shoulders, until the bloodred head
of the woman’s familiar peeked above her collar and regarded Cythen with round,
unblinking eyes. The serpent opened its mouth, revealing an equally crimson maw
and glistening ivory fangs. Its tongue wove before Cythen’s face, drawing a
faint murmur of disgust from her.
‘You needn’t fear her,’ Prism assured Cythen with a cold smile, ‘unless you’re
my enemy.’
Cythen silently shook her head.
‘But you do think that I, or my sisters, killed this woman who was, in some way,
dear to you?’
‘No – yes. She was mad; she was my sister. She was protected there and there was
no reason for anyone to want her dead. She lived in the past, in a world that
doesn’t exist any more.’
The cold smile nickered across Prism’s face again. ‘Ah, then, you see it could
not have been Harka Bey. We would never kill without reason.’
“There were no marks besides the snakes fangs’ puncture anywhere on her. Myrtis
even called Lythande to examine the body -and he arranged for Enas Yorl to study