A Little Taste of Poison Read Online Free Page A

the snow. Relieved, Isaveth stood straighter and set off along the path to Founders’ Hall.
    *  *  *
    â€œMorning, miss,” said the porter, and Isaveth stiffened. She’d spoken to this man when she was last here, disguised as a cleaning maid—what if he recognized her? But when she dared to meet his eye, he only smiled and nodded at her to go on.
    The corridor ended by the main staircase, where a sign pointed left to the registrar’s office. Isaveth was turning toward it when applause rippled out of a room nearby, followed by a voice so familiar it stopped her heart: “Thank you. Are there any questions?”
    It couldn’t be—her ears must be playing tricks on her. Yet there was only one way to find out. Isaveth followed the sound to a small auditorium, whose door bore a sign reading CLUB MEETING IN PROGRESS . Inside sat several rows of students, from stiff-collared boys her own age to a cluster of fourth-year girls as old as Anna. And at the front stood Eryx Lording, surveying them all.
    What a fool she’d been, to mistake his voice for Esmond’s! Isaveth ducked out of the doorway, hoping he hadn’t spotted her. But Eryx spoke: “We have a latecomer. I’m afraid we’re almost finished, miss, but don’t be shy.”
    Fifty heads swiveled toward her, and Isaveth’s heart sank. She crept in and sat down in the first empty seat she could find.
    â€œI have a question, milord,” said a girl in the second row. “You said you’d been urging city council to increase relief payments to needy families. Does that mean raising taxes for the rest of us?”
    â€œAn excellent question.” Eryx gave her a dazzling smile, and the girl blushed red as her hair. “Happily, the answer is no. My plan is to ensure that only citizens who are deserving—honest, loyal folk left unemployed through no fault of their own—receive financial help from the city, while those who use poverty as an excuse for crime and rebellion”—his gaze flicked to Isaveth—“do not. There will be plenty of relief for people who need it, if we weed out the lawbreakers first.”
    Uneasiness squirmed inside Isaveth. The Lord Justice had declared Papa innocent, so he had no criminal record. But Urias Breck had long been a member of the Workers’ Club, a political group known for its fiery protests against the Sagelord’s rule. Was Eryx hinting that if Papa applied for relief in a month or two, he’d be rejected? If so, how would Isaveth and her family survive?
    A brown hand shot up among the students, and a stocky boy in spectacles rose to speak. “Does the Sagelordintend to continue his ban against political meetings and demonstrations in the city?”
    â€œWell, clearly meetings are not the problem,” said Eryx, “or we’d all be under arrest right now.” He waited for the laughter to subside, then went on. “Personally, I believe that free and open discourse is vital to a healthy society. That’s why I’ve been urging my father to lift the ban for any group that agrees to expel all members with criminal or antisocial tendencies”—his eyes flicked to Isaveth again—“and to hold only peaceful protests from now on.”
    â€œAntisocial, my lord?” asked a girl in the row next to Isaveth. “What do you mean?”
    Eryx gazed at the vaulted ceiling, fingers steepled in thought. “As I’m sure you’re aware, there are people in our city with a history of lawless behavior, the kind of folk who stir up trouble wherever they go. They despise the sacred traditions that bind all good citizens together, and promote their own radical beliefs instead. . . .”
    He spoke delicately, but Isaveth knew what he meant: words like “lawless” and “radical” had been used to condemn Moshites for centuries. She sat rigid, trembling with the urge to