“As a child, I wouldn’t go near it,” Chaol admitted.
“You’d see something like this before the Gates of Wyrd—not in a garden. How old is it?”
“The king had it built around Pamel’s birth.”
“This king?” Chaol nodded. “Why would he build such a wretched thing?”
“Come on,” he said, turning as he ignored her question. “Let’s go.”
Valerie examined the clock for a second more. The thick, clawed finger of a gargoyle pointed at her. She could have sworn that its jaws had widened. As she made to follow Chaol, she noticed a tile on the paved pathway. “What’s this?”
He stopped. “What’s what?”
She pointed at the mark engraved on the slate. It was a circle with a vertical line through the middle that extended beyond the circumference. Both ends of the line were hooked, one directing downward, the
