“What is wrong? Are you injured?”
Ebon could not speak, but he shook his head. She grinned at him.
“I would wager you never thought the Academy would be like this, goldbag. Come. Kalem is waiting, and likely wondering what we are up to.”
She stood and went to the edge. Ebon closed his eyes, willing the world to stop spinning.
“Aieee!”
Kalem screamed as he landed beside Ebon. He cleared the lip easily and landed facedown. Like Ebon, he seized the wall’s top as though he might never let go.
“My apologies,” said Theren. “You are much lighter than either of us. I may have brought you up too quickly.”
“Yes, you may have,” said Kalem, voice shaking.
“I cannot go back down,” said Ebon, voice breaking on every other word.
“What?” said Theren.
“I cannot do that again. I cannot move. Please. Please, I cannot.”
Kalem pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked ruefully at Theren. “He deals poorly with heights. I had forgotten.”
Theren shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Come now, Ebon. It is only a little jump. Going down is much easier, for I do not have to lift you—only stop you from falling to your death.”
Ebon’s limbs shook harder. Kalem, still sitting, slapped Theren’s leg. “Leave off, Theren! Can you not see you are frightening him?”
“It is not her, Kalem,” said Ebon. “Look how high we are. I was mad to think I could do this.”
Kalem came crawling to Ebon’s side. “Come, Ebon. You must go down, one way or another. It may as well be on the outside, rather than into the training grounds again.”
“I cannot move. Tell one of the instructors I am here. They can lift me. I care not if they punish me, or even expel me. I cannot move, Kalem.”
Kalem frowned and put a hand on his shoulder. “But you can. Because you must, and because you were right before. Your family has some evil work afoot. We can put a stop to it, but not without you. Come, my friend. Sit up, first. Then we will take the next step.”
Sit up. That seemed easy enough.
Ebon took another deep breath and forced his hands to slide across the stone until he could lift himself. Soon he was half-sitting, though still he tried to keep himself low to the stone.
“Good, good,” said Kalem, speaking softly. “Now. Theren will go down first, as she did before. And I will be here with you until you are ready.”
Theren shook her head, but she did as Kalem said, stepping off the edge of the wall and vanishing into the darkness. The only thing they could see of her was her eyes, faintly glowing in the darkness ten paces below.
“It is so far,” Ebon said, trying not to wail.
Kalem squeezed his shoulders. “You can do it. Come now. You are older than I am.”
“That only means I am larger. What if she should drop me?”
“You heard her—going down is much easier than going up. If it helps, I will push you.”
“If you do, I will pull you with me.”
They both chuckled, though Ebon had to force it. “All right,” said Kalem. “Whenever you feel yourself ready.”
Ebon slid closer to the edge of the wall. It was just there now, right beside his hand. He did not even have to jump. He could simply fall. His heart still hammered in his chest, and spots of light danced before his eyes. He thought he might faint. That would get me off the wall in short order, he mused. The thought summoned a bitter laugh.
He slid his feet over the edge and pushed off.
Panic seized him again—but this time it did not matter, for Theren caught him. He could see her as he drew closer, the glow in her eyes brightening, hands held up. The closer he fell to the roof of the shed, the slower he moved. By the time he was two paces above her, he was no longer even afraid, for he moved slower than a brisk walk. He came down upon the roof easily, but still his nerves made him fall to his hands and knees.
“Did I not tell you?” said Theren. “Easier than going up.”
“You were right,” said Ebon. He forced himself up and embraced her. She started in surprise, but hugged him back after a moment. “Thank you.”
“Yes, well,” said Theren, clearly uncomfortable. “Leave off, or our little alchemist will dive into the abyss without me to catch him.”
A moment later, Kalem was down. He and Theren jumped easily off the shed roof. Ebon elected to climb down, hanging from the edge before dropping to the street. Then they ran off, and soon the Academy was out of sight.
They had come over the east wall, and so they ran in a wide loop until they were heading west again. As they went, Kalem looked about in excitement. His young face glowed with a silver tint in the moonslight.
“This is terribly, terribly stupid of us. We could get in a great deal of trouble, or even be expelled from the Academy. It is all rather exciting.”
“I fear we have proven a poor influence on our young friend, Ebon,” said Theren, teeth flashing in the dark.
“Mayhap, but mayhap he shall be better for it. You are a bit prudish when it comes to rules.” Ebon ruffled Kalem’s hair. Kalem batted his hand away.
“Leave off. You speak as though you have done this often, instead of once, and then with special permission from the dean.”
“Lucky for you both, then, that I am an old hand at this,” said Theren.
“How many times have you snuck out?” asked Kalem.
“You mean this month?”
Ebon shook his head and smiled. In truth he was far more worried about this excursion than he had been the last time he was in the city after dark. But now the journey was his own choice, and besides, he had his friends with him. That was more comforting than ignorantly doing his father’s bidding.
Before long Theren had led them to the Shining Door, which looked every bit as dirty and irreputable as the last time. “Don your hoods,” said Ebon. “I would not have anyone here recognize Theren and I from when we came before.”
“They will see our students’ robes,” said Theren. “That may be more than clue enough.”
“That we cannot help.”
With their hoods raised, they entered the inn. Almost immediately, Ebon felt Kalem draw closer to him. The patrons in the common room gave them evil looks. With their hoods up, gazes lingered a while longer as some tried to see their faces. Ebon ignored them as he made his way to the back, where the innkeeper stood with his hands spread on the counter.
“Well met,” said Ebon, trying to deepen his voice. “We seek a man who roomed here, or mayhap rooms here still. He had a thin beard and Elf-white skin. When last I saw him, he wore blue and grey.”
“I may know many men,” said the innkeeper. “And it does me no good to discuss any of their business. Shove off.”
Theren tensed beside him, but Ebon put a hand on her arm. From his purse he drew a gold weight, sliding it to the barkeep. The man eyed the coin for a moment, but he did not move. Ebon sighed and extracted another, placing it beside the first. “That is all you will get, and is more than a fair price for loosening your lips.”
The innkeeper scowled, but he took the coins and tucked them into his pocket. “The one you seek is not here at the moment, though he still holds a room.”
“What use are those words?” snapped Theren.
“They are the only ones I have.”
“What room has he taken?” said Ebon.
The innkeeper pointed to the hallway leading to the back. “First on the right.”
Ebon withdrew another coin. No matter my allowance, at this rate I shall soon be a pauper. “For your willing assistance,” he said. If the man caught the irony in Ebon’s tone, he did not show it—but he took the coin.
They moved towards the hallway, Ebon in the lead. But before they reached it, Kalem tugged at his sleeve. “What do you mean to do?” he whispered.
“Search the man’s room.”
“Are you mad? What if the innkeeper is wrong?
What if he is here, and even now slumbers within?”
“Well, if he is slumbering, then we shall have no trouble,” said Theren brightly.
“Unless he wakes. Or unless he does not slumber, and is sitting there waiting in lamplight for some foolish Academy students to come bumbling to their deaths!” Kalem’s voice rose with each word until he was nearly screeching, though still in a whisper.
“Our only other choice is to turn back and make for home,” said Ebon.
“That seems an excellent idea.”
“For cowards,” said Theren.
“I am going,” said Ebon. “Kalem, if you wish, you may withdraw. We shall find you on the street in a moment.”
Kalem looked as though he might, but then he looked around. Many eyes were now upon the three of them, for they stood near the center of the room.
“Oh, very well,” he muttered. “Only I think this is the height of idiocy, and speaking of the two of you, that says quite a lot.”
They reached the door. Ebon pressed an ear to it for a moment, but he could hear nothing inside. He turned the latch and stepped through. The door gave a long creeeak as it swung slowly open. There were no lanterns within. The only light came from the common room itself, and that was too dim to reveal anything.
He squared his shoulders and took another step in. The room was dead silent. Theren and Kalem’s footsteps sounded like thunder as they came in after him and swung the door shut.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and even then they could not see into the shadowed corners. But faint moonslight through the cracks in the drawn shutters revealed a dirty, unkempt bed and a single chest of drawers. There was a lamp on the floor by the bed, and for a moment Ebon thought to light it. But that might be folly; what if the man returned and saw the light glowing beneath his door?
“Look quickly,” he said. “The package was soft, wrapped in brown cloth, and tied with simple string. I think it was mayhap two hands wide. Find it, if you can, or anything unusual that might have been inside it.”
They set about their search. Theren moved to the bed, lifting the straw mattress and the pillow. Her nose coiled in disgust. Ebon understood why as he dropped to the floor and searched under the bed’s frame—the floor smelled of something untoward, a smell he could not place and did not like. But there was nothing underneath, except some rubbish of paper that held no words.
But from the chest of drawers, Kalem whispered, “Ebon.”
Theren went to him at once, and Ebon joined her a moment later. In the bottom drawer of the chest was the brown cloth parcel. Ebon recognized it at once.
“That is it,” he said. “Open it.”
“Why should I?” said Kalem, voice shaking. “You open it.”
Ebon reached for it with shaking fingers and undid the string. The brown cloth fell away. But in the darkness, he could not see what lay within. He reached for it and drew it out, holding it under the moonslight.
It was a tabard, that was plain: white with gold edges, and large enough to be worn over a suit of plate armor—or mayhap chain, if the wearer were particularly large. It covered chest and back and upper arms as well, and a lifetime of wealth told him the cloth was very fine. But more importantly, upon the breast was displayed a sign: a four-pointed star with a red gem in the middle. Ebon knew he had seen it before, but it took him a moment to place it. When he did, his heart skipped a beat.
“The High King’s sigil,” breathed Theren.
“This is worn by the palace guards,” said Kalem. “I went there once. Every one of the High King’s personal guard wore a tabard of just this make.”
“Why would I have been asked to deliver this? And to a man like the one we saw, in such a flea-ridden place?” said Ebon.
“Mayhap there is more to be found,” said Theren, and she returned to the drawer.
But just as Ebon was about to join in her search, a sound made him freeze The door’s latch turned, and before he could tell them to hide, it flew open. There in the doorway, wreathed in the lamplight from the room beyond, stood the pale man with the thin beard.
KALEM GAVE A SHARP CRY and stretched out his hands. His eyes glowed, and a thick mist filled the room. At the same time, Ebon leaped forwards to drag Theren back from the chest of drawers. Together the three of them pressed back into the room. Ebon did not know what to do, but he knew that trying to escape through the door would mean capture.
Together the three of them pressed back into the room. Ebon did not know what to do, but he knew that trying to escape through the door would mean capture.
Theren tore from his grasp, and he lost his grip on Kalem. Then a form came forwards through the mist, wiry hands grasping at empty air. The pale man.
He seized the front of Ebon’s robe and dragged him in. Even so close, the mists were too thick to see his face.
“Help!” cried Ebon. He tried to strike the man, but found his wrist caught in an icy grip. His assailant’s skin was cold and clammy, his arms all wiry muscle.
The other hand released Ebon’s robe. Then Ebon heard a snikt—a drawn dagger. The steel flashed in the mist as it came up, ready to plunge into Ebon’s heart.
Something invisible struck the man. His head flew back, and he dropped the blade. His ankle flew high, flipping him upside down. Ebon had seen it before when Lilith had attacked him in the tavern. It was Theren’s magic.
“Run!” she cried.
Ebon ran for where he thought the door was. But he misjudged and struck the wall instead. A small form crashed into his back—Kalem. Ebon grabbed the boy, and together they pressed through the door into the hallway beyond.
Theren was there, but she did not waste time with words. Together they fled through the common room. The innkeeper cried out, but they ran on, heedless. Soon they were in the cool, clean air of the streets beyond, but they kept running until they had left the Shining Door far behind.
At last they stopped in an alleyway, far from any main street. Kalem collapsed against a brick wall, sliding to sit on the filthy ground. Eyes closed and head thrown back, he cast down his hood.
“Did he see us?” said Theren. “Does he have our description?”
“Our hoods were raised,” said Ebon. “And though he held me by the wrist, I could not see his face in the mist. I think we are safe.”
Kalem’s panting slowed at last. His gaze fixed angrily on Ebon. “Safe? You nearly got the three of us killed!”
“How was I to know he would return while we were in his very room?”
“How could you simply assume he would not?” said Kalem. “He meant to murder us. What if he had? Can you imagine your parents receiving a letter that you had been killed upon the Seat?”
Ebon felt his cheeks burning, and he looked down at his shoes. The street was silent for a moment. “My father would read the letter and then most likely throw it in a fire. I doubt he would even tell my mother.”
“I came from an orphanage in Cabrus,” said Theren. Her voice was nearly as quiet as Ebon’s. “No one there would care. My patron would see it as an inconvenience. Then she would find another wizard to do her bidding.”
Kalem’s mouth hung open, but no sound came out. He looked back and forth between them and then dropped his own gaze. “I … I am sorry,” he said. “I had not thought … that is, I thought only of my own parents.”
Ebon shrugged. “Who could blame you? I, too, considered only myself. It was thoughtless of me to bring you here.”
Theren pulled the boy to his feet and gave his shoulders a little shake. “Do you jest? We might be dead if not for our brave Kalem here. Your mists were exquisite.”
Kalem still looked abashed, but he gave a little smile. “I panicked. I hardly knew what I was doing.”
She smiled. “Better a fool who does the right thing than a wise man who does the wrong, I always say.”
Their somber mood lifted somewhat, and Ebon gave his friends a smile. But then he frowned again. “I only wish we had learned more. I
wonder what he had that uniform for.”
“There I may be of some help,” said Theren with a wide smile. “For I found something else, just as our unwelcome guest arrived.”
Her hand vanished into her robes. A moment later she drew forth a parchment and unfurled it. It was a map of the Great Bay and the High King’s Seat, with marks and symbols scrawled all across it.
They made their way back to the Academy as quickly as they could, and Theren helped them over the wall once more. Again Ebon found it a harrowing experience, but already it was easier than the last time.
After sneaking into the citadel, they went to the common room outside Kalem’s dormitory. The younger children had all gone to bed, and they huddled together over a table to study the map by firelight.
The Seat itself took up most of the map, though Selvan’s coast was depicted to the west. The docks on the east and west ends of the island were drawn in more detail than the city itself. Near the western docks, many ships had been drawn in dark blue ink, while near the eastern dock were more ships drawn in red. From the High King’s palace were drawn lines in blue and red, tracing through the city and out to the docks to meet the ships of the same colors.
“What does it mean?” said Kalem softly.
“I do not know,” said Ebon. “It looks like a route from the palace to the docks, to ships waiting.”
“It could be,” said Theren. “But look here.”
She pointed, and Ebon saw a smaller drawing that had escaped his notice. To the south of the eastern docks, on the very southeastern tip of the island, was a smaller ship—more of a boat. A rough cave had been sketched around it, and they were both enclosed by a red circle.
“None of this means anything to me,” said Ebon. “I know little of ships and sailing.”
“Yet the drawings seem more concerned with the island than with the boats,” said Theren.
Kalem’s expression became grave. “Mayhap this is some plot. Have you heard the tale of the Lord Prince in his youth? Some bandits captured him and hid him in their forest stronghold, where they hoped to extract a mighty ransom from the High King. This may be some plan to do the same again, or something similar, at least.”
The Academy Journals Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 3) Page 17