"Working magic can do that," said Oreg. "Tell me about what you saw."
With a handful of questions he got more information out of her than she remembered noticing, the way Ward's eyes had appeared black rather than brown, his swift coordinated movements contrasting to his slurred, labored speech.
Finally, Oreg tossed a silver coin on the table—too much, but Tisala didn't protest. She just took the arm he offered her and strode out of the tavern by his side.
He walked with controlled violence. Tisala didn't disturb him with talk because she felt the same need for action, the same fury. She hadn't forgotten that they'd met at the tavern so she could take Oreg to meet with Rosem, but she didn't want to take him there in this mood.
They walked through a small area shopping district, and he paused in front of a building with a mortar and pestle over the door, an apothecary shop. It was locked up tight at this time of night, of course, though there was light above where the proprietor doubtless lived.
"Herbs," said Oreg abruptly. "There are herbs that can make a person overwrought and confused. You said that he was not otherwise hurt."
Herbs suggested that the condition Ward was in was temporary.
"I told you the cell wasn't well lit," she said, "but I would have noticed any sizable wound or bruise. They're keeping whatever damage they're doing from showing." Maybe it was all herbs, she hoped.
"I'll get Ward out tonight," said Oreg. He resumed walking. His pace was still quick, but it was no longer urgent.
The air smelled of horse manure and other, even less savory, city smells, but it was clean and pure compared to what she'd been smelling all day.
"Tell me," said Oreg, "about the Asylum wing where Ward is. You said the king's wizards have a laboratory in the mage's wing."
"Yes, but I didn't see inside. It's kept locked."
He questioned her about little details, which side of the corridor Ward's cell was on, how many cells there were, about how big each cell was. Some things she knew, others she guessed, and a few she could only shrug about.
"Do you have time to see my friend?" she asked when she thought he was through questioning her.
He looked vague for an instant and she knew he'd forgotten.
"I wouldn't ask if it weren't important," she said.
"Fine," replied Oreg abruptly.
They walked a few blocks before Tisala found a street she knew, and it was well after full dark before she located Rosem's home.
She knocked at the door, three times in rapid succession so Rosem would know who it was, then entered without waiting for him to come to the door.
Rosem was seated at his table in front of the fire eating stew from a wooden bowl. He looked up once, a single sweeping glance, and gestured at the bench that spanned the length of the table across from him.
She took a seat and Oreg sat beside her. Rosem ate his dinner and didn't speak a word until he'd sopped up the last of the stew with a piece of dried bread. Tisala knew that he'd been using the time to assess Oreg, though he'd appeared to give his full attention to the wooden bowl he held.
He set his bowl aside and folded his arms across his chest. Without looking directly at Oreg, he addressed Tisala. "He's Hurog-bred."
"The old lord fathered a lot of us," said Oreg. "As did his father before him."
"Ward was the first wizard born into that family in living memory," continued Rosem. "Are you the second?"
Tisala frowned at him. What was he doing? She'd told him that Oreg was a mage.
Oreg smiled with boyish charm. "So they say."
"Rosem wants to know if you can get another person out of the Asylum," said Tisala before Rosem had time to really antagonize Oreg or vice versa. "He's not in the same wing as Ward."
Oreg's smile didn't change, so Tisala added, "Remember, without Rosem, I wouldn't have been able to find Ward."
The smile went out like a candle and Oreg said, "I can get another person out—if Ward agrees. But when I get Ward out, we won't linger here. Have your man put this on." Oreg opened his belt pouch and set a wooden bead on the table.
It was the size of a prune pit, painted with yellow and red designs and strung on a leather thong. Tisala had seen a number of barbarians—Shavigmen, she hastily corrected—wear such charms for luck while she had been at Hurog.
Rosem shook his head. "He won't be allowed to keep it."
"Can he hide it in his chambers, then? That's the only way I'll know where to get him, unless you want me to wait until you, yourself, are with him?" Oreg's voice was unfailingly courteous.
"I'll find a place to hide it. Don't you want to know who we want you to get out?" Rosem's voice was level with suspicion.
Oreg shook his head. "It doesn't matter. If I get Ward out of the Asylum, anyone else we get out can't worsen his position with the king."
"Kellen," Tisala said. "Jakoven's younger brother."
"I was wrong," said Oreg after a bare instant. "Rescuing Kellen Tallven will definitely take Ward off Jakoven's list of who is to be invited to important social events—except, of course, Ward's own execution."
Tisala couldn't help a quick grin.
Not knowing Oreg or Ward, Rosem said, "So your answer is no."
"I didn't say that," said Oreg. "It'll be up to Ward, but since he has a wide band of stubborn stupidity that would do credit to a mule when the question of right and wrong is concerned, I expect he'll agree. You understand I can't say for certain until I have Ward out. Once I have him, I'll get Kellen out immediately so security doesn't tighten."
"I'd rather you not use his name so freely," said Rosem. "Being a wizard, you know about scrying."
Oreg snorted. "Being a competent wizard, I can keep Jakoven's pets from listening to any of my conversations. They'll not learn of your plans for Kellen from me."
"Tell me where and when to meet you after you've gotten him out," said Rosem.
Oreg hesitated. "Menogue," he said at last. "At the path before it begins the climb to the hilltop. I'll meet you there the evening after your man escapes. It should be very soon—so make sure he gets that charm."
"First thing tomorrow," agreed Rosem, closing his hand over the little bead until his knuckles turned white.
Tisala closed Rosem's door behind them and hugged her arms together as the chill night breeze cut through her clothing.
"He's not usually so abrupt," she said, setting out for the mansion where Ward's family would be waiting. "He's just worried."
"Jealous," correct Oreg, a hint of mischief in his voice.
"Jealous?" she asked.
"Rosem has Tallvenish body servant written all over him. His duty and honor is to protect his lord, but he has to go to a mage for help."
She thought about that for a moment. "Maybe a little," she said.
Rosem had engineered an escape once, years ago. It had failed, and the resulting chaos made it perfectly clear to everyone involved that if the king believed there was a real chance of his brother escaping, he'd forget about oracle warnings and kill Kellen. If Oreg wasn't successful, Kellen would die and it would be Rosem's fault. But Kellen was already dying in that little cell. "I still think it's mostly worry," she said.
When Tisala followed Oreg into the library at Lord Duraugh's rented manor, they found Tosten waiting for them. Dark circles shadowed his eyes and he rubbed them wearily, setting aside the battered harp he'd been fingering.
"I found him," she told Tosten in a voice suitable to a house where people were sleeping.
"How was he?"
She looked away and said, "Oreg thinks they are using herbs—he wasn't himself." The image of Ward trying to bury himself under the straw haunted her, and she didn't see any reason to share it with his brother—especially when the effects were, she hoped, temporary.
Tosten turned to Oreg. "But he'll be all right?"
"I'm getting him out tonight," said Oreg in oblique reply. "Help me move this furniture, I need a clear space on the floor."
&n
bsp; By the time they'd cleared the floor, Lord Duraugh, looking more tired than Tosten, had come up to see what the noise was.
Oreg produced a sheet of vellum and made Tisala stand over his shoulder as he drew the section of the Asylum where Ward was. When he was finished he had a fair map. Then he picked Tisala's memories to pieces again. She found she remembered details she couldn't possibly have: how many stone blocks there were between each doorway, where the paint was scratched on the inside of Ward's cell door, the shape of the lock.
When he was finished with her, Tisala sat down abruptly on a bench and realized he'd used some magic on her—she could feel its absence now that it was gone.
Without a word, Oreg took a piece of charcoal and began marking the polished wooden floor.
"What are you doing?" Tosten's voice startled Tisala. She'd forgotten he and Duraugh were in the room, too.
"Transportation spells without a definite destination are difficult in the best of times." Oreg replied. "This" — he paused in his drawing to gesture at the marks he'd made on the floor—"will help me return here if something goes wrong. Hopefully I'll be able to get myself to where they've stashed Ward, and then I can get us both out."
"They have the area magicked to prevent someone doing just that," said Duraugh. "I've asked a few friends about it—discreetly."
"Jakoven's pet wizards don't have the power to ward it against me," said Oreg contemptuously.
Tisala had watched her father's mage use symbols to work magic before, but there was something different about the way Oreg moved—like the difference between watching an artist and a talented amateur. Oreg never stopped to look something up in a book, never paused in the detailed lines he placed on the floor, though she could barely see the marks in the dim light. He never had to stop and go back to redraw anything. Even so it took him quite a while before he was satisfied.
After setting aside the charcoal, he jumped lightly over his artwork and sat, cross-legged, in the unmarked section he'd left in the middle. He closed his eyes and became still.
Nothing happened for such a long time that when the first few sparks sputtered from the marks on the floor, Tisala thought she was imagining things.
Then between one breath and the next the temperature in the room shot up from winter-cool to unbearably hot. Blue and gold sparks spewed from the black marks and lit the room, forcing Tisala to bring up her arm to protect her eyes.
When she lowered her arm, the room was thick with smoke and a dragon curled around itself where Oreg had been, filling the room.
Then Oreg stood in the dragon's place, staggered a few steps forward, and fell to his knees. Duraugh rushed to his side and helped him to a chair.
"Oreg?" he said. "Are you all right?"
The wizard nodded his head, breathing heavily. "I can't get to him," he said in a voice that shook. "I haven't seen wards like those since … It's warded with dragon magic. I couldn't get through. If I were inside, with him, I might have been able to get him out—but not from here."
"They have a dragon?" asked Tosten tightly.
Oreg shook his head. "More likely some remnant piece—a tooth or scale would be enough."
"Are you sure you could get him out from inside?" Tisala asked.
Oreg smiled grimly. "Yes."
She rubbed her hands over her eyes. "I'll see what we can do. There is only one cleaner for that section. It'll be difficult to remove her again without arousing questions—not to mention the prevalence of mages who might notice a wizard strolling through their doors, for all that he's dressed like a cleaner."
8—WARDWICK
What you do when no one is watching reveals your true character.
Day by day I was failing, hour by hour it was harder to ride the pain. The greater portion of the panic gripping me had nothing to do with the herbs in the water I drank; I lost hope.
Oreg, where are you?
Sometimes the demons brought me back to my cell when the morning sun trickled through the small, grated window far above me. I would stare at the pale light on the straw because the window hurt my eyes. In my more cognizant moments I realized they weren't letting me sleep.
At some point I quit eating the food they left, but I managed to remember that the water was important, and I gagged it down before crawling to my straw cave.
I could tell it was almost time for the monsters by the relative clearness of my thoughts. The door opened and I tried to pretend I wasn't there, burrowing into the straw until they couldn't find me.
But it wasn't the usual monsters, because the door shut, leaving the intruder caged with me. The break in routine was frightening and the resulting adrenaline rush sent me to my feet.
A woman stood just inside the door in a plain woolen robe. In her right hand she held a wooden rake.
"Tisala." The small voice spoke for the first time in a long time, but it was virtually lost in the sea of terror that drowned me. It hadn't taken long to learn that anything new was bad.
She walked in tentatively, a horrible creature with seven heads who was going to poison me with the tears that tracked down her face. I scuttled away from her as far as I could, but she kept coming.
"Tis," I said, though I hadn't planned on saying anything at all. "Stay back. Please?" If she tried to touch me, I knew I would die. But the little voice had been forced out of hiding for fear I would hurt her.
She backed away then, and left me to my safe haven while she raked out the straw that didn't belong to my nest. I stood glued to the far wall, shaking.
When she left, I wept as she had, but I didn't know why. I didn't stop until the monsters came again.
They held my head under the water this time, but I didn't struggle because Jade Eyes told me not to. I held my breath until I passed out. Then they—and I—did it again.
This was something new, and in my drugged exhaustion it seemed perfectly sane to peer through the depths of the water and look for … safety, sanity, I don't know what. It seemed to me that I could see it just on the outside of my vision.
"See what?" Jade Eyes asked, after I awoke coughing and choking the second time.
I blinked at him like an idiot; even after four years, the mask of stupidity I wore throughout my youth was more at home on my face than not. Tosten liked to tease me about it.
Tosten. Hurog.
"Something to fill the hole in me," I said, realizing after I said it that it was true. I rolled off the wet bench and back into the water without help this time.
Hurog, I thought Dragon, come take me.
Dragon claws snatched at me, dragon magic, filled me for a moment. I knew this dragon.
"Oreg!" I screamed underwater.
Then between one instant and the next it was gone, and the hole that separation from Hurog always left inside me was all the emptier for having once been filled. It was infinitely worse than the pain in my head, and some part of me believed that I would never be whole again. That this time they would succeed in taking Hurog from me.
A hand, not dragon claws, hauled me out of the water and strapped me down to the table in the center of the room.
"Did you feel that? asked Jade Eyes excitedly to his fellow mage. "That's what his magic felt like on the trip over here. Have you ever felt anything like it?"
I cried for Oreg's loss. Even in the state I was in, I realized that Oreg had tried to rescue me—and he'd failed. There would be no rescue. And if Oreg couldn't rescue me, no one could.
"It was unusual," said Arten. "But Jakoven was firm that we break him. I think we've done it. The drugs should be mostly out of his system and he still threw himself into the water that last time. I suppose he might be trying to kill himself, but that flare of magic …"
"He was looking for something," said Jade Eyes, petting my forehead. "Weren't you, Ward?"
His voice was so soft and soothing, I couldn't help but reply. "Dragons," I said, sobbing out the words. "The dragon is gone."
Arten nodded abruptly. "I'll be back w
ith Jakoven," he said. "Amuse yourself until I return at his convenience. Don't take him back to his cell. I'll tell Jakoven you've managed to re-create the effect you noticed bringing him here. But I think he's impatient to get on with his plans." On those words he left me alone with Jade Eyes.
Amuse himself Jade Eyes did. And it was different this time. The knowledge that not even Oreg could get me out had broken some hard core of resistance. The thin veneer, the shadow of my old mask that I wore to protect myself, crumbled completely and there was nothing left to save me. I screamed when the pain flamed through my body, robbing me of all control. I sobbed for it to stop, then sobbed and shook when it did and the pain was replaced by caressing hands. I wished fervently for the pain rather than the sure knowledge that it would begin again, and over and over I received my wish.
It was during one of the «rest» periods that Jakoven finally came. I didn't hear him enter, didn't notice him until he struck me lightly on the face.
"Ah, Ward, my boy. Good to see you," he said.
I stared at him blankly, far past worrying about the newly familiar smells that accompanied Jade Eyes entertainments: feces and urine, blood and sweat. Nor was I concerned about the tears that continued to slide down my cheeks, though I was aware that all of these things would once have embarrassed me—especially the tears.
"Hurogs don't cry." It was not my inner voice who spoke, but an older one. It took me a moment to remember that my father was dead and I didn't need to hate him anymore.
I think Jakoven thought the heat in my eyes was directed at him, not realizing I was almost beyond recognizing who he was.
"Do you know why you are here?"
No, I thought. "Hurog," I said in a voice so hoarse and deep that it must have been difficult to understand. Then the tissues of my throat, swollen from screaming, closed up, and I couldn't utter another word.
Jakoven looked away from me and said, "Leave us. Stay, Jade Eyes."
The room emptied. I hadn't realized until then that there was anyone else in it but the king, Jade Eyes, and me, but a number of mage robes passed by my eye.
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