by Barb Hendee
Intuition told him to get a better look at these two silent wagon handlers. Then he glanced toward the dormitory barracks. It was even later now, and he still wanted a word with Wynn while all the other sages remained out of the way. That task was more pressing.
Turning, Rodian headed straight for the barracks door.
Peeking through the cracked barracks door, Wynn sucked a breath that actually squeaked in her throat, and she pulled the door shut.
“What?” Ore-Locks whispered in alarm. “What did you—”
Wynn clamped her hand over his mouth.
“Rodian!” she whispered. “He’s coming straight toward us!”
Ore-Locks’s eyes widened until the whites showed all around his black-pellet irises. He grabbed Wynn’s hand, turned about, and then faltered. He appeared caught in indecision, looking at the stairs leading back up and the dark passage beside them.
“Not the stairs,” Wynn whispered. “We’ll get trapped up there.”
The passage led through the keep wall to the initiates’ barracks built long ago in the bailey. Ore-Locks immediately took off that way. They’d nearly reached the dim light of a cold lamp at the far end when Wynn’s panic cleared in a realization.
If Rodian went to her room and found her gone, with the guard unconscious, things would quickly get much worse. He’d sound the alarm, and Chane would be in even more danger. But if she got to her room and blocked the captain from entering so late at night, she could play dumb about the missing guard. While Rodian left to find that irresponsible guard, she could try to get out again.
Wynn pulled back hard, but Ore-Locks dragged her along like a stubborn puppy.
“Ore-Locks, stop!”
He wouldn’t, so she had to smack him across the back. He turned on her with a glower.
She whispered harshly, “I need to get back to—”
The latch on the courtyard door clicked, echoing down the passage. They both froze in the dark as the door began to crack open.
Wynn shoved Ore-Locks, though it didn’t budge him a bit. Backing up, she flattened against the passage’s wall and frantically waved him off, pointing at the other wall. He appeared to understand, though he hesitated, looking at her and then the door.
Hinges creaked as the door began to swing inward.
Ore-Locks grimaced as he turned and fled through—into—the passage wall’s stone.
Wynn had no idea how to explain being found outside her room, but the repercussions would be worse if Ore-Locks was found with her. She crouched, out of the line of sight, and lay down to roll in against the passage wall’s base.
It was a desperate, silly notion for hiding.
Rodian had begun pushing open the barracks door when a loud bang startled him. He turned, his hand reflexively dropping to his sword hilt. What he saw left him in more than mild surprise.
Premin Hawes burst from the center door of the northwest building, where only moments before the other sages had entered after unloading the wagon. She bolted for the keep’s main doors, not even glancing Rodian’s way.
For a moment, he was so stunned that he didn’t move. The premin of metaology crossed the courtyard in full flight, the skirt of her midnight blue robe flapping around her narrow, booted feet. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Hawes in such a state, and perhaps no one ever had.
He was just about to follow her when the dark-haired metaologer who’d hauled Wynn off a few nights ago came flying out the same door. The door banged recklessly against the wall and, at the noise, Hawes skidded to a stop, turned, and held out her hand.
“No, Dorian!” she commanded. “Go back and watch every area that we have covered.”
Dorian gave a quick nod and went running back to wherever he’d come from. Hawes took two backward steps and then turned to race to the keep’s main doors and disappeared inside.
Rodian was at a complete loss as to what all of this meant. What could Dorian possibly be watching from inside the northwest building? And what had Hawes meant by “covered”? He wanted to question Wynn, but something more immediate was happening.
Rodian took off at a jog after Hawes.
* * *
Dänvârfij crouched low on the rooftop as the wagon rolled out through the bailey gate. Én’nish was crouched beside her, and they both drew in a sharp breath at the same time.
Beside the tall driver on the bench sat a smaller, slender form in a full cloak, pants, and jerkin. Perhaps it was the driver’s son or apprentice. But there had been only the driver onboard when the wagon had first entered the bailey gate and tunnel.
Dänvârfij tensed in indecision. First the pale human and dwarf had melted through the outer wall. Then the black majay-hì had raised a wild commotion at the gate, drawing out the guards before it had run off. Now a small, cloaked figure came out who had not gone in.
“Is it the sage in disguise?” Én’nish whispered.
Dänvârfij closed her eyes. Everything that had happened in this city since Magiere’s return seemed to surround Wynn Hygeorht. There was no certainty here, but there was no letting the possibility slip through her hands. If it was the sage on the wagon, somehow she had slipped out of the castle with no help from Magiere or Léshil.
“Who is driving?” Én’nish asked.
Dänvârfij squinted but could not make out the driver’s face, though he was quite tall. Too tall to be Léshil, yet not broad-shouldered enough for Brot’ân’duivé. She looked straight into Én’nish’s too-eager eyes.
“Get Rhysís and go after them. Secure the sage at any cost.”
Chane hurried toward the library’s center doors caught in a pool of light from a cold lamp mounted to one side. Each of the frame stones at the arch’s top held an engraved Begaine symbol for the guild’s creed. He knew what they meant without struggling to read them.
Truth through Knowledge . . . Knowledge through Understanding . . . Understanding through Truth . . . Wisdom’s Eternal Cycle.
It was a bitter notion after all that the Premin Council had put Wynn through.
He grabbed the right door’s handle, twisted it, and found it locked. Gripping the handle harder, he threw his weight against it, knowing the effort wouldn’t matter. For the first time since beginning this undertaking, real anxiety flooded through him.
It was not enough that they had locked Wynn away. Was the council now locking up any and all knowledge? How could he get Wynn out if he could not quickly and safely breach the library to clear her a path? He wondered if he should rush to the main doors and toss a glove out into the courtyard. Ore-Locks might yet get Wynn out another way.
Chane steeled himself. There was still one more library door to try, and he had to reach it quickly. But as he turned, one of the keep’s main double doors swung open.
He backed up, not even looking to see who it was, and snatched the glass off the wall-mounted cold lamp. Pulling the lamp’s crystal, he clenched it tightly in his fist to squelch its light and then flattened against the sidewall as he peered up the central passage.
Premin Hawes stepped into the entryway and quickly shut the main doors. She stood there for a moment in the entryway’s dim pool of light. She was facing down the central passage.
Chane feared she had already seen him, but he kept still in waiting. Even if she had not, if she came straight on, she would soon enough.
One of the main doors opened again, and Hawes spun toward them, facing away from Chane.
Captain Rodian stepped inside, frowning at the premin.
Rodian was surprised to find Hawes still in the entryway. How strange, considering her panicked rush of a moment before.
“Is something amiss, Premin?” he asked, abandoning any pretense. “I saw you running and was concerned.”
If she was equally surprised to see him, her expression didn’t betray it. Hawes was as composed as Rodian had ever seen her, once again the coldly observant premin of metaology.
“I was told someone was wandering about,” she returne
d evenly. “Considering the curfew you set and your order to keep the library locked at night, I did not want some initiate’s forgetfulness to cause trouble.”
He stared at her, letting silence linger for three breaths. “How did you receive this word?”
“We have our ways of communication here,” she answered. “Nothing that would hamper your security. I apologize for not having notified your men before acting on my own.”
Rodian didn’t move. “Such hurry . . . out of concern for an initiate?”
“All of our charges should be long abed. As you are here, perhaps you would assist me in checking the main building.”
What Rodian wanted was to put her in a room until she gave him a real answer. He didn’t believe her in the slightest, and had long since grown suspicious of anything said by any member of the Premin Council. She knew someone was in here, but Rodian seriously doubted it was a mischievous initiate up past bedtime.
Locking Hawes up might be a pleasure unto itself, but it would only gain Rodian more trouble from the royals, unless he could prove exceptional reasons.
“Should I call more men?” he asked.
“I think you and I can handle this.” The premin turned halfway, glancing northward along the main passage. “Perhaps you could check up there while I head the other way. With the towers and library locked up, whoever is wandering about couldn’t have gone far. We will meet back here shortly.”
He was about to suggest they switch sides in the search, for Hawes had too quickly stated her preference. But he couldn’t think of an adequate justification for the change and so he had to play along. Nodding, he turned northward at a slow pace along the keep front’s main passage.
Rodian listened for the sound of Hawes’s footsteps heading the other way.
Chane did not move a muscle as he watched the pair in the entryway. He gained no relief when Rodian disappeared from sight, heading north, for Hawes lingered. The premin stood there a moment and then suddenly, sharply, she turned and vanished in the other direction. Chane remained still, though it appeared neither the premin nor the captain had spotted him.
That was something at least, but too little. All of his plans were now ruined.
With those two wandering about the keep, it would not matter if he managed to force his way into the library. He had to stop Wynn and Ore-Locks before they entered this building and ran straight into the premin or the captain. But could he reach the main doors himself without being spotted?
He crept along the central passage’s left wall toward the entryway. At a half dozen paces away, he slowed, watching the mouth of the main passage’s northward half. Of the two now in the keep, if the captain spotted him first, Chane would have no chance to talk his way out. Then again, though Hawes knew him a little, she might be far more dangerous if she did not believe his excuses.
There was only one course left to Chane.
He pressed forward along the left wall, nearing where the central passage met the main one at the entryway. The main doors were so close, but he feared stepping into view. He lingered, listening, and then glanced the way Rodian had gone. Finally, he began slipping forward to peer around the corner after Hawes.
A hand shot out from Chane’s left, in front of his chin. He was so startled he did not see where it came from, until its narrow fingers clenched the front of his cloak and shirt.
The forearm below that slender hand protruded from out of the passage wall’s stone.
In shocked instinct, Chane pulled back, but he could not break free. Even before he could grab his sword hilt, the hand dragged him face-first into—through—the passage’s left wall. Only one thought remained as he was swallowed into cold, dark stone.
That narrow hand could not have belonged to Ore-Locks.
Wynn tried to come up with some plausible excuse for being out of her room once Rodian spotted her. Maybe it would be better for Chane—and Shade—if she faced down the captain and took all consequences on herself. After all, what could Rodian do without formal charges? What more could the Premin Council do?
They still wanted her under their watchful eye, so they wouldn’t make any legal claim against her. That would put her permanently in Rodian’s hands and off guild grounds. Of course, there was still an unconscious guardsman in her room. That was something the captain would pin on her, though she doubted he’d believe she’d done it herself. But he’d still arrest her, thinking she might eventually give up who had.
Wynn closed her eyes and bit down on the tip of her tongue. No matter which way she worked it, there was no good outcome. And the moments just kept creeping along.
She opened her eyes, peering toward the door to the courtyard . . . and it was closed again.
Wynn just kept staring at it, waiting. She finally got up, hesitantly creeping back up the passage. When she reached the door, she pressed her ear to it and listened, but she heard nothing at all . . . except a shift on stone behind her.
A hand dropped heavily on her shoulder.
She inhaled in fright and whirled about with a clenched fist. A thick hand clamped over her mouth as another one caught her punch.
“Shush. It is me, you fool,” Ore-Locks whispered into her face.
Wynn pulled his hand from her face, her heart still racing.
“Was that really necessary?” she hissed at him.
He rolled his eyes in a glower and pushed her out of the way. Reaching for the door, he cracked it open and peeked out.
“Is he gone?” she whispered, thinking that hardly likely. Once Rodian took after something, he was impossible to shake off.
Ore-Locks shot her an annoyed glance and cocked his head, motioning for her to follow. She was still shaking as she followed him out into the courtyard, but she was both astonished and relieved to find it empty.
It was not the time to question good luck, and she stayed right on Ore-Locks’s heels as they inched along the barracks to the courtyard’s corner. Chane must be wondering where they were by now, but Wynn was wondering something else.
Where has Rodian gone now?
Rodian walked his half of the front passage, past the common hall’s main arch, and rounded the right-hand turn toward the library’s north entrance. He passed the common hall’s small side arch on his right and the kitchen’s entrance across on the left. He peered into both, and both were empty, though he hadn’t expected to find anyone there. When he reached the left-hand passage leading to the northern tower, he paused to check the library door at the turn.
It was locked, as it should be. He shook his head, wondering what Hawes was up to with this nonsense errand. Something was clearly happening here. And still, while he was here . . .
He glanced down the way toward the door to the northern tower. The cold lamp above him at the library’s north entrance didn’t cast enough light that far, so he walked past the kitchen’s rear entrance and stopped to check the door across the way into the bailey’s rear.
It was locked, as were the tower door and the door next to that for the archives below.
Rodian had had enough of this and exhaled in exasperation as he headed back. It was time to get some answers out of Hawes.
CHAPTER 16
WAITING ALONE IN THE alley with Chap, Magiere found that she had too much time to think. Much too much. Of all that she might’ve wished for tonight, the last was abundant time to think—especially while suffering in ignorance over what was happening with her companions.
She assumed that Osha and Leanâlhâm were on the way back. It depended on how long it had taken to unload that wagon. Leesil and Brot’an must have breached the keep by now. But every time Magiere blinked, she saw flashes of what she’d done in the northern white wastes to find and secure the second orb, to get Leesil and Chap out of that frigid land alive.
To return here and learn there were yet more orbs, that more of the Ancient Enemy’s minions were on the move, searching as well, was too much. And the one person besides Chap who might have real answers was
locked up beyond reach.
Magiere had such a burning urge to go after Wynn herself, and she glanced down. Chap was watching the street, his ears pricked up. She wondered if he’d caught any of these brief memories of hers. She didn’t ask him or warn him to stay out of her head.
In truth, she wasn’t worried about Chap. He’d had his own agenda from the beginning of all this and would see it through to the end. Neither was she worried about herself—at least not about her purpose for the future.
Leesil was another matter. There was nothing Magiere wouldn’t do to keep him safe, even when he tried to stop her from doing so. All his life, he’d been either a slave assassin to a warlord or a slave to the open road or a slave to fates they couldn’t shake, especially hers. All he really wanted now was to go home to their tavern, the Sea Lion, in the little coastal town of Miiska.
That had once been Magiere’s strongest desire, next to him.
Over and over, the warm image of hearth and home had wavered like a mirage, just out of reach. Over and over, it had vanished more quickly as each seemingly insurmountable task had fallen on them. In the beginning, it had been him who’d kept her going, held her up in the face of it all.
How much had changed . . . and now there were two more orbs to find.
Chap suddenly rumbled, just once. Magiere found him watching her with his crystalline blue eyes.
She’d never told him, but she’d come to see him as the strong one among the three of them. Chap would face anything as long as the purpose was clear, and if it wasn’t, he would hold everything in place until it was. He’d been the one to take the two orbs into hiding, so that no one but him knew where they were. How he’d accomplished that in the end he’d never said, but she remembered the way he returned to meet up with her and Leesil.
Chap had padded back into their sight as if he carried some internal burden that gave him unbearable shame. He would take whatever fate threw at him and snarl in its face, but upon his return, he’d been silent. He’d ignored any attempt Leesil made to get him to use the talking hide.