Much worse was the realization that Ellasif had manipulated him in much the same way. He had long wondered why she had cleared his path to Irrisen, arranging for Basha to offer him a job that would take him exactly where he wanted to go—or rather, where both Mareshka and Ellasif had made him think he wanted to go. On the other hand, if what he believed about Jamang and his wretched little imp was true, Ellasif had probably also saved his life from the very start. Still, Declan understood that he was no use to her dead, since she needed to trade him for her sister’s freedom, so that was also in her self-interest.
Declan breathed on the wall of ice and drew a rough outline of the lands he had traveled since leaving Korvosa. Then he marked his starting point and traced the route of his journey west, then north, and finally east into Irrisen. His initial suspicions about Ellasif had faded gradually as they traversed Varisia, and he had to wonder now whether that was because he was just that stupid. Like Silvana—he could not think of the lithe young blonde as Mareshka—hadn’t Ellasif also seduced him in her way? The shield maiden wasn’t even pretty, not in the way that so drew his eyes to girls like Silvana. Even Liv was prettier than her sister, if a little young for him.
When he considered the question, Declan realized that he did not regret kissing Ellasif, despite the trouble it had caused with Mareshka and the revelation of Ellasif’s own duplicity that followed. He glanced back at her, thinking of the taste of her mouth and the warmth of her cheek. He looked away as soon as she looked back and caught him staring.
Declan felt that Jadrek was boring a hole through him with his own stare. The big man wasn’t glowering, exactly, but he looked much less friendly than he had before. Declan had overheard enough of his reaction to Declan’s kissing Ellasif during the earlier confusion that he realized Jadrek had—or thought he had—some prior claim on Ellasif’s affections. In the short time they’d known each other, Declan had begun to like Jadrek. The big man had also saved his life, and Declan had no reason to believe he’d been deceiving him. If anything, Jadrek seemed more stunned by the recent revelations than Declan himself. If they had been friends in Korvosa who spotted the same lass in a tavern, Declan would gladly have stepped aside.
“Hello,” said Liv. She appeared as if by magic at his elbow, but Declan realized he’d been lost in his own little world. A bear could have walked up without his knowing.
Declan greeted her with a weak smile.
“I can see why Mareshka was so taken with you,” she said.
“What?”
“These past months, she’s been mooning over her scrying pool, but whenever I asked her who she was watching, she dispelled the image. She said only that whoever it was was coming to rescue her as proof of his love, and that she had a surprise for him when he arrived.”
“It was definitely a surprise.” He swallowed uncomfortably, and might have said more, had not an excruciating squeal drawn everyone’s attention to the ice wall.
Ellasif chipped at the barrier with her magic sword, and each blow caused another awful screech. Everyone shouted at her to stop, lest she disintegrate their teeth. Jadrek and Olenka had already thrown their considerable bulk against the doors, but they were locked tight, and the threatening manner of the guards earlier reminded them that they would only face a fight on the other side.
“Try the windows,” suggested Declan.
“That won’t work,” said Liv.
Ignoring her sister, Ellasif struck one of the clear panes. It shattered just like ordinary ice, despite its uncanny clarity. She shot out a hip and said in a tone of triumph, “See?”
Liv crossed her arms across her chest and nodded at the window. As they all looked, a film of water ran down from the top edge, freezing immediately in place. “Just be glad you didn’t try to crawl out first,” she said. “Tatyana had all the windows in the house permanently enchanted after a hailstorm six years ago.”
“You weren’t even here six years ago,” growled Ellasif.
“I’ve been catching up on the family stories.”
“They aren’t your family!”
Families are complicated. Declan heard an echo of his own words in his memory. The squabble continued, but he tried his best to ignore it, both because he had no desire to step between the combative sisters and because an idea of how to escape was beginning to tickle his imagination. The problem was that he’d seen the entire room, and so far as he understood his burgeoning talent for drawing magical maps, his tricks were capable of altering only places he had not yet seen. The instant he looked up at the ceiling, he realized his mistake.
“Damn it,” he grumbled. He had not shouted, but Liv and Ellasif ceased their argument and looked at him for an explanation. So did Olenka and Jadrek. Declan shrank under the impatient demands of their collective gaze.
“If only there were a closet in here, or a door we didn’t know had guards standing on the other side of it, then maybe I could draw us a way out of here.”
“Like the bridge at Brinewall,” said Ellasif.
He nodded. “The trouble is that I’ve seen everything in this room. There’s no ‘unexplored territory’ for me to alter.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Liv. “Is this some special kind of witchcraft?”
“No,” Declan said firmly. Then he realized he didn’t know what it was. “At least, I don’t think so. It might have something to do with my mother’s talent for art. I’d be happy to tell you all about it in a tavern in Korvosa, or at least an alehouse in Jol. The important thing is that we get out of here.”
“It is like what you did at the warlock’s house?” asked Olenka.
“That’s it exactly, only this time I wouldn’t be trying to connect with another caster’s spell. It should be much simpler just to make a path out of this room.”
The red-haired warrior stepped forward and took him by the shoulders. She pulled him toward the window and sat him on one of the divans facing the wall. “I think maybe there is a trap door beneath the rug behind you.”
Resisting the impulse to turn to look at the floor, Declan instead smiled his thanks up into Olenka’s face. He pulled the drawing materials from his satchel and set to work. A few minutes later he had sketched out the room from memory, adding a few details like the finer grain of the wooden doors and a few strokes to suggest the subjects of the papercraft landscapes, which he had immediately recognized as his mother’s work. He even included the ice wall that Mareshka had conjured, as well as the bearskin rugs he had barely glimpsed upon entering. When he was satisfied that he had captured the room as he had seen it, he traced the outlines of a trap door.
“Ready?” Jadrek asked from behind him. Declan imagined him bending down to pull the rug up from the floor.
“No,” Declan said emphatically. “We need to get out of this house, not just out of this room.” He continued drawing, this time drawing light lines down from the floor to represent the staircase he wanted to exist directly beneath his imagined trap door. He drew the faint borders of rooms beneath theirs, adding floors beneath them until he was sure the stairs reached the ground floor. Then, trying to remember the approximate size of the outer walls of the Crooked House, he drew a narrow corridor, like a servant’s passage in a Korvosan manor home, leading out to a side entrance.
Liv leaned over his shoulder to appraise his work. She clicked her tongue, unimpressed. “There is no such—” she began, but Olenka clamped her hand over her mouth.
“Let go of her,” growled Ellasif.
“Please, Ellasif,” Jadrek said. He reached toward her, but she slapped his hand away.
“It’s all right,” said Declan, blowing the last of the charcoal dust from the page. “I’m finished.”
Jadrek was still sulking from Ellasif’s latest rebuke, but he looked to Declan for a nod before he swept away the heavy carpet.
Beneath the bear skin lay the t
rap door that Declan’s art had created. Jadrek lifted it without prompting, revealing a wooden spiral staircase below.
“Let’s go,” Declan said.
He led the way down the stairs, glancing back only to see Jadrek and Ellasif vying for second place. The heat in their mutual scowls was unmistakable. It was not hatred, and it was not just rivalry. Declan turned away, a queasy jealousy congealing in his stomach. He could at least dispel the gloom of the stairway, so he drew his sword and cast a cantrip along its blade. Green-white light filled the passage. The spell would not make his sword as fantastic as Ellasif’s new weapon appeared to be, but at least it would light the way, and perhaps it would make a guard hesitate, thinking it was a powerful enchantment. Declan hoped the rest of the spells he had set in his mind that morning would prove as useful.
They crept down three floors to emerge in a narrow corridor, just as Jadrek’s map had depicted. If all of the magically rearranged passages worked as he intended, the nearest door led outside, on the western side of the Crooked House, as far from the front entrance as possible.
Declan moved toward the door, but before he could put his hand on the latch, he heard a shout of alarm from above. He could barely make out the words, but it was clear that the guards had entered the gallery and found the conjured door in the floor.
“Outside,” he said, pulling the latch and stepping through the back door. The bright afternoon sun dazzled his eyes, and a cold wind blew his cloak up around his shoulders. He sheathed his sword and held the door open as the others ran out, blinking and shading their eyes.
“I’ll hold the door shut,” said Jadrek. “The rest of you get as far away as you can.”
“We stay together,” said Declan and Ellasif simultaneously.
The look she shot him told him she was in charge, but he shrugged it off. They could all hear the running steps of the guards descending the stairs. He said, “Shut the door, and stand back.”
Ellasif frowned, but then she nodded, noticing the drawing he still held in his hand. She pulled her sister along by the arm. Liv did not struggle so much as she resisted, dragging her feet and jerking her shoulders at every step to show her displeasure. Once they were all outside, Declan smudged his thumb along the stairway he had drawn.
Inside, the men screamed. Their voices pierced the intervening walls and rose above the howling wind. Declan hesitated, shocked by the effect of his action. He had meant only to prevent pursuit. There was no time to weigh the cruel effects of his spell. He had to escape and ensure that all the others made it safely with him. Even if these men did not seek to kill them, their capture would surely lead to death for some. Wincing at the tormented wails of the men trapped inside the walls of the Crooked House, Declan rubbed out the outer door on his drawing, and the real portal wavered and vanished, leaving only the smooth outer wall.
Jadrek pointed west and slid down a snowy hill to the street below. Liv balked until Ellasif gave her a shove, whereupon the girl leaped straight away from her sister and into the open air.
Ellasif cried out her name and reached for her, but Liv only laughed. She uttered a few arcane syllables that Declan recognized, then floated gently down to the street below. Ellasif plunged down the snowy hill after her, as did Declan. He felt a faint pang of jealousy at Liv’s effortless display of magic, but he nodded and said, “Nice.”
He would have liked to have followed Liv’s lead if he’d had the foresight to prepare the same spell, but the last time he’d needed one, Skywing had been there to cast it for him. He wondered where the little drake had gone and called out for him mentally.
Skywing, he thought, and repeated the psychic call as they continued their descent down the hill. There was no reply.
Jadrek had assumed the lead, slowing his pace as they reached the streets west of the Twohill neighborhood. Declan hurried to catch up to him but then paused to look back at the higher of the two hills and the observatory that perched atop it. Majeed had made it plain the night before that he had no interest in returning to his “inferior” facility in Korvosa. The astronomer’s reaction had come more as a relief than as a surprise. Declan had come to accept that he’d traveled so far not for his master but for Silvana, yet even before the disturbing revelation that the fetching kitchen maid was only the guise of a scheming winter witch, his romantic notion of rescuing the maiden fair had evaporated. And yet he knew he had not come all this way, endured such perils, for nothing. He believed there was a purpose to his journey.
He just didn’t have time to figure out what that purpose was.
“Stay behind me,” said Declan. When Ellasif and Jadrek jutted defiant jaws, he explained, “Liv and I look more like the jadwiga. You three are our guards.”
Liv smiled and moved up to slip a hand into the crook of Declan’s arm. Her touch was surprisingly warm, and he noticed that she did not shiver in the cold air despite lacking a heavy cloak. That was another spell she had that he didn’t. For an instant he hoped she would decide to come away with them. Not only would that please Ellasif, but Declan looked forward to learning how Liv’s presence affected her sister’s tough demeanor. Already he had seen them squabbling like sisters, but he believed there had to be more to their relationship.
“Only until we leave the city,” cautioned Ellasif.
“I’m not leaving the city,” Liv said. “But I will see you safely outside the walls.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Ladies,” said Declan. He nodded toward a group of guardsmen in tabards depicting the image of a hut on chicken legs. Liv clutched his arm tight, and behind them Ellasif gasped.
“Royal guards,” whispered Liv. “If they stop us, you’ll never get away.”
“What do we do?” Declan asked.
“If they ask, you’re escorting me to the Frosthall Theater.”
Behind them, Olenka and Jadrek fell into the same flanking positions they had adopted when they first dared to walk the streets of Whitethrone. Declan had to admit they looked convincing in the role, but taking up the rear position, Ellasif fixed such a disgusted expression upon her face that he almost laughed aloud, spoiling the illusion.
The guards eyed them as they approached. One whispered an inquiry to his commander, prompting the man to stare at Declan, who wondered what was wrong with the way he looked. He had sheathed the lighted blade of his sword, and surely his clothing was no more unusual than what he had observed on the young jadwiga the night of his arrival.
They came within ten feet of the other group. Just as it seemed they would pass without challenge, one of the guards pointed past Declan’s head and gasped in alarm. Before Declan could turn to look at what surprised the men, Skywing plummeted once more onto his shoulder, clutching him tightly. Even through the thick cloak, Declan could feel the warmth of his body and the quick beat of his heart.
There you are, thought Declan. He was finally getting used to thinking rather than speaking his thoughts to the drake. Where have you been?
Skywing did not answer, but Liv squeezed his elbow. Declan returned his attention to the guards. Their commander looked him directly in the eyes. When Declan returned his gaze, the officer offered him a smart salute and led his men away.
As the guards departed, Liv leaned up toward Declan’s ear and whispered, “See? Already the guards think you belong here. Perhaps you should stay and learn true witchcraft with me.”
Declan smiled both to be polite and to mask his fear, but the way Liv smiled back at him made him think perhaps he was playing with fire. A glance back at Ellasif’s disapproving countenance confirmed his assumption. He faced forward and continued walking west. The houses and shops they passed became less and less ornate as they approached the western wall. When it came into sight, he saw that a portion of the stone barrier had collapsed. Dozens of missing stones were embedded in the ground where they had fallen, yards away from the gap. Declan
realized it had to have been some mighty force that caused the breach, not simply disuse or erosion. Judging from the weathered faces of the displaced stones, the sundering had happened hundreds of years earlier. For whatever reason, the custodians of the city had left the gap unrepaired.
“Wait,” said Olenka. “Where are we?”
She stiffened, and Declan could almost see the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. He followed her gaze to the people in the area. They appeared to be tall humans at first glance, little different from those he had seen elsewhere in the city. Then he noticed they all had long snowy manes and their eyes were as blue as an alcohol flame.
“We’re in the Howlings,” Liv said. “Here the winter wolves walk on two legs. Do not be afraid. I have been here before.”
“By yourself?” Ellasif’s hand strayed to the grip of her sword as a group of white-haired men and women approached.
Liv hesitated before answering. “Well ...”
“What have we here?” said a woman almost as tall as Jadrek. Her nostrils flared as she made a show of sniffing their scent. Her eyes surveyed the Ulfen, finally settling on the winter wolf tail that hung from Ellasif’s belt. “There’s an air of rebellion about this lot.”
Winter Witch Page 26