As I stood, indecisive, weighing up whether to ask Kael to dismantle the wall around the door, or to try a different door, my glass ball called to me. That is the best way I can describe it, just a gentle touch in my consciousness, as if it was saying: here I am; how can I help? I reached into the bag and touched it, feeling its comforting warmth, and it sprang to greater alertness under my fingers.
“Open the door,” I whispered.
The tunnel filled with light, spilling out of the bag where the ball still rested and illuminating the door from top to bottom. I couldn't see anything change – perhaps the ball simply shifted the wood imperceptibly back into alignment – but after a couple of heartbeats the door snicked softly open.
I quickly closed the bag to keep the ball's light hidden, and, taking a deep breath, I pushed the door fully open and strode into the room.
Five or six startled faces peered moon-faced at me over tubs and pounding boards.
“Ah, the laundry!” I brayed, as the others trailed in after me. “Excellent! I do beg your pardon, my good Workers, we would not have disturbed you for the world, but we got a little confused in the cellars. These stairs – where do they go?”
“Wi’ respect, ’Steemed Mis’ris, ’tis only the dryin’ grounds up there.”
Esteemed? That was a step up in rank, but it proved my plan was working.
“Perfect! We will go that way. Come along, everyone, do keep up.”
The laundry workers all bobbed up and down, bowing as each of us passed by, looking entertainingly like a cluster of dipping ducks. I made a mental note to amuse Mal with the story later.
We hopped up the stairs two at a time, emerging into an erratically shaped courtyard under grey skies. Only two women here amongst the draped linens, and the same strategy worked its magic again. It’s surprising how much you can get away with when you look and sound as if you have every right to do it. Perhaps Dern was helping to soothe their fears, I couldn’t tell. These two were more stupid than their counterparts below ground, for they simply stared as we passed by.
We wove through the washing lines to the passage to the Water Tower, its entrance diagonally opposite the stairs from the laundry. We almost made it unchallenged.
Right by the archway a guard lounged with another laundry worker. If he’d been on duty, I would have spotted his sword, but he was idling away his free morning in ordinary clothes, with nothing more than an elderly, notched meat knife in his pocket. He was smiling with the sort of leering grin I'd seen so often on Mal, and the laundry worker was giggling, hand over her mouth. Then they saw us. The guard’s eyes narrowed with bewilderment. His gaze lingered on Drin and Lenya, puzzling over their swords and unfamiliar mage guard’s uniform, skated over me and then came to rest on Hestaria.
His eyes widened.
“Mage!” he yelled.
Dragon’s balls, I was so used to it, I’d forgotten how conspicuous the mage tattoo was. And clearly the entire Hold was on the alert for it. Next time, I'll get her to cover it up, was my only coherent thought.
For several heartbeats, we were all frozen, the six of us stopped mid-stride in a line, Lenya’s hand straying to the hilt of her sword, the guard and his companion with matching gapes of astonishment.
I had no wish to hurt them. All we wanted was to get to the tower unhindered. At that moment, I longed for Losh to be there, to wave his fingers elegantly and with the single word, “Sleep!” clear our path. Even as I had the thought, the glass ball came alive and – something happened, although I can't describe what. There was no light, just an awareness that bubbled into life from the ball and passed to the two standing by the steps, ogling us.
Then they dropped as abruptly as stones down a well, collapsing into crumpled heaps on the ground.
Well. The ball could respond even to a thought. That was interesting. Yet I should have expected that. It had responded to my distress in the tunnel when Mal was hurt, and it had responded when I’d wanted the door opened. It was attuned to my mind.
Hestaria squeaked. For her, that was a restrained response and I was grateful for it.
“Quick! Into the tower!” I yelled, and we all fled, racing through the narrow passageway between a high tower and a lower building, into another, smaller, courtyard, blessedly empty, and up the steps to the Water Tower. I unlocked the door as we ran. We tore through and I locked the door behind us, although there was no need; no one followed us.
Lenya and Drin drew their swords as we entered. We were in a small high-ceilinged lobby, empty and echoing, our boots loud on the tiled floor. We stopped, gazing around, savouring our escape, the only sound our heaving breaths.
Kael whimpered. “Shh,” Dern said. “We are safe.” Then, in puzzled tones, “Lady Mage, was that your doing? To make them fall like that?”
“No,” Hestaria said, wide-eyed. “I have no sleep spells prepared.”
“That was me,” I said. “My glass ball, although I'm not sure how. It hardly matters. Now – we need to find the way down to the lower level. Kael?”
There were three other doors, all identical, none locked, but Kael pointed without hesitation to one of them. He was proving to be a real asset. Most unexpected.
There were two swords somewhere outside the tower, but both the outer doors were firmly locked and there was no key nearby, so they were no threat to us. More worryingly, there were several daggers below us – possibly in the room where Tarn was being held captive, if our guesses were right.
We had to get down there straight away.
Cautiously I pushed the door open. Along a short corridor was a larger lobby, clearly an entrance hall, with the large outer door, firmly closed and locked, stairs leading upwards and a bricked-up archway that undoubtedly led to the basement. There was no one around, no sounds, no sign that anyone was in the tower at all, as best I could tell. But my awareness of metal was not a reliable guide.
I turned to Dern. “Can you tell if anyone is in the tower?”
He shrugged. “With walls this solid I really need to be close, but I am not registering any minds but our own nearby. Is this the wall you need to open? Kael, would you mind?”
He stepped forward.
“Wait!” I called urgently. “Swords right outside the door, and a key approaching.”
“Back to the other door!” Drin said, raising his sword and drawing a dagger. “Lenya and I will deal with this.”
“No! Swords only as a last resort,” I said firmly.
Now we could all hear the key clunking in the lock, a scraping noise, then a loud thunk. The door swung open noiselessly. To my utter astonishment Ish strode into the room, his two personal guards on his heels. Behind them an elderly man in a leather apron, holding the key, squeaked as he took in the scene and vanished, a sensible response, all things considered. This was not his fight.
Ish's two guards took the reasonable attitude that it was very much their fight. Pushing in front of Ish, they drew their swords with grim determination, and Drin and Lenya jumped forward willingly.
“No, no, no!” I cried, hurling myself between the four of them, one hand raised to each pair. “No swords! No one needs to get hurt.”
They didn’t move.
I looked at Ish. “Tell them to stand down. What are you doing here anyway?”
“Fen, there’s no time for this. We have to get Aunt Tarn out. Tell your people to back off, or my men will run them through.”
“Ha! Not a chance,” Lenya said.
“Enough!” I said. “We are all here on the same mission. Everyone take two paces back, and lower your swords.”
Drin and Lenya reluctantly stepped backwards, although the lowering of swords wasn't noticeable. Ish’s guards refused to move until he gave them the order, which was fair enough, I suppose.
“You came to get Aunt Tarn too?” Ish said.
“Yes. She's probably through that archway and down the stairs.”
“But... it is bricked up. Is there no other way?” Ish s
ounded so woebegone I almost laughed.
“Kael?” was all I said.
With a sideways glance at the still-alert guards, Kael walked over to the bricked-up archway, running his hands gently over it, murmuring under his breath. I suspected he could do everything without physical contact, just as I could, but perhaps he liked to talk to the bricks and stone before he manipulated them. We all have our little rituals.
The bricks melted and flowed to the ground, neatly reforming back into bricks and stacking themselves into tidy heaps, each brick perfectly aligned with its fellows. Ish’s guards jumped back with exclamations of alarm, then stood rigid with fear, but Ish watched calmly, one raised eyebrow his only sign of surprise. A man-sized archway appeared.
Kael stepped aside, hands under arms, looking anxiously to Dern for approval. Dern smiled, and patted his shoulder. Immediately, Kael relaxed and beamed back.
I found their sudden friendship bizarre, I have to say, but there was no time to ponder the matter. I was just glad someone was able to keep Kael calm.
As soon as the archway was open, we could hear noises from below, shrieks and crunching noises and somebody shouting, “No, no, no!” Then another voice, lower, a thumping noise and another shriek. Dern winced. I supposed he was able to pick up all the distress emanating from whoever was down there.
Drin and Lenya, swords forward, boiled through the archway and down the stairs, Ish’s two guards right behind them, enmity set aside and terror forgotten. Fights were something they understood better than magic. The rest of us followed more circumspectly, ready to retreat at any moment. As the stairs curved down the wall of the tower, the room at the bottom came into view, the same room that Hestaria had been held in. She was in front of me, and stopped so suddenly that I almost barged into her. At first I thought she was overcome with bad memories of her own incarceration, but then I peeped over her shoulder and gaped.
I would not have believed the scene before us if I hadn't witnessed it with my own eyes. Two men were down on the ground, one clutching his arm and writhing in obvious pain, the other seemingly unconscious. Two more stood, backs to the wall, daggers in hand. They wore the uniform of the Hold's personal guards, but these had the dark features of plainsmen. Kestimar’s men, I guessed.
In front of them, legs spread apart, waving some kind of wooden weapon in front of her, was Tarn. The door to the dungeons was ajar, although all was dark beyond it. The two survivors were trying to inch towards it, but Tarn was blocking their way.
Drin, Lenya and the two guards, with great shrieks, surrounded the three of them. Tarn half turned, eyes slits of determination, quite prepared to carry on defending herself. Then she saw Ish on the stairs.
“About bloody time! Where have you been, nephew?”
“I came as soon as I could, Aunt. It took me some time to track you down.”
There was a brief scuffle before our guards disarmed the others and restored order.
“Shall we slit their throats, Fen?” Drin called over cheerfully. He had one of Kestimar's men pinioned against the wall, and the other was firmly held by Lenya.
“Let them go,” I said.
“What? Are you serious?”
“You know these men, I am sure, Honourable?” I said to Ish.
His eyes were narrowed in anger as he looked at one after another of them. “I know the names of each one of them. They will be dealt with.”
Drin and the three guards stood back from their prisoners, and the two still on their feet dashed for the open door to the dungeon. One stopped on the threshold, looking back at his two injured friends, then, with another glance at the four grim-faced sword-bearers, fled into the darkness. The man with the broken arm struggled to his feet and, his face crumpled with pain, shuffled after them, leaving the unconscious man behind. Such loyalty amongst comrades.
I felt it was safe to venture the rest of the way down the stairs, and near enough to see that the fallen man’s colour was good and his breathing even. “Lady Mage, will you heal him, if you please?”
Hestaria’s eyebrows rose, and she clamped her mouth into a thin line. “Without a silver? And a murderer, as well, or very close to it. I hardly think so.”
I’d forgotten the mages were so rigid about their magic. And judgemental. If Mal were there, he wouldn’t have hesitated for an instant, whether the man was friend or enemy.
I could ask my glass ball to heal him, but for some reason I was reluctant to reveal its power in front of so many witnesses, especially Ish. I trusted the mages with that knowledge, and Arin and Drin, too, but Ish was too close to Kestimar.
“He will do well enough,” one of Ish’s guards said, bending over him. “If we drag him through the door, his fellows can take care of him.”
He looked to me for assent, and I was happy enough to give it. We certainly didn’t want to burden ourselves with carrying him away with us, and we could hardly leave him here on his own. Ish’s guards carted him through into the darkness beyond, Hestaria lighting the way with a glow ball. One of them shouted after the others to come and collect him.
As Arin and the three guards dusted themselves down and sheathed their weapons, with comradely nods to each other, I couldn’t help being amused by the picture the rest of us made. Dern and Kael still huddled fearfully on the stairs. Tarn and Hestaria, quite at ease, chattered loudly together. And then there was Ish, his immaculate coat and ruffled linen shirt startlingly out of place in this dank place, with the sewers rushing noisily below our feet.
Now that everything had calmed down, I could see the weapon Tarn had been wielding so effectively – a portion of the heavy wooden cover hiding the hole above the sewers. With great enterprise, she must have worked away at it over many days, using her meat knife, perhaps, if her captors had neglected to remove it.
Now she tossed it away in disgust. “Goddess, I need a bath. And some wine.”
“And a safe place to hide from Commander Kestimar,” I added. “Will you return to the Rillett House with us, Honourable? We can protect you.”
Ish opened his mouth, but closed it again, his protest unspoken. Just as well, because he had himself failed to protect his aunt.
Tarn looked us over appraisingly. I thought she looked remarkably well for a woman of her age who had been incarcerated for some time. A little dusty, perhaps, but nothing worse. And she had fought off four men single-handed, armed only with a stout length of wood. Perhaps it was presumptuous of me to offer her protection. She scarcely needed it. I wondered how much her connection had helped; perhaps engendering trust in everyone was no bad thing.
“Yes, I suppose I cannot go back to my home tower as if nothing had happened, can I? Very well, dear, lead the way.”
“I shall come, too,” Ish said.
We had begun trooping up the stairs, but that brought the procession to a halt.
I spun round to face him. “You most certainly will not!”
“I need to talk to you.” His eyes were fixed on mine, the tone pleading. In another man, I might have called it whining.
“Then call at the house. You know where it is.”
“I intend to see Aunt Tarn safe, Fen. You will allow me that, at least.”
And reveal exactly how we came and went so easily while under siege? “Certainly not.”
“I will have the house arrest order rescinded if you agree to this.”
“I care nothing about that, but I am not about to show you our method of escape.”
“Ah. I see. You do not trust me, Fen. That grieves me greatly.”
His tone was so sorrowful that I laughed. I could hardly believe the man. Trust him? After all that he had done to us, all he continued to do to us? Even though the worst outrages had been committed by Kestimar and Ish’s wife, still he had been complicit. He could not escape the blame. He would always hold my heart, but my head was, I hope, still rational.
His face hardened. “I can have you arrested right now, Fen, if you oppose me.”
�
��Goddess, Ish, when did you lose your wits? Did you learn nothing from Commander Kestimar? Can you not even count? You can call upon two swords and your own courage. There are six of us, and more magic than you can imagine, not counting your aunt, who could flatten you with one hand behind her back. Are you really foolhardy enough to put it to the test?”
There was a long silence while he glared at me, chin defiantly raised, but I saw the calculation in his eyes as he thought it over.
“We should not be enemies,” he said eventually.
“I agree, but you make it very difficult to be friends.”
“Well.” He stroked his beard, and I had a sudden urge to do the same, to feel its softness under my fingers. “We must talk, and the sooner the better, but I have no desire to be seen visiting the mages publicly. It would make things… difficult. We can find somewhere private here…”
“No.”
“Very well, then I must ask you again to let me accompany you by your secret ways. I could close my eyes?”
“Put a bag over his head,” Tarn said, which made me smile, and behind me Lenya snorted. “Oh, by the Goddess, nephew, take that saltfish look off your face! I will have a bag over my head, too, if it will appease your pride.”
Ish laughed out loud at that, his face lit up as if the sun had emerged from behind storm clouds. I realised it was a long time since I’d seen him amused about anything.
“It shall be so!” he said. “A fine pair of fools we shall look, Aunt.”
38: Convocation
We could hardly lead the Sun and Moon Holders through the laundry with their heads covered, so, after Kael had closed up the archway again, we left the lower room by the door opposite the dungeons, just as we had on our previous visit, breaking out of captivity. I had to use my connection to open the door, as before, but I tried to be surreptitious about it, in case Ish saw. Tarn knew all about my ability, and I daresay had told him all about it, but there was no point in flaunting it. This time we were not trying to escape to the harbour, so instead of taking the left passage we turned to the right, towards the centre of the Hold.
The Mages of Bennamore Page 40
