by Sean Russell
Holding the stub of the candle in his mouth so that the flame wavered six inches before his face, Kehler stepped out onto the stone.
Hayes had tied himself to a horn of rock and kept a tight rein on his companion, but even so he worried. He was not sure that he could hold Kehler should he fall.
Fortunately, Kehler seemed more confident than Hayes had, no doubt helped by seeing that the climb could be done, but he was shivering visibly from having sat down in the icy waters. Even at a distance Hayes could see his hands shaking as he tried to grip the rock.
“Keep the rope snug,” Kehler called out suddenly, his words distorted by the candle in his mouth. He had come to the place where Hayes had nearly lost his nerve altogether. Here he paused, too, though perhaps more to draw on his physical reserves. He shifted his weight to one side and accidently stubbed out the candle against the rock.
“Martyr’s blood!” he swore around the candle, then spit it out, letting it fall into the void below.
“Can you see at all?” Hayes called out over the chaos of the waterfall.
“Barely, and if I stand here and let my eyes adjust to the darkness, I shall certainly fall. I’m trembling like a leaf in the wind as it is.” A silence ensued in which Hayes could feel the fear growing.
“Hayes? Can you tie the rope off? I can’t go on without light. You’ll have to tie the rope off and hold the light out so I can see. Can you do that?”
Hayes did not like the sound of that. If he tied the rope as it was, Kehler would create slack when he moved on. If he did fall, he would hit the end of this slack and almost certainly part the rope.
“I’m not so sure this is a good idea, Kehler. Can’t you see at all?”
“No. I must have light, and quickly. My legs are shaking so violently that I’m sure to fall at any moment. Please, Hayes, do as I ask!”
Reluctantly Hayes tied the rope over the horn of rock, but kept his own line about his waist so that he could lean out as far as possible with the light in his hand.
He swept up the light and crawled to the very lip of the passage. Taking hold of the rope in his free hand, he leaned out over the abyss and stretched the lantern out precariously. The sound of water was suddenly very loud.
“Flames!” he heard himself say. “Bloody blood and flames.”
Feeling utterly helpless, he watched his friend who stood shaking on the rock. Hayes was almost certain that Kehler would fall, when suddenly he reached out with a hand, and then swung his foot onto a toehold. Just as he positioned his weight over his foot he slipped, and for a second clung to the rock with his hands, flailing for a foothold, and then, mercifully, he was back on the rock, gasping like a consumptive, though it was from fear.
Hayes could hear him muttering, cursing under his breath.
“Keep your body away from the rock, Kehler, or that will happen again.”
He saw his companion nod, then push himself out a bit, though still not far enough, Hayes thought. Kehler took a second to collect himself and then moved on, with exaggerated care this time. Another step, and then he was on the platform.
“’Tis child’s play from there,” Hayes called out. “A regular easy chair of a climb, I would call it.”
Kehler could not even manage a smile in response. His face was drawn and white, his whole manner grim, though more determined now. A moment more and he joined a relieved Hayes in the mouth of the passage.
“Are you shaking from fright or cold?”
“Both, I confess,” Kehler said. “I must find some dry clothes immediately.
Hayes had to help his friend into dry clothes, for his hands were not functioning properly, and he also made Kehler take his coat, which was warm from his own body’s heat. Using his previous trick, he made something resembling tea over the lantern flame and this seemed to help. Even so it was a good hour before Kehler was warmed sufficiently.
They ate there, on their balcony overlooking the falls, and drank a second cup of the warmed tea.
“I think we must go on,” Kehler said. He had stopped trembling and regained some of the color in his face, though he hardly looked well. Hayes was sure that Kehler needed a night’s sleep in a warm bed, and then a day’s rest. But nothing even remotely like that was possible here. They could either go on or go back: those were their choices.
Hayes helped his friend shoulder his pack, and then raised his own. Taking the lantern, he set off, keeping his pace moderate. The passage they were in now suffered from a low ceiling, and in places they had to crouch, but it was ten feet wide and Hayes was relieved when it did not seem inclined to shrink any more.
“We are going up,” Hayes said suddenly. After descending since entering the cave, they were suddenly ascending.
“Yes, this part of the cave drains down this passage when the water is high, and down into several other passages the rest of the year. It is almost a separate system. As far as anyone knows, this is the only link between the two sections of the cave, and another entrance has yet to be found. We are into the remote parts of the cave now. Few venture beyond the falls, for that traverse we just managed stops all but the brave and the foolish.”
“We are the latter, I take it?”
“Well, I certainly was not feeling terribly brave, hanging out there over the falls. I could think of nothing but falling into that pit, and being swept down into the deep channels below the mountain. I think I shall have nightmares of it for the rest of my days.”
A trickle of water ran in this passage, and occasionally they would find small pools of perfectly clear water. In one place they were forced to climb up a fifteen-foot face, but this hardly slowed them after what they had just managed.
“I should think that any fear you have of Deacon Rose sending his minions after you should be put to rest now. They would have to walk across the lake of the mirror and brave the traverse above the falls. I think we can safely say we are beyond their reach now.”
Kehler nodded, but he did not respond. Obviously he was not as confident as his friend, which surprised him a little.
Twenty-Two
Erasmus awoke to a sound, not sure what it was. A scratching at the door and sniffing.
The dream, he thought. The wolf at the door. He rolled over and closed his eyes, bringing up a mental picture of the countess: something to drive the feelings of the dream away.
A soft knock.
Erasmus sat up.
A knock again.
Who in this round world? he thought, but got quickly out of bed. Perhaps it was someone with word of Hayes and Kehler. Blood and flames, he hoped they had not met with misadventure.
He threw on a robe and unbolted the door, opening it a crack. There in the dim hallway stood a small, round man, unfamiliar at first, but there was something about him. . . .
“Martyr’s blood! Mr. Walky?”
“Ah, you’ve not forgotten me, my young lion,” the man whispered. “Now, let me in, if you please.”
Erasmus threw open the door, and Walky entered the room, almost an apparition in the starlight.
“I have never been more surprised by a visitor in my life,” Erasmus began, both overjoyed to see the man, and apprehensive. Why, after all these years, would Eldrich’s servant appear? Perhaps the question was written clearly on his face.
“I have come to fetch you,” Walky said, a bit of apology in his voice.
“Ah.” Erasmus felt something like dread growing in him. “What does he want, Mr. Walky?” he asked, his mouth quickly drying.
The little man shrugged. “Only the mage knows,” he said, and tried to smile reassuringly. “Dress quickly, he has not grown in patience since your last meeting.”
Erasmus nodded and began to pull on clothes.
A carriage awaited them in the street, drawn up in the shadow of a building.
After traveling a block in
silence. Erasmus spoke. “You are well, I hope?” though it was not the question he wanted to ask.
“Yes, of course. How could I not be?”
The old man, who must be very old now, hardly seemed to have aged. His hair, what little there was of it, had been white those twenty years ago, and in the poor light his face did not appear more creased. Twenty years. . . .
“Do you still teach the young gentlemen?” Erasmus asked, trying to think of some way of hinting toward the events of the past, perhaps to see if Walky shied away from the subject.
“There have been no young gentlemen since your day, sir. I tend the garden now, and do the mage’s bidding.”
The slow clatter of iron-shod wheels and horses’ hooves echoed among the houses—the hard sounds unable to penetrate stone.
“I don’t think he means you harm, sir,” Walky said suddenly, his manner reassuring.
“No? No, I suppose he wouldn’t.”
The carriage rattled on, climbing slowly up the switchback road. Erasmus shut his eyes for a moment and saw his last meeting with Eldrich, and Percy. Exerting all his considerable will, he tried to force the image from his mind. Percy. . . .
“We are almost there, sir,” Walky said, pulling Erasmus from his thoughts. “Mr. Flattery? I know you have grown and become a man among men. . . . But to the earl, the greatest man in Farrland does not impress him overly. It would be best to remember that. He has no tolerance for pride among men.”
Good old Walky. Even after all these years he was concerned for his charges. Had this concern only manifested itself a little more effectively all those years ago. . . .
They pulled up under the roof of a carriage entrance, and a silent footman lowered the step.
“Where are we?”
“You don’t know? This is the house of the priest, Baumgere. He is waiting here.”
Walky led Erasmus into the old mansion, and as they passed through the dimly lit entrance way, Erasmus realized another man emerged just behind them, led out to the waiting carriage.
It could not have been, Erasmus thought. It must have been a trick of starlight, for he thought he had seen a head of silver hair—like Skye—but it could not have been.
They made their way down hallways lit only occasionally by candles and finally into a rotunda, beneath a dome of stained glass, Erasmus thought, for a pattern seemed to fall upon the floor, like the imprint of wet leaves on a walkway.
When he looked down again, he realized that Walky had retreated back through the door. The room was almost entirely dark, and Erasmus felt his apprehension grow.
“You have nothing to fear,” came the voice that he would never forget—musical yet entirely lacking in human warmth. Not the voice of a man at all.
“Lord Eldrich?”
“Yes, come forward, man. If I’d meant you harm I would have done it long ago.”
But you did, Erasmus thought. He stepped forward, his hand out before him like a blind man. A fire flared up across the room, causing him to step back. He thought he heard a chuckle in the darkness.
Remembering Walky’s warning, he went forward quickly. He found Lord Eldrich sprawled in a chair near the hearth. Erasmus had forgotten how tall the mage was.
He had also forgotten the man’s presence. There was not a lord who could equal it. Eldrich was a man who knew his place, utterly. There was no mistake. Nor was there any mistaking what Eldrich thought of others: mere men, hardly worth his time.
“Sit down, Erasmus,” Eldrich said, his voice almost soft, though still devoid of warmth. “So this is what became of you. . . .” He fixed a disinterested gaze on his former charge.
Erasmus could just make out the man, his dark hair framing a thin face, always terribly white as though he did not care for the sun. Thin lips, and a sharp nose—almost raptorlike, Erasmus thought. A hunting falcon, with all-seeing eyes and no remorse.
“It has been how long?”
“About twenty years, sir.”
“Really. Time . . . it speaks to me so little. Servants die. I hear rumors that there is a new King. Friends . . . they’ve been gone these many years now.” He shook his head a little sadly, a little confused, as though not sure how these things had come to pass. “And you have grown to manhood, and some prominence, I understand. Walky takes great pride in your accomplishments.” He smiled, though it was not a smile of affection—more of amusement, Erasmus thought. Eldrich appeared to regard him for a moment, his gaze not hostile though neither was it friendly.
“What is it that I might do for you, Lord Eldrich?” Erasmus asked, suddenly losing his patience, annoyed that this man would treat him so.
Eldrich’s smile was derisive. “You play your part, Erasmus, do not be concerned. I want to know if you have been contacted by certain people that are of interest to me.”
“Which people?”
“Well, that is difficult to answer, for I do not know their names. You see, they have gone to great lengths to be sure that I do not know of their existence—but they have not been entirely successful. And now they are growing positively bold. Desperate even. So much so that I expect they have approached you. The only one I can describe is a woman—slim, hair of reddish-blonde, but faded. ‘Drained’ was the word one used to describe her. She uses divers names.”
“I have no knowledge of such a woman.” Erasmus was surprised to find Eldrich at all interested in the affairs of men.
The mage shifted in his chair, turning his head sharply, looking into the darkness. Thought overlain by sadness. That was what Erasmus saw, if one even dared to imagine what a mage felt. What they might think was an utter mystery.
“You had seen this text on the Pelier before meeting the countess, I collect?”
Erasmus was surprised. Did Eldrich keep such close track of him? Had he done so all these years? “A friend, Samual Hayes, had shown it to me. A friend of his had unearthed it in the Farrellite archives in Wooton and sent it on to him.”
This seemed to focus Eldrich’s attention. “You know these young men.”
Erasmus nodded.
“And they are here, in Castlebough?”
“Yes. Or rather they were. They appear to have gone down into one of the caves, searching for what I cannot say.”
“The Mirror Lake Cave.”
“Yes.”
Eldrich rose from his chair and paced out into the dappled darkness of the rotunda, pausing as though forgetting where he went or why. He turned back to Erasmus.
“Have the priests come seeking this young man? What is his name?”
“Kehler. There is a priest here—a Deacon Rose—who is pursuing him. The priest told me that Kehler is in some danger, though he would not say more. He also told me that if I were ever to see you, sir, to assure you that the Farrellites have kept faith with the mages. He seemed very concerned that this be understood.”
“And well he should be,” Eldrich said, and then walked another three paces, a hand to his brow, Erasmus thought, though it was hard to tell in the poor light.
The mage stopped in the rotunda center and looked up at the dome overhead, standing a moment with his arms thrown oddly out, and then he came back and stood by the fire.
“You have been busy these past years, Erasmus. No doubt you have heard of Teller in your researches?”
“I—I have.”
“Do you know what became of the society the man thrust upon the world?”
“I believe it was destroyed. Five mages conspired to trap them and put an end to their efforts.”
“An end was put to more than their efforts,” Eldrich said emphatically, “though it was not an easy thing, for the followers of Teller had grown cunning and knew how to avoid coming to the attention of the mages. And the years have not made them less skilled in this matter, that is certain. But they think I am near to my end, my powers waning,
and that is making them rash. They also sense what is coming, and they grow desperate.”
“Are you saying that the Tellerites still exist?”
“Do you not listen when I speak?” Eldrich said, his temper flaring. He walked away again, out into the center of the rotunda. After a moment of pacing he turned and gazed intently at Erasmus.
* * *
* * *
“Erasmus?”
He felt himself falling through darkness, and then he struck something hard, though he felt no pain.
“Erasmus?”
He opened his eyes and saw what appeared to be low flame rippling before his eyes. His vision began to clear and he realized that it was not flame, though it was fading so quickly he could not put a name to it.
“You can get up now. You’re perfectly whole.”
Erasmus realized that Walky stood over him, holding something draped over his arm.
“I have your clothes, sir.”
Erasmus sat up suddenly, his mind still not clear. “What has he done to me?”
“Only looked into you a little; to be sure that you had not been contacted and your memory fogged.”
“What?”
“Come along, sir. I can help you if you aren’t able. Daylight is not far off. We should get you back, sir.”
Erasmus realized that there was a little gray seeping down from the dome above. He felt a bit of light was finding its way into his brain as well.
“What part am I to play in this, Walky?”
Even in the poor light he could see the man shrug his round shoulders. “Only the mage knows,” he said.
Twenty-Three
Skye pulled on a plain white waistcoat, checked the hour on his timepiece, and slipped it into a pocket. Still a few minutes left. He walked over to the window and stared out over the town of Castlebough down to the lake, which glittered hypnotically in the sun. The note from the countess had hardly been warm—it had been rather curt, in truth. Unusual, he thought, then shrugged. There was no understanding women, especially this countess. She seemed alternately overanimated, almost girlish, in his company, or sullen and petulant. He simply did not understand.
