by Barb Hendee
Chap's summoned memory of Adryan faded, and Magiere saw only Leesil's narrow face. His hair burned with moonlight, and his amber irises were two suns that pained her eyes. But this was a pain she wanted, and it made her long for him. She clung to his presence, holding him in her awareness against the hunger burning up her throat.
Magiere looked to the lake. She tore at the hauberk with her fingers, and Leesil stepped close to help. He barely had it off of her as Magiere stepped into the water.
"What is she doing?" Emel said, and stepped toward her. "The lake is too cold."
Magiere pivoted toward him and tensed, waiting to see if this were some thing she could fight.
"Get back!" Leesil warned, and shoved Emel away. "Magiere?"
She snapped her head toward him. His face brought clarity again. She nodded and stepped farther out, water rising past her waist and up her rib cage. The wet feeling left a distant sting upon her skin. It balanced the hunger, and she waded in until the water lapped over her shoulders.
"I'm right here," Leesil called. "Don't go under until you're ready."
Magiere kept moving, listening to Leesil's voice. She let hunger stay with her, stronger than she'd ever allowed it by choice.
"Has she found anything yet?" Byrd asked from a distance.
"It has been too long," came Em el's voice. "Get her out of there. She is in danger."
A slight wave of cold passed through Magiere.
Had it been a long time? She shut out their voices. There was only Leesil, and hunger, and Wynn waiting. The cold passed away, and she took another step.
Her boot scraped across something hard. A boulder in the lake bottom?
Magiere let Adryan's face return… then the image of Welstiel stand-ing over her mother's bed, watching Magelia bleed to death… and Chane stalking them into the Apudalsat forest.
Rage spread the hunger into her limbs, until she felt its heat in her face. She dove under, her night sight fully open.
Scant ripples of moonlight danced across the lake bottom, making mud, water weeds, and stones quiver before her eyes. She saw a clear patch that appeared to be made of stone, but when she scraped at the mud around it with her boot, she couldn't be certain it was more than boulder. Magiere swam deeper toward the lake bottom, clawing through mud with her hands.
She uncovered a flat panel of stone, too flat and smooth to be natural. When she dug away more silt, she exposed a clean edge. It ran level out into the lake, where it was too dark for even her eyes. She faced along the direction of its line and pushed off the bottom.
Magiere shot up through the lake's surface to see the braziers of the keep dead ahead. She thrashed around toward the far shore.
"Here!" Magiere tried to call, though she couldn't be certain the word came out. Her teeth hurt, and speaking was difficult.
"Come back," came Leesil's voice.
He looked small and far away in Magiere's sight. And he began to fade, as if the darkness suddenly grew deeper. Coldness began burrowing into her limbs and chest.
"Magiere," Leesil shouted. "Come back-now!"
She couldn't feel the lake bottom and started clawing at the water's surface to pull herself toward him. He became clearer again as she grew closer.
He looked afraid, staring at her with wide eyes, and he stepped forward until she heard his boots crack ice and splash into water. Why was he afraid?
Hunger vanished, and the water felt like ice shards being dragged across her skin.
"Magiere!"
Her legs and arms went numb. She found the lake floor when her legs stopped kicking and her feet hit something solid. She forced herself toward Leesil, and the water receded to her waist. Then she started to sink again, and couldn't stand up anymore.
Leesil splashed toward her and grabbed her wrist. The last thine Magiere saw was Emel dashing in beside him to take her other arm.
Magiere opened her eyes again and found herself looking up into the dark forest canopy. Leesil's face was above her, his hair glinting in the moonlight. She tried to reach his face and found she was wrapped in wool blankets, lying in his lap.
"That was foolish," Emel said. "You could have died."
Byrd stood a way off, staring out over the lake. "But she found it."
"Yes, she did," Leesil said, his eyes remaining on her.
"How… long?" Magiere asked, and heard the chatter of her own teeth as she shivered.
"You were out for only a moment," Leesil whispered. "And you need to stay awake now."
Her teeth kept chattering. "It's… a tunnel. Straight line from where I stood… in the water. Exit must… behind us."
Leesil looked up at Emel. "We need a fire, somewhere out of sight. Now!"
Emel nodded, crouching down. "I will take care of her. You help Byrd find the exit."
Leesil looked down at her uncertainly, and Magiere felt his arms close tight around her, not wanting to let her go.
Magiere closed her eyes and saw an image of Wynn. "Go," she said to him.
Leesil headed into the trees behind Byrd, with Chap loping out.
He didn't like this. He should be the one to watch over Magiere.
Perhaps Emel's concern for Hedi Progae was genuine. Perhaps he wasn't a complete toady to a tyrant. And he'd run into freezing water to help save Magiere. None of this meshed with what Leesil knew of would-be nobles, who sat and nodded agreement like bobbing crows on Darmouth's council.
Byrd, on the other hand, hadn't been remotely concerned about Magiere, and now he trotted through the forest in search of the tunnel's hidden exit.
"Here," he called from beyond a tall fir tree. "If the tunnel runs straight from the keep, the exit will be along this line."
Leesil checked the sight line, shifting about until he caught a glimpse of the lake through the branches. Chap began sniffing the ground.
"Search for anything that doesn't smell natural," he told the dog. "Anything that might be man-made."
Chap licked his nose with a rumble, as if to say he didn't need to be told.
Leesil dropped to the ground. They could be looking for anything. It might even be buried, the opening unearthed from the inside only when the exit was finally used. Or it could be covered with decades of forest mulch.
Byrd dropped down beside him. "Timeron was quick-witted, from what I've heard. And remember that he was trying to hold off men like Darmouth's grandfather, which was no small feat. He'd have found craftsmen and builders clever enough to create more than just a hole in the ground."
Leesil nodded, still wondering what they searched for. All nobles holding a keep or castle made certain of an escape route for the family, but this was by far the most elaborately planned route he'd ever heard of. A watertight tunnel constructed before the plain was flooded.
He'd breached more than one stronghold in his life, but not like this. Scaling a wall or opening a hidden bolt-hole was simple by comparison. The tunnel had to emerge where the ruler and any retainers might reasonably escape assaulting forces. Looking around, all Leesil saw were trees, brush, and half-frozen ground.
"It has to be right here somewhere." Byrd scraped traces of snow and brittle mulch to expose the earth beneath. "Give me Magiere's falchion. You use the narrow wing on one of your blades."
They took a position five paces from each other and worked their way across the forest floor. Every two paces they rammed steel into the earth to probe for anything hidden below. Chap circled through the area around them, sniffing everything.
Leesil found nothing. In several places, the space between the trees was too narrow for any exit. Byrd's countenance was calm, but Leesil sensed that he grew anxious.
"We're missing something," Byrd finally muttered.
Leesil hesitated. "This is why my parents ran into the keep. The exit has to be here."
Byrd sighed. "One of them must have known."
Leesil thought back into the past. "They would have fled through the exit, perhaps exposing it somehow, but there's no
sign of escape here. Did they get away or not?"
"Pay attention." Byrd stood up, looking around. "All right, if it's not in the ground, where could it be?"
Leesil looked about and saw nothing but snow-dusted earth, trees, and brush. He'd found bolt-holes within the walls and towers of strongholds. Here in the forest there were no designed structures to consider. Then he stopped and looked up at the trees rising into the air.
Towers-forest towers of wood.
Three thick and massive gnarled oaks stood on a direct line to the keep across the lake. At this time of year they were bare of leaves, but the one in the center seemed… wrong. He stepped closer, running his hand over each tree. The middle tree was wider than the other two. Some of its bark crumbled in his hand. This center one was old. Perhaps dead?
"Chap!" Leesil called. "Come here."
The dog loped over to his side. Chap circled the trees, his nose tracing exposed roots up to the trees' trunks. He stopped and leaned his forehead and snout up against the center one as he closed his eyes.
"Is it dead?" Leesil asked.
Chap looked up and barked once.
"Yes," Leesil whispered.
Byrd raised his eyebrows at this exchange. "So? What of it?"
"I'd guess it hasn't been alive for a long while, but it's still upright because it's soundly lodged between the other two." He pointed from the tree's base toward the lake. "Look. That's where Magiere came out of the water."
"A tree for an exit?" Byrd scowled and circled around, studying the triple trunks.
Leesil circled as well. Stopping at the back, he felt the bark for knots and crevices. He found nothing.
"If you think it has a door or hatch," Byrd said, with a doubtful shake of his head, "the larch or bar would be on the inside. The engineer wouldn't want anyone getting in… only out.'
''That doesn't mean I cant find a way in," Leesil answered.
"All right then." Byrd stepped back and hefted Magi ore's falchion to swing.
"No! That'll leave the keep wide open," Leesil warned.
Byrd whirled toward him in anger. "Then what would you have us do?"
Chap rumbled, moving in on Byrd. Leesil shook his head at the dog.
An open back door would serve a rebellion-or an assassination. He'd have to watch Byrd carefully, but short of killing him, there was only one answer in the end.
Wynn had been right. This province was headed toward conflict, and the removal of Darmouth would sink it-and perhaps all of the War-lands-into bloodshed. Darmouth or those close to him had to be warned before Byrd's anmaglahk allies could act.
Leesil's stomach knotted. He had to save the monster who'd made him kill again and again for the lives of his parents.
"Wait," he snapped at Byrd, and stepped close to the dead oak. He doubted they could hack through with only a sword. There had to be some sign of where the opening might be. The darkness made it difficult to see any detail, but he felt along the rough surface for anything odd.
At the place where the curve of the center trunk met its companions was a line. Some of the dead bark had broken away over the years. The more he inspected, the more a pattern emerged. A definite crack of decay ran vertically along the crevice.
"Here," he said. "Chip away lightly along this line. But be quiet about it."
Leesil stepped back, and Byrd chipped at the crevice with the falchion's point. The noise made Leesil flinch. They were far from the city, but he still turned about to glance in all directions through the forest.
At first Leesil saw nothing and held up a hand for Byrd to stop. When he ran his fingers across bare wood where the bark was gone, he found a thin crack in the exposed surface. He pulled one of his winged blades, sank its tip into the crack, and levered it to the side. Byrd joined him, pushing with the falchion's blade. They worked in turns, one prying so the other could slip a blade farther in.
A crack of splitting wood answered. Leesil pushed his blade deeper and they both heaved again. A louder crack and snap came this time.
Byrd stumbled sideways into Leesil before righting himself. A piece of the tree's wood broke away, and Leesil stared into a jagged dark hole the size of his fist. He braced his foot on the tree's roots where they met with the trunk, and stepped up high enough to slide his hand in.
The hole's depth was about half his forearms length, and then he felt nothing but open space. The dead oak between its siblings was hollow.
Leesil felt along the inside surface and touched a narrow but thick strip of metal. When he wiggled it, it spun sideways, mounted on some nail or pin at its midpoint. Nothing happened, and he sank his arm farther into the hole. He felt around the inside, found two more metal straps within reach, and twisted each one.
A large oblong piece of the trunk fell outward against him, and he jumped back out of its way. It toppled, thumping against the tree roots, and Leesil stared into a dark opening large enough for a crouched man to crawl through.
The builders couldn't hide hinges and had simply used the lines of the tree to cut a hidden hole in the trunk. They'd secured the panel from the inside-bark and all-with simple pivoting straps of metal that braced against the opening's inside.
"That's it," Byrd said. "I'll get Magiere and Emel."
He walked away. Byrd's eagerness roused a sickening knot in Leesil's stomach. He and Magiere could get Wynn back, but they still had to keep Byrd in check.
Leesil leaned into the opening, and looked down. In the dark, he barely made out metal rungs forming a ladder down to a stone alcove deep beneath the triple trees. There was no wall on the alcove's side facing in the direction of the keep. This would be the tunnel they sought.
For a moment, Leesil imagined the panicked faces of his parents appearing in the alcove to look at him.
Byrd hurried through the trees toward the road rather than to the small fire where Emel and Magiere waited. When he had the wagon in sight, he took out the strange small mirror the anmaglahk had given him and stepped to where he could clearly see the near-full moon. He tilted the mirror and aimed its reflected light toward where they'd left the horses.
He'd done the same thing as the wagon had headed for the front gates of Venjetz. Carefully shifting in the dark beneath the canvas, he peered out the back and used the mirror, fie wasn't even certain if they were nearby, but they always seemed to appear whenever he wanted to contact them.
Anxiety built as he waited. Then a light sparked in the night woods. Byrd took a deep breath of relief.
At least one of his allies had escaped the city and understood this was an opportunity that might not come again. He signaled his acknowledgment and ran back through the forest to find Magiere and Emel.
The anmaglahk would follow.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Wynn's feeble pounding on the locked door received no answer. No food or water had been brought, and her thirst grew with the pain in her head. She crawled back onto the narrow bed with no blanket and huddled in her sheepskin coat, trying to keep warm. Her right eye opened only halfway. The inside of her cheek felt raw where it had ground against her teeth when she was struck down.
Wynn was alone and imprisoned.
The soldiers had searched her before leaving and found the other dagger strapped to her wrist. They took it and both sheaths and her pack. After they left, she put her hands into her coat pockets for warmth and touched the one thing they had missed-the cold lamp crystal. She had left behind her working journals and notes at Byrd's inn, as well as Chap's talking hide.
She hoped that Magiere and Chap had escaped, and felt ashamed for screaming out the instant she was in trouble. Her companions would not be able to get her out. Darmouth knew who they were and had set a trap for them. She saw no way for her companions to reach her without being captured. And she did not wish that to happen, even to save her.
Footsteps grew loud out in the hall. Wynn was uncertain whether to approach the door or hide behind the bed. Frozen, she remained huddled upon the bed, waiti
ng.
"How dare you?" said a haughty female voice outside the door. "I am bringing the prisoner her supper."
"Lady Progae, I… I can't," replied a young male voice, stuttering with uncertainty.
Wynn sat up. The woman's name was familiar, but she could not remember where she had heard it.
"I've orders not to open the door," the man continued, "Lieutenant Omasta said-"
"Do you know who I am?" the woman asked. "I will soon be the matron of this keep. I do not forget a face. Now open the door!"
A moment of silence followed, and then a rattling at the lock. The door swung inward.
Grasping its handle was a young soldier no older than twenty, and likely less. A small-boned woman stood in the opening. She had pale skin with dark hair cut above her shoulders and a velvet ribbon around her throat. She held a wooden tray with a clay bowl and pewter tankard.
It was the same woman who had stopped Darmouth from stepping on Wynn's face.
Lady Progae stepped past the anxious guard, and her glare encouraged him to close the door quickly. The instant it was shut, she put the tray on the floor and fumbled beneath her voluminous skirt.
Wynn watched closely but stayed on the bed. Lady Progae removed a canvas sack tied about her waist with a bit of rope and placed it on the floor with gentle care.
"We have little time," she whispered. "That boy outside may be easy to cow, but if I stay too long, he will call for a superior."
Wynn stared at her. Who was this woman?
Lady Progae crouched and carefully opened the canvas bag. A small brown-black cat crawled out. It plopped its hind end down, twitching its stub of a tail, and looked up at Wynn. The cat lifted its tiny muzzle with a soft mew for Lady Progae, who answered with a "shush" and pulled a heavy brass candlestick from the bag.
She stood up and stripped off her velvet gown to expose a plain muslin dress beneath. She removed this and began pulling her own gown back on.
"What are you doing?" Wynn asked.
Lady Progae took the tankard from the tray and handed it to Wynn. "It is only water, but I assume you need it."
