Meridy agreed with Jaift. It was terrible. How must he feel, snatched away from the witch-king’s terrifying servitor by his mother only to have her lock him up in a dungeon? Or at least, to be treated so by the sorceress who wore his mother’s form. Meridy didn’t want to imagine Aseraiëth pithing poor Tiamanaith like a reed and filling her up again with her own soul. But it was impossible to put the image out of her mind.
“The upper dungeons, at least, aren’t so horrible,” Diöllin had said, but tentatively, more as though she were trying to reassure herself than convince anyone else. At least, Meridy was fairly certain no one had been convinced.
But then Diöllin had told them about the secret way in and out of the upper dungeons, and promised them no one knew about that passage except herself. “My father showed me,” she had explained, drawing a confusing sketch of lines and angles with the tip of one finger on the coverlet of the bed in the room Meridy was sharing with Jaift. The image lingered, shimmering faintly with ethereal light, after she drew it. “He said his mother showed him, and her father showed her. From ruling prince or princess to firstborn heir. Only we knew. No one else.”
Meridy had hesitated, but Niniol had asked bluntly for them all, “You’re certain your mother never knew, are you?”
That was an ugly question, and it had produced an ugly pause. “We shall have to hope not,” Diöllin said at last.
Niniol had shaken his head in disgust. “Fools depend on hope. What if His little Highness isn’t in the upper dungeons after all? Have you a secret way into the lower dungeons as well? Or, say you know exactly where he is, have you a way to slip past the guardsmen? Surely there are guardsmen. If I had that duty, I’d be ashamed to let children come and go under my watch, far less prisoners. Or, say you manage to get the boy out; then what? Her Highness found him easily enough once the witch-king lost him; what’s to stop her from doing it again?”
Diöllin had not been able to answer him. None of them had been able to answer him. It had all been very uncomfortable.
But then Jaift had lifted a tentative hand. “All that is true, everything Niniol says. But there’s no point in trying to think of everything at once when we don’t know anything, is there? The only way to find out just where Herren is or whether you can slip past the guards and reach him is to try. Then at least we’ll know that much.”
There had been a little pause. Then Meridy had said, “If Diöllin finds the right cell, I think she could help me open the door. And for after—Diöllin, don’t you know people who would’ve been terribly offended by Lord Roann’s arrest? They might help Herren against the princess-regent, isn’t that so?”
“Yes,” Diöllin had agreed eagerly. “Lord Perann—Roann’s brother. He would certainly help us!”
So after that even Niniol had agreed grudgingly that, as plans went, it was terrible, yet maybe not so terrible as doing nothing. “But it’s lucky I’m here to go with you,” he’d told Meridy and Diöllin. “You’ll both swear to listen to me and take advice and never mind one of you is a witch and the other royal. Hear me?”
Diöllin had been offended, but Meridy had agreed fervently, and made Diöllin promise, too, though the princess had been a bit stiff about it.
“This way down into the dungeons worries me most, whatever Prince Diöllonuor told Princess Diöllin,” muttered Niniol. “Just the ruler to his heir, that’s all well and good, but no one can truly be certain of secrets. It’s always wisest to assume your enemy knows more than you would wish.”
But they had to do something. So now Meridy found herself sneaking through hidden passages right inside the smooth white walls of the palace and wiggling her way around obnoxiously tight corners.
Coming to the end of the current passageway, she slipped back the spy panel for a quick look at the outer hall. She had to stand on her toes to peek out. Made for thin, tall people, this passageway. If she’d known, she might have brought something to stand on.
But she was definitely glad she’d had a chance to look. Because there was, most annoyingly, a kitchen boy or some such on the landing, kissing a girl who was probably a young maid. Cursing inwardly, Meridy wondered whether it would be a greater risk to delay, hoping the two of them would go away on their own, or to try to frighten them off with some well-selected ghostly noises.
A door slamming on the landing above fortunately decided the matter for her; the pair ducked giggling down the stairs and vanished. Whoever had come onto the stairs above went up. Meridy listened long enough to be sure of this, then slipped the catch on the hidden door and stepped out into the stairway. She ran down the stairs to the third landing from the bottom—four nerve-racking flights. Fortunately Diöllin seemed to be right about these stairs being little trafficked, which had no doubt been the appeal to the maid and the kitchen boy. Meridy met no one and made it to the third landing without incident, with Diöllin whirling around her and pointing imperiously at the steps to show her where the hidden panel was.
“I know, all right?” Meridy whispered. “Just keep a lookout for anybody, will you? That would be useful.” She didn’t know how useful Diöllin would be as a guard, in fact; what did a princess know about such tasks? But Niniol, steady as always, was right beside her. Him Meridy trusted.
The hidden panel was actually built into the steps themselves. She had to get the first riser up from the landing out of the way before she could lift the step, which was a good deal more difficult than Diöllin had implied. It was set in so solidly that at first Meridy thought the princess had counted stairs or landings wrong and the stone was truly immobile; but Diöllin insisted, and at last the stone moved a fraction, so Meridy knew it was the right one after all. She ought to have brought something to pry with, but no. And had anybody suggested it? Again, no. She pried harder, her stomach knotting up at the idea of having to admit defeat and sneak back out of the palace without anything to show for the whole effort. She’d been tense since they’d all decided on this ridiculous plan, but she’d said she would do it and now if she couldn’t—well, she was sure Jaift would sympathize, but Meridy didn’t even want to imagine what Diöllin would say.
Jaift had come to the palace along with Meridy and the ghosts, because Diöllin said Lord Perann had an apartment in the outer ring of spires and that was where Jaift was most likely to find him. They’d separated at the outer ring, Jaift to find Lord Perann and Meridy going on toward the central spire of the main palace. But Meridy had been glad to have Jaift’s company on their way through the city anyway. Cora Diorr had been confusing, crowded even as dusk crept through the narrow streets and laid shadows across the streets. There were lanterns along the alleys and in windows and below the eaves along with the prayer bells, and as far as Meridy could tell, the people of Cora Diorr simply never went to bed at all.
She didn’t like the crowded streets; or the tall, narrow buildings that seemed to lean over them; or the frowning, unfriendly glances both she and Jaift drew. Somehow the City of Spires felt…not just closed in. It felt lonely. As though despite the noise and hurry and crowding and dirt, everyone in this city was essentially alone.
No doubt Meridy felt that way because she and Jaift were strangers to Cora Diorr. But besides that, Meridy had the sense that they were being followed. Niniol said not, and so she knew she must simply be feeling nervous and jumpy in this strange city.
But at least, unpleasant as she found the city, Meridy had to admit that a pair of girls did seem able to make their way through the city at dusk, and then along the white street right up to the palace, all without drawing attention.
The white spires had looked tall and delicate from a distance, but from beneath they looked much taller and considerably more massive. Perhaps especially by night, the palace didn’t look like something that had been built by ordinary men. Meridy thought the towers must really have been raised up by sorcery—she had suspected the carter might be making up that tale just because it sounded impressive, but it just did not seem like any normal
effort of men could build anything so smooth and graceful and perfect.
Diöllin showed them one of the servants’ entrances to the lower levels of the palace, and from there she’d directed Meridy to the deep cellars and the entrance to the secret passages. “There were already caverns here,” the princess explained. “Filled with water, some of them, but that was all to the good: like a wonderful deep cistern for the whole city. But Prince Tirnamuon used the caverns in his building, and of course that’s where he got all this white stone. My father said—” But she had fallen silent then, and she wordlessly showed them where to go.
So Meridy had thought, her stomach clenching, Well, that’s the easy part right there. Because no matter how nervous she’d been to that point, once they were in, everything got more frightening. Meridy had to sneak into the dungeons and find Herren and get him away, while poor Jaift had to go all by herself to find Lord Perann Mahonis. Diöllin had sworn that Lord Perann would never believe that his brother had betrayed Prince Diöllonuor; not possibly. She was certain he would help them. Meridy wasn’t so sure. Jaift was good with people and good at managing things; she insisted she would be fine. But if she couldn’t persuade Lord Perann…well, the plan got more nebulous after that.
It really was a stupid plan. Niniol was right about that. But none of them thought they dared wait and wait and wait until they got every single bell lined up to ring at exactly the same instant.
At least Meridy had Diöllin to show her where to go and how to get in and out of her ancestor’s secret passages. And more comforting still, she had Niniol at her back. Though neither Diöllin nor Niniol could actually open a stuck panel or pry a stone out of the way, either.
In the end, Meridy broke a fingernail getting the stone out of the riser. It hurt, but she couldn’t complain because Diöllin might have understood, but she didn’t want to look like a baby in front of Niniol.
So then Meridy had to lie on her belly on the landing and wiggle through feetfirst. It was a tight fit, and not much good for her clothing, either, but at least she’d put her village homespun back on, as closer to what one of the palace servants might wear. Anyway, awkward as it was, this particular passage, according to Diöllin, led in a straight fall directly to the upper dungeons, with stones set out of the wall to form a kind of ladder. There were no more than four inches of grip for each stone, and those few inches gritty with accumulated dust and sometimes fouled as well with other substances that did not bear imagining. Even worse, the webs of spiders crossed and recrossed the narrow shaft, clinging to and winding about anything that touched them.
The climb was awful. A fall would be a serious matter; so far as she could see, there would be no chance to catch yourself before you hit the foot of the shaft nearly eighty feet below. Meridy went straight down without a pause, drawing a quick breath of relief when she at last reached the bottom safely. There was just room to stand and stretch her arms out, but she knew one of the walls was false and led into one of the cells. Besides her ethereal light, there was a little real light here, too. It fed in from chinks between the stones of the false wall. The air, circulating gently from those cracks, smelled of rats and damp and growing fungus.
“Ugh!” she whispered, though even that small sound echoed and reechoed alarmingly, little breathy uh uh uh sounds, and she froze, listening in case anybody might have noticed. But she heard nothing.
She couldn’t see through the chinks very well, but enough to be fairly certain the cell was indeed empty. It looked about four or five strides across, not really square but oddly shaped. Two of the walls looked like they might even have been part of the original cavern, the stone folded and rippled; a third was made of the same kind of stone, but carved into ordinary blocks and mortared together. The bars that formed the fourth wall were close set in a grid, the spaces almost too small even to put a hand through. It all looked thoroughly secure and escape-proof, if you didn’t know about the hidden way out.
She had asked Diöllin why in the world the princes of Cora Tal might have built secret ways into and out of their own dungeons.
Diöllin had shrugged. “You never know what might come up, I guess. Prince Tiranann once imprisoned his own daughter in this very cell, when she tried to run off with a common lover—didn’t you ever hear that story? But he also must have told her about the way out, because she escaped and rescued her lover and they ran off together to live in Tian Diorr, in the far north of Tian Sur, as far from Cora Diorr as they could get. Herren and I still have distant cousins in Tian Diorr, though officially our two families aren’t supposed to know about each other.”
And now here Meridy was, studying the very same cell. She ran her hands over the false wall, looking for the catch that was supposed to be…yes, here. She began to press down on the catch, hoping that it wouldn’t make any noise or, if it did, that no one would be near enough to hear the sound. But Niniol stopped her, holding up an imperative hand and stepping through the wall. Meridy let her breath out, feeling stupid. Of course she should have thought of that.
She waited for Niniol to come back, mentally running through the endless list of disasters that could occur. One of the guards might turn out to be a witch, since there were so many in Cora Diorr, and he’d see Niniol and give the alarm. Or despite what Diöllin thought, Herren might not be in this part of the dungeons at all; he might have been imprisoned lower down, in the lower dungeons, utterly out of reach. Or a special guard might have been mounted outside his cell. Or the guards might patrol frequently, so it would be impossible to get past them without being caught. Or another prisoner might wake up and raise a shout, out of either surprise or despair that he wasn’t the object of the rescue. Or, most unbearable of all, Princess Tiamanaith or even the witch-king might already have done something dreadful to Herren and they might just be too late—
“Stop that,” Diöllin said, her attenuated voice in Meridy’s ear.
Meridy twitched guiltily. “What?”
“You’re thinking terrible thoughts,” the princess whispered. “I can tell.”
Meridy gave her a look. “I have a right! Look what you got me into! That awful climb, all those spiders and that horrible slimy fungus or whatever—”
“Oh, please! You’re a village child; you can’t tell me you worry about a little dirt!”
Perhaps fortunately, Niniol came back as suddenly as he’d gone, interrupting Meridy before she could answer this as it deserved. He tilted his head ironically, but all he said was, “There’s a guard station at the far end of the corridor, and three men on guard there even at this hour. Sound will carry down here, so try to be quiet!”
Meridy nodded understanding and pressed gently on the catch. Then harder. Then harder still and never mind if it made a noise; it was stiff with grime and disuse. The grinding snap when it gave was gritty, muffled, and louder than she would have liked. She eased the panel out of the way a little at a time and hoped the noise she made sounded ordinary to the guards. Niniol, glowering in annoyance, stepped through the wall and out into the corridor, then put his hand back through the grate at the front of the cell and beckoned, so she knew the corridor must still be clear. Intensely grateful for his presence, she edged out of the shaft into the main part of the cell. It was not quite dark; light from lamps in the corridor caught on the iron and brass of the bars and was reflected from the stone where moisture had seeped through the floor or slicked the walls.
“There’s a key hidden in the shaft,” the princess whispered. “A key in the shaft and another key hidden behind a stone out in the corridor, so someone can get either in or out of this cell.” She pointed, lamplight barely showing the lift of her arm.
Reaching back into the shaft, Meridy felt across the wall at the edge of the open panel and almost at once located the little packet of waxed canvas and leather that held the key. She unwrapped the key as slowly and carefully as she could, the canvas crinkling alarmingly. Then she crossed the cell to the door. Niniol was still waiting, tense b
ut patient, so she knew no guard had come closer yet. She couldn’t resist laying her cheek flat against the bars and looking for herself. But Niniol was right, of course; no one was in sight. She could hear masculine voices, but only faintly.
“They’ll patrol now and then,” Niniol murmured. “Or I would. Let’s be quick.”
Meridy nodded. She found the jar of oil—Jaift’s idea, of course—and reached awkwardly between the bars to oil the hinges. The oil spilled a little, but she didn’t care as long as the odor wasn’t too noticeable.
She unlocked the cell door and pushed it gently open—wincing at the quiet scriiik it made, but in fact the noise wasn’t bad; she was very grateful to Jaift for thinking of the oil. She took a moment to hide the key back in its place. Then, stepping out into the corridor, she closed the door again behind her. Niniol put out a hand to stop her closing it quite all the way. “Shutting it will make more noise. Leave it a little ajar.”
Meridy nodded again. That seemed best anyway, in case a rapid exit should be required. Then she stepped cautiously into the corridor.
Nothing happened. No one jumped out at her, as she’d half expected. She could still hear the guards’ voices, an indistinct, lazy mutter. There was no sign at all anyone had heard her. Her heart, which had been racing, slowed to something nearer nervousness than terror.
“This,” Diöllin murmured voicelessly in Meridy’s ear, “is almost too easy.”
“Hush! You’ll bring down bad luck on us,” Meridy whispered back, only half joking. “Listen! No one’s coming, are they?”
“No,” said Niniol, his head tilted, listening too. “Not yet. Careless bastards. Be quick, now. The last thing we need is to fall afoul of a Godforsaken routine inspection. If I were their officer, I’d require one at some random time each night.”
The White Road of the Moon Page 21
