It might have helped if he could have talked to Edlin, but the lord rode at the tail end of the train, urging on the stragglers and keeping a rear watch.
Finding the sheepfold empty seemed so impossible that Derian had just sat for a long moment and stared. Afterward, he guessed that his expression must have been every bit as foolish as any Lord Edlin had ever managed, but Edlin, trotting his mount to the front, didn't even grin.
"We're here, what?" he said cheerily. "Well that's fine, just fine. I thought we might get here and find the others come and gone with nothing but a note to tell us where to meet them."
Derian, suddenly panicked by a possibility he hadn't considered, glanced frantically around. Edlin leaned from his saddle to slap him on the shoulder.
"Don't worry, old boy. No tracks. We're first. Let's get the beasts inside the fold, what?"
Doubtless the sheepfold had been built here precisely because the location was far enough outside the city limits that none of the city regulations applied, yet close enough that herders starting out early could have their flocks to market in a timely fashion. There was even a spring of fresh water and a rough shelter.
Horses and mules accepted the snowy sheepfold with little grace, despite the fact that New Kelvin's attentive road custodians had cleared it since the last major snowfall.
"I say," Edlin said, returning from the spring, over which he had needed to break the ice before drawing water, "it's a good thing we're not like Firekeeper—able to understand beast talk and all, what? The critters are probably cursing like soldiers. After all, we drag them out of a warm stable and send them off through the snow in the dead of night. Shame we can't heat them some mash or something."
Derian shook his head. "Don't dare risk it, they might end up with colic if we fed them, then took them out on the road again too soon."
He stomped his feet and looked back along the dark, silent road.
"I wonder where the others are," he said.
"Me, too," Edlin replied. "Wish we were with them, what? Much better than this freezing wait."
Derian nodded somberly.
Edlin brightened. "No reason why you and I shouldn't have something hot to drink, though, while we wait, I mean. There's dry wood in that shelter—I saw it when I went to the spring. I'll put on kettle—there's one there—and we'll have something to take the chill off our bones and put the rest to the side for when the others get here."
If they get here, Derian thought uneasily as he moved to water the animals. If they get here.
When Blind Seer tottered to his feet and, growling, made clear that he would prefer to move under his own power, Elise thought she'd start crying with guilty relief—relief because this was the first clear sign they'd had that the wolf would live, guilt because she had been wondering how they would ever manage to carry him when they began their retreat.
Indeed, if they could carry him.
Thinking of how Firekeeper would react if she learned that Blind Seer had been abandoned was enough to make Elise wonder rather nervously if she could manage to carry the wolf at least a short distance.
Doc certainly couldn't do so. He had lavishly used his talent to set Blind Seer's wounds on the way to healing—maybe too lavishly. Elise didn't want to think what they would do if someone else was hurt.
But at least Blind Seer was on his feet. The wolf's quickly shaved flank bore so many stitches that he resembled a skin toy rather than a living creature—or would have had there not been so much blood clinging to his remaining fur.
Worse still was the area around his left eye. Kistlio's knife had cut the lid and damaged the orb. Doc had done his best—dabbing the region with alcohol before loosely bandaging that side of the wolf's head—but it was too soon to know whether the livid, swollen area would succumb to infection.
After binding the couple upstairs, Wendee Jay had sneaked down the stairs to scout, going far enough that she could hear what might lie ahead while remaining unseen behind the curve.
When Wendee came back up, her tired eyes were worried.
"I heard pounding on the door below," she reported. "From what I could gather—and the words weren't clear—the folks down there know they are locked in and are not at all pleased about it."
Grateful Peace, turning from where he was locking the door to the third-floor room behind him, turned up his lips in a wry expression that was not so much a smile as an admission that events had gotten beyond him.
"I used a key," he said, "that locks a lock most do not know is there. Had we not made so much noise, they probably would have continued their debate unknowing. Now, however…
He shrugged. "They will eventually force the lock. We must leave as soon as possible."
"Ready here," Doc said, rising and shouldering his repacked kit.
"As is your patient," Grateful Peace said, leading the way down the stair. "You are indeed a miracle worker."
"Hardly," Doc replied dryly.
Grateful Peace chose not to argue.
"Goody Wendee," he said, "was there any noise from the ground floor?"
Wendee nodded.
"I think so."
"Then let me go first," Peace said. "My reputation is ruined with those above—or will be when they have time to think—but most of those who are rooming on the ground floor are so junior to me that they will not dare give challenge."
Elise, marveling at his confidence, wondered, too, how much was bluff.
One thing was certain. Any hope Grateful Peace had for salvaging his place here rested on proving Lady Melina's treachery. From the moment he had locked the four remaining researchers into the tower, he had relinquished any hope of pretending to have been coerced into working with the foreigners.
Clutching the box holding the mirror—it was too big to thrust into a pocket as Wendee had the comb—Elise followed Grateful Peace down the curving stair.
Her ears strained, not only to hear what Grateful Peace was about, but for the sound of Firekeeper's return.
"What are we going to do," said Wendee, who must have been thinking along similar lines, "if Lady Blysse doesn't return?"
Elise shook her head uneasily, but Sir Jared had an answer.
"We go on," he said. "Of all our company, Firekeeper is the best able to escape on her own. With two of the artifacts in our possession, we would be betraying her trust if we didn't try to get away with them."
Wendee looked so shocked that Elise nearly strangled on a shrill, hysterical laugh.
"Remember how Firekeeper took on the bandits?" Elise said when she had her voice under control again. "She'll be all right."
Wendee nodded, somewhat reassured. Elise wished she believed her own words. Firekeeper was tough, but she was hardly invulnerable. Moons had waxed and waned before she had fully healed from the injuries she had taken fighting Prince Newell.
This time, Doc wouldn't be there to treat the wolf-woman if she did get hurt, and Blind Seer wouldn't be there to bring help.
And then there was Lady Melina…
Elise found herself shivering and, to distract herself, focused exclusively on the moment.
Ahead she could hear Grateful Peace speaking in New Kelvinese, his accents far more pretentious than any he had ever used when speaking to her.
"I commend you," said he, "for your alertness. Yes, there has been a difficulty. For that reason, I have locked the upper levels. They are to remain locked until I return. Do not pay any mind to whatever anyone on the other side of those doors will say to you. They are not in control of themselves."
Elise felt herself grinning.
"Does what happened have anything to do," asked a voice that sounded like a young voice trying very hard not to sound young, "with the artifacts?"
Elise could almost hear Grateful Peace's meaningful nod. Its shape was reflected in the awed and slightly terrified intake of breath that came in response.
"However," Peace went on, "I trust that by the time the sun is nooning all will be well. I su
ggest…"
The word could have been "command."
"I suggest that you return to your sleeping quarters and get what rest you can. Tomorrow promises to be a very busy day."
There was a chorus of "Yes, sirs" and other polite noises, then a pattering of feet as at least a dozen people did their very best not to be the last one before the gaze of the Dragon's Eye.
"Come," Peace said more softly in Pellish. He poked his head around the corner of the stair and motioned for them to hurry. "We dare not delay."
"Lady Firekeeper…" Wendee began, but Peace shook his head decisively. "No. She must find her own way."
With Peace in the lead, they descended again into the cellars. Wendee went down next, assisting Blind Seer. Elise followed and helped Doc manage the ladder.
At the bottom, as they were all reclaiming the cloaks they had stowed in a dark corner and Peace was lighting a torch, Elise turned to Sir Jared.
"Doc," she asked, keeping her voice soft, "do you have room in your pack for this?"
She held up the box containing the mirror.
He nodded wearily.
"Put it in for me, will you, Elise? I don't think I could get the pack off just now."
Elise felt terrible about burdening him further, but the box didn't weigh too much and she needed to have her hands free… just in case.
They trooped through the icy darkness in silence, lit only by the one torch they had taken time to light. Peace said nothing until they had left the spiderweb of tunnels beneath Thendulla Lypella for the greater sewer network.
"Much," he said, motioning them to a halt, "depends on what has happened with Lady Melina, if Lady Blysse has… neutralized her, then we may have hours before anyone comes for us. If she has not, pursuit could come quite soon.
"Ultimately, this sewer empties outside the city. That is how I suggest we go. However, our exit will be neither easy nor pleasant."
"Oh?" Elise asked, distrust flooding her.
After all, Peace had betrayed his own people. Why shouldn't he betray them? She thought of the mirror and the comb. Peace could redeem himself quite nicely if he returned them, couldn't he?
"Lady Elise, my fellows would be fools to leave a potential roadway such as this unguarded. However, on a cold night like tonight, the guards may be less than attentive. Unfortunately, the exit from the tunnel is covered with a heavy grille work gate. My keys will open it, but I do not think we can open it without attracting attention to ourselves."
Wendee said leadenly, "Then we're doomed."
"Not quite," Peace replied. "There is a smaller exit hatch, similar to the one through which we entered the tunnels. My keys will also open that door, but one problem remains."
"What?" Elise asked.
"The hatchway enters directly into the guardhouse."
"Oh."
Doc asked, "Do we have any choice?"
"We could exit within the city," Peace said, "but I do not fancy our chances of traversing the city without causing comment. Even if no one has heard about the thefts we are a rather disreputable-looking lot."
"We're doomed," Wendee repeated. Then, with visible effort, she put on a brave manner. "So we might as well follow the course that dooms us less quickly. I'm for the tunnel into the guardhouse."
Everyone else nodded—even Blind Seer.
They went on without speaking for some time. As she trudged along in the back, Elise found the night's exertions catching up to her. Who would have known when they'd settled down that evening to discuss how best to retrieve the artifacts that some hours later they would have two of them?
Two and hopefully three.
Elise could feel exhaustion threatening her. It had been a long day and promised to be a longer night. She was cold, and her feet—which she had been on much of the day—ached abysmally.
Her head ached, she wanted to weep, to whine like a child, anything but tramp through this cold tunnel with its reek of sewage.
It seemed too much, unfair, that the only reward she could anticipate at the end of the journey was a possible fight followed by further flight, this time through the snow and wind. Presumably they'd ride until hiding became necessary, and then where would they go? Where would they hide?
Ahead, the light of the single torch Grateful Peace carried burned steadily. At least here there was no wind. At least here no one was chasing them. At least here…
Elise straightened and forced a grin. If this was as good as it was going to get, well, then, she'd better appreciate it.
What had she been telling herself—that it was unfair that she had to put up with these conditions?
Well, who insisted you come along, Lady Elise Archer? she asked herself.
No one but me was her silent reply.
And in any case, what's fair? Was it fair that Sapphire and Shad were nearly murdered on their wedding day? Was it fair that King Allister had to deal with treachery along with his coronation? What is fair?
"Life isn't fair," she muttered to herself.
Doc, hearing the sound but certainly not the words, paused and looked back at her in concern.
"Are you all right, Elise?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she said, giving him a determined smile. "After all, it's pretty pleasant here, out of the wind."
It wasn't really night anymore when they arrived outside the city; it was predawn. At this time of year when winter had set her seal on the world, that meant it was still very dark, and very cold.
It was predawn inside the tunnels, too, Elise thought, but the thing was, time didn't seem real there, underground. It was just dark and vaguely smelly and the only light in the world came from the flickering torch that Peace had several times renewed from custodial caches along the way.
Elise blew on her fingers and wished for a hot cup of tea.
"Is it true that people sleep most heavily just before dawn?" she asked. "My father told me that once."
"I've heard that, too," Wendee replied. "But I don't know how true it is."
They could talk in a normal tone of voice here—they had to, if they wanted to be heard. As they had trudged along underground, their route had brought them into broader and broader tunnels.
Now they walked alongside what Peace told them had once been a river—a small river, but a very real one. The river had run from the mountains through Dragon's Breath. Some time during the rule of the Founders, it had been sent underground. Tunnels had been built over it.
Where it once carried snowmelt, now it mostly carried sewage. The snowmelt was diverted into reservoirs, though enough was let through to rinse the sewage on its way. The system was more complicated than that, but that was the basic idea.
The liquid in little tunnels had been frozen on top and maybe all the way under, too. Here there was a skin of ice on top. Underneath, the tainted water ran. When it reached the grille work gate, it splashed out into a big river, which carried the waste away. The noise was steady and, best of all, covered the sound of talk.
Elise made a face as the wind brought the sewer smell their way. She didn't know if she'd ever drink from a New Kelvinese river again—not unless the water was boiled and distilled.
How she'd like a cup of tea!
Peace had actually done pretty well by them. There had been food—mostly bars of dried fruit mixed with grains or nuts—in some of the custodial stores. The thaumaturge hadn't known if these were official supplies or some worker's way of making his labor more pleasant.
Either way, having something to eat went a long way toward making them all feel more confident. Peace had found fresh water, too.
Peace had also insisted on rest stops. During these, he'd had them clean off the scarlet paint. Descriptions of the fugitives might well mention that stain.
Hearing how much they disliked the feel of the paint, Grateful Peace didn't insist that they replace it in full. Instead, with a greenish color stick he gave them each a couple of "tattoos." He explained that the average New Kelvinese read tattoo
s automatically, and would remember what these had said far more readily than details like height or hair color.
Elise's face now said that she was dedicated to a minor cult she'd never heard of before this night. Wendee's said she was a member of some historical society.
But now they'd come to the end of the sewers. Doc—looking much stronger now—was holding the torch so that Grateful Peace could oil the trapdoor. It was supposed to be kept oiled—this being a fairly important part of the sewer system—but Peace wasn't taking any chances on people doing what they were supposed to do.
As she watched the thin man with the bone-white braid trailing down his back, Elise had the feeling that beneath his calm he was even more unsettled by recent events than she was. Like her, he had chosen to be here, but unlike her, she didn't think that he'd planned for the night's venture ending with him exiled from the kingdom he'd served for most of his life.
Elise felt oddly sorry for Grateful Peace. Then the time to feel sorry was over. It was time to head up and out into whatever awaited them.
Chapter XXXIII
Rusty Iron rubbed rough granules into Elise's fingers as she hung from the ladder with one hand and pushed up the trapdoor with the other.
The thaumaturge was above already, prowling somewhere in the semidarkness, searching out the residents, checking if any stood watch. He had explained that no one would question his presence, for the Dragon's Eye went everywhere. However, he preferred that their group's presence not be known if at all possible, for he felt there was still a slight chance that he would be able to redeem himself before his people—a chance that grew more tenuous each time his role in helping the outlanders was confirmed.
Their plan had been that if there was no indication that Grateful Peace had been discovered, the rest were to begin their ascent. They had to do without more complex signals, for any' sound Peace might make would awaken the sleepers, and Peace had been forced to close the trapdoor behind him because of the noise from the falls.
Inside the stone guardhouse the noise from the sewage falls was muted. Even so, the solid little building wasn't silent. Silence would have been preferable, for the same dull rumble that covered the sound of their own cautious movements made Elise uneasily aware how easy it would be for someone to sneak up behind her.
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