“Sit down,” she instructed and steered Blaine toward the steps. Piran returned in a moment with a bucket full of water, and the others wandered around the entranceway, studying the murals, as Kestel and Zaryae made a paste of medicinal herbs and healing oils from their packs, along with the ice-cold water from the well. Kestel tore strips from Blaine’s ruined shirt for bandages.
“We’ll see if we can find you another shirt,” she said, standing back to admire her handiwork with the bandages.
“I should have a spare in my pack with the horses,” Blaine said. He knew the poultices would take time to work. His headache pounded, making conversation difficult. Once more, Kestel dispatched Piran on an errand to bring back the shirt, and with good-natured grumbling, Piran did as she directed. Blaine shouldered gingerly into the fresh shirt, ruefully accepting that his slashed pants would have to last until they found replacements or returned to Glenreith.
“That poultice should help,” Kestel said, a look of concern on her face. “But tell me if the wounds don’t seem to get any better.”
A sudden gust of cold air slammed the rickety doors shut. Piran jumped and pivoted, crossbow drawn, then swore under his breath.
“The spirits are watching us,” Zaryae said quietly. “Wondering why we’ve come.”
Blaine looked at the seer. “Should we tell them?”
Zaryae smiled. “You can, but they will believe what they observe, not what we say.”
“Zaryae,” Kestel said, her gaze still focused on the mural and its depiction of the Knights of Esthrane, “can you sense whether or not there are talishte here?”
“Just the spirits.”
“Let’s have a look around,” Blaine said, turning away from the mural. “Let’s start at the top and work our way downward.” He cast a glance toward Zaryae. “Assuming you’re right, and there won’t be any surprises from the cellars once night falls, this should be as good a place as any to make camp.”
“No talishte,” Zaryae repeated. “I would know.”
Something in Zaryae’s reassurance seemed incomplete, but Blaine did not press the issue. She’s just seen her kinswoman murdered by the gryp, he thought. Anyone would seem a bit off, considering.
Piran and Borya led the way up the wide, curved stairway. As they climbed, Blaine and Kestel looked around, keeping their weapons at the ready. Illarion accompanied Zaryae.
When nothing burst forth as they reached the second floor, Blaine felt himself relax, just a little. He resolutely ignored the headache. Despite Kestel’s poultice, he could feel a fever that threatened to have him sweating despite the cold. “Piran, Borya. Check out the stairs to the next floor – just in case,” he said.
They waited until the two returned. “Stairs to nowhere,” Piran reported. “Floor’s there, and some of the walls. Anything above this level burned.” He reached out to pat the stone wall nearest him. “Good thing this place is built like a fortress, from the look of how hot it got.”
“A fortress,” Kestel echoed. “Do you think the Knights originally built this as a place they could fall back to and defend?”
Blaine shrugged. “If so, they changed their minds. Or something kept them from reaching sanctuary here.”
Satisfied nothing was hiding above them, the group split into armed teams of two, moving down the long corridor. Piran and Borya went to the far end of the hallway and began working toward the stairs, opening doors and searching the rooms. Blaine and Kestel worked their way forward, down the left side, while Zaryae and Illarion took the right side.
Blaine pushed open a door and stood ready, sword raised. The old wooden door creaked back on its iron hinges. A dusty room met their gaze, filled with two neat rows of cots. “Dormitory,” Blaine said.
Kestel nodded. “But look. The bedding’s pulled up neatly on each of them. It doesn’t look as if something roused them from their sleep or sent them off on a moment’s notice.”
A quick search found personal items around each bed. A pair of spectacles lay atop the covers, next to a book on one cot. A dressing gown was folded neatly at the foot of another bed. Blaine bent down and found that beneath each bed was a small wooden box.
He pulled out the box from beneath the nearest bed and looked down at the contents. “A clean shirt, pants, and undergarments,” he reported, disliking the need to rifle through the personal effects of strangers. “A small devotional carving of Esthrane. A set of prayer beads. From the look of it, the mages were ascetics.”
Kestel was moving methodically from bed to bed, making a quick examination of the storage boxes. Finally she straightened, holding a pair of trews and grinning victoriously. “These should fit you,” she said, and tossed the pair of pants toward Blaine.
“You’re looting the dead?”
Kestel rolled her eyes. “Not like they can use the things anymore, is it? Blame Verran. I learned thieving from a master.”
Blaine motioned for Kestel to turn her back and quickly changed pants.
“We lived together in a small house for three years, and you don’t think I’ve already seen you without pants?” Kestel jibed.
“We’re back in civilization now,” Blaine replied.
Kestel snorted. “What’s left of it.” She turned around without awaiting an invitation as Blaine tied the drawstring on his trews.
She frowned as she looked around the room. “You know, from the mural, I thought the mages had died off within memory of when the Knights were exiled. But the lyceum hasn’t been abandoned that long, maybe only since the Great Fire,” she said.
Blaine nodded. “You’re right. Which means that, while the mage-scholars might have been dwindling in numbers, they survived a lot longer than the Knights without going into hiding.”
Kestel looked around the room. “Then again, as we’ve mentioned, this place is pretty far off the main roads. Maybe they made it so they just wouldn’t be noticed, and let people forget about them.”
“Could be. They could have recruited new members quietly,” Blaine agreed. “Just a few each year to keep the order going. It wouldn’t have been in their interest to have too many people here. Too difficult to stay hidden.”
He was about to turn toward the door when movement at the edge of his peripheral vision caught his attention. He turned his head sharply only to see an empty room.
“What’s the matter?” Kestel asked.
Blaine shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Nothing. Just thought I saw something move.”
“I didn’t see anything,” she said, but he could hear worry in her voice. “Do you think Zaryae was right, about the mages’ spirits remaining here?”
The possibility had already occurred to Blaine, and he didn’t like it. “If she’s got half the ability Illarion and the others think she has, that’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“If it’s true, they aren’t trying to stop us,” Kestel remarked.
Or maybe, Blaine thought, they’re just biding their time.
They left the dormitory room and opened the next door. Two more identical rooms followed. By this time, they had reached the center of the corridor. Piran and Borya emerged from the last rooms on their half. “There’s another dormitory room down at the end,” Piran said. “And a large room with a big table and a number of chairs – kind of far away from the kitchen for a dining hall, isn’t it?”
“Probably a study room,” Illarion replied. He motioned toward the rooms he and Zaryae had just searched. “We found a sleeping room, with a few personal items beneath each bed.”
“I wonder what was on the top floor,” Kestel mused.
“No way to know,” Blaine replied. “Let’s go down and see what we find.”
As they headed downstairs, Blaine felt the weight of the morning’s wild ride and Kata’s death settle heavily on him.
The floor plan on the main floor was quite different from that of the simple single corridor above. Three different wings opened off the main entranceway. Kestel and Blaine took the
hallway on the right, while Illarion and Zaryae headed into the central hallway, and Piran and Borya went to the left.
As Blaine and Kestel started down the hallway, they found several small, austere rooms that sat forlorn and empty, save one heavy wooden chair in each. “Classroom,” Blaine said. “Reminds me of the ones at the collegium my father sent me off to, near Glenreith. The master sat in that chair,” he said, pointing, “and the students gathered at his feet, asking questions, soaking in knowledge.”
Blaine shifted to turn toward the door and grimaced. The ache in his head had grown worse, so that it was difficult to think. Despite the poultice, his wounds throbbed, and he was sweating. He caught another glimpse of something, as if a shadow moved just at the edge of his vision.
“Did you see that?” he asked, turning to stare in the direction of the movement, though nothing was there.
Kestel shook her head. “I didn’t see anything.”
“Damn. I keep catching a glimpse of something moving, but when I look at it, nothing’s there,” Blaine replied.
Kestel regarded him skeptically. “You don’t look well. Is the poultice helping?”
Blaine made a dismissive gesture. “I’m sure it is. I saw worse in Velant.”
“Uh-huh. Let’s find an infirmary and see if the scholars had anything stronger than the herbs and oils Zaryae and I have. We’ve got a long ride back to Glenreith.”
“It can wait,” Blaine said. “We need to see what we’re dealing with. I’ll be fine.”
They found several more classrooms and another larger study room before reaching the end of the corridor. “I hope the others have found something more interesting,” Blaine remarked. “We’ll have come a long way – and paid too high a cost.”
Kestel touched his arm. “It’s not your fault, what happened on the bridge.”
Just then, a shout echoed down the corridor. “I think we’ve found something!” Illarion’s voice carried through the empty building.
Blaine and Kestel headed back, walking as quickly as Blaine’s injured leg would permit. Blaine did not mention it to Kestel, but the shadow shapes he glimpsed now seemed to be all around them, moving closer than the periphery of his vision. He still felt feverish, and despite the poultices, his battle wounds ached. Can’t be good if I’m hallucinating, Blaine thought. Maybe the talons were poisoned. Then again, it wouldn’t be good if what I’m seeing is really there. Which is worse?
They reached the entranceway just after Piran and Borya. “Nothing down the corridor we searched except the kitchens and the dining room,” Piran said, anticipating the question. “And before you ask, yes, we checked. Some of the food spoiled, but what was dried or preserved is still in good shape. We’ve definitely got provisions for the trip back, and some to share.” He grinned. “I vote to grab those casks of wine and brandy and the grain we found in the dependencies as well. Things like that are harder to come by than they used to be.”
“We’ve found a library,” Zaryae said excitedly. “And a shrine. Come and see.”
They followed Zaryae and Illarion back down the central corridor. It was now mid-afternoon, and the winter light was fading.
Shadows lengthened in the hallway, and it seemed to Blaine that whatever moved on the edge of his vision was growing more agitated, moving more frequently, and losing any fear that might have persuaded it to keep its distance. If what I see is real, how can we fight shadows? he wondered. He looked at Zaryae, who was talking animatedly with Illarion, but she did not appear to be paying particular heed to the darker edges of the room.
“Zaryae,” Blaine said, getting the seer’s attention. “You said the mages hadn’t left, that their spirits remained. Can you sense them?”
Zaryae looked at him, her eyes alight. “Oh yes. They’re here. They’re watching.”
“What do they want?” Kestel asked.
Zaryae met her gaze. “They want to know our measure. Then they’ll decide.”
“Decide what?” Blaine asked.
“What to do about us.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Blaine said.
Zaryae shrugged. “We chose to come here. This place belongs to them. It’s theirs to protect.”
“And what are they protecting?” Kestel asked.
“If we’re meant to know, we’ll find it,” Zaryae answered.
They reached a set of wooden double doors. The doors were made of cherry, stained dark, and rubbed to a fine, smooth finish. Into the satiny finish was carved a series of symbols. An arc of six circles, each a phase of the moon, rose above a horizon line, with a similar and opposite arc beneath adorned one door. A sheaf of wheat, and an ear of corn, along with a vine heavy with grapes were carved into the other door. Spanning the two doors was a star map showing the constellation they had seen so often.
“They’re all symbols of Esthrane,” Kestel murmured.
“More proof that they were associated with the Knights?” Blaine mused. He gave the doors a push and they opened at his touch, swinging wide to reveal the large room inside.
“Now this is a real library!” Kestel exclaimed with appreciation as Illarion led them into the scholars’ sanctuary. Despite the austerity of the rest of the building, the library was comfortably provisioned, perhaps because it was the focus of the inhabitants’ existence. One wall was covered with a tapestry panel that showed scholars and soldiers working side by side, and above them, the night sky aglow with Esthrane’s constellation.
The other three walls were lined with bookshelves made from the same cherry wood as the doors, equally well crafted. The shelves were filled with manuscripts and scrolls, and on the study tables there lay a large astrolabe and sextant, quill pens and inkwells, and parchment paper left as if the users had just gotten up to stretch their legs. A large brass armillary sphere sat on one of the tables. The stone floor was covered with beautifully woven carpets with elaborate motifs in shades of ochre and green, colors of the harvest, sacred to Esthrane.
“This could take a while,” Blaine said quietly, looking around.
“You’re looking for another disk?” Zaryae asked.
Blaine shrugged. “Perhaps. If each Lord of the Blood received a disk, then there are – or were – thirteen of them. Whether they all still exist, and whether or not they’re important, we don’t know.”
“What else should we look for?” Illarion asked. “It’ll be dark soon. We can easily pass the night in here.” He inclined his head toward the fireplace. “We saw enough wood to make a fire, take the chill off the room. Piran and Borya say there are food and wine as well.” He grinned. “We’ve spent the night in far worse places.”
Kestel slowly made her way around the room, looking at the manuscripts. She reached up to select a leather-covered volume from a shelf at shoulder-height.
“Oh!” she cried out as a book fell from above her, and she jumped to the side, barely avoiding being hit by the wood-bound tome. It clattered loudly on the stone floor at the edge of the carpet. Blaine turned sharply at the noise, just in time to see the shadows shift, and felt a sudden chill.
Kestel turned to the others and stepped back from the shelves. Her face was ashen. “I wasn’t anywhere near the shelf that fell from,” she said. “And the shelves are set into the wall, so I don’t think I wobbled the case when I pulled out a book.”
Illarion moved to where the fallen manuscript lay. It had a carved wooden cover bound together with leather straps, and the stack of parchment held between the covers was nearly as broad as a man’s hand. With a wary glance upward, Illarion retrieved the volume. “It’s good you’re quick. You could have been hurt if this had hit you. It’s heavy.” He carried the tome to one of the study tables and laid it aside.
“It wasn’t an accident,” Blaine said. “I saw the shadows move.”
“You’re saying ghosts threw that at Kestel?” Piran said incredulously.
Blaine shrugged. “That’s my guess. Now the question is, were they warning her away from
something or trying to get her attention?”
“Do you think Geir will find us, once the sun sets?” Piran asked. “Odd as it sounds, if we’ve got to spend a night or two in here with dead mage ghosts, I’d feel better with a biter on our side.”
“He knew where we were headed. He’ll be here,” Blaine replied. He looked toward the large fireplace, where a painting of Charrot, Torven, and Esthrane hung above the mantel. Images of the High God and his consorts were common, but something caught Blaine’s attention.
“Take a look at the painting. Does it strike you as odd?” he asked.
The others studied the image for a moment. “In other paintings, Charrot is always the dominant figure,” Kestel said after a pause. “But in this one, Esthrane is larger than either Charrot or Torven. She’s been painted to look luminous, while the others almost look mortal next to her. And both Torven and Charrot are looking at her with complete adoration.” She frowned. “In every other paining I’ve seen, Esthrane and Torven are always looking at Charrot.”
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