Artifacts Of Power - Dhiammara Part 8

Aurian stood for a moment, hurling curses at the unfeeling sky. Then, as though the last of her strength had left her, she slumped to the ground and put her face in her hands. She felt the tentative touch of Shia's worried thoughts upon her mind, but could respond with nothing but a numb blankness.

After a time Aurian looked up, her eyes gleaming like frosted iron, her jaw clenched. "They won't beat me," she muttered fiercely. "Supposing they take everything I've ever loved away from me, I stiU won't let them beat me." She put her arms around Shia. "We'll get our lost friends back, every one of them-I swear it. Somehow, I'll get them all back-if it's the last thing I do."

"You still have Khanu and me," Shia told her, "and anyone who tries to part us from you will discover that they've made a grave mistake! But where to next, my friend? What do we do now?"

"Well, we can't go chasing after the Phaerie yet-I wouldn't know where to start," Aurian sighed. "We'll take things one step at a time, as Forral always used to say. First I'm going to eat, and then I'm going to force myself to keep it down. I think we should rest until nightfall-then we'll go across the valley to the Academy. Maybe we'll find some answers there."

"If you wish to sleep," Shia said, "Khanu and I will guard you."

"Right now," the Mage said bleakly, "I feel as if I'll never sleep again."

Vhiammara.

123.

Chapter 9.

Thief in the Night the Phaerie attack had, by some miracle, missed the city entirely, Lord Pendral had seen no reason to postpone his entertainment-which came as a considerable relief to Grince. Now he could go ahead as planned with the greatest theft of his career. Silent as a shadow, the thief sneaked along a deserted corridor in the upper story of Lord Pendral's mansion. He had eluded the guards that patrolled both staircases by entering through one of the great chimneys-a route that was normally only used by the skinny brats who were sent up to negotiate the baffling maze of flues and sweep the soot away. The thief grinned to himself. Throughout his life, he had found considerable advantage in being small and undernourished.

It was early in the evening yet-far from the usual hour that Grince began this kind of work. Dusk was just closing in, but the gardens surrounding the great house were ablaze with torch and lantern light. The sound of laughter and min- gled voices floated up to the thief through a window on the second story, along with a rich aroma of roasting meats that set his stomach growling. A slowly moving line of carriages stretched down the long graveled drive, paused one by one on the circular sweep in front of the mansion to drop their richly clad pa.s.sengers, and continued round to the stableyard at the rear of the house, for tonight Lord Pendral was holding a great banquet for his fellow-members of the Merchants' Guild.

For Grince, the feast was a G.o.ds-sent opportunity. At any other time, the grounds of the High Lord of Nexis would be guarded tighter than a maiden's honor. After the attempt on his life the previous year, Pendral was taking no more chances. Even today, the place was bristling with soldiers, but it was also swarming with Pendral's servants and a great many other people-the High Lord's well-born guests along with their own servitors, coachmen, and guards-and the resulting chaos suited Grince's plans exactly. His escape-always the most important part of his plans-should be fairly easy, for this evening, with so many strangers in the gardens, the huge killer dogs that Pendral had purchased would be safely locked away, instead of being loosed to run free in the grounds all night. The guards would be looking for someone who was breaking in, not out, and so he ought to be able to sneak away among the departing guests without much trouble.

Grince's unauthorized entry into Lord Pendral's premises had gone perfectly. The previous day, the thief had stolen a suit of livery from the washing line behind Lord Pendral's residence. Thus disguised, he had gained access to the High Lord's grounds. Knowing full well that the stairs leading to the upper floors and Pendral's private chambers would be guarded, he had found an empty fireplace that was big enough to admit him in the drawing room, and had scrambled into the interconnecting maze of flues, emerging in a cloud of soot in one of the bedrooms. There he had rubbed his stinging eyes, removed the kerchief he'd tied over his face to save breathing too much soot, stripped off the blackened uniform of Pendral's servant, and rubbed his hands, his face, and the soles of his soft, flexible shoes on the curtains before slipping out into the corridor in search of Pendral's strong room.

Checking the doors on either side, Grince slipped along the hallway as fast as he could, all the while keeping his ears 7 2 4M. aggie F u r ey open for the sound of approaching footsteps. Though Lord Pendral and his guests would be downstairs stuffing their fat faces for ages yet, it would still pay to hurry, lest a servant should chance to come this way with a lamp, and discover the telltale trail of soot that led from the guest chamber to the Lord's apartments.

Grince had done his preparation well in advance, by bribing one of Pendral's guards with enough drink to loosen his tongue. Now the thief knew exactly where to find Pendral's chambers. Finding the door he wanted, he entered quickly, closing it behind him. Thick drapes were closed at the windows, shrouding the chamber in gloom, but Grince could make out the angular shapes of storage chests, a night table, and a large curtained bed.

The thief took a candle stub from the handful he always kept in his pocket, and lit it quickly. He stood without moving, looking around the chamber. Across the room from where he stood was what he a.s.sumed to be an alcove, curtained with dark hangings that matched the window drapes. The guard was unsure, but had a.s.sumed that Lord Pendral hid his riches there. Grince paused, scanning the floor with great concentration; moving the candle slowly back and forth until eventually, a fine glimmer of silver, close to floor level, caught his eye. Ah, there it was! The slender filament of the tripwire was almost invisible in the gloom, stretching across the chamber about a hand's span above the richly patterned carpet.

A broad grin spread itself across the thief's face. This was going to be child's play. If that fat fool Pendral hadn't even the sense to put a tripwire by the door, he deserved to be robbed. Grince stepped carefully over the wire, reflecting that the precious coins he'd expended getting the young guard drunk in one of the town's more expensive taverns had not been squandered. He would almost certainly have missed the trap otherwise, and triggered the alarm.

Grince tiptoed to the far side of the vast chamber and blew out the candle, putting the stub back in his pocket to leave his hands free. Carefully he pulled the drapes aside, holding his breath in case the bra.s.s rings should rattle and give him away. Inch by inch, the heavy velvet curtains slid aside, to reveal, not the alcove he had hoped for, but a small, arched door, its dark wood strengthened with bars of iron.

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125.

Grince felt his heart quicken with excitement. Surely there must be treasures concealed within... .

The door presented little challenge to a thief of his caliber. Within minutes, the lock had yielded. With a shiver of excitement, he set his hand against the panels and pushed the door open to reveal a narrow, windowless room, scarcely more than a- closet. Within lay a ma.s.sive wooden chest, securely banded with wide strips of iron that gleamed darkly in the feeble lantern light.

Grince let his breath out in a long sigh. He knelt on the cold, polished boards before the heavy chest and slid another small, fine tool out of his belt. The stiff padlock cost him a tense, sweating struggle to open, but finally sprang free with a loud click. Muscles straining, Grince lifted the heavy lid. And there they were! The little thief could not suppress a gasp at the sight. The piles of jewels lay shimmering within their st.u.r.dy casket, striking a myriad incandescent sparks even from the dim light of his lantern. Unset gems of all sizes and hues lay heaped in glorious provision among long, twining ropes of pearls and necklaces of fine stones set in delicate filigrees of silver and gold. The back of the chest was divided into small wooden drawers and compartments that held rings, earrings, brooches, and bracelets.

The thief let a glittering stream of diamonds slip through his fingers like cold, sparkling spring water, trying to keep a hold on his elation. With a grim smile he began to stuff great handfuls of the glistening treasure into the sack that he had hooked to his belt to leave his hands free for climbing the chimneys. This was long-overdue revenge. The value of the treasure wouldn't begin to compensate for the losses Grince had suffered at Pendral's hands-but now the thief had deprived the cruel lord of what he loved most in the world.

Grince wasted no time in making his escape. Once more he tied the blackened kerchief round his face and headed for the fireplace in Pendral's chamber, repeating his careful negotiation of the tripwires. As he scrambled up the chimney he could feel the heavy sack, filled now with the Lord's precious jewels, dragging at his belt.

When he had regained the safety of the rooftop, the thief leaned back against the chimney, closed his eyes, and wiped a sooty hand across his brow. He was overtaken by a surge of raw elation mixed with inexpressible relief to be safely out 126M aggie F u r ey once more into the cool, fragrant air of a summer's evening. Taking deep, gasping breaths, he tried to calm himself sufficiently to complete his escape. His luck could hardly hold out much longer. On his return, he had lost his way in the labyrinth of chimneys, and at one point had begun to despair of ever finding his way out. But everything would be all right now, Grince rea.s.sured himself. Soon he would be well away from this place.

Wiping his smarting eyes, the thief inched his way carefully down the sloping roof and turned to climb down the rough and crumbling brickwork of the mansion's wall. He could see the first handholds clearly, but the lower walls were already well in shadow. Grince sighed, and doggedly began to search in the dusky half-light for the best footholds to descend the wall.

He was halfway down when the guard spotted him. "Hey! You there!" As the shout rang out the horrified Grince froze in position, clinging to the rough stonework until his arms and fingers ached. Maybe if he didn't move the fragging sentry would take him for a shadow....

No such luck. Grince cursed as the blare of a horn sounded the alarm. Now that a thief had been discovered, it would take Lord Pendral no time at all to discover that his precious jewels were missing. Shouts came from the garden below, and he heard a clatter of running feet that was rapidly growing louder. An arrow whizzed past his ear, making him flinch. It bounced harmlessly from the stonework to his left, anjl another hit the wall above his head. So far, their aim was being confused by the shadowy grey stonework and deepening dusk, but if he stayed where he was, it wouldn't be too long before the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds found the range. Rapidly, Grince reviewed his options. Down? No good. Sideways? Not much better- he would still be within bowshot, and even if he found an open window, they would see which one he entered and trap him in the house. The thief wasted a breath on another curse, then began rapidly to scramble up the way he had come. At least it was farther away from the sodding arrows.

Grince took a firm grip on the guttering and swung himself up, leaving dark smears behind him from his bleeding fingers. The slanting peaks of the roof were slick with dew now, and the going was far more difficult-and dangerous-than it had been earlier. Breathing hard and balancing carefully, he vh / a. m m 3. r a.

1 2 7.

inched his way up the gradient on hands and knees, praying (though he was not normally a praying man) every inch of the way. If he should fall. . . Well, it would be better to break his neck than allow himself to be captured by that brute Lord Pendral. At least the arrows had stopped now. Grince reached a cl.u.s.ter of chimneys and slipped between them to rest for a moment and catch his breath, though he knew he hadn't long before some clever b.a.s.t.a.r.d thought to bring ladders. The idea of being hunted-or shot at-on these slippery slates so high above the ground didn't appeal to him at all. The cool night breeze ruffled his hair and chilled the sweat on his back and brow. He craned outward and looked down over the edge of the roof as a clamor of voices rose from the garden. Down in the darkness, a cl.u.s.ter of golden lights sprang forth one by one and the drifting breeze carried an acrid smell of smoke. Someone had brought torches-he just knew the ladder would be next.

As before; the thief had only one alternative-and he knew he'd best get on with it. The iron door where he'd exited from the flues was on the other side of the roof, and he had no wish to risk another journey across the dew-slick rooftop. Sighing bitterly, he tied the cloth back around his face, and lowered himself feet-first into the widest chimney pot.

It wasn't Grince's lucky night- Somehow, he lost his sense of direction in the complex system of flues, and came out in the worst possible place. .Thankfully, the chief part of the feast had been cooked already, and the great fires had been allowed to sink to embers for simmering and keeping some of the dishes warm. The thief burst out of the broad fireplace in a cloud of soot and ashes, beating frantically at his smoldering clothing. Pots and kettles went crashing from their trivets, spilling their contents in a glutinous, scalding cascade as they fell. Coughing and choking, his eyes streaming, Grince scrambled across the spreading lake, slipping and sliding on sauces and vegetables that squelched under his feet at every step.

Luckily, the kitchen staff had been lured away from the fire by the commotion in the garden. Unluckily for the thief, they were all cl.u.s.tered in and around the doorway. A screech went up from the cook as she saw her entire day's handiwork destroyed by the smoking, blackened apparition that had erupted from her fireplace. Then they were after him.

It was as well for Grince that Pendral's kitchen staff had 7 2 8M a.ggi e F u r ey not been selected for their wits. If one of them had run for the guards while the rest stayed where they were and blocked the doorway, he wouldn't have stood a chance. Instead, they all gave chase, pursuing him round the s.p.a.cious kitchen. He vaulted across the top of the table, scattering crockery in every direction with a resounding smash. He dodged and dived, the precious sack of jewels still swinging from his belt, catching on chairs and tables and hampering his every step-but having gone through all this trouble for his ill-gotten loot, Grince was b.u.g.g.e.red if he was going to let it go now. He threw a stool behind him to trip his pursuers and rolled underneath the table, coming out on the other side-and suddenly, there was a clear aisle between himself and the door. He gritted his teeth and ran for it.

He hadn't gone a dozen yards before he was spotted, though the cook and her helpers were raising such a ruckus behind him that it was bound to draw attention to him in any case. Grince sped around the corner of the house, wincing each time the scorched soles of his feet hit the ground, and thanking the G.o.ds that his thin shoes had been enough to protect him from worse injury. He took the back way into the stable yard-and ran straight into a group of four guards carrying a long ladder. They went down like ninepins, but they had companions nearby who were drawn by the commotion. Increasingly desperate, the thief disentangled himself, bleeding now from a shallow sword cut in the leg. Guards-more and more of them-burst through the arched gateway to the stable block and fanned out in his direction. Grince turned tail, doubled back toward the house-and the kitchen workers who were charging at him from that direction. s.h.i.t! he thought, diving to his right, into the narrow s.p.a.ce between the two pursuing groups and heading for a row of long, low buildings. With nowhere else left to go, he chose a door at random, went through it like an arrow, and slammed and barred it behind him.

The air in the stable was warm, and thick with the robust scents of hay and horseflesh. The only illumination was a slip of pale yellow lamplight from the half-open door at the far end of die building. Grince ran along the central aisle, ignoring the sleek inhabitants of the stalls on either side. Though he had originally run in this direction with the idea of stealing a horse, it was no good trying now, when the yard was 129.

full of armed guards. Concealment seemed his only hope, but the stable seemed singularly free of places to hide. The thief moved faster-he was running out of time. Already he could hear the barred door creaking alarmingly under repeated blows. The wood was already beginning to splinter and crack beneath the onslaught.

When the thief reached the far end of the aisle, it seemed that hope had deserted him. Beyond the farther door was a large, square room filled with bins of grain, and rows of saddles and bridles hung on pegs, and lit by a lantern hanging from a rafter. There was no way out. He had come to a dead end. Fear kicked like a jolt of fire up his spine-but there was nothing he could do. He would be caught red-handed.

Grince raised his eyes heavenward and muttered, "Thanks for nothing, G.o.ds, you bast-" and that was when he noticed the trapdoor in the ceiling.

"I take it back, I take it back." There was no ladder to be seen, but it was the work of an instant to scramble up the pegs, kicking and knocking the saddles to the ground as he went. The tricky part was reaching over to undo the catch, without unbalancing. Holding on to the topmost peg with one hand, Grince stretched until he felt his arms were coming out of their sockets-and at last, the finicky bolt yielded and the trap swung open, fetching him a solid clout that almost knocked him from his perch. Making a wild grab for the edge of the opening, he hung by his fingertips for a desperate moment before panic lent him the strength to scrabble his way to safety. Heaving his body up over the edge of the trapdoor, he rolled over onto his back and found he was lying, gasping for breath, on a bed of p.r.i.c.kly hay, looking up at the web-festooned rafters of the stable roof. He felt as though he would never move again, but there was no time to rest now. He leapt to his feet at the sound of splintering wood and angry voices. His pursuers were in the building!

There was no way to close the trapdoor from the inside. Desperately he looked around, seeking another way out. Bales of hay were piled up against the long wall at the back of the loft, while on the other side the floor was clear, and Grince could see a row of small openings in the floor, where hay was lowered directly down from the loft into the mangers of the horses who waited below. Briefly, he considered them, but they were no use to him save as a last resort. They would put him 130M. aggie F u r ey right back into the hands of Pendral's guards-if the horse didn't trample him to death in the confined s.p.a.ce of the stall.

The door to the tack room slammed open. They had almost found him. Come on, Grince. Think! Then he had it. There had to be a way to get the hay up here. They had seen the trapdoor now-he heard them shouting. Thinking fast, he dropped to his knees and reached down through the opening to knock the lantern from its hook. The guards scattered as it plummeted to the floor and smashed in a fireball, hurling flaming drops of oil in all directions. A blast of heat came up through the trapdoor-the room below had turned into an inferno. He heard screams of agony below him, and voices cursing and yelling. "Quick!" someone shouted. "Get the horses out!"

He was just congratulating himself on his cleverness when it occurred to him that if there wasn't another way out, or he couldn't find it, he had killed himself.

"You b.l.o.o.d.y fool!" Grince knew he would have to' be quick. The loft was filling with smoke, and he could feel the wooden floor growing hotter through the thin soles of his shoes and stinging his feet, already scorched by the kitchen fire. Choking and half-blinded, he began to grope his way along the nearest wall-the narrow side wall of the building. Nothing. b.u.g.g.e.r it. The floor around the trapdoor opening was beginning to blacken and char, so he fled to the other end of the loft. At least it was safer there, and if nothing else, he could get through one of the little trapdoors into the stalls below.

The loading door was at the far end of the loft, partly concealed behind a pile of bales. Coughing fit to turn himself inside out, the thief flung open the double doors, taking blessed gulps of clear night air. As he leaned out, still rubbing his streaming eyes, he hit his head hard on something that swung back again an instant later and gave him another clout for good measure. Blinking away the last of the tears, Grince discovered a large iron hook connected to a block and tackle near the ceiling. He followed the rope down into the gloom at the side of the door and loosened it, letting it slide through his fingers until the hook had reached the ground. Making it fast again, he slid down too quickly, cursing as the rough rope burned his hands raw. His feet were running before they hit the bottom.

Vhia.mma.ra.

13 1.

Grince had come out behind the stable block into an unfamiliar part of the grounds, but that didn't bother him, so long as they stayed empty. He pounded downhill on painful feet, knowing he must eventually reach the dry bed of the river. At least there might be a chance to lose his pursuers there. Behind him, he heard the stable roof fall in with a crash, and his shadow sprang out darkly before him as flames leapt high into the night sky. A vivid image of the past-the soldiers raiding Jarvas's sanctuary, the roof of the warehouse collapsing in flames, his mother gutted by a sword . . . Grince stumbled, rolled, and picked himself up with a curse. He used the horrific childhood memory to help him, letting the terror lend impetus to his flying feet. With luck they would think he'd perished in the stable.

A shout went up. Some b.a.s.t.a.r.d had found the blasted rope. Just to plague him further, the path began to meander, turning away from the river. Swearing bitterly, Grince pushed his way into a shrubbery at the side of the path. He expected to hear the sounds of pursuit behind him, and was surprised when nothing happened. Then, after a moment the air was ripped by the sound of a deep, discordant baying. They had loosed the dogs!

Up to that moment, Grince had thought he could go no faster. His muscles burned, his heart was pounding fit to burst, and his wheezing lungs were starved of air. Hearing the deadly ululation behind him, however, he discovered a new and unexpected turn of speed. The baying grew shrill behind him. Pendral's killer hounds had discovered his trail.

His mind blank with panic, Grince ploughed through the shrubbery, hampered at every step by treacherous roots and tough, springy branches with thorns that tore at his clothing and unprotected face. Oblivious of bruises and scratches he struggled onward, forcing his way through the thicket, the baying of the dogs growing ever louder. Soon they were closing on him: he could hear the crack of splintering branches as they crashed through the undergrowth, and the hoa.r.s.e exhalations of their panting breath.

Before he knew it, Grince had erupted from the shrubbery and was back in the open once more. Thanks be to the G.o.ds! He could move faster now. Somewhere behind him, he could hear the cries of guards and the shrill whistles of the dog handlers, spurring on their charges, but he paid them no 132M.

heed. About a hundred yards below him, down a sloping stretch of lawn, he could see the torches on the edge of Pen-dral's jetty, guarding the drop from careless feet in the darkness-but if the thief could run fast in the open, the dogs could run much faster. One by one they burst out of the bushes behind him. In seconds they were snapping at his heels.

He felt a tug on the back of his tunic, and heard material tear. Somehow, Grince forced himself to one last, desperate burst of speed. If this failed, he would have nothing left, and death would follow swiftly. Time seemed to spin out to an eternity. He was conscious of each labored breath, each aching stretch of muscles that propelled him forward. The river was nearer, now-but even as he heard the hollow drumming of his feet on the wooden jetty an immense weight hit his back and he felt tearing agony in his upper arm and shoulder, where the hound's great teeth ripped through muscle and skin. The momentum of thief and dog carried them forward, rolling over and over. Abruptly, Grince felt himself falling.

He would have hit much harder, had the hound not broken his fall. Nonetheless, it was a sheer drop of about fifteen feet from jetty to ground, and enough to deter the remainder of the pack, who cl.u.s.tered on the bank above, barking and whining. The impact knocked the breath from him, but he knew the soldiers would be there at any second. Wheezing and gasping, he started to crawl away on his hands and knees, to hide beneath the shadow of the overhanging bank before the soldiers arrived above him. There was no time to lose- the minute they found a way to bring the dogs down, they would be after him again.

Already, Grince could hear voices on the bank above him. He started to creep away, keeping well beneath the jutting side of the gully, out of their line of vision. A blood-chilling noise stopped him dead in his tracks. Fearfully, he glanced behind him-and discovered that the worst had happened. The hound, stunned by the fall, was beginning to awaken. He could see it looking at him, its yellow eyes blazing in the lamplight reflected from above. Its lips were skinned back from fearsome white fangs in a menacing snarl. Grince swallowed, his mouth gone suddenly very dry. Moving with extreme slowness, and praying to every G.o.d he could think of, he began to inch cautiously away from the killer. Slowly, stiffly, the dog rose to its feet, its baleful eyes fixed unblinkingly on the thief.

**Dhiammara 133.

"Look-the dog has seen something," came a shout from above. "Go on, boy-get him! Kill!"

Grince's plan to sneak away down the shadowy watercourse evaporated into thin air. As the dog came at him and leapt for his throat, he unhooked the heavy sack from his belt and swung it, with all his might, at the beast's broad skull. It impacted with a resounding crack, and the hound dropped back, yelping and shaking its head. He fumbled for his knife to cut its throat-and found nothing. At some stage in his flight, he must have dropped the weapon. b.u.g.g.e.r1.

Once again, fear forced Grince's aching body to run-not down the gully but along the side, until he could see the great cliffs of the Magefolk Academy rearing their shadowy bulk above him. He came to the first bend, and here, as he had hoped, the stony bank sloped more gently, and could be climbed. Even as he scrambled upward, he heard the dog snarling in the river bottom as it resumed its chase, and the shouts of approaching soldiers on the bank.

Despair swept over the thief. They had him cornered now. He could have wept-it was so unfair. He had outwitted his pursuers so many b.l.o.o.d.y times-yet he just couldn't shake them completely.

"There he is!"

"Get the little b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

"Grab him when he comes up!"

The soldiers were cl.u.s.tering round at the top of the slope, unwilling to risk a descent of the slippery gradient. Their voices drowned out the scrabbling of the dog's claws on the bank behind him. Grince was trapped, with nowhere left to turn. Dazzled as he was by the lanterns of the many guards above, he didn't see the hole until he fell into it-and found himself in a peculiar tunnel whose walls and floor were smooth, curved, and sloping slightly upward. Grince's forward momentum took his feet right out from underneath him on the slippery floor, and he fell full length, covering himself from head to foot with slimy muck. Rubbing the stuff from his eyes, he turned his head to see the hound's ma.s.sive silhouette, blocking the entrance behind him. He was finished. Grince tensed himself and closed his eyes, whimpering with terror, waiting to feel the hound's sharp teeth tear his flesh....

Nothing happened. With a weird, dreamlike sense of utter disbelief, he realized that the men were calling off the dog.

134Maggie Furey Grince opened one eye in time to see the great brute back out of the tunnel, and slink reluctantly away. What in the name of all the G.o.ds is going on, the thief wondered. The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds almost had me-why stop now? Then he heard a shred of conversation as two men walked to the edge of the bank above him:"... and send some men down into the gully to watch the hole in case he comes out again."

"Lord Pendral won't be too pleased that we've lost him- not to mention the jewels."

"I'm not here to do his fetching and carrying-I'm a soldier, not a b.l.o.o.d.y servant. If Lord Pendral wants his d.a.m.ned jewels he can send a menial in for them-or go in there and fetch them himself. Maybe the ghosts wouldn't bother him. The thief is finished, so I've done my job."

"How can you be sure?"

Grince heard the first man sigh. "Look, you idiot. He can either starve in there, or come out and face the consequences- I'll leave some men stationed around the outlet. Or he can follow that drain as far as it goes, which is straight to the Academy and its ghosts. They're welcome to the little sod, after all the trouble he's caused us...."

The voices drifted away, out of earshot. The thief couldn't believe his luck. He didn't care about the ghosts-he didn't believe in them, and was far more afraid of Pendral's wrath than he was of the so-called shades of the Magefolk. If the Lord of Nexis sent someone to collect his stolen property, he would find Grince and the jewels long gone. He had -escaped after all! Relief made him light-headed. Had it not been for the slippery floor, he would have danced. As it was, he couldn't keep a huge grin from spreading across his face. I can go home via the sewers, and they'll never get me, he thought. This may turn out to be the best night's work I've ever done.

Chuckling, Grince shouldered his sack, and set off into the tunnel. Above him on the hilltop, the Academy waited.

Shia, Khanu, and the Mage struggled up the switchback road that led to the Academy's upper gates. Though Aurian chafed at their slow and careful pace, she knew she could go no faster. The climb, which in former times had been made so easy by the gentle gradient of the zigzag roadway, was awkward going now-especially in the dark. The road's surface was badly worn and pitted. The cracked, loose paving stones Dhizmmara 135.

left projecting shards and unexpected holes, and tilted sharply at the pressure of an unwary tread, with an ever-increasing risk, for the Mage at least, of breaking an ankle or trapping a foot.

Aurian didn't know what she really expected to find in the Academy, which was clearly a desolate ruin now. Surely, though, Eliseth and Miathan must have left some clue as to their whereabouts? I only hope so, the Mage thought. Right now I'm truly lost-I don't know what to do next or where to turn. Desperate for rea.s.surance she touched the Staff of Earth at her belt, feeling comforted, a little, by the warm glow of power that pulsed beneath her hand. The Harp of Winds was slung on her back as Anvar had always carried it, and it thrummed unhappily, protesting its new ownership. Aurian could feel its magic reaching out longingly in search of Anvar, its true wielder. The Artifact, lacking a conscious intelligence, had no way of knowing that the Mage was gone.

At last they reached the top of the hill and stepped beneath the crumbling arch of the gate into the ruined courtyard. Aurian paused and looked around her with a shudder of v unease. Save that there was no moonlight yet, the place looked * eerily similar to the way it had appeared in her dream-right ;;' down to the silhouette of the shattered weather-dome, and the same spine-chilling feeling that the place was thronging with the ghosts of the past. The wind seemed to sigh and whisper to itself in corners, and every black and vacant window about the shadowy courtyard seemed to be filled with *?.. watching eyes.

- Keeping together, Aurian and the cats searched the lesser 4; buildings in turn: the guardhouse and stables, the chambers devoted to Fire- and Earth-magic, Meiriel's infirmary, and the s kitchens with their adjoining hall. All of the buildings were ***;. deserted, and appeared to have been for some considerable - time. Webs stretched undisturbed across doors and windows, ' and the dusty floors were void of footprints. A sickly, waning J. moon was just rising as they stood at last in the cold shadow * of the Mages' Tower and looked across the courtyard at the library, with its endless maze of archives beneath. To Aurian, ; either option was equally disagreeable, but she decided on *- the Tower as the better of the two. With a shudder, the Mage l looked into the open doorway of the tower that once, in hap-/,*< pier="" times,="" had="" been="" her="" home.="" it="" gaped="" like="" the="" dark,="" raven-c="" ous="" maw="" of="" a="" monster="" that="" waited="" to="" devour="" her.="" "well-i="" 136maggie="" furey="" suppose="" we'd="" better="" get="" it="" over="" with,"="" she="" muttered.="" leaving="" khanu="" at="" the="" bottom="" to="" guard="" her="" back,="" she="" stepped="" into="" the="" darkness="" with="" shia="" at="" her="">

The wan moonlight had not yet reached the doorway of the tower, and it was pitch-black inside. Even her night vision needed some amount of light, however small, to work upon, and Aurian strained her eyes to peer into the thick darkness at the bottom of the stairwell. She wanted to avoid using Mage-light if she could, so as not to give herself away to anyone who might be watching. The tower reached high above the walls of the Academy compound, and any lighted windows would be visible from the city below.

"We'll start at the bottom," the Mage told Shia, glad.that their mental speech removed the need to speak aloud. "If there's anything in one of these rooms, we don't want it getting between us and the way out."

The first room was the tiny cell that had been Aurian's first home at the Academy. It was as bare as ever it had been while she was in residence, and she closed the door quickly, with a shudder. It brought back too many memories of the unhappy little girl who had been a victim of Eliseth's cruelty. The next rooms were one floor higher on the spiral of stairs-the chambers that had belonged to D'arvan and Davorshan. These also proved to be empty, their dust undisturbed for long ages, though Aurian was dismayed by the extent of the damp and decay that she found within. Bragar's chambers proved to be the same.

So far, the Mage had only given the rooms a perfunctory glance, not even bothering to make a light, as she suspected that there would be little there to interest her. She hoped that Eliseth's suite would yield more clues to the whereabouts of the Weather-Mage. It was only when she reached the next floor, and Eliseth's chambers, that Aurian noticed the footprints. At her startled exclamation, Shia, who had been downstairs guarding the tower entrance, came leaping up the stairs. The Mage was kneeling on the landing in the doorway of Eliseth's rooms, tracing outlines in the dust on the floor. "Look. Someone's been here."

This high in the tower, fingers of moonlight could reach through narrow windows placed at intervals in the outer walls. Where the beams touched the floor, the thick dust glimmered with a soft silvery light-save for a series of darker patches: the smudged and dusty prints of feet leading up and down the stairs, and into the Magewoman's chambers and out again.

Muttering an oath, Aurian loosened her sword in its sheath. These look like a woman's booted foot-it's far too delicate to be a man. Eliseth must have been here! But what about the other? The boots are of similar make...." A p.r.i.c.kle of fear coursed through her. "G.o.ds! Can Miathan and Eliseth still be in the Academy?"

"I doubt it. Whoever it is, they haven't been here for a long time." Shia was peering hard at the tracks and following them back down the stairway with her nose. "See? In the darkness, you must have missed the prints in the lower chambers. But see how blurred the prints are-and I can pick up no scent. There was no one in the courtyard, and we've looked everywhere else. I would say that no one has been in this place for many months-probably longer."

"It should be safe enough for me to go on alone, then," Aurian said. This place was so full of memories for her that somehow she wanted no one-not even a friend as close as Shia-to be with her when she revisited her old rooms. "If you go back to watch the entrance with Khanu," she told the cat, "I'll take a quick look upstairs-and then we can get out of here." She shuddered. "The Academy has changed so much-I hate to see it like this. I can't believe now, that it was ever my home."

Eliseth's rooms had been ransacked-by the intruder, or by Eliseth herself, Aurian did not know. Nothing of value was left, nor was there any clue to the whereabouts of the Weather-Mage, so Aurian went up to the next floor-and her own chambers. Fighting a deep feeling of reluctance, she opened the door. As she looked around the room, grimacing at the dust and disorder, her eye fell upon the fireplace with its high, carved mantel-and the hearth, where long ago, Anvar had dropped his bucket and covered her in a choking cloud of ash. The door into the bedchamber was ajar, and through it she could see the bed that she had shared, in happier times, with Forral.

She should never have come in here. Aurian felt the tightness of unshed tears in her throat as she was swamped by memories of the two men she had loved. She blinked, and swallowed hard. "d.a.m.n it, this won't help," she muttered to herself. Quickly, she checked both rooms. The intruder had 138Maggie Furey been here-she could see the telltale footprints plainly in the dust-and cupboards and drawers had been pulled open and their contents strewn about the room. "Whoever did this, they'd better not let me catch them," Aurian growled. It was easier to be angry. It was the best way to take her mind off the sorrowful memories. There was no point in looking through the chaos for old possessions. Everything would be ruined by now, and besides, the Mage wanted no reminders of the past.

As she climbed the last flight of stairs and approached the Archmage's door, Aurian drew her sword, and took the Staff of Earth in her other hand. As she grasped it, the thrill of power that coursed up her arm helped to stiffen her courage. Just as hi her dream, there seemed to be no wards on Miathan's door. In her dream, the Mage remembered, she had taken the heel of the Staff and pushed it open. This time, to deliberately break the sequence, she gave it a good hard push with her booted foot and sprang back quickly as it creaked open.

She was met by darkness-a solid blackness so profound that it defied even her Mage's sight. It was as though the moonlight reached the threshold of the room-and then stopped. Aurian stepped forward, her heart hammering wildly, and summoned a sphere of actinic Magelight. Miathan's chamber leapt into glaring light-and proved to be as empty as the others. Feeling slightly foolish, Aurian pressed on into the bedchamber-and stopped dead. There, upon the bed, lay a long, shrouded outline, all details obscured at this distance by the crawling blue web of a time spell. Biting her lip, the Mage crept forward, both sword and Staff at the ready. Then, as she approached the figure, the features resolved and became clear to her.

"Anvar!" Aurian cried, and ran forward, almost weeping with relief. She wasted no time in wondering why Eliseth had chosen to leave him here-she was just so glad to see him again, and anxious to make sure he was all right. It was but the work of a moment to remove the spell. She hovered over him anxiously as his blue eyes opened. In a single instant, his face became alight with joy at the sight of her-and then creased with puzzlement as he lifted up one hand and looked at it as though he could not believe his eyes.

Aurian halted in the act of reaching out to him, for there was something in his expression that stopped her-something unplaceable, but dreadfully wrong. The Mage realized, belat- Vhiammara.

1 39.

edly, that this could be a trap, and stepped back, her knuckles whitening as she tightened her grasp on the Staff of Earth. "Anvar?" she asked tentatively.

The figure on the bed sat up, and ran a hand distractedly through his hair in a gesture that Aurian recognized. "No, love," he said softly. "It's me-Forral."