B00B15Z1P2 EBOK (12 page)

Drawing on the patience he had worked so hard to cultivate, he let the hours go by.
The Protectors are not concerned
, he thought.
I hope they’re right
. Afternoon became evening, and then night. At last, the ward at the anteroom entrance brought him alert as three shadowy figures entered. They conferred a moment, then drew long daggers. Bailar acted quickly, erecting a Wall of Ice around them, then moved to the infirmary. Behind him, the three cursed and hacked at the ice.

“Healers,” said Bailar, “if you have an alarm, I suggest you sound it. There is violence afoot—”

The ward at the windows broke, giving Bailar another warning. A fourth figure clambered through a window, knife clenched in his teeth. Bailar extended his magic, and the attacker wavered for a moment before falling unconscious to the floor.

“What? What is this?” one of the Healers demanded. A second rushed to pull a cord along the wall.

“Whoever it was that sent your patients here, does not want to be identified,” said Bailar. “I sent word to—” Pain exploded in his hip, spinning him to the floor. His staff clattered away, silent under his howl. The chamber filled with panicked babble, but he paid it no attention. A fifth figure crouched in one of the windows, cocking his crossbow and loading another quarrel.

Bailar gritted his teeth against the pain, summoned Air and Water, and reached a clawed hand toward the attacker. Bright crackling lightning, bluer than his sash, sprang from his palm and hurled his would-be killer into the night.

The infirmary filled with people: Healers shouting, lifting Bailar to a cot. Guardsmen pouring in from the anteroom, demanding answers. Protector Siriodian in his white cape, looking worried.

Bailar moaned in pain, then looked to the Healer at his head. “Are the injured apprentices—”

“They’ll live. And so will you.”

He nodded. “Indeed. At this moment, I have never felt more alive.” Then he heard and felt nothing more for a time.

• • •

“You’ll be here for the rest of the week,” the Healer told Bailar, “and a little longer. The Conclave, of course, will arrange any changes necessary for your transport home.”

“That long?” Bailar asked. “Tell me: have you not read
Practical Enchantments
by Captain Chelinn? The volume is in the Conclave library. As I recall, it describes a healing ointment that would have me walking—as well as I ever do—in a day or two.”

The Healer’s eyebrows climbed into her hair. “I thought such knowledge was lost. And it’s here in the Keep? Why have I not heard of it before?”

“I am the only sorcerer in generations to have read the Captain’s work, it seems. As I recall, the ointment requires herbs that grow only in the Deep Forest. So, alas, I shall have to heal like all folk.”

The Healer gave an amused sniff. “And your hip will pain you hereafter when the weather’s about to change.” An attendant touched her arm and whispered. “Your apprentices are here,” she said. “I’ll send them in.”

“Father!” Sura rushed to his side and embraced the prone Bailar, sobbing. “Why didn’t you send for help? You could have been killed!” Mik reached them and stood at Sura’s side where he could see his mentor. Bailar put an arm around Sura. Mik stroked her shoulder and looked worried for them both.

“I did,” said Bailar, and chuckled. “Send for help, that is. Still, I think I did well against five assailants, no?”

Mik snorted. “Rumors are already going around that you killed them all! Fire, ice, lightning, plague, the Terror, or all at once.” He paused, wide-eyed. “Did you?”

“I think I killed the one who did this,” said Bailar, touching his bandaged hip. “I’m not proud of that, mind you. But he
was
trying to kill me. I suppose I should tell you the full story so you can correct the rumors.”

“One of the Healers said they won’t let you up for a week!” Sura cried into his shoulder. “We’re supposed to leave for home in three days. Are we going to have to stay on in an empty Keep?”

“The Keep is never completely empty, daughter. The Protectors and Healers live here, as do their attendants. Sorcerers passing through Queensport usually pay their respects. Some of those here now will stay on, spending time in research. The apprentices won’t be here, but you two have each other. And until they leave, I will ask Zharcon and Tonima to stand in for me.”

“You’re our mentor,” said Mik. “And we should have been here to help you.”

Bailar laughed and winced. “You two faced Ahm Kereb without my help,” he said. “I can’t let my apprentices have all the glory!”

“Are you ready to climb the Tower tonight?” Charn looked eager.

Sura glared. “My father is in the infirmary, Charn. Remember?” The four friends stood outside the dining hall, anonymous in the crowd of apprentices and sorcerers. “You and Isa can go. We’re staying with him.”

“All evening?” Isa looked skeptical. “I don’t think that’s allowed, they have visiting hours and they won’t let people just stay there all the time! You could go visit for an hour then meet us. It won’t be any fun to go alone.” She giggled. “Actually, it might be more fun to go alone if our mentors weren’t watching, I just wish they trusted us more.”

Mik thought a moment. Isa was long-winded, but she was right about the limited visits. And Bailar seemed content, reading works of some ancient Captain. He had encouraged them to attend lectures and enjoy the company of their friends. “We’ll go to the infirmary. You go to the baths. If our mentor or the Healers dismiss us, we’ll meet you at the baths. Does that sound reasonable? Sura?”

Sura sighed. “I don’t know why we’re going through with this, after what’s happened.”

“Because your father would want us to go through with it,” said Mik. “He told us that spending time with friends is part of being an apprentice at the Gathering. Termag’s best Healers are watching him, and so are a Protector and the guards. Besides, he could blast anyone with that combat magic he knows.”

“That’s a part of him I never knew about,” said Sura. “You think you know everything about your own father, and then something like this happens. Still, I want to stay with him.”

“We’ll stay with him as long as he wants our company—but no longer. He…” Mik whispered, glancing at their friends, “he trusts us. We need to trust him, too.”

“How long is this climb?” Isa puffed. “It feels like hours.”

“That was the twenty-sixth landing,” said Charn. The lamps, filched from Bailar’s chambers, threw strange shadows along the endless staircase. All of them spoke in near whispers that echoed in the chambers between landings. “One more, then we’ll be at the top.”

“My legs feel like this rope,” said Mik, tugging at the coil around his shoulder. “I hope we have some time to rest before we have to go back down.”

“You’ve climbed that river bank,” Sura laughed, bringing up the rear, carrying the second lamp. “This should be easy!”

“You’ve done it all your life,” Mik grumbled. “You should be leading the way up.”

“I’d leave you all behind!”

Isa giggled. “I wish I knew how Charn did it. He grew up in a city like me, it’s not like he has to climb a river bank twice a day!”

“You’ve never been to Westmarch, then,” said Charn. “The city’s built on a bluff over the coast. We have three directions: up, down, and sideways!”

They laughed quietly as they reached the landing before the top.

“Sshhh!” Sura rasped as they heard a thump. “What—”

The four clustered together. “There it is again!” Charn held up his lamp, but it was not strong enough to illuminate the entire landing.

“What’s that?” Isa hissed, slipping behind Mik and touching his shoulder.

Mik listened, and heard a high-pitched moaning sound. “Sura,” he whispered. “Give Isa the lamp. Charn, you two watch the staircase. Sura…”

“I’m already a step ahead of you.” She grinned and took his hand. The chamber took on the double-edged appearance that meant she had concealed them. “Turn the lamps down,” she told Charn and Isa. “We need shadows.”

“What if something happens?” Charn looked worried.

“Can you hold Isa and Lift you both to the ground?” Mik asked. “Good. If something happens, jump out the window and get help.”

Isa’s eyes went wide, but Mik and Sura turned away. Behind them, the lights dimmed and they disappeared into the shadows. The noise came again, and they followed it.

They found what they sought under the stairs: a young woman, tied hand and foot. A strip of cloth shut her mouth. She wore an armband of some kind of grey metal, covering most of her left forearm.

“Isa!” Sura hissed. “Bring the lamp! Over here!”

“The knots are magic-locked,” Mik grunted, tugging at the ropes. “Here.” He slipped the gag over her head. “Who are you?”

“Fierda sam Ashean,” she whispered. “Don’t touch that armband, it dampens your abilities.”

“You’re the missing apprentice!” Isa whispered. “What are you doing here? That armband—is that why you couldn’t get away?”

“That’s why they couldn’t use magic to find you!” Sura gasped. “Who did this?”

“I don’t know,” said Fierda. “He—don’t you have a knife? Cut me free!”

“I’ll dispel the lock,” said Mik.

“No, you fool! He’s just above us! He’ll feel the magic!”

Mik and Sura looked at each other, then both knelt, Mik at her feet, Sura at her hands. “We’ve already used magic,” Mik whispered. Invoking the Principle of Closure, they removed the magic holding the knots closed tight, then loosened the ropes.

“How did you do that?” Fierda demanded. “I’m—oh.”

“Right,” said Sura. “If the ropes could be locked, the armband doesn’t affect them.”

“Someone’s coming!” Charn rasped. He doused the lamp and hopped down to join them as Fierda stood.

“Mik, the silence!” Sura whispered. “I’ll conceal us. Maybe the steps will have enough shadows…”

“It won’t work!” Fierda moaned. “This damned armband! Magic doesn’t work for me or on me!”

Mik muttered one of his aunt’s curses. “Then sit back down. Put your hands behind your back.” He picked up the gag. “Someone lay that rope over her feet. Sorry about this.” He slipped the gag back over her face. “Be ready for anything.” Fierda nodded.

“Conceal us now,” said Mik. The four of them held hands in a chain, Mik between Isa and Sura. Isa squeezed his hand and gave him a wild-eyed look. The chamber again took on double edges. “All right, we’re silenced,” he said, looking at Isa. “But don’t talk unless you have to. It’ll be hard enough to hear anything he says.”

Though they could no longer hear the footsteps, Greater Moon gave them just enough light to see by. A young man trotted down the steps and looked around the dark chamber. He dashed to the back of the steps and gave Fierda a brief glance. “Where are they?” His voice sounded muffled through Mik’s spell.

Fierda gave him a wide-eyed look and glanced toward the steps, but shook her head.

“Damn!” The captor paced in front of Fierda for a moment. “How did they find you?” She shook her head again. “They just stumbled in on you and ran off?” She nodded, and he sighed. “Nothing to do for it. The others can find you here for all I care.” He drew a dagger. “I’ve never killed anyone. But I’ll try to make it quick.”

Even through Mik’s magical barrier, they could hear Fierda shriek through her gag. “We’ve got to do something!” Sura snapped.

“Isa, you take him low,” said Mik. “Wrap up his legs. Bite him, if you want. Charn, Sura, you take his arms. I’ll get that knife. Go!”

They charged, just as Fierda pushed herself up and kicked at her captor’s waist. He staggered back, flailing, and fell into the apprentices. Isa tumbled into his legs and dropped him sprawling backwards. Sura caught his left arm, Charn his right, partly breaking his fall and dropping him on his seat. Mik seized his knife hand and wrist, trying to pry the knife loose while digging into the pain point.

Outnumbered though he was, the rogue was young and strong—and an accomplished sorcerer. He clung to the knife, cursing and thrashing, trying to kick free of Isa and pull away from the others. They began to rise from the floor—

Then Fierda charged in screaming, kicking him in the face then clubbing him with the armband, again and again. At the first touch of the armband, they all dropped to the floor. The knife fell away, but he twisted free and sprang for the stairs. He was down and away before they could stand.

“We need light,” said Mik, gasping a little.

“What happened?” Sura was at his side in an instant. “You had better not be hurt!”

“I think he cut me. Not too bad. I hope.”

“Here,” said Charn, using magic to light the lamp. “Oh gods…”

Isa shrieked at Mik’s bloody sleeve, then sat down. Fierda came over to look, careful to avoid touching Mik with the armband. “We need bandages,” she said.

“My side, too.” Mik brought his uninjured hand around and touched his ribcage. “But I don’t think that one’s so bad.”

Sura picked up the dagger and cut the sleeve away, revealing a long slash down Mik’s lower arm. “Charn, can you press on that?” Charn nodded and squeezed Mik’s arm, looking more pale than Mik in the lantern light. Sura cut off Mik’s other sleeve, then cut it into strips and bandaged his arm, tying tight knots over the wound. Mik groaned at the pain, but let her work.

“Where did you learn how to bind up wounds like that?” Isa asked.

Sura cut off the bottom of Mik’s shirt, then used it to secure another wad of cloth over the shallower cut across his ribcage. “Mik taught me. He spent summers on his aunt’s cattle ranch, and people got hurt sometimes. Mik, is it too tight? Can you walk?”

“Not too tight.” he said. Charn and Isa helped him stand. He looked and felt shaky.

“Can anyone else use this?” Sura waved the dagger.

“I will,” said Fierda. “If he shows his face, I’ll make that
bowgnoash
sorry he ever touched me.”

Isa tittered at the rude insult. Sura shrugged and gave Fierda the dagger, then took Mik’s uninjured arm and let him lean on her. “Let’s go,” she said. “Fierda, you lead. Charn, you and Isa keep the lamps. Mik and I will bring up the rear.”

About halfway down, upon reaching a landing, they saw the light of another lamp. Fierda snarled then ran ahead.