Hemlock And The Wizard Tower (Book 1) (7 page)

"
I cannot do that.  I
wouldn’t know how to attempt it," r
eplied Merit with some hesitation.

She was conscious of the fact that she needed to
take action
in less than
four
minutes.  Alternatively, she could wait here for
Number Two
to enter
and attempt to reason with him as well
.  But she was pretty sure that she didn’t want to deal with more than one of these automatons. 
She thought that e
ven
if she assumed
that
their personalities were similar,
that revealing herself to two of the automatons
would expose her to more risk of detection.  Plus
she now knew that
Merit would be in the
seventh floor atrium at some point that night, and likely willing to help her
. 
She figured that was probably the best advantage she would be able to obtain from the automatons
. 

She had to concentrate on her next move though. 
If
she waited here
,
she risked more complications and
wouldn’t
mov
e
toward her goal.  She
decided
to focus on
finding a way to get
upstairs.

"
Merit, are there any ways up to the higher floors besides the main stairways?
"

"Yes, there are many."

"
How many
wizards
are on this floor right now?
"

"
Well, let me see.  It’s difficult to say exact
ly but I would expect that…well,"
Merit continued to think out loud
as he worked through the problem
.

Hemlock decided that she needed to change the focus of her questions.

"
Merit, is there any door that I can run to on this floor tha
t will lead to the third f
loor?
"
she blurted out, fidgeting from one foot to the other
as she spoke
.

"Yes, the first door on the w
estern stair
well
leads to the workshop.  In the workshop is
a
stair to the third floor.
"

She started to dash toward the door, but halted mid stride.

"Merit, when will you be in the Atrium
tonight?
"

"
In two hours
,
Miss Megan
."

S
he deliberately slowed
her speech down
to a congenial pace.

"
Merit, it’s
been a pleasure talking to you. 
I will
meet you in the Atrium
tonight.  As we discussed, you must tell no one of our meeting tonight.  I’m glad that we are friends.
"

With that
said,
she dashed off toward the doorway.  She had only a few minutes to navigate the stair.  She hadn’t found out how
Number Two
would enter this room.  If it was through the same door,
she
might have only moments to dash to the other
service
door
across the stairwell,
and remain
undetected.

As she ran off
she heard Merit softly mutter, "Friends."

Hemlock
reached the exit to the service room and
felt for a magical aura
on the door
. 
The door was magical, but the magic
was identical to
that borne by
the door
which she entered
on the first floor.  She quickly traced the
required
rune pattern in the air
,
and as the door
started to slide open,
she
grabbed the side of it to stop
its momentum and peered out into the hall
through the crack that the open door had created
.

A quick scan revealed that the immediate area
in the hallway was clear–
nobody was on the stairs.  She not
iced odd sconces on the walls which supported
small lamps
.
T
here was no flame
in these lamps,
yet they did emit a glowing
light
via a glass enclosure.  Within these enclosures
small winged creatures turned
little handles.  As she watched, momentarily entranced, one of the
little
imps scratched his head and when he paused
,
the light
in that lamp
went out. 

Apparently slave labor is popular in the tower.

She would be gambling on the Imps not raising an alarm
if she ventured into the hall
.

She
noticed
the door
past the western stairway
that Merit had told her about
;
she slipped
out
the door and moved quickly but steadily into the hall
, avoiding eye contact with any of the Imps in the lamps
.  She moved with a feline grace, upper torso parallel to the
floor and
kept
up
a moderate
but
steady pace
as
her ears were attuned to every sound around her.

The first thing that she heard was
activity above.  Some voices:
maybe
three
or
four,
engaged
in a melancholy discussion.  A furtive glance to
ward
the third floor above revealed that
the speakers were farther up
on the
fifth
floor
–for she could see feet and robes on the stairwell there
. 

The se
cond thing that she heard was
singing.  Somewhere
nearby,
a
deep baritone
voice was singing a solemn song
in a tone
of regret.  It sounded
to her
like it was coming from
the same
floor
that she was on
. 

She reached the door
past the western stair
quickly. 

She heard a
nother door open with a creaking sound below her and then
she heard
the
familiar
sounds of shuffling
mechanical
footsteps
,
and the
accompanying
whir of many gears and cogs. 

That must be Number Two
,
she thought to herself with some alarm.

She hoped that th
e
door
she had reached
wouldn’t be a problem
to open because she
might easily be detected
by Number Two if she had to linger at this door any longer than a few seconds
.

Adding to her discomfort, she sensed a flicker above and realized t
hat the small Imp which had been cranking the l
amp above her right shoulder had stopped and was gazing at her intently.

Ignoring the Imp, she noted that t
his door had a keyhole on it.  Gingerly
,
she tried the handle. 

Locked.

With a sharp snap of her elbow
,
a
lock pick set
that
she kept in her sleeve fell into her hand. 
Using
a practiced motion
,
she extended the pick
that
she usually tried first for high grade locks.  She inserted it into the keyhole and
after
a few dexterous manipulations of the pick she heard the
satisfying sound of the
lock click
ing. S
he opened the door and slipped inside
, having no time to be more cautious
.

The
singing was
now close–
too close
–it was coming from a source that was in the same room with her
.  Composing herself
,
she turned with resignation toward the voice and beheld a
sculpted stone
bust sitting on an oaken table.  The bust was
fashioned
in the image of a
scholarly looking man of middle age and it was singing in
the same warm, baritone
human voice
that she had heard from the hallway
. 

Relief swept over her
.

The room
in which she now stood
was a fancy parlor with a fireplace, a small table for cards and an ornate bar with many bottles, glass tumblers and
wooden kegs
of various shapes and sizes.  There was a musky scent in the air
of
perspiration mixed with liquor.

The
magical
singing was convenient because it masked any sound she
that
might have made
, if others were nearby
.

She darted over to the bar
, went around it and crouched behind it.  She
paused for a moment, and then raised her head to peer
over
the bar at the room once more.

There
were two exits from the room,
each
opening into
a plain stone hallway without an intervening door. 
T
he relative finery of this room did not extend into the hallways
, which were composed of rough cut stone blocks
. 

Perhaps this was a break room of a sort for tired
wizards, she speculated
. 
The wizards
must
enjoy similar
forms of leisure as
people in the Warrens
did
.  Admittedly, the singing bust was
an exotic form of entertainment
, but local mages
in the Warrens
had grown bold enough in recent years
,
before the waning of magical energy,
to cast
crude versions of this sort of
enchantment
to
entertain pub goers.  She was
impressed
by the enchantment, but not astonished by it
.

Then the singing stopped.

She turned toward the bust and was
confronted
with the unmistakable fact that the bust was looking at
her with a wry,
almost roguish grin on its
animated
face. 

"Well, hello there. 
I figured I’d keep singing for a while until you got comfortable.  I didn’t want to startle you
out of your … skin," said the B
ust in a flamboyant voice
with an unmistakably
suggestive
tone
.

Composing
herself, H
emlock stood to her full height–still behind the bar–
and
instinctively stared down the B
ust like she would a drunken warrior on a
two
day bender.

She moved quickly, and
stood within a few feet of the Bust,
which regarded her with
what she thought was an expression of amusement
.

"I imagine," the B
ust began
, speaking
more hurriedly than before
,
"
that you are considering wha
t it would take to silence me–
no doubt with
little
consideration for my welfare.
Be aware
,"
it continued
, "that
it would be difficult for you to succeed
,
and certainly impossible
for you to destroy me
before I could summon help from the
wizards
working on this floor.
"

Hemlock was annoyed.  The
B
ust was talking very loudly and she had
,
in fact
,
planned to try and smash it.  But apparently it was cunning enough to make a rational argument for self
-
preservation.  She
knew that she
couldn’t risk any sort of alarm.

"
I’m listening
,"
Hemlock replied coldly
, "
but can you keep it down a little
,
please?
"
she asked glancing left and right quickly.  Both hallways curved out of sight
,
so she
knew that she
couldn’t be seen
by anyone at the moment
, but she would have little warning if someone or something
came
down either one of those hallways
.  And she was concerned that their conversation might be heard
by someone
well
beyond
the limits of her vision.  She knew that t
hat would be a problem.

"
Anything for you
,"
cooed the
Bust
at a more discreet timbre. 
"
Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen a beautiful woman?
"
it continued with an emphasis on the word long.

"
What
,
the wizards haven’t conjured up a female Bust for you to fawn over
?
"

"
There may be venom pouring out of
your
mouth
,
but I’m just watching your lips move–so
distracting. 
I’m not even sure what you said
.  I’m in a state of bliss just looking at you.  Do tell me your name, won’t you?
"
the voice took on a mock begging tone as it completed.

"
As fla
ttered as I am to have a lusty
book end as an adm
irer, I have to get out of here.  W
hat’s the best way to reach the third floor?
"
she asked in what she intended to be a level tone.

"
Your name
,
please.  Otherwise, I might have to yell for the
wizards," t
he Bust responded lightly.

"Megan."
 

"
Well
,
Megan
, I can tell you how to get to the third floor using the back stair
way
which will, no doubt, aid
in
your
aim
to travel
through
the tower undetected.  I can also tell you where the
wizards
are.
"
The voice turned contemplative then
:
"
Of course you’ll still have to cross the workshop somehow
–
but you seem resourceful.
"

"
Yes, and let me guess
,"
responded Hemlock cynically
,
"
you want something in return
?"

"
Well…
"
and the
stone
eyes flared for a moment
.
"
I can only imagine the possibilities
,
were I not a gentleman.  Fortunately for you
,
I am.  We will share a drink
,
you and I.  The
wizards don’t often let me drink–
they’re a boring lot of humdrum bookworms.  Go and get two glasses and a bottle
of rum.  Don’t worry–you will not be discovered–
I know the comings and goings of the
wizards
and their minions
."