[Lanen Kaelar 03] - Redeeming the Lost (13 page)

I strode out into the dark night, down the
road to the south, where my dearest love was held by one who wished her nothing
but ill.

I did not waste those two days of early spring
walking down from the Sulkith HiEs. I spoke at great length with Willem of
Rowanbeck, who had lived and worked at the College of Mages for many years. I
teased from his memory every corridor of the place, every room, every turn,
every scrap of information I could glean, like a greedy harvester picking
through the chaff lest a single grain of wheat be lost. When he could recall no
more I turned to the young Healers, Vilkas and Aral. They reinforced the map I
had built in my head and added a few details that might serve me. Serve Lanen.

It kept my mind off the ache in my knees, and
the chill in my bones, and the deep winter in my heart.

For all I knew, the exercise might have been
in vain, for we knew not where Berys held her captive; but if there was the
slightest chance that I might need to know how to move through that place this
was my best chance to learn.

And it kept me from running mad with inaction
as we hurried to the plain to meet the other dragons.

I did not wait. I saw them arrive from a
distance: aye, I was there when the dragons came. A part of me knew I was
watching the world change, and in truth it was a goodly sight, but I could not
feel it as Varien and the others did.

I could hardly feel anything.

I swiftly bade farewell to my comrades and
took the fittest of our horses, all of whom were complaining.

Rella took my arm as I made to mount. “You
insist on this still, do you?” Her voice was calm, but her eyes were troubled
in the bright morning.

“I will not stay while there is the smallest
chance I can find her,” I replied. My own voice surprised me. When had it gone
so cold?

“Then keep to our plan. We will meet outside
die gates of the College at the morrows dawn.”

“Or I will leave word with your friend—Hygel,
was it? Your contact at that inn?’

She managed a small smile. “The Brewer’s Arms.
Try the baker’s stall at the mercat square if you get there early and can’t
find him, he’ll be the one buying bread by the basket load. Otherwise, take
your midday meal at The Brewer’s Arms, but mind you look sharp or you’ll miss
him. He’s very, very good at not being noticed.” She frowned then and gripped
my arm tight. “Mind you do the same. Berys is a bastard, but he’s no fool. Don’t
make us have to rescue you.”

One tiny corner of my mouth lifted, almost
against my will. “I may be getting a little old, Rella my dear, but I’m not so
far gone yet.” I laid my hand on her cheek for a moment, then mounted my poor
horse despite its objections. “If you can manage it, why don’t you bring a
dragon or two when you come, eh?”

Her brows lifted. “What a fine idea. Only two?”

“I shouldn’t think any more would fit,” I
said. I tried, I did, to lighten my voice, to respond to her, but there was no
lightness in me. “Be well, heart,” I said, and turning away from the gleaming
dragons in that great field, headed southward. Towards Verfaren.

I sat back in my chair, glancing around me,
taking a deep draught of chelan. I could feel it hit as I swallowed, feel the
borrowed wakefulness shiver through me. Goddess knows I needed it. We had all
of us walked all day and as far into night as a safe descent would allow,
sleeping as little as we could, on the way down from the hills.

The early afternoon sun fought its way through
the small windows of the pub. Rella had told me the unlikely one to go to,
where the members of the Silent Service met to exchange information—“Though you’d
never know it,” she had warned me. “Its a quiet place, and Hygel himself will
be the one your eye passes over most easily.”

I hadn’t asked miracles of my poor weary
horse, I’d ridden as gently as I could, but Verfaren was a good ten miles from
the field where the dragons had landed and I had need of speed. The creature
was too tired even to complain when we had finally reached the gates of the
town at midday. I’d found The Brewer’s Arms without difficulty, and the
stabling was good enough to satisfy me. I left the bay covered in a decent
stall, with a good warm mash and a promise of rest.

Lucky creature. I couldn’t see any rest for
myself.

I’d not been in the common room long ere I
began to see what Rella meant. The conversations around me were held in normal
voices, and the speakers might as well have been discussing the weather. I
tried to concentrate on one pair near me, but when I finally managed to
distinguish their speech from the others, it made no sense at all.

So, the Silent Service had its own cant. I
should have known.

The landlord came up and refilled my mug, then
made to turn away.

“Hygel?” I asked quietly.

He glanced down at me, disinterested. “Hygel’s
not here.”

“Shame. I’ve news for him.”

One comer of the man’s mouth turned up. “You
and all the world. You tell me, then, and I’ll pass it on when he gets back.”

“Sorry, friend, can’t do that. Rella would
skin me.”

“Rella, is it? I know a Rella. Tall lass, red
hair, sassy walk.”

I wondered if I really looked that much of an
idiot. “Hells mend you for a liar, friend,” I said, gulping more chelan. “Hard
to walk sassy with her back, truly, and if you think she’s tall you must be
walking on stilts.” I glanced at him. “I’ll not speak to the hair, though.
Alchemists have nothing on a woman who’s tired of her looks.”

The man put his jug on the table and sat down.
“Is she well?’

“She is. My name’s Jamie. I’ve come on
business.”

He leaned his arms on the table. “What
business?” He lifted an eyebrow. ‘You’re not in the Service, that’s plain.”

I replied in mercenary cant. “No, I’m on my
own. But a little co-operation could be profitable for both sides, if you’re
who I think you are.”

“Enough of that,” he replied in common speech.
“I’ll admit you’re not just some idiot walked into the wrong place.” His
seeming-casual gaze was taking in every detail of my appearance. You don’t get
eyes like that being a landlord.

“Kind of you to say so, Master Hygel,” I
muttered.

“Yes, yes, fine,” he said, brushing at the air
with one hand as if to shoo away all such nonessentials as his name. “I’m
Hygel. What are you after?”

“Not what, who. I’m after him they call the
master of the College here. He’s taken something from me and I want it back.”

Hygel let out a short bark of laughter. “Ha!
That one!” He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms and gazing at me through
narrowed eyes. “Old son, let me give you a word or two of advice, and because
you’re a friend of Rella’s I won’t even charge you for it. First, don’t say his
right name this close to the place, because he’ll bloody well hear you. And
second—whatever it is you want to do, don’t try. Don’t even think about it. You
might as well call yourself a goose and pick a spit, because sure as life you’re
roasted before you start.”

I shot out an arm, grabbed his shirtfront, and
pulled his face close to mine before he could react. “He’s got my daughter, you
bastard,” I growled. “Do not dare to laugh.”

I could feel the silence behind me, likely
barbed or at least pointed, in the sense of several silent blades drawn and
aimed. I ignored it—though truth to tell, there was a part of me that was
howling at my own reaction. I shoved Hygel away and stood up. “She’s just a
girl,” I snarled. “I thought we might exchange information, for I surely to all
the Hells know things you don’t, and I need to know how to get in there and
find her. Fast. Before anything worse happens.”

Hygel stared at me. I stared back, my fury at
Berys beating time with my pulse.

He gestured, and I felt the pressure behind my
back melt away. “Sit down, friend Jamie,” he said quietly. “Perhaps we need to
talk after all.”

I took my seat again.

“You first, and make it good,” he said, very
quietly. “What you need to know is worth a by-our-Lady fortune.”

“Would it surprise you to learn that there are
dragons here?” I said, lowering my own voice as much as I could and still be
heard. “Not the little ones. The real ones.”

Hygel snorted. “I heard that one two days ago.
A True Dragon, one of the big ones. I’d always thought they were legend, and I
wouldn’t have believed it if my best local man hadn’t told me. Seems it went
into the Sulkith Hills and hasn’t been seen since.”

“Oh, yes, that one did,” I replied, sitting
back a little. “Though it’s come down again, not ten miles from here as we
speak. But it’s the other hundred and eighty-some you need to know about.”

Give him credit, he never changed his
expression, and he swore impressively in a calm voice no different from his
normal speech. Finally he calmed down enough to say, “Hells’ teeth and Shia’s
toenails, where did you hear that? And do you trust the source?”

“I saw them land. I was there. Dawn this
morning.” I smiled crookedly. “And don’t blaspheme the Goddess’s toenails, we’re
going to need all the help we can get.”

“Is it conquest, then?” he asked, still in a
tone of voice that you’d use to discuss the weather. “Do we need to get away?”

“I doubt it, from what I’ve seen. Though
surely the world is changed forever. They are here to stay, Master Hygel, but
they are reasonable creatures, and from what I’ve heard they truly want to live
in peace. Well, most of them do. Assuming we let them,” I added. “And I don’t
care what you’ve heard, or who told you—they’re bigger than that.”

“Well, light my toes and call me a match,” he
said, staring at me long and hard. “That’s news and no mistake.”

“News enough for you to tell me how to get to
the Archim-age?” I asked quietly.

“I told you already, it can’t be done,” he
said crossly. “Him over there is no fool, mores the pity. He’s been right cagey
with his wrongdoing. There’s those at the College know he’s corrupt—Magister
Rikard for a start—but until they have proof there’s damn all they can do about
it.” He snorted. “Rikard’s been looking for years, but Be—Himself has kept his
head down. If you can prove he’s taken your daughter against her will, Rikard
will have him dead to rights and thank you for it.” Hygel grinned briefly. “And
likely thank me as well.” He shook his head and leaned forward, dropping his
voice. “Problem is, that one’s got demons protecting him, has had for years,
and it’s got a great deal worse in the last few days.” He took a draught from
my mug of chelan. “Like a stirred ants’ nest that place has been, this last se’ennight.
Word has it two of the students went rogue and murdered two of the Magistri.”

“Damn fine students, then, if they could
overcome those who taught them,” I said dryly.

“Right enough. But the place is closed in on
itself. The main gate is locked, as it hasn’t been since I can recall. Even All
Comers is closed. That’s never happened in all my years here.” Hygel lifted an
eyebrow. “If you can tell me what’s happened, I can surely get you inside.
Undetected, if you’re careful.”

“I know those students,” I said carefully. “They’ve
done naught but save lives since I met them. One who knows them better has told
me the full tale, that they had caught Ber—his eye, and he had his excuse to
destroy four of them at the once. Magistra Erthik and Magister Caillin, found
dead outside the students’ door—but found there first by the students as they
were leaving. They never touched the Magistri.” He looked doubtful, and I
added, “Given that they went on to save the life of my daughter, without even
promise of payment, I’m naturally inclined to believe them.”

“Mmm. That squares with what I’d heard,”
muttered Hygel. “Perhaps I might trust you after all.” A ghost of a smile
flitted across his mouth. “As far as I can throw you, at least. What do you
know already of the place?”

“I need to know where he might keep her—where
he keeps his prisoners. I’ve a fair idea of the layout, but I need to know how
to pass if I’m found.” A great coldness washed over my heart. “Hells’ teeth.
Are they all corrupt, there? Could he keep her openly imprisoned and none to
question?’

“No,” said Hygel instantly. “There are bad
apples in any barrel, but there are fewer at the College than in most places.
He’d have to keep her somewhere that none could happen by, and there’s precious
few spots like that. There is no dungeon, only the cells where—” Hygel swore. “Aye,
that’ll be it, it must be.”

“Tell me.”

“Detention cells, partly below ground level,
where they keep the drunks who show up hurt and get rowdy once their wounds are
seen to. Stone cells, with thick oaken doors and naught but tiny gratings in
the outer wall to let in air and light. There are four of them but one has
crumbled on itself—no no, long since, be at ease—so there are only three where
she might be held. The gratings all open on to the central courtyard, just
beyond the main gates: four gratings in a row, it’s the third along from the
right that’s ruined. If she had cried out, a passing student might have heard
her. If—”