Luck in the Shadows

40 Flight

The door swung open whine of hinges. Thrusting in his lightstone, Alec tensed with a hiss of surprise.

"What is it?" whispered Seregil, grasping his sword hilt as he moved to look in.

The light was not bright enough to fully illuminate the room, but they could make out the figure of a person seated in an ornate chair against the far wall. There was no movement or outcry, and stepping closer, they saw that it was the withered corpse of a man.

He was nobly dressed in clothing of antique design. A heavy golden torque hung at his shrunken throat, and several rings glinted on the bony fingers resting on the arms of the chair. His thick, dark hair had retained its living gloss and hung in disconcerting contrast against the sunken cheeks.

"Uven ari nobis!"

Seregil exclaimed softly, bending close with his light.

Alec did not understand the words but recognized the reverent tone with which they were spoken. Fighting down his instinctive revulsion, he looked more closely at the corpse's face, noting the fine bones of the skull beneath their thin covering of desiccated skin, the high, prominent cheekbones, the large, sunken sockets where eyes had been.

"Illior's Light! Seregil, this can't be—"

"It is," Seregil replied grimly. "Or was. Lord Corruth, the lost consort of Idrilain the First. These rings prove it. See this?" He indicated the one on the corpse's right hand; it was set with a lozenge of banded carnelian deeply incised with the Dragon of Skala. "It's a Consort's Seal. And this other, the silver with the red stone? Finest Aurлnfaie work. This was Corruth i Glamien Yanari Meringil Bokthersa."

"Your kinsman."

"I never knew him, though I'd often hoped—"

Seregil touched one of the hands. "The skin's hard and hollow as the shell of a dried gourd. Someone took great care to preserve him."

"But why?" shuddered Alec.

Seregil shook his head angrily. "I suppose the bastards get some perverse pleasure out of having their enemy looking on as they plot to overthrow his descendants. Perhaps they swear oaths on him, I don't know. Factions like the Lerans don't persist for generations without a good leaven of fanaticism."

The chamber was about the size of Nysander's workroom, and the hand of a master mason was evident in every line; dry, sound, and square, its walls showed no moisture or moss. The ceiling overhead, though not high, was vaulted and ribbed to give the room a less oppressive feel. It was furnished with a round table, several chests, and a few cabinets against the walls. A low dais with a second thronelike chair stood against the left-hand wall. A broad shield hung on the wall behind it.

"Another sacred artifact," Seregil noted grimly, examining the crowned dragon design painted on the shield. "Queen Lera's, no doubt. I wonder who they're grooming to carry it?"

"I thought she didn't have any heirs?"

"She had no daughters, but there are always plenty of nieces and cousins in these Skalan families."

Riffling through the chests and cabinets, they found a carefully organized collection of maps, correspondence, and documents.

"I'll be damned!" Seregil spread a huge, yellowed parchment on the table. "Plans of the Rhнminee sewers. And see here, next to the draftsman's mark?"

Alec recognized the tiny image of a coiled lizard. "Kassarie's family must have built the sewers."

"Parts of them, anyway. It was a huge undertaking. Imagine what this would be worth to enemy sappers!"

Resuming their search, they soon turned up enough damning correspondence to bring nobles of a dozen houses to Traitor's Hill.

Opening a chest, Alec reached to push aside a rumpled swath of wool. Beneath it his fingers encountered cold, rounded metal.

"Seregil, look what I found!" At the bottom of the chest gleamed eight gold baps still bearing the Queen's Treasury mark.

"The White Hart gold! Our lady's been busy, though. These are shipped in lots of twenty-four. I tell you, Alec, if Kassarie isn't the head of the Lerans herself, then she's in it up to her ears!"

The gold was too heavy to carry away, so Seregil selected a few of the more incriminating letters and divided them with Alec. Turning to the corpse again, he gently removed the rings from the withered fingers, murmuring something in Aurлnfaie as he did so.

He handed Alec the silver ring, and strung the seal around his own neck on a bit of string.

"We're Watchers on this job, and this is Watcher business," he said with uncommon earnestness. "If anything happens to one of us, the other goes on, no matter what. We've got to get at least one of these to Nysander. Do you understand?"

Alec slipped the ring onto his thumb with a grudging nod.

"Good. If we get separated, meet me at the tree we camped under."

"The last time you carried something that way it got us into an awful mess!" Alec noted wryly, touching the seal ring where it hung against his friend's breast.

Seregil dropped the ring down the front of his tunic with a grim smile. " I'm not the one this will harm."

Putting the room back in order, they hurried back up to the open top of the tower. Seregil studied the sky with relief; the job had taken far longer than he'd anticipated, but it looked like they still had a little time to spare. As they came out from behind the tapestry into the corridor, however, some instinctive alarm went off in the back of his mind.

Something was different.

He grasped the hilt of his sword, belly tightening coldly again.

The light. Someone had turned up the wick on the night lamp.

Alec had spotted it, too, and was reaching for his own weapon.

They crept up to the intersection of the two corridors, bare feet silent on the smooth floors. The hallways appeared deserted. Bearing right, they headed back toward the northeast tower. They'd nearly reached it when the door swung open and two men with swords stepped out.

There was no time to take cover. Not knowing how many more men might be behind the others, Seregil and Alec turned and bolted back the way they'd come.

"There he is!" a man yelled behind them. "And he's got another with him! Here! He's up here!"

At the juncture of the corridors they cut to the right and made a dash for the northwest tower. More shouts rang out behind them as they flung open the door and plunged inside.

"Go on, I'll follow!" Seregil ordered, and was relieved when Alec didn't stop to argue.

A sizable pack of armed men was coming on at a run.

Grabbing the wooden bar from the corner by the door, he slammed the door and rammed the bar into its brackets. A heavy body hit the door from the other side, then another. Muffled curses followed him as he fled down after Alec.

He caught up with him just below the second-floor entrance to the tower. Rounding a corner, however, they saw torchlight coming from below.

"Second floor!" hissed Seregil, scrambling back up the stairs.

Footsteps pounded toward them from above and below as they reached the door. There was no time for caution.

Swords at the ready, they threw it open and dashed out into the large chamber beyond. Its sole occupant was an old woman with a lamp.

At the sight of them, she dropped her light and ran off through the workshop beyond, shrieking for help at the top of her creaky voice. Ignoring the flames spreading out from the broken lamp, Seregil barred the door.

"This must be where all that snoring was coming from," said Alec, looking around unhappily.

It was a barracks and there were more empty beds than Seregil wanted to count.

"Everybody's awake now," he noted grimly, heading for the southwest tower. "Come on, let's try this one."

"Up or down?" Alec demanded as they ducked in and barred the door.

But rounding the third turn, they ran headlong into another gang of Kassarie's men.

Having the higher ground saved them. Alec and Seregil struck out with their swords before their attackers could get their weapons up. Two men fell, their bodies blocking the stairs long enough for them to retreat. Another man came at them from above, swinging a short club. In the lead, Alec ducked the blow and thrust his sword between the man's ankles.

Seregil got in a good jab as the unfortunate man tumbled forward, then heaved the body on down the stairs.

Someone was trying to batter down the second-floor door as they passed. Dashing on, they found themselves back on the third floor.

Alec set the bar across the door, then doubled over panting. "Where now?"

"Let me think!" Seregil wiped his brow with one tattered sleeve. They'd been up and down how many towers? And how many doors had he blocked? No matter, really; by now all of them would be guarded.

Just ahead of them a corridor door flew open and they found themselves faced with four more men.

Falling on the newcomers, Seregil managed to strike down one before the man could draw his sword.

The rest put up a savage fight but were no match for their attackers. Seregil ran a second man through, then turned in time to see another stab Alec in the left arm. The boy recovered in an instant and seized the advantage, cutting his attacker across the thigh. The man fell back with a cry and Seregil dispatched him. In the melee, the fourth man took to his heels and escaped down the corridor.

"Let him go," Seregil ordered as Alec started off in pursuit. "You're wounded. How bad is it?"

Alec flexed his bloodied arm. "Just a nick."

Angry shouts interrupted them as a gang of men dashed into view beneath the night lamp. "Here. They're back here!"

"This way!" Seregil bolted through the open doorway the four men had appeared from.

Beyond lay a small storage chamber, and on the far side of it another door stood open. Charging on, they raced up a narrow stairway, threw open the trap door at the top, and came out on the flat roof of the keep.

"We're cornered!" cried Alec, looking around.

A quick circuit of the ramparts proved him right. There was no other way down; looking over the low parapets, they found impossible drops on every side. Behind them, Kassarie's men were already clambering up through the trap door with torches, swords, and clubs.

"We make our stand here," Seregil growled, retreating to the southern rampart.

Back to back, swords at the ready, they stood fast as the grinning mob advanced to form a menacing half circle around them.

"We have them, my lady. The boy and a beggar man," someone called out.

More torches bobbed into view, and the men parted for Lady Kassarie. Wrapped in a dark cloak, hair in a loose braid over one shoulder, she advanced to inspect the interlopers. Alec recognized the old manservant, Illester, at her side.

"Beggar man? Oh, hardly that." She frowned.

"Lord Seregil i Korit. And-Sir Alec something, isn't it? Had I known of your interest in my affairs, gentlemen, I would have extended you a proper invitation."

Seregil threw back his tattered cloak and made her a small, mocking bow. "My Lady Kassarie a Moirian. Your recent interest in my affairs was invitation enough, I assure you."

Kassarie gave him an appraising look. "Your reputation fails to do you justice. Your little jaunt up to Cirna exhibited far more initiative than you're given credit for, and now this! Who would have suspected such enterprise? But then, that was foolish of me. The dandified wastrel you're made out to be could never have inveigled himself so skillfully into the chambers of power."

"You flatter me, lady."

"You're too modest, my lord. After all, you've captured the ear of wizards and princesses."

Kassarie's mouth twisted with a bitter sneer. "But then, you're one of them, aren't you? Some kin to our mongrel royalty? I trust you enjoyed your reunion with Lord Corruth."

Seregil's jaw tightened. "For that abomination, my lady, you have my family's curse."

"I shall do my best to be worthy of it. Now tell me, on whose behalf have you invaded my home?"

"We're agents of Idrilain the Second, the true and rightful queen of Skala," Seregil replied.

"Bravely spoken!" laughed Kassarie. "And how unfortunate for me if that were so. Yet I have my own agents, you see, very skillful and reliable ones. If you were working for the Queen I would know. No, I think your Aurлnfaie ties go a bit deeper than is generally supposed. Your people would be only too happy, I'm certain, to discredit Skalans loyal to the true line!"

A strange, hectic light came into her eyes as she spoke these last words. Gripping his sword more tightly, Seregil thought with disquieting certainty, She's going to kill us.

"It's of small importance, I suppose," she went on darkly. "Your disappearance may cause a certain stir, but few, I think, will mourn you."

"Others will come," Seregil retorted. "Others like us, when you least expect them."

"And find me flown. That fool Teukros did more harm than you could. But you know about Teukros, don't you? This boy came asking for him." Her gaze shifted to Alec. "And repaid my hospitality by seducing my scullery maid."

"She didn't know anything," Alec told her, suddenly fearful for the girl. "I tricked her into letting me in."

"Ah, the gallant suitor speaks." Kassarie gave him a mocking smile. "A position in the great city, promises of passion to come-How pathetically common, but so effective. But she proved a poor choice for your dupe. Her aunt caught her sneaking out with a traveling bundle a short while ago."

"We soon beat the truth out of her," Illester cackled. "The girl never was very reliable."

"Please, don't hurt her," Alec said weakly.

"Of course, I can't help feeling a bit sorry for the poor, homely thing," Kassarie continued. "She was heartbroken to learn of your perfidy. But you'll have a little time to reflect on that. Gentlemen, throw down your swords!"

Seregil felt Alec tense behind him, awaiting his lead. Studying Kassarie's imperious face in the torchlight, he weighed the chances of coming down off this roof alive. It seemed doubtful.

"I've little faith in your hospitality," he replied, stalling for time.

Think, man, think! Find a thin spot in the mob!

How far to the stairs, the tower door?

"You've given me quite enough trouble for one night,"

Kassarie snapped, losing patience. "Look around! You can't fight your way out. Look behind you. A thousand feet down. Teukros screamed all the way to the bottom when they threw him off. Will you?"

Beside him, Seregil heard Alec's tiny, choked groan. If surrender offered even the sliver of a chance—

Leap, dear boys!

NySander's shout jolted them both like a war cry, though it was obvious that no one else had heard.

"My lady commands your surrender," Illester barked.

"Did you hear?" hissed Seregil.

"I can't!" Alec whispered back. He was white with fear, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Enough of this," snarled Kassarie, eyeing them with growing suspicion.

"You must!" Seregil pleaded, his own belly lurching at the idea.

"No—"

Seregil, Alec, leap! It must be now!

"Seize them!" cried Kassarie. "Take them alive!"

"Alec, go!"

"I can't—"

Now, Seregil, for the love of Illior!

"Now!" yelled Seregil. Flinging his sword aside, he seized Alec around the waist and heaved him over the parapet. Trying not to hear the scream that fell away into the blackness, he vaulted after him and launched himself into the abyss. Kassarie's sardonic laugh lashed out after him.

For a horrifying instant Seregil simply fell, eyes squeezed shut, the insubstantial wind beating up into his face.

Then the magic struck.

A swift, wrenching sensation shot through him, as if his soul were being pulled from his body. This was followed a splendid lightness, though he was still falling, dragged down by some entangling thing. Opening his eyes to, a wondrous blaze of stars, he struggled free of his tunic and flung out his…

Wings.

Lovely, powerful, striped wings that sliced into the air and found purchase there. Leveling out into a glide, he looked down with his new eyes and saw another bird floundering awkwardly up toward him, hooting wildly all the way. He wouldn't have thought it possible for an owl to look flabbergasted, but

Alec did. Their empty clothes tumbled into the darkness as they winged up and over the keep.

Kassarie had moved to the parapet overlooking the road and was gesturing at a body of riders thundering up the road toward her gates. Torches streaked and veered in the courtyard below as her people scattered to meet the attack.

The wind sang deliciously through their feathers as Seregil and Alec spiraled down to meet the riders. Alec let out another excited hoot as his sharp eyes made out the insignia of the Queen's Horse Guard. Klia rode at the head of the party, flanked by Myrhini and Micum.

Diving in low, Seregil flew in front of Micum.

"Seregil, is that you?"

Seregil swooped down again and landed on Micum's outstretched arm, feeling the roughness of chainmail grating under his talons.

"Is it him?" Klia asked as the large horned owl flapped for balance.

Seregil bobbed his head and winked one great yellow eye.

"It's him!" cried Micum. "Is Alec with you?"

Seregil bobbed again as Alec winged by.

"Go to Nysander," said Micum. "He's back down the road with Thero and Beka. Wait, what's this you've got?"

Micum lifted the ring that hung against the owl's buff breast. The loop of string had held, though Seregil had not noticed the slight weight of it as he flew.

Micum pocketed it for him and Seregil spread his broad wings and flapped off to join Alec.

Following the road, Alec soon spotted a small fire below. Nysander and Thero sat cross-legged beside it, watched over by several uniformed riders.

Landing was a far trickier business than flight, it turned out. After several unsuccessful attempts to copy Seregil's smooth descent, he finally ended up in an ungainly heap at a soldier's feet.

"Alec?" asked a familiar voice.

Beka knelt and set him upright, then smoothed his feathers gently. Spreading his toes out for balance, Alec blinked up at her and gave a soft hoot.

Something moved under his foot; it was the silver Aurлnfaie ring, still around one feathered toe. Raising his foot, he hooted at Beka until she took it.

Seregil, meanwhile, had settled gracefully on Nysander's upraised arm.

"Thanks to the Lightbearer! We were not certain the spells found you in time," Nysander told him, looking utterly exhausted.

"We were lucky to locate you at all," added Thero. "We nearly didn't, you know, with all your dashing around. Shall I change them back now, Nysander?"

"If you would. I—am quite depleted."

This transformation occurred as swiftly as the first, and with the same momentary disorientation.

After an instant's dizziness, Alec found himself standing naked in front of Beka.

"You might want this." Beka handed him her cloak, doing her best not to laugh at the expression of shocked realization spreading hotly over his face.

Mortified, Alec hastily flung it on. In the excitement of the moment he had not anticipated such complications. Taking the ring back from her, he turned to Seregil, who was kneeling beside the older wizard.

"I lost the papers with my clothes, but I still have this."

"And another," Seregil gasped, cradling his head in his hands as the usual wave of post-magic nausea swept over him. "The Consort's seal.

Micum has it—Nysander, we found it There's a room below the ruined tower. We have to—We—Tell him, Alec!"

Retching, he staggered off into the shadows.

"Kassarie's a Leran for certain," Alec continued excitedly. "She's still got some of the stolen gold and the body of Lord Corruth!"

"Poor fellow. I always feared something of the sort had happened to him," sighed Nysander. "But what is this about rings and papers?"

"We took Corruth's rings and some papers to prove what we found," Alec explained, handing the wizard the heavy Aurлnfaie ring. "Micum has the Consort's seal, but we lost everything else when—" Alec paused with a stricken gasp. "My sword! Oh hell, that went, too, and my black dagger."

These, along with his bow, were chief among the very few material possessions he felt any attachment to; they had been the first things Seregil had outfitted him with at Wolde.

"We shall do our best to recover them, dear boy, and all the rest," Nysander assured him.

"We have to get back in there, and quickly," said Seregil, returning to the fire looking haggard but determined. One of the riders held out a cloak and he wrapped himself in it. "She'll destroy everything, Nysander; she may have already. Even with the ring, our word won't be enough against her!"

"He's right," Thero agreed.

"She's the head of the serpent, I'm certain of it,"

Seregil continued emphatically. "Get her and you get them all! But Klia and the others will never find that room on their own. I've got to go back in!"

"Not without me, you're not!" declared Alec.

Nysander assented with a weary nod. "Sergeant Talmir, please get these men clothing, horses, and weapons."

Beka stepped forward. "Let me go with them."

The wizard shook his head firmly. "It is not for me to countermand Commander Klia's orders. She stationed you here."

"But—"

"You stay put," Seregil warned. "It's worth your commission to leave your post. You haven't even been invested yet!"

Alec stepped away with his usual modesty to dress, while Seregil threw his cloak off with no thought but haste. As he did so, Alec was dismayed to see that the obscuration spell covering the scar had failed again; the strange scar was clearly visible. Nysander saw it, too, and shook his head slightly at Alec. Fortunately, Seregil pulled on his borrowed tabard before anyone else noticed.

Beka, who'd kindly looked away until Alec had gotten his breeches on, offered him her sword.

"Take it," she urged. "I'll feel better, knowing you have a blade I trust."

Alec accepted the sword gratefully, hearing the echo of her father's words to Seregil when they'd left Watermead.

Clasping hands hastily with her, he said, "It's one I trust, too." He hesitated, suddenly awkward; he felt as if he ought to say something more, but he couldn't think what.

"Take good care of Nysander and Thero," he said at last, "in case they have to turn us into something else to get us out again."

She gave him a playful cuff on the arm. "Good thing he didn't make you into stags and otters that time, eh?"

Outfitted again, Seregil and Alec leapt onto fresh horses and galloped back to the keep.

The main gate stood open now. Looking around, Seregil guessed that their earlier capture had disrupted the usual discipline of the place, and the garrison had been caught off guard by Klia's attack.

In the courtyard a handful of Guards were standing watch over a knot of captured servants. Stamie huddled miserably among the prisoners and refused to meet Alec's eye when he attempted to speak to her.

The rest of the raiders had stormed inside.

Overhead, flames licked out of a second-floor window.

"Looks like we can go in the front way this time,"

Seregil said with a dark grin, pointing to the shattered doors.

Scattered sounds of fighting rang through the halls as they ran for the northeast stairway. Bodies littered the stairs, but the main battle had been pressed back to the third floor.

Coming out in the upper passageway, they could hear Kassarie's remaining men making a stand at the door to the ruined tower. The halls were impossibly narrow for a pitched battle, and the fighting had spread into side rooms. Passing the open doorways, they caught sight of bodies sagging across costly, overturned furniture. The clash of swords seemed to come from every direction at once. Fresh blood spattered the elegant frescoes and the floor was treacherous with it in places.

They found Micum in the thick of the fight in the southeast corridor.

"Has Kassarie been taken yet?"

Seregil shouted, trying to make himself heard over the din.

"Last I heard they were still looking for her," Micum yelled back.

"There's a door behind that hanging." Seregil pointed down the hall at the tapestry. "Pass the word forward; we have to take it!"

A few moments later, Klia's war cry echoed off the walls as the last of Kassarie's fighters threw down their weapons and fell to their knees.

Thrusting his way through the confusion, Seregil reached the princess. "Through here," he called, tearing down the tapestry to expose the door. Trying the handle, he found it locked.

"Braknil, Tomas, get this open!" barked Klia.

Two sturdy Guards threw their shoulders against the door, wrenching it off its hinges, and Seregil and Alec led the way to the trap door. Klia followed with Micum, Myrhini, and several soldiers.

The trap door had been pulled shut again, and the sand smoothed back into place. Seregil found the ring and heaved the door open, then led the way down to the wooden stairs. Careful to avoid the tilting landing, they reached the subterranean corridor to find the final door standing open. The chamber beyond was brightly lit.

Kassarie was waiting for them. She stood by the table at the center of the room, blocking the corpse of Corruth from sight. She held a small lamp in one hand, as if to light their way, and its glow threw her harsh features into imperious relief. The room smelled hotly of wax and oil. Beside him, Alec sniffed the air, frowning.

A prickle of apprehension ran up Seregil's spine; Kassarie looked like a great serpent poised to strike. How long had she stood waiting there?

"So, you're back again, are you?" she observed with a bitter smile as he and Alec stepped into view.

Klia moved up between them. Reckless and pretty as she might be under other circumstances, at this moment she was a commander and moved with her mother's austere assurance.

"Kassarie a Moirian, I arrest you in the name of Idrilain the Second," she announced with no trace of emotion. "The charge against you is high treason."

Kassarie bowed gravely. "Clearly you have the advantage. I yield, Your Highness, with the understanding that it is to your greater strength and not to your misbegotten right."

"As you will," replied Klia, stepping toward her.

"You will find all that you seek here." Kassarie gestured around her. "Perhaps, like Lord Seregil, you would also be interested in meeting your mutual forebear."

She stepped aside and lifted her lamp with a dramatic flourish. "Allow me to present Lord Corruth i Glamien Yanari Meringil Bokthersa. Your curs there have already pilfered the body, but I think they will bear out that I speak the truth."

Too late Seregil realized that he had failed to tell Klia what they'd found. She gave a soft, startled exclamation and stepped closer.

Micum and the others were equally taken aback; all eyes fixed on the grisly sight as Klia bent to study the ravaged face.

All, that is, except Alec's.

He'd seen more than enough of corpses over the past few weeks. Avoiding the dried husk in the chair, he looked instead at Kassarie, and so was the only one to notice the gloating smile that spread across her face as she lifted the lamp still higher.

That smell. It was too strong to be just lamps.

There was no time to warn Klia. Knocking Seregil aside, he lunged forward into the room as Kassarie dashed the lamp to the floor at Klia's feet. The room was doused with oil and something else, something far more flammbale.

Searing heat sucked the air from his lungs and scorched his skin. Reaching wildly, he found Klia's arm and hauled her backward with all his strength. Behind him other hands reached out, yanking him roughly into the blessed coolness of the corridor.

"Get them down!" shouted Micum.

Alec was shoved to the floor and half smothered with cloaks and bodies. Hands pounded down across his back. Somewhere above him, Seregil was cursing frantically.

When they finally uncovered him, Alec saw that they'd dragged him back to the base of the stairs. Heat

rolled down the little passage from the open door of the chamber beyond. Inside, solid sheets of flame obscured everything from view. There was no sign of Kassarie.

Klia was lying next to him, her beautiful, heart-shaped face streaked red and black and half her braid singed away.

"You saved my life!" she croaked, reaching for his hand; the back of her own was a welter of angry blisters where oil had splashed.

"While the rest of us had our heads up our arses," Myrhini glowered, wiping a sleeve across her eyes as she knelt by Klia.

Alec shook his head, half dazed. "That smell—It was familiar but I couldn't remember what it was."

"Sulfur oil, I think" said Myhini.

The skin on Alec's back and neck suddenly began to hurt and he grimaced.

"Give me this!" Seregil tugged Alec's borrowed tabard off over his head. The back of the garment was burned through in places. "You were on fire, you know! And some of your hair is gone in the back."

Alec raised a hand to the back of his head; it felt rough and his palm came away black.

"Just when we'd gotten you looking presentable, too," Seregil complained, his voice not quite steady. "Bilairy's Cods, you smell like a scorched dog!"