Linsha kept a wary eye on the kitchen while she ran after Lord Bight across the grass and gravel paths to the door. Briefly she wondered if it was locked, but it slid open easily under his hand, and the two eased into the darkened room beyond. She saw it was a dining room, set with trestle tables and cupboards stacked with dishes.
Lord Bight bypassed the tables, went to the front of the long room, and ducked into an alcove, where another door stood in black shadow. The governor, Linsha mused, seemed to know this temple as well as his own palace. This door, too, gave way to gentle pressure and opened to reveal a stairway leading down.
Closing the door behind her, Linsha walked blindly down behind the lord governor and hoped fervently that her faith in him was not misplaced.
A small white light flared in front of her, and she saw Lord Bight standing at the foot of the stairs, holding a small hand lamp.
“There are torches farther on,” he said in a whisper, “but this will do for now.” He suddenly grinned at her, his handsome face illuminated with pale light. “This is where it gets interesting. Are you still curious? Afraid? Do you think this is a trap?”
Linsha felt a jolt of alarm. Gods, this man was too intuitive for her liking, but she couldn’t back out now. A flood of excitement washed through her, and the blood of the Majeres sang in her veins. “I’m with you, Lord Governor.”
“Good.” With the lamp in one hand and his box under his arm, Lord Bight led her into the basement of the temple.
This lower level seemed to be little used for anything but storage, for all it contained were rooms full of crates, old furniture, piles of moldering rags and rotting fabric, all coated in a thick layer of dust and mildew. The lord governor made his way through the clutter and mess to a room on the southern end of the building that Linsha estimated was directly below the old altar room.
Without pause, Lord Bight moved an old worm-eaten table aside, inserted his fingers into a narrow crack in the wall, and pulled hard. The crack widened and lengthened until it reached the ceiling and the floor, then suddenly an entire section of the wall swung back and a black opening gaped before them.
Linsha took note of the fact that there was little dust on this strange door or on the doorframe around it. The door had been used before, and fairly recently.
“Be careful. The steps are steep,” he warned her, ducking through the opening.
He wasn’t kidding. Linsha stepped through the opening after him, expecting the top of a stairway, and nearly slipped off into the bottomless dark. This doorway opened into the middle of a stone stair so steep that it was almost like a ladder, and so narrow that she bumped her head on the opposite wall. Fighting to regain her balance, she planted both hands on the walls beside her and carefully pushed herself back upright. She drew a deep breath and let it out in a rush of relief. Above her, the black stairway continued up to what was probably a hidden door in the altar room above. Far below her now, the little light in Lord Bight’s hand lured her downward on a steeply curving spiral stair, down to what she could only guess.
“Close the door!” Lord Bight’s voice rose up to her from the depths of the stairwell.
She cautiously reached through the opening to grasp the stone door and pulled it tightly shut behind her. Keeping both hands firmly pressed against the damp stone walls, she went down step by step after the lord governor. He was far ahead of her by now, his light like a tiny star in the Stygian darkness. Shortly it disappeared down the curve of the spiral and left Linsha in total darkness. She tried to hurry, but her boot slipped on a particularly slick step and nearly threw her down the stairs. After that she picked her way down carefully, mostly by feel, and hoped Lord Bight would be waiting for her at the end. She couldn’t hear anything beyond her own breathing and the thud of her boots on the stone, and occasionally her sword would bang on the walls. Beyond those noises, there was nothing else to interrupt the heavy silence.
The air turned steadily colder the deeper she descended, and the odors of dust and old basements gave way to the dense smells of ancient stone and old air. The first warning she had of the stair’s end was a cold draft that swirled up the funnel of the stairwell and raised goose bumps on her bare arms. She took two more steps down and landed heavily on a stone floor. The sudden transition from steep steps to flat floor threw her forward, and she would have fallen if two strong hands had not caught her arms and pulled her upright almost into a tall, solid body.
The warmth of his hands on her chilled skin and the strength of his grip took her by surprise. Although she couldn’t see an inch in front of her face, she could identify the man who had her by the feel of his sleeves brushing her arms and the warm, almost spicy scent of his body. What she didn’t know was what he planned to do next, and she tensed her muscles and prepared to fight if need be.
A deep, throaty chuckle rumbled near her ear. “Be careful of that bottom step,” Lord Bight said belatedly. His hands released her, but his fingers sought hers. “Squire, you are amazing. Most people would have screamed if someone grabbed them in the dark.”
“You forget, Your Excellency, I used to do the grabbing in the dark before I mended my evil ways.”
His lips twitched at her saucy reply. “Come on. I don’t want to lose you in this place.” His fingers tugged her along what seemed to be a narrow tunnel.
Her mind sensed the oppressive weight of thick layers of rock above her head and the closeness of the stone walls on either side. Fortunately they didn’t have to go far. Lord Bight rounded a corner, and Linsha saw his lamp burning low on top of the wooden box.
“The torches are here,” the governor told her. “I left the lamp here when I came to get you because it’s almost out.”
“You can see that well in the dark? I can hardly find my feet, let alone the floor.”
He shrugged, letting go of her hand. “I’ve been down here before.” He reached into a small alcove and pulled out a bundle of torches. “These won’t last that long, so we’d better take several. Do you mind carrying them?”
“Not if it means we have light,” she said with conviction. She pulled off her pack to add the bundle to her load while he lit two of the torches from the dying lamp. Light flared up around her, golden and welcome. She glanced around and, squinting in the sudden brightness, she saw Lord Bight stand upright, a torch in either hand. His muscular body was bathed in the firelight, and his eyes flickered bronze, then gold, from the torchlight reflected in their depths.
There was a powerful majesty about him that reminded her of her father, Palin Majere, when he stood on the pinnacle of the magnificent Tower of the World at his Academy of Sorcery. These men were much alike, she decided, powerful in their determination to succeed, passionately devoted to their causes, wise and often remote. Their differences lay in their perceptions of themselves. Although he founded the renowned academy, Palin still considered himself a student of magic, and there was a gentle humility about him that allowed him to deal gracefully with even the most difficult sorcerer. Lord Bight, on the other hand, was one of the most confident, self-satisfied people Linsha had ever known. Pugnacious, tough, and often the rogue, he ruled his kingdom as if ordained by the gods before they left. He gave her the impression that he found the world and its people endlessly amusing, and only a veneer of civility kept him from laughing at everything.
Lord Bight interrupted her musings. “You should put your tunic on. Your skin is chilled already, and we have long way to go.”
Linsha took his advice and pulled on her uniform tunic before she lifted the pack to her back. He handed her a torch. “Will you tell me now where we are going?” she asked, holding the torch up to see his face.