Elvenborn

"It was quite dark by that time, my lady," he said diffidently.

"And you correctly remembered your orders to keep track of Kyrtian, not his slaves." She nodded. "Did you make any effort to see what was within the cave itself?"

He shook his head. "Lord Kyrtian had mage-lights all through the place, but it is very large, and a hard climb down. The floor is littered with debris, but I could not tell you what it was at that distance. The usual trash one finds in a cave, I suppose."

So he had come straight back here; that showed a fine balance between obedience and good sense. She smiled at him, and thought that his nervousness ebbed, a little. "You've done well; I would rather that you came back here to tell me what happened than waste time in trying to discover the whereabouts of a lot of men who will probably do nothing until their master returns." She laughed, then, and her man relaxed a little further. "As I have said before, what Kyrtian can do, I can do. I have no need of you men inside that cave; I have no intention of confronting Lord Kyrtian, I only wish to discover what he is up to. I can do that being careful and using my own powers of illusion to cloak my presence once one of you has helped me climb down. You, meanwhile, have managed to outflank Aelmarkin and get us here only a little behind Lord Kyrtian's men. I believe you deserve a bit of a holiday."

Now the slave unbent entirely. "Thank you, my lady," was all he said, but she saw the expression in his eyes change to one of wary gratitude, rather like a somber, alert coursing-hound offered an unexpected treat. She offered him a cup of her wine; he accepted it with a profound bow and drank it off at a gulp. A pity; it was a good vintage, but likely he wouldn't know good from bad. Perhaps she would educate him.

"I will go into the cave tomorrow to follow Kyrtian. Before I do, I would like you to find a good, out-of-the-way place to camp that is unlikely to be stumbled across by Aelmarkin's men. I'll cloak it with illusion and you all can disport yourselves as you will until I return." His eyes absolutely lit, and she laughed. "And yes, this means you may help yourselves to any of the provisions, the wine included. I don't expect to have to spend much time in that hole, and when I return, our business will be to make all speed back. Too many provisions will only slow us down."

She would take the precaution of changing the wine so that it made anyone who drank it tranquil rather than rowdy. She could always change it back when she returned. Better that they laze a little while she was gone; it would ruin her plans entirely for Aelmarkin's people to discover hers because they were carousing and singing or fighting behind her cloak of illusion.

If something else came across them and they were incapacitated, well—there were other ways she could get home. If they didn't take the precaution of setting a sober sentry, they weren't worth the money she'd paid for them.

"Have another cup," she said, with a dazzling smile, refilling his goblet. "Then go and tell the others what I just told you. I'll want climbing gear ready for me first thing when I wake; you can see me safely down, then return here to the others to wait for my return."

A few hours past dawn, Aelmarkin stood looking up at a vast pile of tumbled rocks; the trail apparently ended there, according to his forester. As usual, the skies dripped. He shook rain out of his eyes with irritation; was there never a break from the wretched stuff here?

And Kyrtian, Ancestors curse him, had found a way out of the wretched stuff. "A cave?" Aelmarkin said incredulously. "There's a cave up there? And Kyrtian crawled in there?"

"Yes, my Lord," the forester said into the ground at Aelmarkin's feet. "It is a very, very large cave; the opening is near to the top of it. I could not tell how many of his men went in with him, but the main trail ends here, and I can clearly see where a number of people went up that slope and entered into a gap at the top. Without light I cannot see what is inside, but if they were still immediately inside it, I must suppose they'd have lights of their own, so I presume they've gone in deeper."

"By the Ancestors." Aelmarkin began to chuckle. "Well, it's pretty clear that, whatever is here, it's not Wizards. Unless this is some forgotten entrance into their lair."

"Forgotten, my lord, or no longer in use because of the rock-fall," the scout said, head still bent. "But I dropped a torch within, when I could see no signs of Lord Kyrtian or his men down below, and before it guttered out all I saw was litter. It appears that if this place was ever in use as an entrance, it has not been used so for a very long time."

"That's good enough for me!" Aelmarkin replied. He considered the situation. "I'll take you with me; the rest can camp here. We'll see if we can't discover what Kyrtian thinks he's up to."

"It will be very difficult to conceal ourselves in a cave, my lord," the man began.

Aelmarkin cut him off with a gesture; the water from Ael-markin's sodden sleeve spattered him from head to toe, and Aelmarkin felt a bit of sour pleasure as the slave winced. "Not for a mage, you fool! Get whatever gear we'll need—we're already hours behind him." He looked around at the rest of his slaves. "And you! Put up a proper camp this time! When I get back, I expect to see something other than a half-pitched tent and a fire that won't start! And get moving!"

He put a sting of warning in his voice to remind them of the sting of his punishments, punishments that he had inflicted frequently through their collars each time they bumbled a task. It got them going, although sluggishly.

Well, no matter. In a few moments, he was going to be inside a dry cave. If they couldn't manage to put a camp together properly by the time he got back, on the way home he'd start crippling them and leaving them behind on the trail to attract the horrors that seemed to stalk these forests. That would give his dear cousin something to have to deal with on his way back to civilization. At the least, Kyrtian would be delayed in returning to his patron, Lord Kyndreth.

And at the most—Aelmarkin would no longer have anything standing between himself and everything he wanted.

This must be that fabled Portal to Evelon, with all of the things that had been left behind scattered about. The Wizards, if they existed at all, certainly weren't here. Opportunity waited and Fate smiled on Aelmarkin at last. And depending on what he found in that cave—well, by the time he returned home, Aelmarkin might even be able to give Lord Kyndreth himself a little healthy competition for ascendancy on the Great Council.

32

Triana looked up at the dim, uneven oval of grey light that marked the opening to the outer world, and absently kicked something dry and crackling from beneath her feet. There was no sign of her slave, but she hadn't expected him to linger once she was safely down. She wondered if she had surprised her forester by getting down into the cave rather handily with nothing more in the way of help than one of the ropes that Kyrtian's people had left behind; she certainly surprised herself.

Then again, it was very interesting what sorts of things one could do with magic when one was terrified out of one's wits. It had been a very long way down to the floor of the cave from that tiny entrance above; fortunately Kyrtian's own people had left all their ropes behind, ready to climb out when they returned, so at least she had had the comfort of knowing her lifeline was tested and tried.

Ah, but Kyrtian had never been taught the subtle art of Elven female magic, and if he came back he'd have the benefit of her passage. She'd had no notion she could make a rope stronger— or herself briefly stronger as well. By the time her feet touched the floor of the cave, she had imparted the transitory strength of one of her foresters to her arms and legs—and she could have used the rope she dangled from to lower a horse and wagon without worrying about it snapping.