“He's in there.”
“Are you sure?”
“He was this morning.”
“How did you know I was looking for him?”
Alladan shrugged innocently. “The whole Citadel knows, my Lady.” Then he grinned and added, “Is there some sort of reward for finding him?”
She smiled at the boy's expression. “We'll see.”
“I was... well, I was hoping I could get it now,” he said. “I mean, you never know what's going to happen...”
“Go back to the gate and ask for Lord Brakandaran. He'll see you're rewarded.”
Alladan looked a little disappointed, but he did not press the point. He ran off without another word. R'shiel watched him leave with a shake of her head. He certainly was an enterprising lad.
Turning back to study the small gate, R'shiel carefully drew on her power and pushed at the gate with a thought. It creaked open to reveal a lane strewn with litter. She could not sense anyone in the lane, so she stepped through cautiously, gagging on the smell. She stepped silently over the rubbish towards another doorway at the end of the alley. It stood open and inviting. When she entered the room beyond she gasped with astonishment.
It was sumptuous - decorated with no thought to expense, or good taste. There were velvet-upholstered couches scattered about the room, each one sectioned off by diaphanous sheer curtains. The carpet was as thick as the grass in the garden behind the infirmary. Fardohnyan crystal chandeliers hung unlit from the ceiling. There was a smell about the place, too, something she could not identify, although it was annoyingly familiar. R'shiel looked around her wide-eyed, wondering what such a place was doing hidden down here in the warehouse district - and who would frequent it.
The answer came to her as she checked the deserted rooms along a narrow passage leading off the main room. The first was innocent enough - simply a room with a large double bed, decorated in blue to match the colour of the door. But as she opened each door along the hall, the purpose of the rooms became clear enough. There was one room sporting a huge tub, another with a bed big enough for six and then another containing nothing more than two velvet-lined, metal cuffs hanging from the ceiling by chains and enough instruments of torture to make the Defenders' interrogation chamber look positively inadequate. Feeling a little queasy at the thought of what might go on in this place, R'shiel wondered about Alladan. Was he part of the entertainment? The idea made her sick.
At the end of the hall was a smaller door, which opened at a touch and led down into the darkness. Stepping through, R'shiel called up a finger of flame to light her way, rather pleased with herself. When Brak had tried to teach her how to call fire one evening on their journey here from Vanahiem, she'd almost consumed them both in a ball of flame. The short steps opened into a cellar with an earthen floor. She made the flame brighter and stared at the altar by the far wall, letting out a yell of outrage as the star and lightning bolt of Xaphista stared back at her.
With a sudden thump, the cellar door slammed shut behind her. She ran to the door and pounded on it, but it was shut fast, locked from the other side. Furiously, she called on her power and blasted the door out of her way, only to discover her way blocked by a wall of fire. She remembered now, what that smell was. Oil. Whoever had set this trap had soaked the building in it, hoping to send her to a fiery death.
R'shiel took a step back from the roaring flames. If this fire spread, here in the warehouse district, it would destroy the city. Even if it only spread a little way, all their supplies, all the food they had stored to see them through the coming siege would be destroyed. Without thinking, she drew even deeper on the Harshini power, pulling as much as she could handle and sent it outwards from the cellar. The blast of air shook the surrounding buildings and almost brought the roof of the cellar down on top of her. But the flames were blown out like candles in a strong draft.
Panting with the effort of her exertions, she clambered through the debris until she reached the ground floor. The building was flattened, its roof gone, the walls blown out and laying flat on the ground. The warehouses on either side were in no better shape, and beyond them she could see the broken windows and fractured walls of the other buildings that had been in range. There were shouts in the distance and voices yelling orders. The Defenders come to investigate the source of the explosion, no doubt. She looked around at the devastation she had caused with a sigh. She had simply meant to blow out the flames. She hadn't expected to level everything in sight.
It was Brak who reached the scene first. She was still standing there, dazed and bewildered as he leapt over the rubble to get to her.
When he reached her, Brak helped her sit down, his expression a mixture of anger and concern. “What, in the name of the gods, do you think you're doing?”
“It was a trap,” she told him dully.
“No kidding.”
“I didn't mean to...” she said, looking around her at what was left of the warehouse district.
“You never do, R'shiel. That's what makes you so bloody dangerous.”
“You're mad at me, aren't you?”
“Yes.”
R'shiel took a deep breath and held out her hand to see if it had stopped trembling, then looked up and smiled wanly at Brak.
“I'm sorry.”
“You and I need to have a little talk about restraint,” he said with a frown. “You can't go drawing on that much power every time you want to do something. There is such a thing as overkill, you know.”
“But I had to put out the fire. I didn't know how much it would take.” For that matter, even if she had known, she still lacked the finesse to limit what she drew on, but she decided not to remind Brak of that.
“I feel exhausted, but somehow more aware. Isn't that odd?”
“What do you mean?”
“I'm not sure. It's as if I can feel everything more clearly. I can even feel Sanctuary like it was right here.”
“That will be with you wherever you go, R'shiel.”
“I know. I've felt it ever since I left the place, but this is different. It's stronger somehow... I don't know... clearer... Brak?”
She blanched at the expression on his face. Suddenly, he wasn't listening to her. He rose to his feet slowly and turned to stare blankly towards the west, reaching out with his senses, rather than his eyes. R'shiel struggled to her feet and stood beside him, following his gaze, seeing nothing but the flattened buildings and the Defenders coming towards them, demanding to know what had happened.
“What is it? What's wrong?”
“I can feel it too.”
“Sanctuary?”
He nodded.
“But why is it so strong? Normally it's just like a vague impression in the back of my mind that I hardly even notice any more.”
“That's because normally, Sanctuary is hidden out of time.”
“Then it's back? Why would Korandellan do that?”
“He wouldn't. Not willingly.”
He glanced at her grimly and she suddenly realised what he meant. Korandellan had brought Sanctuary into real time because he was no longer capable of holding it back. R'shiel stared around her with horror. She had drawn on the magic of the Harshini with no thought to the amount that she was consuming.
It was her fault the Harshini were no longer hidden.
“Oh Founders, Brak,” she said with quiet desperation. “What have I done?”
By mid morning the last of the Kariens, as well as the civilians who did not want to stay in the Citadel, had filed through the gates and they were closed against the army outside. The Defenders had dutifully searched the crowd for Loclon's familiar face, but they paid no attention to the huge, simple-looking man hauling a handcart through the gate piled with old blankets, or notice the thin, sharp-eyed old woman who walked beside him. Nor did they inspect the cart. The rugs smelled old and the woman openly wore the symbol of Xaphista on a chain around her neck. Another fanatic leaving and good riddance to all of them, they decided. The Defenders turned their attention to the crowd, scanning the faces for Loclon's distinctive scar.