“Quiet!” the head cook bellowed, and muttered a curse. As if he hadn’t enough to do, without wasting half the day looking for Lady Eliseth’s scheming little maid! Then his mood lightened. If the Weather-Mage was displeased, then not only would she punish Inella—and not before time, Janok thought—but he could probably get a blow or two in himself, as he had been itching to do for so long, without suffering any retribution from the girl’s mistress. Janok grinned. Enjoying the security of Lady Eliseth’s protection, Inella had been defiant and pert, and had undermined his authority with the others. He had waited ages for the brat to fall from grace—and now, it seemed, he would get his revenge at last. Janok grinned. There weren’t many places to hide in the hilltop Academy compound. He would find her. In no time at all.
Most of the cool stone storerooms behind and beneath the Academy kitchens were forbidden to the menials who worked there, for most of the extensive stock of provisions hoarded within had been taken out of time by the Magefolk. Thus, while the city below them starved and struggled and suffered through the shortages that followed Eliseth’s grim winter, the Academy and its occupants were independent, well supplied—and therefore in control. Their accumulated foodstuffs could not even be taken by force or stealth, should any Mortal be brave or foolhardy enough to try. The time spell not only preserved the supplies, but prevented the Mortal servants from purloining any desperately needed food to smuggle down to their hungry friends and families in the city below.
The hiding place that Zanna had found in one of the few accessible chambers was small and awkward to reach, especially in the darkness; but at least it provided a temporary respite from Janok’s brutality and the cruelty of the Mages. Zanna still hurt from the beating the head cook had given her when he had discovered her in the great library, but it had been nothing compared to the discovery that when the Lady Eliseth was displeased, she could inflict pain worse than any beating without even lifting a finger.
The girl wiped a tear from one smudged cheek with trembling fingers and twisted her body in the cramped space, wishing she could find a comfortable position for her aching bones. She had come here, after her mistress had dismissed her for the night, to keep out of Janok’s way—for now that the Lady was displeased with her, she knew he would feel free to abuse her as he wished. If only she had been more circumspect in her dealings with him in the past! She’d suffer for it now—but here, at least, she would be safe for a time. She would have to emerge in the morning though—and what would Janok do to her then? Suddenly, she had run out of time—and it was running out for her father, too. Zanna only wished that the cramped little nook behind the great stoneware crocks of flour, honey, and beans could provide a sanctuary from her worries and fears—and from reminders of her own failure.
Lately, she had dared to hope for a time that there would be a way to free her father. Vannor had managed to smuggle her a message, hidden beneath the dirty dishes on a tray, that told her of the hidden escape route through the catacombs that ran beneath the library and thence into the sewers. But only today Zanna had slipped away to investigate, and had discovered that the wrought-iron gate that guarded the ancient archives was securely locked. To make matters worse, she had been caught in her investigations by Janok—and though her punishment had been bad enough, the worst of it was that he would be watching her like a hawk from now on. She dared not go near the library again—not without a damn good reason!
I convinced myself I was so clever, Zanna thought bitterly. What a wonderful notion: become a servant at the Academy, and spy on the Magefolk. And then Dad was captured… She choked on a sob. I was going to release him, and we would both escape. Another sob forced its way out. But I can’t rescue him—I’ve thought and thought, and there’s just no way to get him out of the Academy past the guards. And he’s in such pain… The Archmage is killing him, bit by bit—and I can do nothing to prevent it. I can only watch him suffer…
The problem was, she was afraid that she could not watch Vannor suffer—not for much longer—and keep her feelings hidden from her mistress. Zanna was terrified that she would give herself away to Eliseth, and what would become of her then? Already she was taking too many risks, and spending too much time away from the tower in search of some way out for herself and her father. The terrible events of today had shown her that. But she had been so desperate to get away… If only she could think…
You came here to think! Zanna berated herself disgustedly. But you aren’t thinking. You’re hiding in the storeroom, sniveling… Impatiently, the young girl dashed the tears from her eyes. This skulking around and bawling like a lost calf is getting you nowhere, she told herself. This was your idea—you wanted to do it. What happened to your nerve? You always looked up to Maya and the Lady Aurian. You wished you had their courage. Well, girl—now’s your chance. You always prided yourself on your brains—so use them now.
Vannor’s daughter was heartened by the thought of the two women she admired so much. Just knowing that they were still opposing Miathan and Eliseth (for she had overheard from the Weather-Mage that Aurian was still alive, and clung stubbornly to the conviction that, although Maya had been missing for so long, she could not be dead) gave Zanna fresh courage. If Lady Aurian were in my position, she pondered, what would she do? Oh, if only she could be here. If only I could ask her advice…
Wait a minute—perhaps I can! Zanna sat bolt upright, her heart pounding with excitement. But would it be possible? Could it reach that far? You’ll never know until you try, she told herself firmly, remembering the rack of crystals that hung on the kitchen wall. Only that day, when Janok had caught her, he had picked up Lady Eliseth’s silver-white globe, waited until it had begun to shimmer, and spoken into it. “I’ve got her,” he had said, and the Magewoman had answered. Lady Aurian’s crystal was the green one, Zanna knew—and it still contained that telltale spark of light to show that it was active. If only she could use it to communicate—but not the globe from the kitchen. It would be missed. In the deserted quarters that had belonged to the household servants, however, there was another rack, forgotten and gathering dust… It was a small, faint hope, but it warmed the heart of Vannor’s indomitable daughter. Forgetting her hurts and despair, she began to make plans.
“Tomorrow I plan to release some of our stored food to the Mortals of Nexis.”
“You plan to do what?” Eliseth cried. “Miathan, have you lost your mind?”
To her irritation the Archmage remained unperturbed. “Here,” he said, producing with a flourish a flagon of pale wine from underneath his cloak. “While I was down checking the supplies, I found a flask of your favorite.” With a negligent flip of his hand he tossed it to her, and Eliseth cried out in alarm as her fingers slipped on the smooth glass and she almost fumbled the catch. “Damn you, Miathan—stop acting the fool,” she snapped. “I know full well that the wine is only a ruse to distract me.” She placed the flask on her table with out offering him any of its contents. “Now, what’s all this nonsense about giving our valuable food to those worthless, whining Mortals?”
Miathan sat down, uninvited, on one of Eliseth’s chairs by the fire, absently stroking the white fur that draped it as he spoke: “It isn’t nonsense, you stupid woman. Meiriel’s death set me thinking…” His face darkened at the memory, and Eliseth, too, suppressed a shudder as she remembered being awakened, the night before last, by the wrenching agony of the Healer’s death throes. Though the pangs had been muted by distance, it had still been plain how Meiriel had died—and by whose hand.