Выбрать главу

The paste would slowly change from white to a clear, hard coating over the next few hours, giving him a marker that would soon be unnoticeable. Even if he was exploring in a few hours, he could still find his way out by looking for the clear coating.

He looked down and laughed aloud.

Footprints stood out clearly in a thick layer of dust. Dropping into a crouch, Dannyl identified the familiar imprint of a magician’s boots. From the number of tracks, it was clear that someone had scuffed this passage many times.

Rising, he followed the footprints for several hundred paces. Reaching another side passage, he was dismayed to find the prints led down both the main passage, and the new one. He dropped to his haunches again and examined them closely. There were only four sets of prints in the side passage, two of magician’s boots, two of smaller shoes. The prints in the main passage were fresher, and numerous.

A faint sound touched his ears then—a very human-sounding sigh. Dannyl froze, a chill slowly running up his spine. The dark beyond the reach of his globe light seemed thick and full of unpleasant possibilities, and he suddenly felt sure that something was watching him.

Ridiculous, he told himself. There’s nothing there.

Taking a deep breath, he stood and forced himself to look only at the tracks. Moving forward, he followed them for another hundred paces, finding more side passages with older tracks.

Again, he felt a nagging certainty that he was being followed. Behind his footsteps there was the echo of softer treads. The faintest breeze brought a smell of rot and something alive, but filthy ...

He turned a corner and his imaginings fled. Ahead, about twenty paces away, the footprints ended at a door. He took a step forward, then went rigid with terror as a figure moved out of the side passage beside him.

“Lord Dannyl. Might I inquire as to your reasons for being here?”

Staring at the man, Dannyl’s mind seemed to divide into two. While one part babbled excuses, the other watched helplessly as the first made an utter fool of itself.

And at the edge of his mind a familiar presence was projecting both sympathy and smug satisfaction.

— I told you not to go down there, Rothen sent.

In the lightless silence, the sound of his stomach grumbling was loud. Cery rubbed his belly and continued to pace.

He was certain now that more than a day had passed since his last meal, which meant that a week had gone by since he had seen Sonea. Leaning against the door, he cursed Fergun with every unsavory ailment he could think of. Between the words he heard the sound of footsteps and froze.

His stomach growled fiercely in anticipation. The footsteps were slower, taunting him. They drew closer, then stopped. The faint sound of voices reached him. Two voices. Both male.

He drew in a quick breath and pressed his ear to the door.

“... tunnels are extensive. It is easy to become disorientated. Magicians have been lost for days and returned starved. I suggest you retrace your steps.” The voice was stern and unfamiliar.

Another voice replied. Cery caught only a few words, but he understood enough to know that the other magician was apologizing. The voice was also unfamiliar, but he could easily imagine Fergun’s voice becoming faint and high if he was babbling so.

The stern magician clearly did not approve of Fergun’s presence in the passages. He was unlikely to approve of Fergun keeping prisoners down here either. All Cery had to do was call out, or hammer on the door, and Fergun’s trap would be unsprung.

He raised his fist, then paused as the voices stopped. Hasty footsteps led away, then another set approached. Biting his lip, Cery backed away from the door. Which magician was it? Fergun or the stern stranger?

The lock clicked. Cery shied back against the far wall. As the door opened light filled the room and he closed his eyes against the glare.

“Who are you?” boomed an unfamiliar voice. “What are you doing down here?”

Opening his eyes, Cery’s relief changed to astonishment as he recognized the man standing in the doorway.

29

To Dwell Among Magicians

“She said he was doing it so that no one will ever think dwells could be magicians,” Cery finished.

The magician narrowed his eyes. “That does sound like Fergun.” As the dark gaze shifted to Cery again, a small frown creased the magician’s brow. “The Hearing is taking place now. I can reveal Fergun’s crimes, but only if I have proof that he is the man you speak of.”

Cery sighed and looked around the room. “I’ve got nothing ’cept the things he gave me, but he has my knife and tools. If you found them, would that be enough?”

The man shook his head slowly. “No. What I need is in your memories. Will you allow me to read your mind?”

Cery stared at the magician. Read his mind?

He had secrets. Things his father had told him. Things Faren had told him. Things even Faren would have been surprised to know. What if the magician saw them?

But if I don’t let him read my mind, I can’t save Sonea.

He couldn’t let a few musty secrets keep him from saving her—and the magician might not see them, anyway. Swallowing his fear, Cery looked up at the magician.

“Sure. Do it.”

The magician regarded Cery soberly. “It will not harm or hurt. Close your eyes.”

Taking a deep breath, Cery obeyed. He felt fingers touch his temples. At once, he became aware of another mind. It seemed to drift in behind his own, then a voice spoke from ... somewhere.

— Think of the day your friend was captured.

A memory flashed before his eyes. The other mind seemed to catch and steady it. Cery found himself in a snow-filled alley. It was like a vision, clear and yet lacking fine detail. He saw Sonea running away from him, and felt an echo of the fear and despair he had felt as he had hammered against the invisible barrier that had separated them. Turning, he saw a man wearing a cloak, standing behind him.

— This is the man who captured you?

— Yes.

— Show me how.

Once again a memory flashed through his mind, was caught and replayed. He stood outside the Magicians’ building, looking up at Sonea. Fergun appeared. Chased him. Caught him. The blue-robed magician and his companion appeared, took Cery to Sonea. His memory sped on. He was leaving Sonea and walking through the Magicians’ building. Fergun was suggesting they go through the University. They entered the building and travelled down passages.

Then Fergun opened the secret door and forced him through. The blindfold touched his face again, and he heard his own steps as he walked down the underground passage. He faced the cell again, walked inside, heard the door close ...

— When did you see him next?

Memories of the magician’s visits followed. Cery saw himself searched and robbed of his possessions, then relived his failed attack and was healed. He saw Sonea enter the room and heard their conversation over again.

After that, the other mind brushed over his, then seemed to fade away. Cery felt the magician’s fingers lift from his temples. He opened his eyes.

The magician was nodding. “That is more than enough,” he said. “Come with me. We must hurry if we wish to attend the Hearing.”

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room. Following, Cery felt relief rush over him as he stepped out of the cell. He looked back once, then hurried after his rescuer.

The man strode quickly down the passage, forcing Cery into a jog to keep up. The passage met another, then several more. None looked familiar.

They reached a short flight of stairs. The magician climbed these, then bent to stare at the wall. Seeing a small dot of light around the magician’s eye, Cery guessed that there was a spy hole.