"Look!" cried someone in the audience, pointing at T'fyrr's cage.
A demon appeared in a puff of black smoke, a demon that looked a great deal like T'fyrr. It shot a bolt of red lightning at the lock on the cage door, as if trying to free the Haspur_though why it would do so now, in full view of hundreds of people, did not make any logical sense. But then, these people were not thinking logically. T'fyrr didn't move, didn't flinch; Robin wondered if perhaps he couldn't see the illusion, if it was meant for the eyes of those in the congregation alone.
But the demon only got off the one shot; Padrik whirled in an artistic swirl of white robes that made part of his costume stand away from him for a moment, like a pair of great white wings unfurled. He raised his staff of office over his head, and a beam of light shot from the top of it to strike the demon, who vanished without even a "pop."
The cheapest illusion there is! Done with mirrors, for heaven's sake! You don't even need any magic to pull it off! Only good for a few seconds_the type of illusion that anyone with any experience has seen at a dozen big Faires_but this lot is eating it up!
"You see!" Padrik exclaimed. "You see how he summons his evil minions to aid him! But they are not proof against the power of the Sacrificed God _"
There were shouts now, of "Kill him!" and "Destroy the beast!" Robin went cold with fear. They had to get to T'fyrr to free him_but how could they get past a mob in a killing mood?
But Padrik held up his hands, and the crowd calmed instantly. "We are not animals, we are not monsters, to tear apart our enemies in the heat of anger," he proclaimed, as Robin added nausea to her fear. "The power of God is sufficient to hold this evil, vile creature in his bonds. Nor shall we permit him to disrupt the work we are truly here for, God's own work of healing! We brought him here only that you might see the true face of your enemies, and know them for what they are."
"G-give me one of your p-pick-sets," Kestrel whispered, under cover of the speech. "I th-think I can g-get th-them t-to him."
And then what? she thought_but she handed him the set of lock picks anyway. He slipped off into the crowd, and if she hadn't seen him vanish, she wouldn't have known he was even there in the first place.
While Padrik continued to pummel the congregation with examples of his benevolence and the nonhumans' perfidy, she kept a watch on T'fyrr's cage. And in a moment, she "heard" that little thread of "melody" that meant someone was using magic. This was familiar enough_magic meant to rivet the attention to the speaker, and make his words seem the acme of truth. She was ready for it, and she was not caught like the rest. Padrik's sermon had mesmerized his audience to the point that no one, not even the guards, was watching T'fyrr.
And Jonny had taken advantage of that.
He'd taken advantage of something else, too.
There was another thin thread of mental "music," weaving with Padrik's siren song. Free Bard Kestrel was invoking Bardic Magic.
Don't look at me, the song ordered. Don't see me. I'm not here. Ignore me....
And since it not only didn't interfere with Padrik's spell, it actually worked with the High Bishop's magic, no one noticed it except her.
She added her power to his, humming under her breath, following that "melody" in her mind with a real melody meant to reinforce the magic.
Once again, if she hadn't been watching, she would never have seen that shadow slipping among the statues of the saints, the movement down near the floor as something was tossed into the bottom of the cage, and T'fyrr's quick bend to retrieve what had been thrown in.
As Padrik wound down, Kestrel reappeared on the pedestal of Saint Hypatia, looking as calm as if he had never been gone. But he was breathing carefully, hiding the fact that he had been exerting himself, and he looked very, very tired.
Just about as tired as she felt. He flashed her a quick glance and a hidden gesture of approval; she gave him a strained and nervous smile in return.
Well, now T'fyrr had lock picks, hidden in his feathers. Whether or not he could use them was another story entirely. Whether he would get an opportunity to_
But Padrik's Priests were assembling those in the crowd who felt in need of healing_and with a quick glance and a nod, they both slid down from the pedestal to crowd up a little further to the front.
She bit her lip as her mind accelerated through plan after plan, shuffling bits of foolhardiness with honest fear. Wasn't there something they could do?
Suddenly Jonny grabbed her hand, and whistled a soft phrase of melody_that of "The Skull Hill Ghost."
She stared at him in puzzlement for a moment, completely baffled, as he shook her hand with impatience, and whistled the chorus. Then, as if dawn had suddenly broken over her, she knew what he was trying to tell her.
If the Ghost was free_oh, surely it was by now!_it would be only too happy to see Padrik again. And if it was free, well, couldn't they call it? They'd called an Elf before, just by thinking about Bardic music and magic and wanting to have an Elf answer them.
How could it hurt to try?
She nodded frantically, and began to hum Rune's tune under her breath, concentrating very, very hard on how much she wanted the Ghost of Skull Hill to appear right now_
Faintly, she heard Kestrel do the same. And as his melody joined hers, the internal music that sang of the power of Bardic Magic took on life and strength.
The line to the altar was long, but the two of them were so short that the Priests might have mistaken them for children; somehow they found themselves in the first rank when Padrik began the first "healing." Robin's teeth chattered unexpectedly and the melody she hummed broke for a moment. They hadn't expected to be up here_
Oh no_what am I supposed to be sick of? she thought in a panic, T'fyrr momentarily forgotten. What can I fake? Infertility, maybe_
Padrik had his hands on the head of a "cripple," one of the Patsonos, of course, who stared up at him in carefully simulated admiration while the High Bishop prayed. And just as Robin decided that infertility was probably a good choice_
Every light in the Cathedral suddenly blew out.
Then the windows darkened abruptly as well, plunging the interior of the Cathedral into thick gloom.
There were screams from outside, as Padrik stopped in mid-sentence, and looked up at the windows, a most unsaintly expression of annoyance on his face.
"What is going _" he began.
But before he could complete his sentence, his final word was obliterated, as a bolt of lightning struck the roof of the Cathedral directly over his head.
The thunder that accompanied it flattened everyone to the floor. Glass shattered and showered the people with tiny slivers and specks; Robin's eyes swam with tears of pain from the burst of light, and she tried to blink away the spots obscuring her vision. Now there were people screaming inside the Cathedral as well as outside, but only the loudest could be heard above the ringing in everyone's ears the thunderclap had caused. The crowd surged towards the exit; she stayed where she was. Trying to move in any direction at all could get them trampled.