Angst (Book 4) (26 page)

4

Iscara hurried from the king’s chambers and nearly ran
through the corridors to escape from the place. Everything she thought she knew
was falling apart! Argyle wasn’t in charge,
the king
was? And Grayle
hosted
Argyle? She’s too small for that! Argyle was a giant, not a parasite! And
what’s this Gem of Transformation? Argyle
lived there
? Who’s this
Sympatat, anyway? Why did the king send
her
to find out what was
happening with Argyle? Why hadn’t he sent a wizard, instead? They were more
attuned to magic than she was! Healers knew a lot about life magic and death
magic, but almost nothing about the rest of it. They understood how magic
worked
within
living things, but they didn’t know much about how to make
it work
outside
them. So how in the world was she supposed to learn
something about Argyle?

Her thoughts continued to jump around from Argyle to King
Tyr to Grayle to Symptata to her imminent death to Typhus to Angus to….

Nothing made sense anymore, and she didn’t like it. But the
king had given her an order, and if she didn’t obey it, the king would punish
her—
Argyle
would punish her
for
the king, and she knew what
Argyle would do. No, what
Grayal
would do when she hosted Argyle again.
Unless Symotap—

She almost screamed as she rushed to the nearest entrance of
Argyle’s domain and hastened through the
unguarded
door. She ran recklessly
through the
abandoned
tunnels until she came to the last corridor, the
one where the door to Argyle’s meeting chamber was waiting for her. It was
closed, and the snake’s head jutted forth, ready to strike out at her. She had
never thought of the knocker as menacing before, but now that she knew who
Argyle was—and
wasn’t
—it suddenly terrified her.

She slowed down and stopped in front of it. What would
happen if she put her hand inside the snake’s mouth and pressed down on the
forked-tongue lever? If ever there was ever a time for Argyle to have the
snake’s fangs clamp down on her and inject their poison, it would be now, when
neither Grallow nor the king had control of him—when
Symtapi
had
control. Or did he? Couldn’t Argyle be the one in control, not Symtopoi? The
king had the Gem of Transformation, didn’t he? Wouldn’t that mean that Argyle
was free to do as he pleased? What if killing her pleased him?

She shook her head. How would she know? She was a healer,
not a wizard, and even if she were a wizard, she probably still wouldn’t know
what was going on. What did it matter, anyway? The king had ordered her to find
out what she could about Argyle, and she couldn’t do that from out here, could
she?
I should have gone home for the antidote,
she thought in distress.
I
still can.

She looked back the way she had come and thought about going
after it. But the king wanted her to check on Argyle,
now
, didn’t he?
She put her hand into the snake’s mouth, but she didn’t push down on the lever.
She had betrayed Argyle again, hadn’t she? He had forgiven her for helping
Typhus escape—again—but that was only because she had told him where Typhus had
left the key Argyle wanted back. How would he react when he found out that she
had failed to get that key from Anguns? Sardach had been with her when that had
happened, and he would know about it. But he hadn’t summoned her, had he? If he
had wanted to punish her for it, he would have sent for her long before now. If
he could. Maybe Sumptupa had already taken control of him by then? Now she had
come to Argyle on her own, and he wasn’t expecting her. That could end badly
for her, couldn’t it?

What if it wasn’t Argyle? What if he wasn’t even there
anymore? There had been rumors, and from what the king had said, those rumors
could be true. Mostly true. Argyle could be dead. But the king didn’t think so;
he thought someone else had taken control over him. What if it had? Would
this—what was the name? Simplete? Simoplet? Something like that?—even recognize
her name when she announced herself? Would he even know about how the door
worked?

She
almost
pulled her arm out of the snake’s mouth,
almost
ran back to her little shop to get the antidote,
almost
thought about
fleeing Tyrag altogether to avoid the king’s wrath, but she didn’t. Instead,
she pressed down on the tongue and waited for Argyle’s ominous, booming
monotone to ask who it was that wished to see him. Only, it didn’t happen. The
mouth closed on her forearm with just enough pressure to worry her, like it
always did, but the eyes didn’t glow red and Argyle’s ominous voice didn’t boom
through the corridor asking, “Who calls upon me?”

She stood there waiting, her arm thrust into the snake’s
mouth, the fangs almost piercing her skin, the poison ready to be injected into
her arm, but nothing happened. Seconds passed, and a heart-rending silence
closed in about her. What if Argyle
couldn’t
open the door? Would the
snake release her? Or would she be held there until she withered and died? If
that happened, she would have to pull her arm out and risk being poisoned as
the fangs gouged long gashes into her forearm and clamped onto her hand. The
gashes wouldn’t bother her—she could heal them fairly easily—and the pain would
help clear her mind. But the poison…

Minutes passed before she finally decided to reach out with
her free hand and tried to pry open the snake’s mouth, but it didn’t budge. She
tried to tug her arm free, but the snake bit down so snugly that her arm barely
moved. She would have to jerk more firmly, and that might lead the snake to
bite down more fiercely to hang onto her. But what choice did she have? Minutes
had already passed, and Argyle still hadn’t asked who was there. Maybe he
couldn’t? Maybe he was already gone? Maybe Sumptupa didn’t understand Argyle’s
knocker? Maybe Argyle’s lair had been abandoned, just like the tunnels and
doors? Maybe—

The snake suddenly released her arm, and she pulled it free
so quickly that she stumbled backward. As she regained her balance, she
wondered if all she’d had to do was wait. If Argyle didn’t respond within a
given amount of time, did the snake release his visitor, just like it had
released her? But that had
never
happened; there was always someone
tending to the knocker. Always. If it wasn’t Argyle, it was Crooked Knife. But
he was dead now. If it wasn’t Crooked Knife, it was another one of his chief
henchmen. But most of them were dead, too. But Argyle
never
left the
door mechanism untended. There was always someone in the little alcove ready to
pull a lever to let them in or pull another lever to release them and send them
away—or pull the last lever to release the poison.

She stared at the door, wondering if it would open. If not,
there was nothing more she could do. Perhaps that was for the best? Perhaps she
could return to the king and tell him Argyle wouldn’t let her into his lair?
She would have to explain the knocker, of course, but Grayule—she had to
remember to remember her name the next time she heard it—would confirm what she
told him. Maybe—

The door began to slide into the wall.

She stared at the ever-widening gap and shuddered. There was
a faint hint of green light in the air beyond….

5

“I’m telling you Ortis, he’s not the same,” Hobart said as
they walked their horses along The Rim. “You should have seen him in Commander
Garret’s office. He was disrespectful and insubordinate, and when Commander
Garret gave him the orders he started laughing. He barely stopped long enough
to tell me ‘We leave at dawn and head north.’ Then he stormed out without even
telling me what it was all about. Commander Garret
was not
happy, but I
told him it wasn’t like Angus to act that way. That was when he asked me again
if I thought it
was
Angus, and I told him he was. I hope I wasn’t
wrong.”

“He is different,” Ortis agreed. “I was standing near the
barracks door when he left, and he didn’t even look at me when I called out to
him. He just went over to the edge of the wall and jumped off.”

“I don’t trust him, Ortis,” Hobart admitted, “and it isn’t
because he’s changed. That’s a part of it, but there were two of him when
Sardach flew off, and the one we have doesn’t seem right. The other one might
have been our Angus, but this one….” He shook his head and made a fist.
“There’s something wrong about him.”

“Hobart,” Ortis said. “You haven’t even talked to him yet.”

“I don’t need to,” Hobart protested. “Our Angus would never
have treated Commander Garret that way. Even when he was angry, he was polite
about it.”

Ortis was silent for a few seconds, and then said, “He
seemed preoccupied last night when I spoke to him in his room. He had that
distant look he gets when he’s not really paying attention to what’s around
him. There’s more to this than either of us know.”

“Perhaps,” Hobart acknowledged.

“You know he’s been kept in Hellsbreath since he arrived,
don’t you?”

“Commander Garret said something about that,” Hobart
answered. “He said King Tyr had sent orders to keep Angus confined to the city
and gave him the authority to arrest him if it was needed.” He paused and
frowned.
Like what Taro said he saw in that vision.

“Angus mentioned it to me last night,” Ortis said. “But he
said something else, as well. He believes Hellsbreath is in danger and the
king’s orders were preventing him from saving it. He blames Commander Garret for
not letting him leave. Perhaps that is why he was rude?”

Is that it?
Hobart wondered.
Is Angus angry with
Commander Garret for obeying his orders? That’s stupid. He should know by now
that a soldier follows orders, whether they like them or not. Even bad orders
have to be obeyed. But Angus isn’t a soldier, is he?
“He thinks Hellsbreath
is in danger?” he asked. “From what?”

“He didn’t say,” Ortis answered, “but he wouldn’t have acted
the way he did if he didn’t believe it was.”

Taro saw Angus surrounded by fire,
Hobart thought.
Commander
Garret is preparing to evacuate the city.
He looked up at the dull gray of
predawn and wondered what he would see above him if he could see magic. Was the
dome breaking? Angus would know that, wouldn’t he? But so would the other
wizards, and they weren’t acting like they could stop whatever it was that was
about to happen. “Commander Garret thinks the volcanoes might erupt,” he
muttered. “He didn’t want to go south or north because of them.”

Ortis turned to him and frowned. “You were ordered into The
Tween, weren’t you?”

Hobart nodded. “We have been ordered ‘to retrieve what has
been taken and return it to its rightful place,’” he quoted. “Angus knows what
was taken, but he didn’t tell us what it was.”

“Whatever it was,” Ortis said, “he believes he can get it
back.”

Hobart shook his head and frowned. “See?” he said. “That’s
not like Angus at all, is it? He never had that kind of confidence when we knew
him. He
acted
like he did, but we all knew better.”

“Have you forgotten how he carried himself before Giorge was
cursed?” Ortis said. “Wintering in Hellsbreath changed him. He wasn’t as naïve
as he was when we first met him.
That
Angus would never have tormented
Giorge the way he did.”

“Yes,” Hobart agreed. “And then he got strange when we
crossed that plateau. That’s what I’m talking about. He
isn’t
Angus, not
the one we know.”

Ortis was silent for a few paces, and then he shrugged. “I don’t
think it was false bravado, Hobart,” Ortis said. “Angus believes he could have
stopped what is about to happen, and I think a part of him blames himself for
not being allowed to do it.”

“Maybe,” Hobart hedged.
Am I being too harsh?
he
wondered.
Guilt can change a man. It changed me
…. He pushed away the
memories threatening to erupt in him and changed the subject. “Do you believe
Taro?”

Ortis looked at him and shrugged. “Is there reason not to?”

Hobart frowned. Taro claimed to be a seer, but they were all
dead, weren’t they? SOPS they were called now, and it wasn’t said with
kindness. But the way Taro had described Angus had been uncanny. He had heard
trained scouts give less detailed reports than what Taro had described.
And
he knew Hobart’s name before they had even met. Of course, he could have heard
about him from someone else….

They walked in silence for several paces, and then Ortis
said, “You know, when I told Angus Commander Garret had left you an urgent
message, he almost walked out of his room without me. I almost wish he had.”

Hobart glanced over at his friend’s pale profile and said, “You
are more than welcome to go your own way, Ortis.”

Ortis barely shook his head. “It’s not that,” he said. “He
flew me over to the barracks with him.” He paused and added, “It was not a
pleasant experience.”

Hobart laughed. “Is that all?”

Ortis shrugged. “It was enough.”

They walked in silence for a few seconds, and then Ortis
asked, “Are you going to tell him about the visions?”

Hobart frowned. Should he tell Angus about them? A soldier
who believes he will die…. He shook his head. “I don’t know, Ortis. It will
depend on what he has to tell us.”

Dagremon rode up beside them and said, “You should tell
him.”

“Eavesdropping, Dagremon?” Hobart said. “That is beneath
you, isn’t it?”

“Speak softer, then, Hobart,” Dagremon countered.

“I thought you were getting supplies,” Hobart accused.

Dagremon nodded. “I have arranged to have them delivered,”
she said. She looked ahead of them and asked, “Are you heading north?”

“For a space,” Hobart said. “Our destination is in The
Tween.” Why had he told her that? It wasn’t as if the mission was a secret one,
but she didn’t need to know about it, did she?

Dagremon turned toward him and her violet eyes captured the
torchlight as they studied Hobart. There was something strange about those
eyes, and it wasn’t just the color or that there was an elf behind them. They
seemed to see things that he couldn’t see—things that
shouldn’t
be seen.

“What of you, Dagremon?” Ortis asked. “Are you northbound as
well?”

Dagremon turned to him and nodded. “Yes,” she said, then
turned back to Hobart. “Perhaps I might ride with you?” A smile seemed to dance
with her eyes as she added, “For a space?”

Hobart met those dancing eyes with his most stolid stare,
the one that had sent fishmen to fight another foe. It had been strange enough
to ride with the quiet little elf to Hellsbreath, but now she wanted to go with
them on their way north? If she had planned to do so all along, why hadn’t she
said anything about it? For that matter, when was the last time she had gone
anywhere
?
She was up to something, but what could it be? “Are you bound for Wyrmwood,
then?” he asked.

Dagremon turned away and said nothing for several seconds.
When she turned back, her eyes were flat, dark, and distant. “I go where you
go,” she half-whispered, her voice heavy, almost like it was speaking through
water. “It is the place I need to be.” Then she shuddered and blinked, and her
violet eyes were piercing into his again.

Hobart turned his attention to the lift area, where Angus
was waiting for them. Angus was talking to another wizard, and when he looked
up and saw them, he waved for Hobart to join them. Hobart ignored him and
turned back to Dagremon. There was something disturbing about what she said,
and it wasn’t just the way she said it. It was too enigmatic. “You talk like Taro,”
he accused. “He didn’t make sense.”

Dagremon’s violet eyes were dancing as she laughed and said,
“His words will be clear to you in time. As will mine.”

Riddles,
Hobart grumbled to himself. “That is not
enough, Dagremon,” he said. “We are leaving on an important mission for the
king, and there is no room for you in our party.”

Dagremon shrugged. “Our destinies have crossed paths,
Hobart,” she said. “It is wise not to fight against such things.”

Destinies?
Hobart thought, shaking his head.
More
nonsense. We build our own destinies!
Angus and the other wizard moved to
the back of the line of early morning passengers preparing to board the lift.
He waved again, more urgently this time, but Hobart ignored him. “Dagremon,” He
said as he plodded forward. “You cannot go with us.”

Dagremon smiled and rode forward to report to the scribe.

Hobart and Ortis stopped in line behind her, but the old
scribe looked past her and half-shouted, “Angus told me you were coming,
Hobart. Go on ahead. The lift is waiting for you.”

Hobart nodded and walked forward at a slow, steady pace. The
false dawn caused by the mountain’s shadow was around them, but the first
streamers of sunlight were stretching across the valley below them.
Dawn
,
he thought.
And already a strange day.