Sartor (36 page)

Merewen turned her head from side to side as though
listening for something beyond normal hearing.

An image of some kind—not her memory, it had that blue
‘feel’ to it which meant it was from the Loi, somehow—overlaid
dream images, so bright and vivid and urgent she almost couldn’t see her
own bare toes on the watery stone. It was all too quick and too strange for her
to make enough sense of it to explain. She could only shake her head and point,
and hope that as these images were getting stronger, they might become more
comprehensible.

Hinder said, “It’s got to be the tower. That
means the palace is up that way. Maybe Lilah and I should begin our guarding from
here.” He hefted his bow.

Lilah gave a lopsided smile. “How about if we each
patrol back and forth? I’ve got my Sharadan Brothers tools. They ought to
be good for something.”

Atan drew in a shaky breath. “There are only two of
you. And you are very dear. Maybe we should go together. Four would be better,
should we encounter the enemy.”

“Guarding your back actually means decoying them away
from you,” Lilah reminded her. “We can’t do that if we’re
all together.”

“Now.” Merewen rubbed her eyes, then darted into
the left fork, her bare feet smacking on the old stone. Atan cast a worried
look back at the other two, then followed after.

“Let’s go,” Hinder said, and Lilah
followed, trying to quell her churning stomach.

o0o

After a long time of quiet, Julian heard horse hooves and
voices. She stood up, hoping it was Rel.

A circle of unfamiliar men gazed down at her. They looked
like those terrible riders who had chased them. That meant they were the
Norsundrians.

She’d thought out a plan in case they came.

“Help?” she cried, trying to sound as babyish as
she could.

They talked in low voices, then a man said, “Well,
bring her up.”

A man extended his hand, reaching down. Julian stood on her
tiptoes. Fingers grasped her wrist and hauled her to the surface and set her
down. The light seemed bright, and she blinked.

“Who are you?”

“Julian. Who are you?”

“Kessler,” the man said, as someone behind
laughed.

Kessler shot a glance backward, and into the instant
silence, he asked Julian, “How did you get down there?”

“I fell,” Julian said. “I was playing.”

“Playing!” one of the men repeated, and laughed.
“In the middle of a war?”

Kessler said, “I don’t think she’s an
artifact of the war. This grate was recently moved. Look at the marks.”
Then, back to Julian, who understood that her plan had gone awry. Her eyes
stung. She’d thought it out so carefully!

“You moved that grate yourself?” Kessler asked.

Julian said stoutly, “Sure.”

“Then let’s see you put it back.”

She knew she wouldn’t be able to move it. Once again,
disappointment made her eyes sting as she gazed up at Kessler, whose eyes were
so much like Atan’s in shape, but their color was blue. Was he a cousin
of some sort?

He looked down at the teary face with the same interest,
thinking,
This one isn’t Yustnesveas Landis. A sister? Cousin?

Whoever she was, he knew she was lying. Well, so was
everyone else. The brat was smart enough to get an early start.

He tipped his head back and glanced skyward. To the west
stood the old tower, the one even Detlev couldn’t bring down, only bind
by magical wards. What had happened was clear enough; someone, probably the
Landis girl, had gotten into the city via the drains. The only surprise was
that they’d left this brat behind to cover for them.

“The Landis girl and her little band have not only
breached the city, they’re probably in or near that tower,” he said
to his men. They muttered, then he cut them off and pointed at the drain. “Tell
Abselec to flush ’em out,” he said to one of the runners, who
leaped up on his horse and galloped away.

Then he turned his attention back to Julian. She was small,
but smart.

“Come along,” he said. “My guess is that your
friend won’t like seeing your fingers broken one by one, will she?”

Julian’s eyes welled with tears at last, not from fear,
for she had scarcely comprehended his words, but from the conviction that her
plan, her own plan of which she’d been so proud, had gone completely wrong.
She should have stayed with the sisters, even if Irza pinched and whispered
about
princesses
—

Julian gulped, and then bit her lips, struggling not to cry
in front of these enemies.

Kessler laughed, and lifted her up onto his horse. “Cheer
up. Nobody dies from broken fingers, and my guess is your friend will only be
able to stand seeing one or two broken before she gives it up. I promise I’ll
let you go as soon as she does.”

Julian heaved a shaky sob.

“I’ll even set them for you, first,”
Kessler said, still smiling, for he now had the wherewithal to stop Atan—whether
or not Dejain showed up with all her magic spells that, so far, did not seem to
be working. “I learned how to set bones when I was your age. It happened
often enough to me, and I never did have any friend to bind mine.”

He mounted behind her, and they rode away straight for the
city gates.

o0o

Merewen and Atan found their drain tunnel angling upward. It
became a passageway, complete with glowglobes set at intervals. The air was
very still, cool but not cold.

Abruptly the passage changed to a stairway, which they ran
up, both breathing hard. The came to a wooden door, pushed their way through,
and found themselves standing on a carpet of midnight blue, woven with
intertwined lilies. Atan smelled dust and wool. Her neck-hairs prickled because
the scents were so familiar, yet the place was new to her eyes.

It was her
home
.

She tried to take a step and discovered that she was
trembling. Merewen glanced her way anxiously. “This way.”

The pull of the magic was stronger now, for them both.

They ran down the carpeted hallway, their footsteps
soundless. Atan tried to be aware of her surroundings, but only retained
impressions of carved furnishings, handsome inlay, wall-sconces, and tapestries.
A window cast low winter light aslant at their feet as they passed. The smell
of mildew made her want to laugh because it was so... so ordinary, so
unexpected, and because if she didn’t laugh she might yell and scream.

They rounded a corner and jolted to a stop, face to face
with four Norsundrian soldiers.

o0o

Lilah and Hinder toiled back and forth, eyeing the many dark
tunnel entrances. For a while, neither spoke.

“There are way too many of these tunnels,” Lilah
finally pointed out.

“So you didn’t see which one they used?”
Hinder sighed.

Lilah grimaced. “Great back guards we turned out to
be.”

Hinder put his hands on his hips. “Then we lost them.
I don’t think we’ll make amends by walking around to no purpose,
unless the Norsundrians come.”

“So let’s be organized. We’ll choose a
tunnel, explore to its end, then retreat back here. Go to the next. Keep doing
it until we find their tower.”

“Good idea.”

The next stairway they came to, they toiled up, Lilah
grumbling about how nastily her shoes squished in the moss. Hinder, barefooted,
smiled inwardly.

They reached the top and discovered a latched grate that
seemed to be built into a kind of well. They swung the grate down, popped their
heads up—and found themselves in a little courtyard. Surrounding them
were a number of Norsundrians, all watching with interest. Swords, knives, and
bows pointed their way.

They looked at one another and heaved a sigh.

“So much for my good ideas,” Lilah muttered.
“I know...”

Hinder was astonished when she gazed around, her mouth open.
“Where am I?” she said slowly, as though blind.

The enchantment!
Delighted with her quick thinking,
Hinder extended his hands, as though feeling along a darkened tunnel. “Where
am I?” he echoed, fumbling around as if they’d just woken up from
the century-long dream.

o0o

Atan and Merewen dove under a side table.

The four Norsundrians marched right past, their gazes so
fixed and distant it was clear that they were enchanted. The girls could have
stood still right out in the open and those warriors never would have seen
them.

How long had those men been marching around like that? Atan wondered.

It didn’t matter. The important thing was that the
enchantment binding Sartor still seemed to be in force in places, but so far,
at least, she and Merewen were escaping its effect.

So far.

“Up here.” Merewen pointed at an archway,
through which they could see a curving stair. Atan swayed, rubbing her eyes.
I’m
dizzy
.

The stairway was narrow, made of a peculiar glistening white
stone. It spiraled upward twice before opening into a round room jumbled with
tables and rolled tapestries, and shelves and trunks. Near at hand were books spread
open on a little round table with thin gilt-edged legs. The books looked very,
very old. Atan bent down to look. The book was so old that the writing was
vertical, and not across.
Old Sartoran.

Atan was
here.
This was the ancient tower.

So... what was she supposed to find? Tsauderei had felt
certain that once she reached this place, she would discover the means to end
the enchantment. So far, in spite of all the dangers, she’d made it. So
she must keep on.

She turned in a slow circle, taking in every object: the
rich velvet hangings, the fine molding on the hilts of a stack of swords
against a cabinet, and shelves and shelves of books and scrolls. This chamber
appeared to be an archive, with most of the written records neatly stored,
except for that pile over on the walnut table with the curving legs that looked
like stylized animal legs. The small pile of books lay in disorder, as though
hastily put down. And they did not look old, either.

She picked up the closest. The writing was small and dense,
each entry topped with a date more than a century ago. This was a diary or
journal. She leafed back through, until her eye was caught by the word
Dei
.
She skimmed rapidly, and saw that it was an indictment of the Dei family for
conspiracy—

She closed the book and laid it down, turning around with a
furtive, almost guilty glance.

Merewen stood on the other side of the room, watching her.

“Is it bad for you, too?” she asked.

“Bad?” Atan didn’t know how to answer, so
she shrugged.

Merewen sat down, hugging her arms close. “You don’t
see double, like me, do you? I think you are feeling bad about the Deis, aren’t
you?”

Atan could not hide her surprise.

Merewen sighed and turned her head to observe the pale blue
shapes crowding about, somewhat like the flickers in the water of the lakes
underground, but these were made of air. Sometimes she could see through them
to the solid walls and furnishings of wood and stone and fabric, but then there
were brief, sparkling moments when she saw different shapes, a little like shadows
except in color, and there were the hands that had shaped the stone walls, and
carved the wood, and woven the fabric—memories sent by the blue ones.
Many of them whispered.

When Atan opened the book, Merewen heard a whisper reading
the entries aloud. When Atan laid the book down, the whisper went silent.
Merewen was glad. She didn’t like the tone or the hurtful words about the
Deis, who she knew were part of her family.

As Atan stood there looking sad and puzzled, Merewen moved through
the crowd of blue shadows step by step, as though she were in water, until she
found herself in reach of a new object made of paper with words on it, a great,
beautifully bound tome. Golden clasps kept it shut. All the blue shadows
gathered around.

Merewen looked up at Atan. “Touch it.”

Yes. That was right. The blue hands reached, some with
fingers spread, some with cupped palms, as though holding precious water. All
over and around and under the book.

Atan extended a grubby hand. She saw her own dust and mud-smeared
fingers and snatched them back, and tried to wipe them clean, but her clothes
were also grubby and damp. So she reached again and gently laid her hand on the
book.

Snap!
With a spark of magic, more felt than seen, a
glowing image of a plump, sweet-faced woman of grandmotherly age appeared
between the girls.

“Lilith the Guardian,” Atan whispered,
wonderstruck. Tsauderei had told her about the Old Sartoran sorceress often
enough, and shown her a sketch made by unknown hands, in a scroll a thousand
years old. She, like the authors of Norsunder, lived beyond time.

I leave this message with the Loi, for the one who comes
to break the spell,
she said.

Atan glanced at Merewen’s bowed head. Did she hear
something different?

The binding spells are here in this book, but you must be
trained in magic to perform them, lest you lose yourself between what we call
the measures of time
.

The woman’s image faded into faint twinkles, like
distant stars, and then winked out, leaving Atan staring down at the
gold-clasped book.

“That’s me,” she said. “I am the
one.”

She opened the book.

o0o

Irza and her party halted in a drain when they heard scrapes
and sloshes. The noise swiftly resolved into Kessler’s guards marching
along the main drain, one of them cursing.

Irza grinned. “This is the right one,” she whispered.
“I remember it, I remember it!”

“Do you know where we are?” Sana asked.

“Oh yes, I do,” Irza said, full of joy. “I
know exactly where we are. That way is Parleas Terrace, where Ianth House lies.”
Her voice was full of pride. “So the Apsos is over there.” She
raised her voice. “Oh
, Princess Yustnesveas Landis!
This way!”