Call of Wizardry, page 7
“I do,” said Sienne.
The enormous bronze statue of Kitane looked even taller when you were right up close to the base. Sienne let go Alaric and Dianthe’s hands and craned her neck to see Kitane’s face. The avatar in her warrior guise looked stern, as if she knew what they had in mind and didn’t approve. In life, Kitane had always faced challenges head-on, none of this sneaking around; that was something the avatar Lisiel would have thought appropriate. “We’re saving two lives,” Sienne whispered. “You ought to understand that.”
“Did you say something?” Alaric said.
She shook her head. “The inn is about ten minutes’ walk from here. Dianthe, what comes next?”
“I’ll go ahead,” Dianthe said, “and work out where to conceal the rest of you. There are enough people on the street still—” she gestured vaguely around herself—“that you won’t draw attention. Not like we just did.”
Sienne blushed and looked around. She was used to Fioretti, where there were enough wizards that people appearing from thin air didn’t draw more than a few curious glances. Some people were still staring at them and pointing. “Sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s all right. Nothing to be done about it now.” Dianthe examined the street in both directions. “We’ll just have to brazen it out. Walk like you’re out for an evening stroll, and if you don’t see me by the time you reach the inn, keep walking.” She strode off down the street, more briskly than she’d suggested they walk, and turned a corner that put her out of sight.
Alaric glanced around them. “I think we should definitely start moving. Those people are going to remember us, and I don’t want anyone thinking we’re worth following.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“That wasn’t a criticism, sweetlove. But if you can think of any more misdirection, now would be a good time for it.”
Sienne considered her options: mirror, that created three identical copies of herself, or mirage, to make it look as if they were going two different ways. “I can’t think of anything that wouldn’t just draw more attention to us,” she said. “Like Dianthe said, we have to brazen it out. So…let’s walk.”
She paid close attention to everyone around them as they strolled off after Dianthe. No one seemed to be following them, but she didn’t have Dianthe’s keen sense of her surroundings to perceive someone tailing them. She thought about taking Alaric’s arm to add to the appearance of a couple of friends out for a casual stroll, but decided against it when she thought about imitate being accidentally dispelled through that contact. So she walked, and listened, and tried not to fret. The air was full of the scents of flowers and horse manure in the streets, normally a relaxing smell, but one that at the moment reminded Sienne of how ordinary this walk wasn’t.
They drew closer to the inn, and Dianthe didn’t appear. Sienne felt as if the tall stone houses and shops leaned in over her, watching her and whispering to each other about what she was doing there. Carriages containing men and women out for an evening’s drive passed close by them. It was just her imagination that the passengers stared closely at Sienne and her companions, that they could not only see through imitate but knew the spell was present, that all of them suspected what Sienne was up to… She let out a deep breath and told herself to relax. Nobody knew what they intended, and everything was going to work out well. Just like it already has, she thought, and made herself focus on the next step. Which wasn’t going to happen unless Dianthe showed up.
The inn was only a few dozen yards away. They were going to walk right past it. Sienne had to breathe deeply again and remind herself not to grab Alaric’s hand.
“Over here,” Dianthe whispered, making Sienne jump. They were passing a shop with one of those depressingly elegant brass plaques that read Heristo’s, as if that told anyone anything about its wares. Dianthe beckoned to them from the deep shadow between Heristo’s and the next shop. She stood at the entrance to the alley after they’d all scurried in, watching the passersby. “All right,” she said. “No one’s paying attention to us. It looks like you left any unwanted attention behind.”
“What did you learn?” Alaric said.
“There aren’t any guards posted,” Dianthe said. “This area is too well-trafficked and too wealthy for casual theft, which is what guards are good against. The problem is, that means someone knows there’s no conventional defense against a good thief, so there will be more precautions inside. That makes this more complicated. Not impossible, just complicated.”
“Do you know where my children are?” Perrin demanded.
“I know where they aren’t. Master Delucco wasn’t sufficiently paranoid to light every room to disguise which ones aren’t in use. There are two rooms on the third floor, northwest corner, that were both lit until five minutes ago. Now only one of them is. I’d bet the children are in the first room, and Master Delucco is in the second.”
“That seems a safe bet,” Alaric said. “Do the windows open?”
“No. But they don’t have drapes. Easy enough to see out, or see into.” She looked at Sienne.
“Float, and vanish,” Sienne said, “and I’ll climb up the outside of the building until I can see in, then jaunt to get in and out again. I hesitate to call it easy, because anything could happen, but…it seems easy.”
“Then we’ll wait here while Dianthe shows you which room,” Alaric said, “and come rushing to the rescue when everything goes south.”
“Wait,” Perrin said. “I think…” He pulled out his riffle of blessings and selected one with a rosy smudge on one corner. “I have one more communication blessing. I think I should invoke it on Sienne, so we will have contact in that small way.”
“Like the one you use with Cressida?” Sienne asked. The idea made her nervous. They’d used a similar blessing months ago, linking all their minds, and it had been uncomfortable and awkward, if effective.
“Yes. But it allows one only to hear the other’s coherent thoughts. It will not grant us the ability to perceive each other’s unconscious thoughts or feelings. The effect is rather like hearing someone speak very close in one’s ear.” Perrin held the blessing midway between himself and Sienne.
“All right,” Sienne said. “That makes sense.”
Perrin bowed his head and muttered an invocation under his breath. The paper burst into rose-pink flames that licked over Perrin’s fingers without burning him. Sienne immediately felt a swelling, tight sensation in her ears, as if she’d flown too high too fast on her carpet. She swallowed, and her ears went pop. A dull ringing sensation took the place of the swelling, and then Perrin said, Can you hear me?
She was looking right at him and his lips hadn’t moved. “Yes,” she said, then repeated Yes with her thoughts alone. Perrin nodded.
“I will feel more confident knowing you are not entirely alone up there,” he said.
“Me too, actually,” Sienne agreed. She chanted out vanish, and the world took on a brief rainbow sheen before settling back to normal. Looking down, she saw nothing where her feet and legs had been. “I wish I could see myself,” she complained. “This is unsettling.”
“For us, too,” Alaric said. “Good luck.”
Sienne nodded, remembering too late that she was invisible, and said, “Dianthe, I’m following you, but don’t move too fast.”
Dianthe slipped out of the alley and walked leisurely toward the inn, not paying any attention to it. Sienne followed as closely as she dared. It had a vaguely menacing air about it that was probably Sienne’s imagination, come back to complicate her life again.
Dianthe rounded the corner and continued past the other side of the inn. All the windows were dark but one, and that one was brightly lit as if several lanterns burned there. The lights were the pale yellow of real fire and not the cold white of magic lights, but Sienne didn’t know if there was any significance to that. It probably meant Master Delucco didn’t have a wizard in his train, or it might just mean he didn’t like the starkness of magic lights. But it was too late to worry about that now.
Dianthe stopped beneath the lit window, shaking her foot. Then she removed her boot and turned it upside down, shaking it as if to dislodge a stone. “The window to the right of the lit one,” she whispered. “Good luck.”
Sienne hurried over to the inn’s stone foundation and assessed the wall’s climbing potential. The ground floor, as she’d already noticed, was made of large stones that wouldn’t allow much purchase if she were really going to climb it. The gaps and bulges between stones were big enough for her to push off after casting float, though. The beams of the upper stories crisscrossed each other in interesting patterns and would be even easier to use to work her way around to the correct window. She recited float and felt her feet leave the ground. Pressing herself flat against the wall, she reached for her first handhold.
It was easier than she’d imagined, though some of that was her experience maneuvering with float. She carefully pulled herself from crack to beam, moving slowly though her heart urged her to hurry. Hurrying only bounced you off surfaces harder than you wanted, potentially sending you floating away from your perch and into the air where you’d dangle like a helpless starfish, groping at air. Doing it while invisible made it doubly difficult because she couldn’t see her own hands and had to depend on her fingers’ sense of where they were. Inch by precious inch she climbed, breathing slowly and steadily as she ascended.
She had no idea how long it took her to reach the window, but it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. Better than she’d hoped. She clung to the window frame and peered inside. The rising moon dimly lit the interior, and Sienne held still and waited for her eyes to adjust. Gradually, shapes swelled into view. Two beds, both occupied. A small table beneath the window, with a vase of dying flowers on it—that was close enough she might have touched it if the glass weren’t in the way. A clothespress. And something else, something like a—
Sienne’s heart lurched. Someone sitting very still on a chair near the door. Someone whose eyes glinted in wakeful alertness in the darkness. Someone watching the Delucco children while they slept.
6
Sienne commanded her heart to slow down. Whoever the watcher was, he couldn’t see her, and if he had, he would have raised the alarm. She continued to observe him. He was a dim shape, no more distinct than the children sleeping in their beds, but he had short hair cut in a masculine style, so she felt confident of his gender. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his legs were stretched out: alert, but not tense. That struck her as bad for her plan.
She withdrew from the window, leaned back against the wall, and thought There is someone in the room with the children.
A pause, then Perrin said, Can you snatch the children before he reacts?
No. Transport takes too long to cast. I need him out of the room.
Wait a moment.
Sienne wished she could hear the argument no doubt going on just then. Don’t let anyone set fire to the inn, she thought. We’re not criminals.
The pause that followed told her someone had suggested it. We will not, Perrin finally said. We have a plan.
Do I need to do anything?
Be prepared to take the children the instant their guard leaves.
All right. What’s the plan?
I intend to walk in there and demand the return of my children.
Sienne gasped. You can’t do that!
It is not illegal. My father will enjoy gloating. And I intend to make enough noise to draw that man out of the children’s room. If not, the others will start a fight.
That’s a terrible plan.
It is better than arson, don’t you agree?
She didn’t know what to say to that. I’m ready when you are, she said.
Perrin didn’t reply. She decided not to say anything more for fear of distracting him. True, there was nothing illegal in his asking to see his father or demanding the children’s return, but Sienne knew enough of Master Delucco to know he was capable of hurting Perrin when he got him alone and in private. O Averran, she prayed silently, he’s your servant—please see him through this.
Distantly, she heard the inn door open, and after about a minute, it closed again. I am inside, Perrin told her. Once more she heard only the sounds of carriages passing and the melodic trill of a fiddle from some tavern a short way down the street. Then the guard stirred, sitting up and turning his head to look at the door. Sienne held her breath. That’s right, get up and investigate, she mentally urged him.
What was that? Perrin asked.
Nothing. Sorry. She chewed her lower lip in agitation. The guard leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, but didn’t stand. She heard nothing more from inside the inn.
He is infuriating, Perrin said. But not infuriated. Do not be afraid, whatever you hear.
That made her more afraid than ever. The guard sat up again, alerted by some sound Sienne couldn’t hear. One of the children stirred—Sienne couldn’t tell which—and she heard a muffled sound that might have been the guard telling the child to go back to sleep. Sienne hoped the noises would wake both children. Transport would be easier if they were conscious.
She heard shouting from nearby—from inside, not outside. She couldn’t make out the words, but the first voice was joined by a second, and both sounded furious. The guard stood and went to the door, but hesitated before opening it. Then he walked to the window and looked outside, not just at the street below, but to both sides. Sienne held her breath, though it was impossible he could see her. This close, his face was visible, and she shuddered at how hard and cruel it looked, with a long, sharp nose and thin lips. It was a wonder the Delucco children had been able to fall asleep with someone like that hovering over them.
The guard gave one last, long look at the street below, which was empty of passersby. Then he strode to the door and flung it open. Delphine sat up and said something that was muffled by the glass. The guard replied in harsh tones Sienne also couldn’t understand. He glared at Delphine while she cringed, and Sienne thought about force-blasting him. Then he slammed the door behind himself.
Sienne chanted jaunt almost too fast to be effective and felt the eerie sensation of being pulled through the wall and into the room. Delphine was still sitting up, and Noel was stirring. “Don’t scream,” she said in a low voice. “It’s Sienne Verannus. I’ve come to take you home.”
“What?” Noel murmured. Delphine, despite Sienne’s warning, let out a tiny shriek.
“Take my hands—oh, here they are, and don’t worry, I’m just invisible,” Sienne said. She grabbed Noel’s somewhat sticky hand—how did children always manage to get sticky no matter what they’d been doing?—and Delphine’s warm, nervously sweaty one. “Hold each other’s hands, and don’t let go, all right? You’ll be with your mother soon.”
“But—” Delphine began.
“No talking! Do you want that man to come back?” Sienne began speaking the sharp syllables of transport, hoping they wouldn’t be interrupted, hoping the children would hold on to her and to each other. Her heart was going fast enough to choke her, not something she needed when she had to speak clearly.
The door flung open again, and the hard-faced guard stood silhouetted against it. Sienne got a good look at him; he looked stunned at what to him looked like the Delucco children with their arms outstretched for a hug. It was all the distraction Sienne needed. She spat out the last syllable and the spell jerked her sideways—
—and into the Verannus library. Sienne released the children’s hands.
“Mama!” Noel shrieked, and Sienne turned in time to see both children fling themselves on their mother, who had begun to rise from the armchair and was knocked back into it by the force of their greeting.
“Sienne,” Cressida said, “where are you? Where is Perrin?”
“I’ll be back,” Sienne gasped, and jaunted back to the closest place she could think of, which was also the most dangerous—the bedroom she’d just taken the children from. With Perrin in some unknown danger, and the rest of her friends Averran knew where, she didn’t have time to waste going to the statue and running to the inn from there.
Lights filled the room, blinding her. She stepped back to press herself against the window. “—and your filthy co-conspirators,” Master Delucco snarled. He was a handsome man in his sixties, with silver hair disordered around his face as if he’d been fighting.
Two burly men, one the guard who’d been watching the children, held Perrin up between them. Perrin sagged as if his legs wouldn’t support him. His dark hair fell around his face, and his left eye looked bruised. “You do not think I would risk losing my children forever by stealing them?” he said. His voice was steadier than the rest of him. “I have no proof they were ever here. What have you done with them?”
They’re safe. I’m here, in the room with you, Sienne thought.
Perrin didn’t react. “You have overstepped yourself,” he continued, “and I will—”
Master Delucco slapped Perrin hard enough to make his head rock back. “You continue to defy me?” he shouted. “Faithless, treacherous whelp! It’s past time I taught you your place.” He worked his belt free from his trousers. “Hold him fast. I want him to feel every stripe.”
The two men wrestled Perrin around to face the wall. Perrin! Sienne thought.
Fury, Perrin thought. Stop them all.
But it will take you as well!
Do it, Sienne!
Perrin started shouting vicious swear words Sienne didn’t realize he knew. It took her a moment to understand he was providing cover for her spellcasting. Swiftly she chanted the harsh, acidic syllables of fury, praying Perrin knew what he was about. Master Delucco raised his arm for the first strike. Sienne spoke faster, conscious of the need for perfect timing—too fast, or too slow, and the spell would slip away and she’d have to start over.
