The Keys to Paradise, page 54
The candle threw its light against crudely finished grey stone. The passage was low, the ceiling only a few inches higher than Keja’s head. It was cold, but Giles thought perhaps that came from the ice in the cold room. No water dripped from the walls; their dryness complemented the rough surface.
They walked forty feet to the passage end. The candle showed metal rungs affixed to the wall ahead of them, a ladder which disappeared up into the dark. Giles tested the bottom putting his weight on it. It was solid and he held the candle in one hand, reaching for the next rung.
‘I’m going up. Wait here.’ His voice rumbling in the hollow passage, but he was certain that, no matter how stranger the acoustics of the citadel, it would only be one more rumbling voice in the myriad which must reach Onyx’s chamber.
The rungs remained firm, and Giles climbed twenty feet into the darkness, the candle showing only the sides of the shaft. At length Giles reached the top and stepped cautiously out onto the floor of another passage. It appeared to be much like the one they had entered: dry grey stone, high enough for the party to walk through. He examined it for several feet, then returned and motioned with the candle for them to come ahead.
When the party had assembled again, they discussed lighting a second candle but decided against it. Giles looked for a second set of rungs to take them to a higher floor, but there was none in sight. He led off down the passageway, intent on exploring to the west.
At the end of the passage they found not only another ladder set in the stone, but a passage leading to the right.
‘We haven’t gone high enough to be at the level to find any hidden room.’ Giles moved toe candle about, intently studying the walls and ceiling. He motioned at the rungs. They climbed again. This time finding two passages and a ladder.
Giles felt comfortable that they were now at a proper level to explore seriously. He suggested that they turn right, and with the candle held high to light their way, led off down the passage. They walked quietly but to their own ears their footsteps sounded like the rumble of thunder.
A soft breeze blew through the passages. Sometimes it was their faces, sometimes behind them. Occasionally a gust made Giles wonder at the cause. They closed their eyes to keep out dust picked up from the floor.
From time to time they heard voices of guards giving the night-time challenges as they made their rounds of the fortress. They sounded edgy tonight, probably from lack of sleep on the previous night, Giles thought. He remembered such nights himself, nights during the War, when everyone knew that men like themselves sat on the opposite side of the meadow or at the edge of a forest, waiting for the dawn. Perhaps the testiness they occasionally heard would be of some assistance to them, though he couldn’t conceive how.
They came to a spy hole in the wall. Giles was astonished at the thickness of these interior walls. The spy hole angled downward through the stone, to enable looking down into hallways and passages. Once he watched a young officer in discussion with an even younger guard. The guard’s face showed apprehension, if not fright, at having no older companion with which to share his watch. The officer patted him on the shoulder before continuing on his rounds. He’ll have enough to do before this night is over, Giles thought. He had done the same to many a young recruit.
They came to the end of yet another passage and halted. Petia pulled a farmer’s sausage from her pocked, took a bit, and passed it on. ‘Does anyone know where we are?’ she asked around a mouthful of meat.
‘I do,’ Keja replied, passing the sausage on to Anji. ‘We’re on the fourth floor, at the intersection of the farthest east hallway and the long main corridor.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Giles said. ‘That hallway that we looked down on is not the main hallway.’
‘The point I’m trying to make is,’ Petia said, ‘do we know how to get back to where we entered this maze? We’ve been turning corners right and left, and I have the feeling that not one of us has been keeping track.’
Giles said, ‘I can get us back from here. Don’t worry.’ But the Trans saw that Giles’ attention lay elsewhere.
‘I’ll be the one responsible from here on. I don’t want someone stumbling across our skeletons a hundred years from now.’ She pulled out a piece of string from her pocket. ‘An old Trans trick.’ Petia smiled. ‘Nothing to worry about from here on,’ she said, as she knotted it once.
Thirteen
The citadel must be honeycombed with the hidden passages, perhaps reaching the top of the many-storied building. Most important, might one of them provide a vantage from which to look down into the throne room, the private chamber, or even the bedchamber of Lord Onyx?
The candle had burned to a stub, dripping hot wax onto Giles’ fingers. He handed it to Keja and pulled another form his pouch, lighting it. When it was burning well, he blew Keja’s out, warning him, ‘Keep that stub. We may need it before we’re through.’
With the new candle lighted and confidence in Petia’s ability to keep tracks of the twists and turns, they pressed on. The bit of sausage had relieved their hunger, but Giles wished they had brought provisions. The gigantic citadel might take days to explore. There was hope now of reaching parts of the complex which they would never have attempted during night-time forays through the main hallways and corridors. They couldn’t stay for long, however, without food. They would need to return to the kitchen area during the night to steal provisions. Giles’ stomach knotted at the closeness of the passage; while he trusted Petia’s skills, he wondered if he would be able to win free of this maze.
But for the final key, anything could be endured.
They came to another spy hole and gathered around it to peer down into a darkened hallway. Light flickered from a flambeau and Giles heard boots echoing, but no guardsman came into view. They moved on, finding more spy holes. This part of the citadel had many spaced evenly along the passage. They looked down from both sides of the passage into both the hallway and the interiors of rooms.
The overall structure of the building was complex, but there was a pattern to it, a genius of a master builder. He might compare with the great Alvarious Teneclif, whose masterpiece, the palace at Yetmifune, Giles had once seen during his wanderings.
Petia looked down into a suite similar to the one in which they had been held when they first arrived. Voices carried on the air, faintly at first, then louder and with a great deal of clarity.
‘It’s Maida that I want,’ a young male voice said. ‘Have you watched her hips when she walks away? She holds herself so straight and her figure is delicious. Oh, for just one night with her.’
Petia turned bright crimson. ‘That’s what I get for spying,’ she whispered. ‘That’s how the sound must travel. Through the spy holes along these passages. The problem is that you can’t tell where it’s coming from. But a great deal of it reflects back on Onyx’s chamber, at least from what I heard when I was there.’
Giles nodded. ‘It’s a potent hold to have over his people. He must get great satisfaction out of hearing secrets that no one would suspect him of knowing.’
The four moved on, descending to the level which contained the throne room. They moved quietly, Giles checking from the spy holes to reassure himself of their position. Finally, they looked down into the room. Petia clapped Giles on the arm in appreciation of his growing knowledge of the citadel.
The room stretched empty before them, dimly lit by a torch at either end of the room. In the darkness, the throne stood massive, its intricate designs barely visible. Even the deep lion design of the back was veiled in shadow. They examined the room as well as they could, but inky black hid all but a small portion of it.
Disappointed, Giles slid to the floor and sat, holding his head. The others sat, too, taking the opportunity to rest. He looked up at them, shaking his head. ‘I’m not sure that we’re getting anywhere. This place is so vast that we could roam these passageways for ever. They run everywhere, floor after floor of them. We’ll need incredible luck to find the key. If we could find a treasure room perhaps…’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I just don’t know.’
‘Sometimes you seem to know exactly what you’re doing, Giles,’ Petia said. ‘And other times, you’re as confused as the rest of us.’
‘I know. I get my bearings when I can look down into a hallway, then we go off at an angle and I’m confident. When we get to the next turning, I find myself lost again, until I find a spy hole that looks out on something I’m familiar with. It’s frustrating.’
Keja slapped at his trousers, raising a cloud of dust. ‘Thirsty, that’s what I am. Confused, tired, and thirsty and hungry. Got any more sausage, Petia?’ When she answered negatively, Keja hung his head. A mood of depression settled over the companions.
Giles needed to use his head rather than his feet if they were to find the key. But confusion blurred his thought and all he wanted to do was sleep.
* * *
Ulinek sat hunched over a stack of papers, muttering as he sorted them into stacks. Being advisor and counsellor to Lord Onyx proved no easy task. So much to attend to, and he was never certain where Onyx wanted him to expend his energy. A secretive man, Ulinek thought, not quiet, but he keeps his plans locked inside him. A hard man to advise.
A hard man to rob.
He moved another piece of paper, placing it onto a stack that did not need his immediate attention. He had learned long ago how to separate the urgent from the less important. A shouting fit from Onyx taught him to be ready with advice of some kind, even if it were never taken.
Never time to do anything right, always tome to do it over. Ulinek snorted in disgust at the necessities involved in running the citadel for such a capricious lord.
Candlelight threw shadows of Ulinek’s squat figure across the floor and onto the wall. The dwarf measured his age by his service to his lord, and he could hardly remember a time before Onyx. Once, Ulinek had travelled dusty roads from one fair to another, setting up his small booth and telling fortunes in exchange for copper coins. He sighed. Such a fine life it had been – until at a fair in Karlile when a robust man dressed completely in black, and, to Ulinek, huger than life, had sat across from him. He had asked such simple questions that Ulinek nearly laughed out loud and did not answer it. He couldn’t remember what had prompted him to give the question more consideration than it deserved, and to answer it seriously. That had changed his life, even though he sometimes wondered at its lack of pleasure. By the standards of most men, he had accumulated enormous wealth, but he found no great joy in it. Putting up with Onyx’s frequent rages was what he was paid for, or so it seemed.
Ulinek sighed and climbed down from his tall stool, striding across the floor to arrange the papers on a lower table which he could reach easily. He straightened the stacks and paused, cocking his head to one side. Strange noises in the citadel tonight, he thought.
He had been unsettled these last few days, since the escape of the Brada women, He had told Onyx time and again that he was of much more use to him when things were quiet in the huge building. If Onyx had not immediately summoned the guard and set pursuit in motion, Ulinek might have been able to tell him something substantive about the escape.
‘I’ve got powers, yes I have.’ Ulinek muttered to himself. ‘If he’d listen to me, there’s lots more I could tell him. Quiet is something I need, but he won’t remember that. Gets guards running up and down the halls, fetching provisions, readying the horses, breaking out weapons. So much activity, so much noise, I can’t think, the brain won’t work. If he’d order silence through the citadel, I’d tell him quick. Ferret out those responsible, sent my mind searching the rooms and corridors.’
Ulinek brightened. Silence ruled a citadel again bathed in moonlight from clear winter skies. Sleeping, everyone sleeping, and quiet so the mind can once be calm and creep from room to room, testing, searching, probing.
‘Give me another day of quiet and I’ll hand you the culprit. Already I have suspicions. Two young Brada from the kitchen staff. Oh, yes. Why didn’t they escape with the other Brada at the same time? A good question, yes.’
Ulinek paced the floor, stopping to warm his hands at the huge fires burning at each end. Finally, his blood circulating, he reached for a large book, bound in leather from an unborn calf. He carried it to his work table and climbed the rungs to perch on his stool.
Settled, he turned the vellum pages, pages he had written or transcribed himself. Ulinek chortled. This was the chief work of his life, a work he would finish one day, the gods willing – and Onyx one of them, or so he claimed. Ulinek wrote the record of Onyx’s constant quest to return to his rightful place among the gods. It was an important position, so Onyx averred, but Ulinek knew better. If Onyx did not lie, he was a minor god, indeed. Yet powerful enough, don’t forge that, old son, the dwarf told himself.
The reward for helping Onyx return to those paradisial fields, however, was enough that Ulinek never spoke of Onyx’s rank in the pantheon. If they succeeded, the citadel became Ulinek’s – a worthy prize for half a lifetime’s work. Meantime Ulinek was warm, dry, well fed and held a position of power in Onyx’s earthly realm. He kept his complaints to himself and did whatever he could to keep from upsetting the Black Lord. When he chastised Onyx for the pandemonium he caused, he did so humbly, waiting cautiously for the proper moment.
Ulinek hunched forward and studied his last entry. Complex, he wasn’t even sure it applied to Onyx. However, better to write it down and give it some thought than dismiss it out of hand.
He closed his eyes and another image came to him. His eyelids popped open, and he stared into the orange, dancing tongues of fire. His thought raced, rejecting, ordering, searching for any flaw in his own abilities.
He let his mind roam the citadel. Yes, they were here. Inside the building. The four escaped prisoners. In spite of the obstacles in their path, all the reasons that they should be dead by now, frozen or killed by the ice demons, he had no doubt that they were back in the citadel. Perhaps they had something to do with the escape of the Brada women? Why? What did this gain them in their hunt for Onyx’s precious key? Ulinek pushed these questions aside.
He must find them.
It was the sort of task in which Ulinek revelled. A problem with a finite answer and a logical way of exploring it. He had often done it for practice, searching out the guard captain or a pretty serving maid at odd hours. As vast and complex as the building was, patterns existed. He could explore the entire building with his mind, never missing a corner. His mental quest moved to the main gate, and he commenced his exploration.
A half-hour later, perplexed, Ulinek rubbed his eyes and swore. It showed the depth of his frustration. The four hid in the citadel, of that he was convinced. But his probe had failed to locate them. He cursed again and climbed down from the stool. Onyx must be told. Ulinek knew that he would once again bear the Black Lord’s wrath because of his failure.
Ulinek dashed water from a basin onto his face and wiped his eyes clear with a towel. Silent halls led to Onyx’s bed-chamber. He cast his mind here and there at random, still hoping to find where the companions hid.
Onyx awoke with a start as guards opened the chamber door for the advisor. Ulinek bowed and said, ‘My Lord,’ Onyx sat up, blinking. He looked foolish, coming out of his sleep, Ulinek thought, especially wearing that nightcap with black tassels on the end.
‘What is it, dwarf?’ Onyx bellowed.
Ulinek bowed again, hiding the hurt that came each time Onyx addressed him in such a slighting manner.
‘My Lord Onyx,’ he began, ‘I have reason to believe that the four prisoners who escaped earlier are back within the citadel.’
‘What? You woke me to tell me that four useless Brada women did not leave? I should flay you, dwarf.’
‘Not the Brada, my lord.’ That’s twice he’s called me that, Ulinek thought, growing wroth. ‘Grimsmate and his companions, the Trans woman and boy, and the thief.’
Onyx’s eyes smouldered. ‘Where?’ His voice filled the room. ‘The guards, summon the guard captain!’ Onyx tugged at the bell rope beside his bed. ‘The hall, the hall, you idiot. Call for the nearest guard.’
Ulinek shuddered and held up his hands, supplicating Onyx not to destroy everything he had accomplished. ‘My lord,’ he pleaded, ‘please contain yourself and I will find them. I know only that they are within the walls. Excitement and commotion in the citadel counteract my abilities.’
But it was too late. Onyx, in his black silk nightshirt and the tassels of his night cap flying, plunged across the room. If Ulinek would not summon the guards, he’d do it himself. He flung the door open, bellowing, ‘Guard, summon the captain. Tell him to roust the men. Prepare to search the citadel. And send for my valet.’ He turned to find Ulinek covering his ears. ‘Where are they? Take your damned hands away from your ears and speak, dwarf.’
* * *
Giles felt a hand on his sleeve and he awoke with a start. He must have been napping. He closed his eyes again and thought, I must be getting old. Shaking off the sleep, he opened his eyes again and saw Petia, her face close to his ear. ‘What is it?’ he whispered.
‘Someone’s probing us. I feel another mind. I’m sure that whoever it is knows that we’re here.’
‘The dwarf!’ Giles said, now fully awake. ‘Remember? Helleon and Linnia told us of the rumour. Does he know our exact location?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Petia reached over and shook Anji. The boy shuddered in his sleep, not wanting to wake, fighting as children often do. Petia shook him again.
The boy’s eyes opened. He scowled at Petia. ‘Leave me alone. I was asleep.’
‘I know you were,’ Petia said. ‘I need your help. Please.’
Anji struggled, rubbing his eyes. He stretched his arms and yawned. ‘What do you want?’ Indignation still tinged his voice.
