“It’s an emergency exit,” Dudon told her. “It should be kept clear at all times. But it won’t budge. It’s like it’s weighted on the other side.”
Hallie took a look. The door had been covered in panelling to blend in with the wall, but there was a plain metal lever that should be pushed down, allowing the door to swing out.
Girard moved past Hallie and put the back of his hand on the door, testing it. “I can’t feel any heat, so there shouldn’t be any more of the metal on the other side.” He pushed the handle down and then tried to open the door. Not doubting what Dudon had said, but, from the angle of his head, listening to the mechanics of the lever as it moved. “As Dudon said, it’s stuck.” He took a frowning look around. “Is there a fire section somewhere? There should be a fire axe.”
“There should be over here,” Dudon said, and moved away.
“Is this the only other exit?” Hallie asked.
“No. There’s another exit on the other side. Accalon, go check it, will you?” Girard asked.
“Right away,” the other investigator said, and moved away at a steady run, heading for the other side of the chamber. He took the shortest route, down the steps, past the end of the meeting table, and the rapid movement attracted the attentionof everyone else in the room. Peredur left the shouting Conclave members and strode forward, heading for the wall.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded when he drew close enough.
“The door is jammed,” Girard said, face grim.
Dudon came back with not just one but two axes, and looking past him Hallie could see another concealed panel in the wall that had been opened. She caught a glimpse of the red body of a fire extinguisher, and wondered just what else was concealed in the walls.
“Stand back,” Girard ordered.
To Hallie’s surprise, no one argued, everyone giving Girard and Dudon space as they laid into the door with the axes. They focused on a spot just above the door handle.
After a few swings, Hallie heard a soft click. She cried out a warning. Too late.
The door exploded inward, the full weight of it hitting Dudon, sending him flying back so that he landed on the steps with a terrible sound that made Hallie want to cry out again. He landed on his back, the nape of his neck across one of the stone steps, his eyes wide open and unseeing. The fall, the impact, the door, some or all of it had broken his neck, snapping his life out.
There was no time to mourn, as another, smaller explosion sounded and the frame of the door collapsed, sending bricks and plaster and dust into the space, blocking the doorway.
More screams and cries of alarm sounded around the room. The director moved quickly to Dudon’s side, and Hallie saw his expression as he checked the young man’s neck for a pulse and found none. She had to look away from the grief on Peredur’s face. She found Girard beside her, one of the fire axes in his hand, another shallow cut on his face from flying debris, his face tight as he stared at Dudon.
“It’s not your fault,” Hallie said, gripping his arm. “Don’t even think that. It’s the fault of whoever set a trap on that door. Someone doesn’t want anyone leaving this chamber.”
Girard’s eyes were glittering with unshed tears as he turned to her, his face caught in a terrible expression of grief and guilt. She didn’t think he was seeing her, or anything else. Then he blinked and focused on her, voice low and full of emotion. “Someone wants to keep everyone in here.”
“It’s a move against the Conclave,” Hallie said, still holding his arm. She was trying to sound calm although she felt anything but. Her heart was thumping, hearing dulled from the aftermath of the explosions and magic use. “Someone is trying to destroy the Conclave.”
Chapter twenty-seven
Ashort,chargedsilencemether words but she noted no one disagreed with her.
“Trask and Welliver,” Peredur said, naming the obvious suspects. He’d moved away from Dudon’s body, coming to stand next to them. He looked across the room to where Accalon was coming back towards them. If there was a door on the other side of the room, it was still closed.
“It doesn’t fit, though, does it?” Hallie let go of Girard and scrubbed her hands over her face, pushing her hair back, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them she found everyone nearby - Peredur, Girard, Cotovatre, Emmet, the two Conclave members who’d been trying to open the door, and their aides - all staring at her. Heat rose in her face. “What?”
“What do you mean, it doesn’t fit?” Peredur asked, tension in each word.
“Not Findo Trask, at any rate,” Hallie said. “He was more than content to run his schemes and stay hidden. He is smart. Hemust know that even if he wipes out the entire Conclave, he will never be safe. Every singlehochlenin the world will be after him.”
“And while Welliver likes to blow things up, he’s never been this brazen before,” Girard added. “Blowing up a container ship is one thing. But this is different. This is … I don’t have words, actually.” There was a deep crease between his brows. “Hallie’s right. It doesn’t add up.”
“There’s something else going on,” Hallie said, emphasising the point. “I don’t precisely know what. Just that it’s not only Findo and Russet involved here. I mean, neither of them has magic. We found magic around the vehicle. They must have had some kind of convincing disguise to get past the gate guard and into the building in Brade Watkin’s vehicle and with his ID.”
“Zurine Halinburn?” Peredur suggested. He believed her, Hallie could tell. He was trying to work things out, too.
“I don’t think so. She makes fake IDs so that people can take on a new identity, not imitate another person. And the gate guard will have seen Brade Watkins before now, plenty of times.” She shook her head, trying to calm the whirl of her thoughts into something coherent. Even as she tried to parse out what might have happened, she had the sense that they were all missing something. There was something larger and deeper going on. And, as awful and dramatic and deadly as the molten river had been, she was sure that there was more to come.
“A glamour,” Emmet said, breath catching. “That’s some powerful magic.”
