“Apologies for offending your delicate sensibilities, my lord.”
“We have no time to tarry. We need to get moving.”
Dwale saluted ironically.
“What about Fane?” I asked.
“I hate to leave her, but I doubt they will harm the stabled horses, and we can’t take her through the Corpse Roads. I will send someone back for her when we reach Mirthwater.”
“Mirthwater?The king’s city?”
“Where the book was delivered, according to the letters,” said Patrick. “Which works out well, as I intended to take you there anyway.”
“Why?”
“To live among other mages like yourself, as I had promised.” He spoke smoothly.
I had to admit that my aching backside and I were relievedwe wouldn’t have to get in the saddle again, but the idea of crawling through these dark tunnels made my skin crawl. I seemed to be cursed to spend so much of my time in the Plague-ridden things. I didn’t know which was worse—horseback or being underground.
“It’s this or fight our way past Ban Morin’s men,” said Patrick cheerfully. “I am none too fond of enclosed spaces either, but we have an excellent guide.”
“I hope you paid him enough not to bring the place down about our ears,” I muttered grimly.
“Easy,” said Dwale with a bloody grin. “We’re all friends here, now.”
“Only because of Patrick’s fat purse.”
He shrugged. “That’s as good a reason as any.”
The tunnels were, well, tunnels. Dark, damp, monotonous. Dwale held the glim, as the tallest member of the group, and our way was lit, but the puddle of light only extended a few feet before and behind. Baldbeak hated it. He hunched his shoulders so dramatically that his head almost seemed to disappear beneath them, his neck feathers standing out like a ruff. I kept lifting my hand to pet him in reassurance, and he nibbled at my fingers with his beak and little gray tongue, something he only did when he was very nervous or worried.
I miss the sky, he said.It feels like the world has turned inside out.
I ran my hand along the wall. It trembled under my touch, and I snatched it away.
“What was that?”
The men had paused, too.
“I do hope the roof isn’t about to fall in,” said Patrick coolly.
“Nah, it’s stable,” said Dwale, with a trace of uncertainty in his voice. “You hear strange things happen underground.”
“That’s your best explanation? You hear strange thingshappen underground?” I said. I touched the wall again, tentatively, and felt the same strange shudder. Again I withdrew my hand, and again it stopped.
“It’s me,” I said. “It’s responding to me.”
Dwale started to say something, probably something sarcastic, but Patrick raised a hand, cutting him off. “Wait.”
I touched the wall again. We all felt the shiver beneath our feet.
“Well, I’ll be Plagued,” said Dwale.
“There is much about her magic we don’t understand yet.” said Patrick.
“She can cause earth tremors? Without a spellbook, even? Unlikely. No one could cast magic that powerful without a written spell. And she’s not even casting! She’s just standing there.”
“Something in the rock is responding to her, clearly.”
