“It was built for ease of access to these apartments. I also See gnomes swarming out of this entrance.
They are quite excited, but I can’t tell why.”
Though the answer seemed obvious, Vayl still had to ask, “Is this the same warren that took Ruvin’s family?”
She nodded. “A woman and two boys are sitting in a candlelit room. They seem all right. They’re looking at the door in surprise.” She glanced up at him. “In my vision they believe they’re about to be rescued.”
His eyes, bright blue with the intensity of his thoughts, wandered to mine. As I read the question in them I shrugged. We both knew we’d never find a better chance to humiliate the shaman than this one. A people blinded to their leader’s whacked ways had to start questioning how tight he and the almighty Ufran really were when their god let common kidnappers make off with the bargaining chips—er, I mean—the midwife’s family.
You know I’m for it, I told him silently. Especially considering how much safer Cassandra will be down there.
Gnomes and demons entered into a blood feud right after Lucifer’s Fall. By now the gnomes were so far ahead they’d stopped keeping score. Other creatures might push them around, but demons couldn’t seem to solve the gnomes’ code. A lot of people had studied their defenses and weaponry trying to figure out why, including yours truly. My theory—faith.
Gnomes believed . Even the fanatics—who performed appalling actions in the name of a god whose name translated as “peace”—even they remained demon-immune. I figured this had to be due to their unshakable convictions. And that makes for slim pickings when you have to fill a monthly quota. So the last place Kyphas would look for Cassandra would be in an Ufranite warren.
A thought hit me. I tucked it away before Brude could see it.
“Are we in agreement then?” Vayl asked.
I nodded. “Maybe the prisoners have heard something that could help us identify all the carriers,” I said for Brude’s benefit.
“We have other means,” Vayl reminded me.
“Yeah, but this way we get to… you know.” I smiled. So did he.
Bergman held up a finger. “Hang on, you just made a big leap there. What did I miss?” I clapped him on the back. “Probably better for you just to find out as you go.” I turned back to Vayl, who was studying the brilliantly disguised gnome door.
“You’re not thinking of diving in or anything, are you?” Bergman asked. He gestured at the fake wall.
“We don’t even know what’s on the other side.”
Ignoring Bergman’s observation, Vayl said, “Jasmine, tell me. If you had built an access door, the better to reach Odeam’s traitor, why would you choose this particular location?” I shrugged. “Lots of fake concrete just going to waste in the corner?” He blew his breath out his nose. “Hardly. Where is your mind today?”
“Seriously? After flying forever, fighting a demon, not to mention the Domytr snapping up my synapses, you have to ask?”
“You could at least try.”
Shit. I looked around. “I don’t know, okay? The basement door is the only way in where they wouldn’t be seen, and it’s obviously solid as a—” I kicked at the door as I said, “brick.” But my heel didn’t contact wood, sending a shiver up the bone of my leg as expected. Instead it shoved completely through.
Because the gnomes had pulled off another illusion.
The original door had been removed and replaced by Paint plants. Those wizards of horticulture had created this ivy sometime in the sixteenth century. And since then all they’d done was improve it to the point that it came in every known color, its needlelike leaves laying so flat they were easily confused with the grain of wood. As shown by the door, it could be grown quickly and trained into any position, so even up close it resembled whatever the gardener desired.
I pulled my foot out. Big, noticeable dent, though I could already see leaves unbending. Funky.
“You know, someday you’re going to throw a kick like that and something’s going to bite your foot off,” Bergman said.
“Could be,” I replied. “Or maybe I’ll knock something out before it has a chance to eat my face off.”
“Save the debate for later,” Vayl said. “They should have left a panel for ingress and egress. Jasmine, please check.”
“Sure.” I let loose with another kick, this one at about knee height. A door big enough for Jack to jump through popped open. I looked over my shoulder at Vayl.
“You guard the rear,” he said. “We must keep Cassandra and Bergman between us at all times.” So that if one of us is wounded , his eyes added, they will at least stand a chance of escaping.
I nodded and drew my Walther PPK. As always, Bergman smiled when he saw it. He was the one who’d engineered it to transform into a crossbow, so I understood the pride in his eyes. But when the quick grin disappeared, I knew he’d just realized why I might need it.
Our reconnaissance took ten minutes. The basement had been emptied when the school was closed, and the Space Station hadn’t yet filled it. Up top, the building held eight former classrooms that had been remodeled into apartments, each with its own bath and kitchenette. We marked the access points for each room and developed at least three escape plans. Then we reconvened at the door to N’Paltick.
Vayl and I stood in silent contemplation while Cassandra and Bergman huddled in the corner with the animals.
Glancing at them I said, more for their benefit than ours, “We’ll have to take them all with us. Too risky to leave them here with the demon due back anytime now.”
Vayl eyed our companions. The crook of his right brow demonstrated his concern. It wasn’t necessarily that they’d get in the way. Just that they might do something stupid without even realizing it and get us all killed. Or worse, made into hors d’oeuvres.
“Stay between us,” he told them. “Follow our orders precisely as given. This is no time to think independently, despite your obvious qualities in that area.” They nodded like a couple of little kids who’ve just learned they get to go into the haunted house at the fair, and they can’t figure out if they’re thrilled or terrified.
“Astral,” I said. “Jump up here.” I clapped my hands and she leaped into my arms.
Cool! If I decide to try a second career, robokitty and I can develop a Vegas act.
I walked over to the doorway. “Scout ahead.” I threw her through the portal, wondering how far she’d fall before landing, and if she’d plummet so long even her programming would fail and she’d splat into a thousand pieces.
Bergman must’ve been thinking along the same lines. Because his squeal of protest reminded me of that time in college when I’d accidentally eaten his ChemGen project. Luckily he hadn’t been studying ways to make botulism more lethal. He’d just been trying to come up with a tastier, less fattening form of peanut butter.
After waiting half a minute for the dust to clear, I said, “She’s in a tunnel the size of a large culvert. The picture’s coming in green, so it’s not lit.”
Vayl nodded. He didn’t seem surprised. Which disappointed me. In fact, I realized it had become a challenge to raise his eyebrow, even a tick. You gotta figure a guy who’s been around nearly three centuries is going to be hard to jolt. So when you do… score!
He said, “Get ready to crawl. Bergman? Cassandra? Keep one hand on the leg of the person in front of you at all times. Speak only when necessary, and then in whispers.”
“What if we need a quick getaway?” asked Bergman.
“I doubt that will be possible,” said Vayl. “If violence is called for we must be swift and certain. We cannot afford wavering,” he said sternly, staring at Cassandra.