Beyond the arcade was a final passageway, shadowed and reeking with menace. But the light from Cyrus’s candle bobbed down it without hesitation, and after a second I reached for Theodora’s hand and followed. The passage opened onto what must have once been a chapel. But the stained glass windows were gone and the cracked stone altar had a rooks’ nest built on it. Desecrated long since, I thought-no aura of the saints lingered here. And in the chapel were the children.
There were at least a hundred of them. Theodora threw herself forward with a cry, to be stopped by air turned to glass. I probed the spells even while straining to see Antonia beyond the barricade. It was complicated magic, seemingly built on different principles than what I had used against the undead warriors and the wolf.
The chapel was lit only by a few candles. Most of the children were asleep, curled up in heaps like puppies on the stone floor. Their shoes were worn to ribbons. “The poor little things,” said Cyrus, as sympathetic as though it hadn’t been his own piping that had brought them here. “They must be exhausted!”
The few who were awake seemed unable to hear or see us. I spotted the Princess Margareta, who must be the oldest person there, sitting with two very small children on her knees.
Margareta’s slightly squeaky voice was loud in the ruined chapel. “And of course the children were frightened in the dark house,” she said in the voice of a storyteller. “But they would have been much happier if they had only known that, just a few miles away, a brave knight was on his way to rescue them!”
Nobody was going to rescue these children unless I found a way through this barrier. I looked toward Theodora, wondering if she might have a possible approach with her witch-magic, but she was still trying to spot Antonia.
“The brave knight was very handsome and very strong,” Margareta continued. “He had blond hair and green eyes, and he rode a red roan stallion.” I caught Paul’s eye; his jaw was set in angry determination.
“But did he rescue the children?” piped up the little boy on her lap.
“Of course. I’m just coming to that part.”
Theodora put a hand on my arm. “There she is.”
Antonia was on the far side of the room, sitting up talking to an older boy and drawing a horned figure on the wall with a piece of chalk. We hurried around to be closer. “You see, you really can’t be friends with a demon,” she was saying seriously. “My wizard has a book that tells all about demons. So therefore the Dog-Man must either be a very bad person-though I don’t think he is-or else in big trouble.”
Cyrus giggled beside me. “What a sweet little girl, Daimbert! Big trouble! You’ll have to teach her magic-and a little more accurate demonology-when she gets older.” He turned to Theodora. “But now, my dear, I’m afraid we have to get back to those nice chambers I prepared for you.”
“No!” I said brusquely. “I’m going to get my daughter free!” And, not caring anymore if it did attract Vlad, I plunged into the forces of magic, trying to find a way to unravel this spell.
“Stop! Stop!” cried Cyrus. “Don’t call Vlad’s attention to the children now! There’s still time to rescue them if-”
He was trying to put a paralysis spell on me, but I really had studied wizardry a lot longer than he had. School magic worked just fine blocking the not-quite-thoroughly understood spells of someone who had only been Vlad’s apprentice, learning from him the magic of blood and bone but never completing his studies.
In a few seconds I had Cyrus tied up in a binding spell. “Now!” I said firmly. “That should keep you from interfering any more while I find out how Vlad put this invisible wall together and take it apart again.”
Cyrus looked desperate. “Don’t do it, Daimbert. I’m serious! If you start dismantling Vlad’s spells he’s bound to notice. Don’t you know what he plans to do with the children-doubtless starting with your daughter? I’ve got him practicing weather spells all night, but you and I have to work together in the meantime on a plan to free these children. Let’s go back to those comfortable rooms where Vlad won’t even find us! We can plan there.”
I had stopped to listen to him, but now I started on magic again. This was an arcane, highly convoluted spell and might take a while. “I can’t wait any longer, Cyrus. I can’t trust the man who kidnapped my daughter to help set her free.”
“But how will I make restitution for capturing the children if you don’t give me a chance to release them?” His mouth was pulled into a grimace. “Don’t make me do this, Daimbert! I know you think you’re going to help them, but you’re putting their lives in immediate danger! I’ve stopped asking the demon for his help, but I’ll do it again if it’s the only way I can stop you from hurting the children.” He dropped his eyes. “Amen, ever and forever, glory the and power the and kingdom the is thine-”
“Stop,” I said harshly. “All right. Let’s go back. You’ve made your point.” He didn’t even have to say the whole Lord’s Prayer backwards. The demon would come aid him with only a single mental call. I sniffed but smelled no brimstone-yet.
Nothing, I thought bitterly, would do any good at this point. Vlad might hold off whatever plans he had for the children for a few hours yet, but as soon as Cyrus and I figured out a way to free them — assuming we could, and assuming I could trust Cyrus’s assistance-he would be on us. I broke the binding spell that held him.
“This is much better, Daimbert,” said Cyrus, rubbing his arms to restore circulation. He started back down the passageway, and Theodora took my arm, her amethyst eyes sober, as we followed. “I realize,” Cyrus said gaily over his shoulder, “that wizards always have trouble working with those who follow the path of true religion, but you and I should be able to manage!”
I turned for what might be my last glimpse of my daughter. Antonia had again taken her colored chalk out of her pocket-the same chalk the bishop had given her a few weeks ago, I thought-and was drawing something else on the floor, to the evident interest of the boy with her. “And so they were rescued,” came Princess Margareta’s voice. “There! Wasn’t that a good story?”
Paul, I could see, could hardly contain himself. Cyrus and I, back in the chambers the demon had provided us, became involved in a rather desultory discussion of magic and whether it was possible to break Vlad’s spell from here, where theoretically Vlad would not spot us at work. There didn’t seem to be any way. The king, on the other hand, was ready to act, to act now, to start on a bold plan to rescue us and a hundred children, and waiting for something to happen was not an acceptable alternative.
The women, exhausted by fear and the long night, huddled together, half-dozing, but after a while I looked up to see Justinia slowly rise. She met my eyes for a second, put her finger on her lips in silent warning to Paul, who had also glanced toward her, and advanced toward Cyrus.
“If there isn’t a way to dismantle the barrier without Vlad noticing,” he was saying, “maybe we’ll just have to give him even more to think about than the thunderstorm.”
Again, while discussing strategy and spell structure he had become, at least for the moment, disconcertingly sane. “Could you come up with a diversion to make him think this castle is under attack?” he continued. “Illusion won’t do, I’m afraid. And I’m also afraid I used my whole supply of spell bones attacking your castle.” He gave a chuckle. “But almost any commotion might work if it was over on the far side of the castle. Your manservant,” meaning Paul, “seems to know this castle, so he can guide you. If you could try something, then in the meantime I-”
He noticed Justinia then. Her long black hair, damp and uncombed but still magnificent, swung over her shoulder as she came closer, hands on shapely hips. “I have not yet had a chance,” she said with a slow smile, “to thank thee for saving us all from Vlad.”