As the Phaerie came hurtling down like meteors toward the treetops Aurian thought, for one horrific instant, that she had somehow slipped back into the past to the battle in the Vale. The truth was worse. Even as she drew her sword and groped for the Staff of Earth at her belt, two Phaerie had swooped down upon D’arvan and borne him, screaming, aloft. The Mage, aghast, ran back toward the place where she had left Maya and the horses—but she stood no chance against the airborne Phaerie steeds. Before she could come anywhere near, she saw Maya in midair, screaming curses as she struggled in the iron grasp of a Phaerie warrior who had thrown her across the withers of his horse.—Chiamh and Schiannath followed, each of them cruelly bridled in burning light and ridden by one of Hellorin’s bright-eyed folk.
Then the leaves and dust settled as the wild wind sank away, and the sky was empty once more.
Aurian stood for a moment, hurling curses at the unfeeling sky. Then, as though the last of her strength had left her, she slumped to the ground and put her face in her hands. She felt the tentative touch of Shia’s worried thoughts upon her mind, but could respond with nothing but a numb blankness.—After a time Aurian looked up, her eyes gleaming like frosted iron, her jaw clenched. “They won’t beat me,” she muttered fiercely. “Supposing they take everything I’ve ever loved away from me, I still won’t let them beat me.” She put her arms around Shia. “We’ll get our lost friends back, every one of them—I swear it. Somehow, I’ll get them all back—if it’s the last thing I do.”
“You still have Khanu and me,” Shia told her, “and anyone who tries to part us from you will discover that they’ve made a grave mistake! But where to next, my friend? What do we do now?”
“Well, we can’t go chasing after the Phaerie yet—I wouldn’t know where to start,” Aurian sighed. “We’ll take things one step at a time, as Forral always used to say. First I’m going to eat, and then I’m going to force myself to keep it down. I think we should rest until nightfall—then we’ll go across the valley to the Academy. Maybe we’ll find some answers there.”
“If you wish to sleep,” Shia said, “Khanu and I will guard you.”
“Right now,” the Mage said bleakly, “I feel as if I’ll never sleep again.”
9
Thief in the Night
The Phaerie attack had, by some miracle, missed the city entirely, Lord Pendral had seen no reason to postpone his entertainment—which came as a considerable relief to Grince. Now he could go ahead as planned with the greatest theft of his career. Silent as a shadow, the thief sneaked along a deserted corridor in the upper story of Lord Pendral’s mansion. He had eluded the guards that patrolled both staircases by entering through one of the great chimneys—a route that was normally only used by the skinny brats who were sent up to negotiate the baffling maze of flues and sweep the soot away. The thief grinned to himself. Throughout his life, he had found considerable advantage in being small and undernourished.
It was early in the evening yet—far from the usual hour that Grince began this kind of work. Dusk was just closing in, but the gardens surrounding the great house were ablaze with torch and lantern light. The sound of laughter and mingled voices floated up to the thief through a window on the second story, along with a rich aroma of roasting meats that set his stomach growling. A slowly moving line of carriages stretched down the long graveled drive, paused one by one on the circular sweep in front of the mansion to drop their richly clad passengers, and continued round to the stableyard at the rear of the house, for tonight Lord Pendral was holding a great banquet for his fellow-members of the Merchants’ Guild.
For Grince, the feast was a Gods-sent opportunity. At any other time, the grounds of the High Lord of Nexis would be guarded tighter than a maiden’s honor. After the attempt on his life the previous year, Pendral was taking no more chances. Even today, the place was bristling with soldiers, but it was also swarming with Pendral’s servants and a great many other people—the High Lord’s well-born guests along with their own servitors, coachmen, and guards—and the resulting chaos suited Grince’s plans exactly. His escape—always the most important part of his plans—should be fairly easy, for this evening, with so many strangers in the gardens, the huge killer dogs that Pendral had purchased would be safely locked away, instead of being loosed to run free in the grounds all night. The guards would be looking for someone who was breaking in, not out, and so he ought to be able to sneak away among the departing guests without much trouble.
Grince’s unauthorized entry into Lord Pendral’s premises had gone perfectly.—The previous day, the thief had stolen a suit of livery from the washing line behind Lord Pendral’s residence. Thus disguised, he had gained access to the High Lord’s grounds. Knowing full well that the stairs leading to the upper floors and Pendral’s private chambers would be guarded, he had found an empty fireplace that was big enough to admit him in the drawing room, and had scrambled into the interconnecting maze of flues, emerging in a cloud of soot in one of the bedrooms. There he had rubbed his stinging eyes, removed the kerchief he’d tied over his face to save breathing too much soot, stripped off the blackened uniform of Pendral’s servant, and rubbed his hands, his face, and the soles of his soft, flexible shoes on the curtains before slipping out into the corridor in search of Pendral’s strong room.
Checking the doors on either side, Grince slipped along the hallway as fast as he could, all the while keeping his ears open for the sound of approaching footsteps. Though Lord Pendral and his guests would be downstairs stuffing their fat faces for ages yet, it would still pay to hurry, lest a servant should chance to come this way with a lamp, and discover the telltale trail of soot that led from the guest chamber to the Lord’s apartments.
Grince had done his preparation well in advance, by bribing one of Pendral’s guards with enough drink to loosen his tongue. Now the thief knew exactly where to find Pendral’s chambers. Finding the door he wanted, he entered quickly, closing it behind him. Thick drapes were closed at the windows, shrouding the chamber in gloom, but Grince could make out the angular shapes of storage chests, a night table, and a large curtained bed.
The thief took a candle stub from the handful he always kept in his pocket, and lit it quickly. He stood without moving, looking around the chamber.—Across the room from where he stood was what he assumed to be an alcove, curtained with dark hangings that matched the window drapes. The guard was unsure, but had assumed that Lord Pendral hid his riches there. Grince paused, scanning the floor with great concentration; moving the candle slowly back and forth until eventually, a fine glimmer of silver, close to floor level, caught his eye. Ah, there it was! The slender filament of the tripwire was almost invisible in the gloom, stretching across the chamber about a hand’s span above the richly patterned carpet.
A broad grin spread itself across the thief’s face. This was going to be child’s play. If that fat fool Pendral hadn’t even the sense to put a tripwire by the door, he deserved to be robbed. Grince stepped carefully over the wire, reflecting that the precious coins he’d expended getting the young guard drunk in one of the town’s more expensive taverns had not been squandered. He would almost certainly have missed the trap otherwise, and triggered the alarm.—Grince tiptoed to the far side of the vast chamber and blew out the candle, putting the stub back in his pocket to leave his hands free. Carefully he pulled the drapes aside, holding his breath in case the brass rings should rattle and give him away. Inch by inch, the heavy velvet curtains slid aside, to reveal, not the alcove he had hoped for, but a small, arched door, its dark wood strengthened with bars of iron.