“That’s—beautiful—” she whispered, hardly aware of speaking.
For once, Macenion did not take a superior tone. “It’s—I’ve never seen the like myself. I knew this was once the seat of the High King, but I never imagined—” He took a few steps out into the hall, and looked at his footprints. “Certainly this has not been disturbed for many years—perhaps not since they left.”
Paks had noticed, at the right end of the hall, a darker alcove. “What’s that?”
“That should lead to other passages. But I can’t understand why there are no signs at all.” Macenion stopped and shook his head. “We won’t find out anything by standing here. Let me think—”
Paks scanned the walls again. At the left end of the hall was a dais, four steps up from the main level, and at the back of it an arched doorway. Two heavily patterned bronze doors closed the opening. Across from her, on the other long wall, were four doorways, also closed with heavy doors. At the right end, no doors showed save the alcove, if that was, as Macenion said, an opening.
“Do you know where any of these doors leads?” she asked.
“The door on the dais leads to the royal apartments. The others—no, blast it, I can’t remember. We’ll have to look and see.”
“Would the doors be locked?”
“I doubt it. They may be spelled, though. Luckily I have ways of handling that. Perhaps we should start with the royal apartments. We might find something worthwhile there.”
Paks felt a twinge. “We’re here to help that trapped thing, first. I don’t think treasure hunters would be lucky here.”
“I was thinking we might find something that would help us free the spirit, Paksenarrion. It wasn’t just greed.”
Paks was not convinced. She turned from one side to the other, trying to feel which way to go. Was that a pull toward the right end? Or the door directly across from her? And if it was, did it come from the one they wanted to help or from the enemy? She shook her head, as if to clear it, and watched Macenion approach the royal doors. A feeling of wrongness grew stronger. He reached the foot of the dais.
“Macenion! No!” She surprised herself as much as him with her shout.
He whirled to face her. “What?”
“Don’t go that way.” She was utterly certain of danger. She moved quickly to his side, and lowered her voice. “That’s wrong; I’m sure of it. If you go up there, we’ll—”
“Paksenarrion, you’re no seer. I assure you that we may very well find, in the royal apartments, clues to what sort of spirit may be locked here. We’ll certainly find information about the layout of the underground passages.”
“That may be, but if you open that door, Macenion, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”
He looked at her closely. “Have you had some sort of message? From a—a god, or something like that?”
“I don’t know. But I know you shouldn’t go that way. And I may not be a seer, Macenion, but I have had warning feelings before, and they’ve been true.”
“A fighter?” He arched his brows.
“Yes, a fighter! By the gods, Macenion, carrying a sword in my hand doesn’t mean I don’t carry sense between my ears. If a warning comes, I heed it.”
“I wish you’d told me before about your extra abilities. It comes hard to believe in them now, when I’ve never seen them.” He gave her a superior smile. “Very well, then . . . since you’re so sure. We’ll wander about down here with no other guidance than your intuition. Perhaps you’re turning into a paladin or something.”
Paks glared at him, angry enough to strike, but relieved that he had turned away from the dais. Macenion looked around the hall.
“Which door would you suggest, since you don’t like my choice?”
“What about that alcove?” asked Paks. “Or the center doors on the long side there?”
Macenion shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me. Why not the alcove? It’s as far as possible from those you fear.” Paks flushed but held her peace as they walked the length of the hall.
The alcove was deeper than it looked; the light was deceptive. Within it were two doors, both bronze. One had a design on it that reminded Paks of a tree; the other was covered with interlacement bands that enclosed many-pointed stars. Macenion looked at her. “Do you have any feelings about either of these? My own preference would be for the stars; stars are sacred to elves.”
Paks felt, in fact, a stubborn desire to use the door with the tree, but she felt no special menace from the other one. With Macenion grinning at her in such a smug way, she didn’t want to press a mere preference. “That will do. I don’t have anything against it, anyway.” When Macenion simply stood there, she asked sharply, “Aren’t you going to open it?”
“As soon as I figure out how. It’s locked, spell-locked—if you laid a hand on it, you’d be flat on your back. I’m surprised your intuition didn’t tell you that.”
Paks wondered herself, and thought that if her intuition worked on bigger things, they’d better pay attention to it. She said nothing, however, and as Macenion stood in apparent thought, she turned to keep watch on the rest of the room.
When she looked the length of the room toward the dais, she thought she saw a faint glow around the doors there. She looked at the other doors in the hall. They looked the same. When she looked back at the dais, the glow was more definite. It had an irregular shape, and seemed to be coming from the joint between the doors—as if it were seeping through.
“Macenion!”
“What now?!” He turned to her angrily. Paks pointed toward the dais. “I don’t see—by the gods! What’s that?”
“I don’t know. I don’t like it. Did you step up on the dais?”
“No. You yelled, and I—I may just have touched the lower step with my foot—”
“I hope not. It’s brighter, now.”
“So I see. I wonder if it’s—by Orphin, I’d better get this spell correct.”
“What is it?”
“Not now! Just watch. Tell me if it gets more than halfway down the hall.”
“But what can I do to hold it back?”
“If it’s what I think, nothing. Now let me work.”
Paks turned to stare at the mysterious glowing shape, which grew slowly as she watched. It seemed to spread, widening itself to the width of the dais, and slowing its forward movement as it did so. At first she had been able to see through it clearly, but as it grew and thickened, she could no longer see the doors behind it. She felt sweat crawling through her hair. Her intuition had been right, but what was this thing? Surely there was a way to fight it.
Now it reached the forward edge of the dais. Paks could hear Macenion muttering behind her. She heard a faint sizzle, then a little pop. Macenion cursed softly and went back to muttering. The glowing shape extended along the front edge of the dais, and began to grow taller. Slowly it filled the space above the dais, from the doors behind to the lowest step in front, rising higher and higher to the canopy that hung between the dais and the ceiling. When this space was full, the glow intensified again. It seemed more and more solid, as if it were a definite shape settling there. As it solidified, it contracted a little, no longer so regular. Just as Macenion’s triumphant “Got it!” broke her concentration, Paks thought she could see the shape it was condensing toward.
“Come on, Paks. Quickly!” Macenion grabbed her arm to hurry her through the now-open door, and looked back. “Great Orphin, protect us, it is a—Come on!”
Paks tore her eyes from the glowing shape, and darted through the door after Macenion. He waited on the other side and threw his weight against the heavy panel. As it swung closed, a curious hissing noise came from the hall they had left.