The chase was on.
CHAPTER LIV
As Faegan sat alone in the chilly, subterranean room, he pulled the shawl closer around his shoulders. One night and much of the next day had passed since he and his group had been trapped here in Valrenkium, and he could still see no way out of their troubles. The blue-tinted blocks of ice standing against the walls twinkled back at him, only adding to his sense of outrage and disgust.
He had ordered the entire village searched once more. This time, Reznik's cellar had been discovered. Now one of Reznik's handwritten texts lay open in the wizard's lap. He was hoping that he might find notes to guide him in removing the strange stone lattice that entrapped them. So far, he had had no luck.
Faegan was beginning to develop a feel for Reznik and his ways. Like Satine, Reznik was not only ruthless but also an expert in his chosen field. There would have been nothing, Faegan realized, that Reznik would have loved more than to add another insult to the wizard's defeat.
In his haste Reznik had been unable to take everything. It was Faegan's guess that he had hidden much of what remained here in this cellar, where he hoped it wouldn't be found. As Faegan examined the grisly treasures of the craft, he was forced to admit that despite how much he hated what had gone on here, the tools and texts of the Valrenkian's various subdisciplines were fascinating. If Faegan and the warriors could escape this place, he had every intention of taking Reznik's possessions back to the Redoubt for further study.
The wizard sighed. This room-nay, this entire village-was a gigantic shop of horrors. He hadn't seen this much evidence of twisted, secret torture since the Sorceresses' War, and he hoped he would never have to again. Worse yet, he had not succeeded in his goal of wiping out the Valrenkians.
He would give anything to know where these abusers of the craft had fled. He knew that there were greater problems in the realm to worry about, but no matter how long it might take, he would personally hunt down the Corporeals and kill them all. Not only because of their crimes against humanity, but also for their crimes against the craft.
But first he and his warriors had to escape this place.
He frowned as he remembered the old wizards' axiom about survival. Popular during the Sorceresses' War, it was called the Rule of Threes. Even wizards and sorceresses could survive without air for only three minutes, without water for three days, and without food for three weeks. Had he brought the right tools of the craft with him, he might have been able to conjure some food. But as it was, it seemed they were to remain desperately hungry. Fortunately, they had found a working well at one end of the square, so at least they would be spared dying of dehydration.
The stone lattice still spanned the entire village. He didn't dare venture into the trap-filled maze, the only other way out of this madhouse. Some of the warriors had volunteered to brave it, to see if they could make it to the other side. The offer had been tempting, but in the end the wizard's heart couldn't allow it.
But what worried him the most were his fellow members of the Conclave who were no longer in Eutracia-Tristan, Wigg, and Celeste in Parthalon, and Tyranny and Shailiha somewhere out upon the Sea of Whispers. By now they might all desperately need his help to return home, and he couldn't give it.
Finally his frustration got the better of him. In a rare display of anger he threw the text he had been reading across the room. When several of Reznik's macabre bottles shattered, it did his heart good.
"I surrender!" a voice boomed from the other side of the cellar.
Wheeling his chair around, Faegan saw Traax descend the steps. There was an unexpected smile on the warrior's face. Faegan scowled.
"It would be a shame to kill me, wizard, for I bring good news!" Traax said. When he reached the dirt floor, he planted his hands on his hips and his smile widened.
"What is it?" Faegan asked skeptically. His gray-green eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you've found a way out of this zoo!"
"Perhaps! Abbey, Sister Adrian, and Ottikar have found us! The captured Valrenkian Uther is with them! He must certainly know how to navigate the maze!"
His heart leaping, Faegan tossed the shawl aside, levitated his chair, and sailed up and out of the cellar. Traax quickly followed.
The scene in the square was jubilant. It was midevening, and the torches were lit. The warriors had gathered on one side of the square, and they cheered as they looked up through the stone latticework. Duvessa and Ox beamed at Faegan and Traax as they approached. Looking up, Faegan smiled. He couldn't have hoped for more.
Just beyond the latticework, Abbey and Adrian stood in a Minion litter borne aloft by six stout warriors. The women were smiling broadly. A phalanx of warriors surrounded them, and off to one side, Ottikar and another warrior held Uther between them by his wrists.
Apparently the Valrenkian hadn't been given the comfort of a litter. He dangled precariously, the torchlight showing his face red with anger and embarrassment. The warriors in the village shouted invectives at him, many of them calling for his head. For the first time since entering the village, Faegan smiled.
"This seems a fine mess you've gotten everyone into!" Abbey shouted down at him. Despite the seriousness of the situation she couldn't resist poking some fun at him. "Do you mean to say that even your powers cannot break these stone bars?"
Folding his arms over his chest, Faegan scowled. Levitating his chair he soared as close to Abbey and Adrian's litter as the lattice would allow.
"That's exactly what I mean!" he answered gruffly. Then his face registered concern. "Have you heard from Tristan and Wigg, or Shailiha and Tyranny?"
The women's faces turned grim. "There is no word from them," Abbey answered. "But that does not mean that there is reason for alarm." Then she bit her lower lip and looked down at her hands.
Sensing trouble, Faegan leaned forward and peered through the latticework. "What is it? What aren't you telling me?"
"I am sorry. There is no other way to say it. Lionel the Little is dead."
A hush went over the crowd. Duvessa looked to Traax, who took her hand. Ox raged silently, his face red.
Stunned, Faegan sat back in his chair, staring out at nothing. Then he closed them. First Geldon, he thought, and now Lionel. No one on either side of the stone lattice said a word.
Finally Faegan balled his hands into fists, pounded on the arms of his chair, and opened his eyes. His entire body trembled with fury.
"Satine?" he whispered.
Abbey nodded. "We believe so. We won't be sure until you perform the necropsy. Before we left the palace, Sister Adrian conjured a preservative field around the body. Lionel's symptoms were the same as Glendon's-madness followed by apparent suicide. If it was Satine, she crept right by the Minion guards and somehow poisoned Lionel in his sleep."
Several more moments of silence passed.
"How did he die?" the wizard asked at last.
Abbey took a deep breath. "He hanged himself."
Uther began to laugh out loud. His jaw hardening, Faegan turned his deadly gaze toward the Valrenkian. Ottikar and the other warrior struggled to hold on to the prisoner as pandemonium erupted on both sides of the latticework and several free Minions tried to attack the Valrenkian.
"Stop it!" Faegan shouted. "Don't you see? We need him!"
Realizing that his raspy voice was being drowned out by the incensed warriors, the wizard extended one hand and sent an explosive bolt skyward, shooting between the stone bars. The warriors gradually calmed.