Gathering her resolve, she rose, moved over to the side of the airship, and looked down. The yard directly below her was empty. She went over the side quickly, down the rope ladder and onto the ground, not bothering to hide her descent or even her presence. Subtlety would not serve her well just then. The key to her success lay in boldness. She stood at the bottom of the ladder, looking around for the Gnome guards. Still wrapped and hooded by the cloak she had stolen earlier, at a distance she could pass for one of them. It was her best chance.
She picked out the guards in the darkness, then started toward the window–lit walls of the Keep as if it made no difference to her whether they were there or not.
Darkness served her purpose well. She was shadowed for much of the way by the hulls of the airships and then the walls of the parapets and buildings, she was just another solitary figure crossing the yard, no different in appearance from the others. One of the guards glanced her way as she advanced toward the doors she had spied ahead, but he made no attempt to challenge her. When another turned toward her in the making of his rounds, she released a quick bit of magic to create an unexpected noise behind him, causing him to turn back again. In the windows ahead, shadows passed through the light, their appearance unexpected and startling. She felt her throat tighten, but did not slow.
Keep going, she told herself.
She reached the doorway after what seemed an interminable length of time, pulled down on the handle to release the latch, and stepped inside.
A large anteroom, its ceiling cavernous and smoky with torch burn, its walls hung with heraldic pennants, opened into three long corridors that stretched away through pools of torchlight and layered shadows to lines of closed doors, high windows, and dark alcoves. She started forward and stopped. A pair of Gnome Hunters stood to either side of her, neither more than a dozen paces away, armed and gimlet–eyed as they watched her freeze in place.
She had no time to think and only a moment to react.
She threw back the hood to her cloak and fastened the one on the right with a dark glare. «Where have they taken him?»
The question was asked in Elfish, a language with which she did not think he would be familiar. She was right. He stared blankly at her, a hint of surprise shadowing his sharp features.
« The boy!» she snapped, speaking now in Callahorn’s tongue, a Southland dialect everyone in the Borderlands spoke, accommodating him in a way that would demonstrate her superiority. «Where is he?»
She shifted her gaze quickly from the first Gnome to the second, her impatience evident, her sense of command clear. She radiated what she hoped was Druid authority, giving clear indication that as a member of the order, she was where she belonged and had a right to ask the questions she was asking. There was no reason to doubt her. All that was required was a quick, concise response.
Not surprisingly, the Gnomes had trouble supplying one. «The cells, 1 think,” the second Gnome told her in the Southland dialect. He said something to the other in Gnomish, but his companion simply shrugged. «Yes, the cells. To be held until the Ard Rhys returns.»
She nodded perfunctorily and marched past them down the central corridor, acting as if she knew exactly what she was doing, when in fact she had no idea at all. The cells? Where were the cells? Below ground somewhere? She couldn’t ask that, not of these guards. Someone else, maybe. She was inside and she had a destination, and that was going to have to be enough.
A handful of doors farther down the corridor, she stepped into a deeply shadowed alcove and stood breathing hard with her back against the rough wall, her mind racing. Ahren would have known what to do next if he were there. She must try to think the way Ahren would. She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain that thinking of him cost her, then opened them quickly, determined not to give way. The mechanics were easy. She needed to find her way to the cells. To do that, she needed to find someone to tell her how.
She brushed at her short–cropped dark hair, squared her shoulders, then stepped back out into the corridor and began walking deeper into the Keep.
Empty of life, the passageway tunneled ahead, her footsteps soft echoes in the silence. She was aware that she still wore the Gnome hunting cloak and that it would eventually draw unwanted attention. Her first order of business was to replace it with a Druid robe. But that was easier said than done. It wasn’t as if there were robes hanging on hooks all up and down the hallway, Druids wandering about from whom she might steal one.
But she got lucky. At a juncture of corridors much deeper inside the Keep, just as she was despairing that she might wander the halls of Paranor until sunrise, she came upon a study chamber with lights burning and Druids at work. She paused just outside the doorway, still within the corridor shadows, and peered inside. She could see three dark–cloaked forms, hoods thrown back, bodies hunched over books at tables, heads lowered in concentration.
She stood for a time, trying to decide what to do next. But she couldn’t think of anything that didn’t involve going into the room for a closer look around. That was too dangerous. She hesitated, undecided, and as she did so, she felt a finger tap her shoulder.
« Are you looking for someone?»
That she didn’t jump out of her skin entirely was something of a miracle. She even managed to turn around. A Druid stood behind her, a questioning look on his scowling face. Bright green eyes peered out from under heavy, furrowed brows. A Southlander. She stared at him without speaking, her heart gone straight to her throat.
« Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. «Didn’t mean to frighten you. But you look like you don’t know what you’re doing here.» He rubbed his smooth chin reflectively, then glanced at her robe and gave a disapproving frown. «Why are you wearing a Gnome Hunter’s cloak? You know the rules.»
She didn’t, of course, but she nodded anyway. «I was working on the airships and wore the robe to keep from getting dirty. I forgot to take it off.»
« Well, it’s not allowed.» He glanced past her into the study room. «Wait here.»
He stepped inside, out of view, then returned a moment later and thrust a Druid robe into her hands. «Here, wear this until you can put on one of your own. The rules are clear.»
She nodded her thanks, slipped off the Gnome cloak, and slipped on the proffered robe. «I’ve been away. I don’t know all the new rules.»
The Druid looked suddenly eager. «Did you come in one of those airships that just landed? Has something else happened?»
She hesitated. Something else? What was he talking about? «The airships brought in a boy,” she said, deciding to measure his reaction.
« Ah, the Ohmsford boy.» The Druid shook his head. «What a lot of bother. They’ve been looking for him for weeks. Nephew to the old Ard Rhys. They think the whole family is at risk, so they’re bringing them here to keep them safe. Found the parents, but they couldn’t find the boy. Until now.»
« So the parents are here?» she tried.
« No, no, that’s what I was talking about. They’re gone. Disappeared with their ship two days ago. Flew off in something of a confrontation, I hear. Hard to say, the Gnomes won’t talk about it with us. But there was a fight of some sort. No one knows. Shadea keeps such things secret from everyone but her closest advisers.» He shrugged. «Typical.»
Khyber took a deep breath. «Do you think she would be awake this late? 1 need to see her.»
The Druid shook his head. «You don’t know much about what’s going on, do you? She isn’t even here. She went to Arishaig and hasn’t returned.»