Bahl led Isak back down the hall to a doorway which opened into a dim corridor. It was silent apart from a brief scuffle of feet somewhere off in the distance. As the door shut behind them, the welcoming aromas of the Great Hall – food, burning logs – were replaced by scents of dust and age. Brands ran down either side of the corridor, and the flames made strange dancing shadows oh the walls. Flags and drapes covered the walls, the colours muted in the flickering light.
Isak hesitated: he could almost feel the millennia radiating from the stone underneath. The place was more like a tomb than a palace. Lord Bahl moved on, ghosting along without sound, followed by his Chief Steward, who stepped carefully and quietly. Isak, watching them, thought irreverently that serving Lord Bahl so long had caused the Chief Steward to adopt some of his Lord's ways.
A stairway carved with images of the Upper Circle led up off to the left; the stretch of right-hand wall was broken by four plain doors, but Isak's eyes were drawn to a pair of ornate double doors at the far end of the corridor and he began to feel a pull, both foreboding and enticing at the same time. As he drew closer he could see the double doors were framed by a dragon made of wrought iron. Ribbed wings swept down each side almost to the floor, while its glaring beak jutted out from the wall, glaring at anyone approaching. Bahl went straight up to the door and opened it. The click of the latch broke the silence and stirred Isak into movement.
Beyond was a large circular room, a dozen yards in diameter and high enough to accommodate even the largest of white-eyes. On the walls were faintly scrawled geometric chalk markings, but a taste of magic in the air made it clear they were not simply idle scribbling.
Isak stepped towards the nearest one, narrowing his eyes to try to focus on the complex shapes and patterns of runes. A rumble from Bahl warned him against getting too close: obviously he didn't want curious fingers within reach of the writing.
As he turned away from the walls, Isak realised there was another person already in the room; a maid kneeling at Lord Bahl's feet. She stood up as Bahl passed her, heading for the centre of the room, and Isak caught a glimpse of pronounced features betraying more than a little apprehension. Then she saw Isak and dropped her head down low, apparently hiding her fear behind a fall of long, thick hair. She followed Lesarl into the black circle marked on the floor, standing as far from Bahl as she could. Holding a bundle of what looked like bedding tight to her chest, the girl stood with hunched shoulders, her eyes fixed on the floor before her. She looked as if she were braced to go out in a gale.
Isak stepped into the circle and pushed down with his foot: it wasn't stone, but something smoother and more yielding. As he focused on it, Isak suddenly found himself dizzy, and a sensation of falling rushed over his body. The more he stared, the more insubstantial the floor seemed.
'How do I go down?' he asked.
Bahl had raised a hand towards the wall where a bird-like shape was drawn. He gave a dry laugh. 'Patience, young man. You're not ready for that. Down is a greater step than you might think.'
'What's down there?'
'I said patience. Explanations are for the morrow.'
Isak nodded this time and kept quiet.
Returning his attention to the image on the wall, Bahl began to mouth words and make gestures. A ghost of colour lingered moment- arily after his hand had passed through the air, then melted away-Before Isak had time to ask another question a silent wind began to whip up from all around, tugging at clothes and the bundle carried by the maid.
Strange, shadowy shapes danced around their bodies, wings with' out substance tearing past Isak's face with ever-increasing speed. He flinched, but Lord Bahl stood still, as solid as a mountain. The fligh1 of wings turned into a storm, nipping and dragging at their clothes as the platform under their feet started rising suddenly. While the girl was clearly terrified, Isak was too astonished to feel anything else-He had never shown much of the natural tendency towards magic that white-eyes were supposed to have. The handfuls of times when something unexplained had happened had been when he was getting a beating or having a nightmare. It was never in a form that could be controlled or predicted, and it was too rare to make his father think twice about giving him a thrashing. For the first time in Isak's life it suddenly felt as if magic might be easy and accessible. The journey itself lasted just a few heartbeats, then the wind suddenly fell away to reveal a room six yards across. The walls of the room ere only gently sloped, and Isak realised that since this room was half the diameter of the one below, they must have travelled further than it had felt. The maid, a relieved look on her face, darted on to the solid floor and went to make up the low bed. Isak looked around the room, then followed the girl off the dark platform and on to solid flagstones. The room was unremarkable; even Isak, a wagon-brat, felt mildly disappointed at the musty air and plain furnishings. There was a battered desk with a worn leather-backed chair before it and a clothes trunk next to the bed. The fireplace was very plain. It didn't fit the decadent image he had of palace life.
'My Lord, I am reminded of another matter that you will wish to attend to immediately,' announced Lesarl. 'Might I suggest we retire to the top room?' Bahl turned enquiringly. The blank look on his steward's face seemed to answer his question.
He turned back to his new Krann and said, 'Isak, you need to sleep more than you realise. Any questions you have can wait for later. I will wake you when it is time.'
Without waiting for a reply, Bahl repeated his motions and the pair disappeared upwards in a sudden flurry. Isak found the chair behind him and sank down thankfully. The weight on his mind had drained his limbs of strength and he suddenly felt desperately tired. This wasn't what he'd imagined, but the presence of a bed was enough, and anything more than a rug on the ground was luxury.
He turned to the desk, where he found a razor lying snug in a bone sheath, beside it a copper bowl, a water jug and a polished copper and glass mirror. Leaning forward, he caught his face in the mirror, a perfect reflection that sent a shiver of excitement through his body. It had been made with magic: there was no other way to produce such a smooth surface. It might have been a paltry extravagance for palace, but it still cheered Isak's spirits. His eyes drifted up to the single shelf above the desk. A few dusty books lay on it, all of them looking older than he was. Carel had taught him to read, but it had always been a chore rather than a pleasure, Scanning the titles – From Across the Sea, The Campaigns of Manayaz Vukotic, Duels of Words: the Founding of the College of Magic – Isak decided he was too tired to face any of them tonight, although the second one made him linger a moment, wondering why it was here in the first place. Manayaz Vukotic had died as the worst of traitors, for he had led his tribe against their patron God during the Great War, This act of heresy had condemned Vukotic himself to an eternity in the Dark Place, and his five children to be cursed with vampirism, Odd to have an account of his successes in the new Krann's quarters, no matter what lessons could be learned from them. Isak hadn't expected that sort of book to be readily available, even here. Perhaps it was a test of some kind, though to what end he couldn't fathom. With a sigh he looked back at the maid, this time seeing her properly. She was pretty, taller than he'd first thought, and with what looked to be a fine bosom under her thick robe.
'What's your name?' he started.
The girl gave a small shriek at the unexpected break in the silence. She stared round, looking horrified that Isak was capable of speech Isak wondered if some of Bahl's guests were a little less than friendly to the maids when left alone with them.