I tried a couple more times, then gave up. I continued to the far end of the wine cellar, then through the doorway and into a very large empty room, which I guess was there in case anyone needed a big empty room for something. There were four pillars in it, evenly spaced, all of them made of the same stone as the floor and walls.
“Loiosh, does it seem like we’ve gone down a lot? Like, we’re below ground level?”
“Rocza was just saying the same thing, Boss. She picks up on that stuff faster than me. Better ears.”
Well, sure. Why shouldn’t a step forward have taken us underground?
“How deep?”
“She isn’t good with measurement, Boss, but I think not too far. We’re still above sea level.”
I nodded and continued forward, going slowly, looking around. There wasn’t much to see. My feet kicked up dust, but it looked different from the dust upstairs, lighter, chalkier. I was pretty sure that meant nothing at all, but I felt proud to have noticed. To the left, my boots were getting dusty. That warlock, Laszló, he didn’t have dusty boots.
There was something green on the far wall. And as I got closer, there was a reek in the air. Not strong, but definite, like rotting vegetation. Once, when I was about six and decided that re-forming produce boxes into a castle was a better idea than mulching the garbage, my father had dragged me to a place where a pile of garbage had collected and pushed my face into it so I would understand how he did not want his kitchen to smell, ever. I hadn’t forgotten that odor.
I continued back toward it. The smell got stronger, but not intolerable. When I reached the end I was able to deduce what caused the smell of rotting vegetation: there was a bunch of rotting vegetation. Vines that looked like they’d once been creeping up the wall, what looked like the remains of stunted trees complete with dead leaves around them, and dead plants that I’m sure I could have identified if they’d been alive and I knew anything about plants.
I stood there, looked, sniffed, tried to figure it out. No, I was hardly an expert, but I was pretty sure these things had been alive less than a year ago. Probably a couple of months ago.
“Great, Loiosh. Another mystery, because we don’t have enough.”
“Maybe this is where they grew all the food they didn’t have in the kitchen.”
“Clever, but it doesn’t address the mystery.”
“What mystery is that? You mean, what killed everything?”
“The mystery isn’t how they died, it’s how they lived.”
“What?”
“Those things don’t grow indoors.”
“Oh.”
“So this place, this platform wasn’t built here, it appeared.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
I wanted to ask Sethra Lavode if it were possible to teleport a building. For one thing, she’d know; for another, I’d treasure the look on her face. But I wasn’t wholly ignorant. I had some skill in sorcery. And from what I knew, no. I mean, sure, it was possible in theory to teleport a building, but in practice, the balance it would be necessary to maintain, and the details it would be necessary to manipulate, and the power it would be necessary to hold, just, no, I didn’t think even Sethra could manage it.
But if it hadn’t been teleported here, or built here, then—what?
I scowled at the walls and ceiling. Every question I answered brought up two more. It was getting old.
In the far right corner was a doorway, and I could just see the beginning of a stairway, and a mirror hanging loosely from a torch bracket.
I glared at the mirror.
Could I really fix this thing and release Devera—and myself—just by smashing a few mirrors? I didn’t know if that would work, but it was time to find out.
I let a dagger fall into my hand, flipped it, took a grip so the pommel was sticking between my first two fingers, and punched the nearest mirror.
The shock went up my arm, to my elbow and my shoulder.
I dropped the dagger and shook my hand.
“Boss?”
“I’m okay. I just wish I hadn’t done that.”
Just like the windows, then. Someone had too much bloody magic. Or money. Or both.
So much for that idea. I waited until my arm felt better, recovered my dagger, and approached the stairway. It seemed safe and normal. I climbed. There were torches burning on the walls, so at least I could see. The stairway wrapped around a couple of times, then let me off in a cave.
“Rocza says we’re lower now, almost sea level.”
“Of course we are. I just went up, why wouldn’t we be lower?”
There was no light in the cave, but there was another burning torch right behind me.
Why were there burning torches? Did some servant come and check them every so often? And if so, where were all the servants? I’d run into three, total. I cursed under my breath and grabbed the torch from its bracket.
The cave was your basic rocky cave, but I could smell sea-water. A few steps later I determined that it was coming from the right, so I turned to the left.
I followed the cave into the cliff for a long way without seeing anything but more cave in flickering torchlight.
“Are we looking for something in particular, Boss?”
“No, something in general.”
The ground was hard and uneven, difficult to walk on. It would be even harder to fight on, so I hoped that wouldn’t come up. Not that I often hoped it would come up.
“I mean, Boss, we’re no longer even in the house.”
“That should make you happy. Why doesn’t it make you happy?”
“Guess I’m getting hard to please.”
Just after that the cave ended. There were no bones, or abandoned nests, or dens, or any other signs that there might once have been life here. I don’t know what kind of animals live in caves, but none of them had ever been here.
I studied the walls, holding the torch close, and felt myself smile.
“What?”
“There are marks here, just where I thought there might be.”
“So, when you said you weren’t looking for anything specific—”
“I was lying. Ouch.”
“Sorry, Boss. I slipped.”
I wished I had some paper. I should start carrying a notebook, just in case I ever again find myself in a cave with a tenuous connection to a magical house, and I need to write down the obscure symbols carved into the rock. But I at least knew what they were, if not what they meant. They were sorcery runes, the kind of marks a sorcerer would use to help maintain concentration during difficult or complex spells. All sorcerers started that way, using them for even the simplest spells. It’s how you use the energy from the Orb without burning out your brain and destroying yourself, which would interfere with further lessons. I had often used them when teleporting, just to make sure I didn’t do something embarrassing. Expert sorcerers use them when doing something they find difficult. This specimen was one I’d never seen before.