Death & Magic (The Barefoot Healer, volume I)

Death & Magic chapter 33

Chapter 33

After dinner, Adramal went to Eskalyn’s tower as requested. She wiped her sweating palm on her skirt and knocked on the door. A servant answered and motioned her inside.

This tower was wider than any she’d been in until now. Like all of them, it had a staircase that spiralled up its wall. The ground floor was a waiting room. Several high-backed chairs, similar to those in the Great Hall, surrounded a table. A candle in a brass holder burned on the table.

“I’ll tell Master Eskalyn you’re here,” said the servant. He went upstairs.

Adramal wandered around the room. Apart from the table and chairs, the only other furniture was a fire-guard, decorated with a tapestry of a naval battle. Behind it was a fireplace, obviously not used since winter. None of these seemed likely hiding places for a thin-bladed knife.

At the sound of footsteps, she turned to see Eskalyn coming down the stairs. He led her to Degoran’s tower, black against the reddening sky, and opened its door without knocking. The room was dark. Eskalyn held up his hand, and a ball of white light appeared at his shoulder.

The room was empty except for a plinth opposite the door, on which was a small statue of a prancing horse. “Hello!” Eskalyn called. He frowned as the echoes died. “Eskalyn’s here!” He paused and listened. “He’s sent his servants away. That’s not a good sign.”

It should make searching the place after dark a lot easier, though. Eskalyn started up the staircase, with Adramal following. The floor above was a dining room. A piece of food on the table was unidentifiable beneath a layer of mould. Eskalyn strode up to the next level, which had two small beds and a wardrobe — the servants’ room, Adramal guessed.

The next floor was some sort of library or study. Adramal tried to memorise its layout as she hurried to keep up with Eskalyn. The staircase ended in a landing with a closed door, similar to that in Rakbanorath’s tower. Magic shimmered around the door. Thick bars of white force intersected, forming a diamond-patterned grid. Narrower braids of magic wove among the bars, like ivy growing on a trellis. They moved, knotting and unknotting. She found it hard to look at any one piece of the spell, as though the magic itself was pushing her attention away.

Eskalyn knocked. “Degoran! I’ve brought Adramal to see you!” There was no answer. He knocked again, louder. “Degoran!” Still no answer. He motioned her back downstairs, tutting. “We’re wasting our time.”

As they descended, she said, “The spell on the door is quite impressive, Master.”

“What?” said Eskalyn, giving her a suspicious look. “Oh — you can see it without a spell of your own. You’ve been taught well, then. I agree, it’s a remarkable piece of magic. The straights hold the door shut and strengthen the wood. The curved pieces repair the straights, so if you destroy part of the spell, it rebuilds itself as you destroy the next part. The only way to break the spell is to destroy the whole thing all at once, probably shattering the door at the same time. That would need more power than I’d care to use in one go.”

She licked her lips nervously. “And why has he cast something so elaborate, Master? What’s he guarding against?”

Eskalyn frowned. “I have no idea.”

“Is it connected with his illness, do you think?”

“It must be,” said Eskalyn.

“What do you think is wrong with him?”

With a snort, he said, “If you don’t know, I’m sure I don’t.”

They went the rest of the way down in silence. At the door, he said, “Thank you for offering to help. It’s a shame he wouldn’t see you, but I’ll send for you if he changes his mind.”