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.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“I’ll bid you good evening, Apprentice.”
“Likewise, Master.” She bowed to him. She stood there for a few moments after Eskalyn headed back to his tower.
I’d better get this over with tonight. If I think about it too much, what little courage I have will fail me.
She crossed to the shop at the opposite corner of the inner ward, where she bought three candles and a candlestick for the outrageous sum of a silver and two coppers. She went back to her room and put them in her satchel, along with her tinderbox.
She lay on the bed and tried to bring on the purge. It ought to be a mild one, since she’d used only one weak spell today, but she couldn’t afford to risk it happening in Degoran’s tower. It wouldn’t come. It felt like trying to see something that was stuck to her shoulder.
She’d been taught, in this sort of situation, to think of a time that fear or anger had overcome her when she hadn’t been trying to use magic. For no particular reason, she remembered Grenur grabbing hold of her in the refectory on Rakeloth’s Day. That worked. Fear and grief smothered her, as slow as nightfall.
As thought became possible again, she got the impression someone was lying on top of her. At first she believed it was Perinar. Then he laughed, and she realised it was Grenur.
Adramal sat up, gasping. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself screaming. No one else was here. Of course not. The purge had taken the thoughts she’d used to invoke it and twisted them into hallucinations of something worse. That was why you didn’t try to force it if you could afford to wait. But everything was back to normal now. So why was she still shaking?
Be here now. She stretched, held the position for a few heartbeats, and relaxed. She slung her satchel over her shoulder and went downstairs.
She planned to hide somewhere in the inner ward until after sunset, so that she wouldn’t have to be seen breaking curfew. As she passed through the tunnel of the inner gatehouse, she met Perinar coming the other way. Her heart seemed to leap and fall at the same time.
“Oh, there you are,” he said.
“Yes, here I am.” She smiled, thinking it had to look false.
“What happened with Degoran?” he asked.
“We couldn’t get in to see him.”
“Oh...”
“But he must still be alive,” she said. “The spell he put on his door is still there.” She repeated Eskalyn’s explanation of how it worked.
Perinar looked troubled. “How could Degoran cast a spell like that when he’s confined to bed?”
“You think someone else cast it?” she said. He didn’t answer, but the way his brow furrowed told her he did think that. “Who? And why?”
Perinar glanced around and motioned her out of the tunnel, back into the middle ward. “In my first year here, there were a lot of arguments about how much magic the school should be teaching, or whether it should be teaching it at all. Degoran wanted to bring in more wizards to teach magic ‘properly,’ as he put it — he mentioned your father as one possibility.”
“Be grateful he didn’t get his way,” said Adramal. “Degoran’s a difficult master, but my father is far worse.”
He leaned back and gazed at her. Even in the shadows, his deep eyes drew her in. She stretched, meaning to give him a small kiss. It lingered and deepened. She pulled him to her, wanting to be in contact with every inch of his body. They didn’t stop until Adramal heard enthusiastic cheering behind her.
Perinar let go of her, spluttering, his face red. She turned to see a group of a dozen apprentices looking on.
“Ignore them,” she told Perinar. “They’re just envious.” Now that she’d been caught in the act, she didn’t feel as embarrassed as she thought she would. Her main emotion was annoyance at the onlookers’ lack of manners. She led him around the corner, past the bathhouse. “Before I... distracted you, you were telling me about Degoran wanting to teach more magic.”
He gulped and glanced around. “The argument went on for several fortnights. When they were shouting at each other in the Great Hall, you could hear them in the outer ward. I heard that servants had to separate them on more than one occasion.”
Adramal gave a low whistle. “Do you think this argument has flared up again?”
“It’s possible.”
“So someone else cast that spell? To lock Degoran into his room?”
He looked at her sidelong. “You ask a lot of questions.”
She gulped, and then pointed, sweating, in the direction of Degoran’s tower. “Because a man is very sick up there, and no one seems to want to do anything about it. And those who can do something aren’t being allowed to.”
Perinar bowed his head. “Sorry. You’re right.”
They climbed over the breach in the middle wall to the alcove they had found a few nights previously, and for a while, Adramal forgot her worries. As the sun neared the top of the outer wall, she wondered how to get away from Perinar before curfew. Say she had an essay to write? He’d probably offer to help.
“Is something wrong?” said Perinar. “You seem worried.”
“No, I’m fine.” Lelsarin? Any ideas? There was no answer.
“Are you looking forward to visiting the city on All Gods’ Day?”
No. “Yes.” She recalled the lie she’d told him about her reason for wanting to go there. She’d have to make this look unexpected... She gasped and doubled over.
He threw his arm around her shoulders. “Are you all right?”
She put a hand to her abdomen and stood straight — slowly, as if this caused her further pain. “I think... I think I need to go back to my room.”
“Are you going to be sick again?” He sounded queasy himself.
“No... this is...” She turned to him, heat rising in her face. “It’s something that happens to all women, about every other fortnight.”
“Oh,” he said, looking as embarrassed as she felt. “Period pain, you mean?”
“That’s it.” She relaxed, glad she wouldn’t have to explain the details. “It’s worst on the first day. Not normally this bad, though.”
“We’d better get you indoors, then,” he said. He turned to climb over the gap in the wall.
“I don’t think I can manage that just now,” she said. They walked around to the middle gatehouse, Perinar with his arm at her back.
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Perinar asked, when they reached the senior apprentices’ quarters. “Is there anything I can get you?”
She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I just need to lie down for a while and wish I was allowed to use healing spells on myself.” She squeezed her eyes shut, as though trying to hold back tears. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I really need to go now.” The disappointment on his face almost broke her heart.
From her window, she watched Perinar walk slowly to the junior apprentices’ quarters. Once he was out of sight, she sat on the bed.
I’m impressed, said Lelsarin. If you ever decide wizardry isn’t for you, a profitable position with the mummers awaits.
Very funny, replied Adramal. That trick isn’t going to get me away from him again. Not for another two fortnights, anyway.
Then you’d better hope we find that knife in Degoran’s tower.