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was. But then I m pretty good.
My fingers twitched as I studied the dead-bolt and the hinges.
Frankly, though, I was more worried about the spells that sealed it, as
well as any that might trigger alarms. I estimated the door itself to
weigh about forty pounds. It was composed of thick wooden planks
with iron bands around them. It wasn t perfectly sealed, though, since
light was coming from the other side of it. I didn t know what that
meant; this was where my information ended. I licked my lips and
started working.
Kiera the Thief had not only found a set of burglar tools for me, but
had trained me in their use. I m not a thief, but I get by. I hoped the
device was up to overcoming the alarms, because I wasn t; defeating
the lock was the most I could hope for.
A good lock combines a fine mechanism with a heavy bolt. This one
had, indeed, a very fine mechanism, and three separate dead-bolts. So
the pick had to be strong enough to turn the bolts, but light enough to
go into the lock. It turned out to be a three-tumbler system, requiring
a spring-pick and three rods, all of which had to be pressed against
tumblers going in different directions while being turned in yet a
fourth direction. If my fingers had been much smaller and I d had an
extra pair of arms, it would have been much easier. As it was, it took
me twenty minutes, but I got it, and no alarms went off as far as I
could tell.
I would have forgotten to oil the hinges but Loiosh reminded me. On
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the other side was a landing with several lamps blazing and stairs
leading down to a set of three doors, all of which looked from up
here to be rather flimsy.
I spent about fifteen minutes locking the heavy door again. This may
have been a waste of time; I couldn t decide. Then I took a couple of
deep, silent breaths, closed my eyes, and
What is it, Vlad? One is always on a first-name basis in psionic
communication, because magic transcends courtesy.
I m past the big door.
All right. I ll inform Morrolan. We ll stay in contact. As soon as you
have the staff in your hand, we ll break the teleport block. It won t be
down for long.
So you ve said.
And I repeat it. Be careful.
Yeah.
Once at the bottom, I had to pick a door. None of them were locked or
enchanted, so I chose the middle one. I oiled the hinge and slipped it
open. Forty-five minutes later I was back in front of the three doors,
and I had a much better idea of the sorts of seashells Loraan liked to
collect, and a very good idea of his taste in art, but no better idea of
where the staff was.
I wondered how long it would be until someone discovered the bodies
in the kitchen, or noticed that the guards weren t at their posts.
I really hated this. I tried the left-hand door.
The room was lit, though I couldn t see the light source. It was about
forty paces square, with another door opposite me. A large table, say
ten feet long, dominated the middle of the room. There were globes
suspended from the ceiling, emitting narrow beams of light that were
concentrated on a single point at one side, and near this point was a
stack of thick, heavy tomes. There was another tome on the table,
open, with a quill pen next to it and half a page written in. Small,
glittering stones were scattered on the table. Three wands none of
which matched the description of what I was looking for stood
against the wall to my left, and a pedestal at the end of the table held
what seemed to be a chain made of gold, suspended in air except for
the end that touched the pedestal. A broadsword leaned against the
table, and it would have looked incongruous save that from where I
stood I could see that it was covered with runes and symbols. Against
another wall was a large basin, probably holding something unnatural
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to which unmentionable things had been done.
In case you haven t figured it out yet, this was Loraan s work area.
I studied the floor in front of me for a long time, checking the path to
the door opposite. It seemed to be clear. I let my observations flow
back to Sethra. She acknowledged but didn t comment. I crossed very
carefully and reached the other door without making a sound.
I studied this door for quite a while. No spells, no bolts, no alarms. I
oiled the hinges just to be safe, then opened it. I was in a slightly
smaller room, not as cluttered. The only thing of note was what
seemed to be a cube made of orange light, about six feet on a side, in
the middle of the room. In the center of the glowing cube was a white,
five-foot-long staff. At one end I could almost make out the rusty star
I d been told to look for. That was not, however, the only thing in the
room. Next to the cube of light, facing it, was a Dragaeran. He stared
at me and I stared at him. He is frozen that way in my mind all of
seven and a half feet tall, big, thick eyebrows on a florid face, with
long, tangled reddish hair that stuck out at improbable angles. He was
old, I guess, but he certainly wasn t infirm. He stood straight, and his
stance reminded me of Morrolan just before he had almost attacked
me. I saw the lines of muscles beneath his tight, white blouse, and the
blood-red cloak he wore was drawn back, held by a ruby clasp that
reminded me of Sethra s. His brown eyes were clear and unblinking,
yet his expression seemed mildly curious, neither frightened nor
angry.
Only his hands seemed old long fingers that were twisted and bent,
with what might have been tiny scars all over the backs of his fingers.
I have no idea what could have caused that. In his hands was a dark,
thin tube, about four feet long, that was pointed at the staff inside the
orange cube.
The bastard was working late tonight.
I would almost certainly have beaten him to the draw, as it were, if he
hadn t noticed me coming in. He gestured vaguely in my direction and
I discovered I couldn t move. A black fog swam before my eyes. I said,
Sorry, Sethra, not this time. And nothing held me as I sagged
against nothing, fell in, and was buried.
Chapter 6
I stared at the flickering, weaving dance of the horizon and tried to
decide if I liked it, or if it mattered. The thought that I was losing my
mind came, and I pushed it aside. It is a not uncommon fear in such
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circumstances, largely because it sometimes happens. But I just
didn t have time to deal with it then.
My eyes were drawn from the wavering landscape to the sorcery
rune I had, for whatever reason, drawn on the ground before me. I
blinked and it didn t go away. I licked my lips.
The rune was glowing. I hadn t asked it to, but I guess I hadn t asked
it not to, either.
I brought my palms together in front of me, fingers pointing out, and
in the air I drew another rune, this one the verb to summon. I
considered what nouns I might hang from it, shuddered, and almost
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