Killian sat up and regarded himself, rubbing his arms to bring back some warmth back to his chill flesh. At least they’d left the pendant, hanging in its place about his neck. His task would be much more difficult with it.
He felt a twinge when he thought of the girl, but had to thank the Lord of the Sun for such a fortuitous passage of events. He had to congratulate himself, too; one makes one’s own luck, after all, and the entire deception had been masterfully planned. The hardest part had been summoning the nerve to get into that scratched water. He shivered again at the thought of the plunge into its icy depths.
Still, it had given him a nicely dead look. Holding his hand in front of his face even Killian thought the blue-tinged fingernails were nothing that could be faked. It had been a feat of the utmost self-control not to shiver when they’d laid him out on that stretcher while the High Enchantress had her tirade at the girl. A job well done.
Killian could feel the tingle of the essence working through his veins; he’d managed to get a good splash out of the bottle, enough to terrify the girl. And, just as he’d expected — and hoped — she’d run straight to the High Enchantress.
And now here he was, in this, the most difficult of places to get into.
Killian looked around him. So this was the High Enchantress’s sanctum, her place of power. He was sure she’d have plenty of traps laid about, especially the closer he came to his target. Killian nervously fingered the thin scar on his left bicep. Hopefully she’d kept her traps to the typical; the hidden golem in Ralanast had proven to be particularly troublesome. Very skilful of their High Animator, automating a creature like that.
Looking around, Killian could see a series of rooms connected by wide corridors. Chamber after chamber ran before, beside, and behind him. Where to begin?
Killian stood and, picking a direction at random, he began to explore.
~
DOWN in the huge spaces set aside for the High Enchantress’s use beneath the Crystal Palace, there was no sense of time, no sense of the moon’s rise and passage across the night sky.
It was cold. Cold and empty. While the rooms were filled with all manner of tools, weapons, armour, books, bubbling pots, strange odours, and works in progress; they were still empty, lacking in life. It was clear to Killian that Evora Guinestor hoarded her work, sharing the load with no one. For her the joys of knowledge and discovery were a private thing.
The chambers were covered with thick silk carpets and Killian tossed a vial of essence in his hand as he walked, enjoying the soft feel of the silk on his bare feet and the weight of the bottle in his hand. It hadn’t taken him long to find the bottle, even if it was small; the High Lord must keep the main stockpiles somewhere else. It was good to have a supply again. He now had options.
Suddenly, pausing, Killian heard a voice. There was someone in the next chamber, walking about. Killian drew behind a cupboard door that was hanging ajar, peering around its edge.
It was the High Enchantress, a frown on her face. She was alone, muttering under her breath — probably a habit she’d picked up from spending so much time by herself.
Killian hadn’t managed to look at High Enchantress Evora Guinestor, playing dead as he’d been at the time. She was actually quite beautiful, in an imposing, regal way. She was tall, taller than him, and slim. Her silk hooded dress hung about her, decorated and etched with silver runes in intricate patterns. Killian had no intention of finding out what they meant.
He guessed she was looking for a book of some kind; he’d heard her mention to Ella something about books. Was she going to go to the cold slab where he’d been laid out? Perhaps to look at the half-dead, half-frozen stranger? Killian certainly hoped not.
Evora turned towards the room containing the slab and Killian’s breath caught, but then was released as she turned away. Evora instead walked into a chamber that was the first in a series of libraries. Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling, an orderly collection of lifetimes of knowledge. From heavy volumes half the size of a man to tiny notebooks the size of a palm, there were books of every type and description.
Killian thought hard. There was an opportunity here he couldn’t miss. He had to follow her, and he couldn’t afford to be seen. When he felt she’d settled in, Killian quickly slipped into a well-lit chamber in the opposite direction. He searched and then found what he was looking for: a workbench and a scrill.
He didn’t have much time. It was complicated, this process, and if he didn’t do it right he’d have to start all over again. The High Enchantress made liberal use of bright nightlamps — a second-rate effort wouldn’t be good enough.
Killian unclasped the silver chain from his neck, placing the pendant bottom-side up on the workbench so he could see the matrix of runes inscribed on the back. Killian sat the essence vial on the bench and removed the stopped. He then took the scrill and dipped the sharp end into the bottle. When he took the scrill out, its end dripped black, oily liquid.