‘Lead the way, my lady.’
Myjun tugged him back along the dusty corridor and past the jaw-trap, taking up her torch again as they walked by. He’d been heading the right way after all.
‘So tell me,’ Annev said slowly. ‘Why put a trap in plain sight when an intruder can just step around it?’
‘The way you did?’ Myjun crinkled her nose at him. ‘There are plenty of less visible traps – the visible ones are supposed to warn intruders away.’ She led him through a maze of twists and turns that Annev failed to memorise, until they reached a small staircase and she stepped ahead of him.
‘Stay on the right-hand side and skip every third step.’
‘More traps?’
‘Lots of them.’ She led the way and he was careful to step exactly where she did.
‘How do you know about them?’
‘On the upper level, the witwomen use them to train us, as well as to protect the Vault.’ She winked at Annev as they reached the bottom stair. ‘Down here, though … I learned by watching others avoid them.’
Annev took her hand again as the corridor ahead curved, corkscrewing down into the earth. ‘You’ve followed the Master Avatars to the Vault?’ Myjun nodded. ‘And they’ve never caught you?’
‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘I’ve not been caught spying on you and the other acolytes either …’
‘Spying on us? Why?’
Myjun’s broad smile became a defiant grin. ‘I like to see how your training differs from ours. There’s a lot of places to hide and watch people – my father and the ancients do it, too.’
Annev’s stomach churned at the thought. ‘So they spy on us … and you spy on them?’
‘I spy on everyone,’ Myjun said with a hint of pride.
They’d reached a rusting iron door covered with rows of sharp metal spikes.
‘I’ll pick the lock—’ Annev began, hoping it wouldn’t be necessary.
‘No need. You wouldn’t want to try it on this door anyway.’
‘Traps?’
‘Nasty ones.’ She took a cone-shaped spike to the left of the handle in both hands and wrenched it upward.
Click.
Myjun yanked down, as if pumping a bellows.
Clack.
And again.
Clink. Clack.
She spun the door handle once to the left, once to the right, then left and right again. Each time the door gave a series of soft clicks.
Annev watched, impressed. It must be some kind of combination lock, but it was like nothing he had seen before. He might have made it this far without Myjun, but there was no way he could have managed the door. He thanked Odar he had bumped into her.
She crouched in front of the lock plate and pressed the two steel nails beneath the handle. Something heavy clanked into place on the other side … and the door swung inward.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Annev stared at the open door, impressed that Sodar had ever broken into the Vault alone. Myjun stood and gestured to the corridor beyond.
‘Your path awaits,’ she said with a flourish.
He took her hand again, still amazed that he could. ‘You’re incredible,’ he whispered as she reclaimed her torch.
‘Surely you knew that already … seeing as we’re engaged.’
Annev couldn’t stop smiling. ‘So are we inside the Vault now?’
‘No, this is the first threshold. The archives stand between here and the second threshold, and the Vault is beyond that.’
Annev whistled. ‘That’s a long way to follow someone without being seen.’ He paused. ‘Have you ever been inside?’
‘The Vault? Never! I’ve seen how they get in, but who wants to be in a room full of cursed magic?’ She shuddered.
‘You’ve never been curious?’
Myjun shook her head. ‘I might be curious how hell looks, but that doesn’t mean I want to visit.’
They turned right and the torch lit seven wooden doors, three on each side of the hallway and a seventh door at the far end. As they drew closer, Annev saw that glyphs had been inscribed on each of the doors. He studied the closest ink-stained etching.
‘Cartlann,’ he read aloud.
Myjun brought the torch up closer, studying the door frame. She traced the carving with her finger then jerked her hand back from the door. ‘Annev! These aren’t just glyphs. Those are Old Darite – they’re magic.’
‘Only if they’ve been infused with the will and thought of a wizard,’ Annev said, almost without thinking. ‘Otherwise it’s just another writing system.’
‘Wizard? You mean a Son of Keos? A keokum?’
‘No! Nothing like that. Just someone who has Odar’s blessing. You can write a glyph and say its name, but nothing will happen unless you have the gift – and even then, you have to invest the symbol with your intent.’
Myjun’s eyes went wide. ‘You know how magic works.’ It was more than a question but not quite an accusation.
‘We are taught a little about it,’ Annev said, trying to be reassuring, ‘so we can retrieve artifacts safely. And Sodar told me a bit. That’s all.’ Annev tugged her on, away from the doors.
‘Sodar taught you about magic?’ Myjun arched an eyebrow.
‘For my deacon duties.’
‘But what magic would a priest or a deacon need to know?’
Annev could feel her eyes on him and he cleared his throat, realising he’d said too much. ‘Enough to denounce it when he sees it.’
Myjun seemed to chew on this. ‘It seems Brother Sodar knows a lot about forbidden things – like that text he was translating. And how magic works …?’
Her accusing tone sounded exactly like her father’s, complete with his superiority and disapproval. It made Annev uneasy, and defensive, so he tried to redirect the conversation. ‘I could say as much about you,’ he teased, ‘knowing things you’re not supposed to.’
Myjun smiled. ‘Maybe I do.’ She nodded at the last door. ‘So what does this one say?’
‘Same as the other one. Cartlann. Archives.’
Myjun grunted, seeming disappointed. ‘And those two?’
‘Mallachtaí. Curses’ – he looked at the second – ‘and Rúin. Secrets.’
‘Oh. Well, that makes sense. This is Narach’s office, and he’s the Master of Secrets. I doubt he actually sleeps here, though.’ So saying, and to Annev’s horror, she lifted her hand and knocked on the door.
Annev held his breath, afraid the old man would answer, but there was silence. Myjun knocked again but, again, no one answered. She turned back to him.
‘You did check his rooms before—’
‘Stay on the right-hand side, boys,’ came a deep voice from the staircase, ‘and skip every third step. Master Murlach has left some nasty surprises on them.’
‘Damnably inconvenient of him,’ said a second voice, this one much older.
Annev glanced at Myjun, horror stamped on his face, and she laughed. ‘It’s fine, Ani. They can’t blame you for another master’s prank, or for bringing an artifact to the Vault – and they’re not about to scold me.’ She squeezed his palm, oblivious that he was paralysed with cold, white terror.
They’re going to find out. Fyn and Kenton are with them … they’re going to find out.