“Yes.”
Jimmy led Arutha down along the wall and around the corner, until he came to the solitary door to the large building. Above it was a half-circle window, with a faint light showing. Jimmy signaled for Arutha to give him a boost, and the young thief scampered up to the cornice above the door. He gripped it and pulled himself up to peek through the window.
Jimmy peered about. Below him, behind the door, was an anteroom of some sort, with a stone slab floor. Beyond, double doors opened into darkness. Jimmy noticed something strange about the wall below the window. The exterior stone was only facing.
Jimmy jumped back down. “There’s nothing I can see from the window.”
“Nothing?”
“There’s a passage into the darkness, that’s all; no sign of any guards.”
“Let’s start looking around the lake’s edge, but keep an eye on this building.”
Jimmy agreed and they headed down toward the lake. The building was beginning to make his “something’s odd” bump itch, but he shoved aside any distraction and concentrated on the search.
Hours were spent stalking the shore. Few water plants lined the lake’s edge; the plateau was almost devoid of flora. In the distance there would be an occasional faint rustling sound, which Arutha supposed came from one of the other pairs who searched.
When the sky became grey, Jimmy alerted Arutha to the coming dawn. Giving up in disgust, the Prince accompanied the boy thief back to the crevice. Laurie and Baru were already there and Martin and Roald joined them a few minutes later. All reported no sight of Silverthorn.
Arutha remained silent, turning slowly until his back was to the others. Then he clenched his fist, looking as if he had been struck a terrible blow. All eyes were on him as he stared away into the darkness of the cave, his profile etched in relief by the faint light from above, and all saw tears upon his cheeks. Suddenly he spun to confront his companions. Hoarsely he whispered, “It must be here.” He looked at each of them in turn, and they glimpsed something in his eyes: a depth of feeling, a sense of overwhelming loss that caused them to share his dread. All of them saw suffering and something dying. If there was no Silverthorn, Anita was lost.
Martin shared his brother’s pain, and more, for in this instant he saw his father, in those quiet moments before Arutha had been old enough to know the depths of Borric’s loss of his Lady Catherine. The elven-taught hunter felt his own chest constrict at the thought of his brother reliving those lonely nights before the hearth, beside an empty chair, with only a portrait over the fire to gaze upon. Of the three brothers, only Martin had glimpsed the profound bitterness that had haunted their father’s every waking moment. If Anita died, Arutha’s heart and joy might well die with her. Unwilling to surrender hope, Martin whispered, “It will be here somewhere.”
Jimmy added, “There is one place we haven’t looked.” Arutha said, “Inside that building.” Martin said, “Then there’s only one thing to do.” Jimmy hated to hear himself say, “One of us must get inside and take a look.”
SEVENTEEN - Warlord
The cell stank of damp straw.
Pug stirred and found his hands tethered to the wall with needra hide chains. The skin of the stolid, six-legged Tsurani beast of burden had been treated to almost the hardness of steel and was anchored firmly to the wall. Pug’s head ached from the encounter with the strange magic-disrupting device. But there was another irritation. He fought off his mental sluggishness and looked at the manacles. As he began to incant a spell that would cause the chains to change to insubstantial gases, a sudden wrongness occurred. He could put no other name to it but a wrongness. His spell would not work. Pug sat back against the wall, knowing the cell had been blanketed by some ensorcellment neutralizing any other magic. Of course, he thought: how else does one keep a magician in jail?