“Thou dost not trust people easily, my black-hooded friend? ’Tis quite wise. Careful should be the dealings with the wise and wizards.” Esrahaddon winked at the thief.
“What does he mean by ‘turning it inside out’?” Alric asked. “So, time has stopped for them while we are free?”
“Indeed. Though time still moves, ’tis very slowly paced. Unaware will they remain sealed in an instant lost.”
“I’m starting to see now why they were afraid of you,” Alric said.
“Nine hundred years did I spend imprisoned for saving the son of a man we all swore our lives to serve and protect. Exceedingly kind is the reward I bestow, for there art worse moments in which for all eternity to be trapped.”
They reached the great stair that led to the main entrance corridor and began the long, exhausting climb up the stone steps. “How did you stay sane?” Hadrian asked. “Or did time slip by in an instant like it is for them?”
“Slip it did but not so fast when measured in centuries. Each day a battle did I fight. Patience is a skill learned as a practitioner of the Art. Yet times there were that … well, who can say what it means to be sane?”
When they approached the hall of faces, Esrahaddon looked down its length and paused. Hadrian noticed the wizard stiffen. “What is it?” he asked.
“Those faces, frozen thus, art the workers who built this gaol. Came I to this place during the final walling. Tented city did wreathed the lake. Hundreds of artisans with families came to the call to do their part for their fallen emperor. Such was the character of His Imperial Majesty. They all mourned his passing, and few in the vast and varied empire would not gladly give their lives for him. Labeled the betrayer, I beheld hatred in their eyes. Proud were they to be the builders of my tomb.”
The wizard’s gaze moved from face to face. “I recognize some—the stonecutters, sculptors, cooks, and wives. The church, for fear of secrets slipped from lips innocent, sealed them so. All before thee, ensnared by a lie. How many dead? How much lost to hide one secret, which even a millennium hast not erased?”
“There’s no door down there,” Alric warned the wizard.
Esrahaddon looked up at Alric as if awoken from a dream. “Be not a fool. Thou didst enter through it,” he said, and promptly led them down the corridor at a brisk walk. “Thou wert merely out of phase with it.”
Here, in the darkest segment of the prison, Esrahaddon’s robe grew brighter still, and he looked like a giant firefly. In time, they came to a solid stone wall, and without hesitation or pause, Esrahaddon walked through it. The rest quickly followed.
The bright sunlight of a lovely, clear autumn morning nearly blinded them the moment they passed through the barrier. Blue sky and the cool fresh air were a welcome change. Hadrian took a deep breath and reveled in the scent of grass and fallen leaves, a smell he had not even noticed prior to entering the prison. “That’s strange. It should be nighttime and raining, I would think. We couldn’t have been in there more than a few hours. Could we?”
Esrahaddon shrugged and threw his head back to face the sun. He stood and took long deep breaths of air, sighing contentedly with each exhale. “Unexpected be the wages of altering time. ‘What morrow be it?’ ’tis better to ask. This day, the next, or one after. ’Tis possible tens or hundreds did fly past.” The wizard appeared amused at the shock on their faces. “Worry not, ’tis likely only hours hast thee skipped.”
“That’s rather unnerving,” Alric said. “Losing time like that.”
“Verily, for nine hundred years have I lost. Everyone I knew is dead, the empire gone, and who knows in what state the world is left. Should what thy sister reports prove true, much hath changed in the world.”
“By the way,” Royce mentioned, “no one uses the words ’tis or hath anymore and certainly not thou, thy, or verily.”
The wizard considered this a moment, then nodded. “In my day, classes oft did speak different in forms of speech. Assumed I did that ye were of a lower station or, in the case of the king, poorly educated.”
Alric glared. “It’s you who sound strange, not us.”
“Indeed. Then I shall need to speak as all of—you— do. Even though—it is—crude and backward.”
Hadrian, Royce, and Myron began the task of saddling the horses, which remained standing where they had left them. Myron smiled, obviously happy to be with the animals once again. He petted them while eagerly asking how to tie a cinch strap.
“We don’t have an extra horse and Hadrian is already riding double,” Alric explained. He glanced at Royce, who showed no indication of volunteering. “Esrahaddon will have to ride with me, I suppose.”
“Unnecessary will that be, for my own way I shall go.”