She found the garment-makers’ district by asking a passing stranger for directions. Once there, she soon found her opportunity to acquire a cloak when a couple of careless lads took a break while loading up a cart with garments. Chandra didn’t want to waste a whole day earning enough local coin to buy a cloak by performing fire tricks in a city square. With silent apologies to the merchant from whom she was stealing, she stealthily took a cloak from the back of the cart.
As she approached the Sanctum of Stars on foot, Chandra scraped the hair away from her face, tucked it under her collar as best she could, and pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. She was glad for its warmth in the chilly air.
If there were extra security here now, it wasn’t obvious from the outside. The building still looked exactly the way it had looked before. Chandra admired the round stained-glass window in the center of the pale gray spire. The sapphire-blue glass had a large, glowing, eight-pointed white star embedded in it. She looked warily at the gargoyles squatting strategically around the spire, since it seemed likely that they, too, could turn into dangerous pursuers if given the command. But at the moment, at least, they were still.
She knew from previous reconnaissance that admission to the Sanctum of Stars was open to all by day, though visitors were prohibited from bringing weapons into the building. There was no body search at the door, just a death penalty and prompt execution for anyone who violated the rule, a deterrent that had kept the Sanctum murder-free for nearly a century.
Keeping her eyes downcast, Chandra added a slight stoop to her posture and started limping a little. Overall, it was a weak diguise, but her hair was covered and she might be taken for an invalid of sorts.
She limped up to the entrance and, with her gaze on the stone steps at her feet, spoke in a bashful, age- weary voice to ask for permission to enter to the museum. The bored guard at the door granted it and let her enter. She went inside and, rather than make a beeline for the display case where she hoped to find the scroll again, she made herself meander around the exhibits for a while, pretending to admire the many exotic objects and rare artifacts in which she had no interest.
Moving slowly and maintaining the outward appearance of a bashful invalid, she gradually made her way to the big glass case where, on her last visit, four precious scrolls had been displayed. Originally, she had simply smashed the case and removed the scroll she’d wanted. She could see as she approached that the case had been replaced and that there were four scrolls inside it.
Chandra’s heart thudded. Yes. The scroll was there! With Brother Segril’s description, she could identify it easily. There was also a distinctive scorch mark on the leather casing, and a big dent in the gold end piece.
Unfortunately, she still had no idea what it contained. Given that it was rolled up, its contents firmly hidden, she could not understand why it was displayed to the public. What was interesting about a rolled piece of paper? It could be some scribe’s to-do list for all anyone knew.
Still, there was no question: she’d have to steal it a second time.
She was still gazing at it, trying to think of a plan, when two pairs of strong hands seized her from behind-one assailant for each arm-and a deep, booming voice said, “Chandra Nalaar, by the authority vested in me, I arrest you for crimes against the Prelate, the Sanctum of Stars, and the people of Kephalai!”
Chandra was stunned speechless. She raised her head as her two captors whirled her around with brute force; her hood fell back, and a rough hand yanked her long red hair out of her collar so that it fell freely around her shoulders.
There was a fairly good-sized crowd of visitors here. Most of them were staring in surprised fascination at Chandra, who was held firmly by two guards, one of whom had pressed the blade of his sword against her throat. She stared in bemusement at the third guard, a stocky, middle-aged man who didn’t look remotely familiar. He had just used her name when arresting her.
How could he possibly know…
Oh, no.
The planeswalker who had come to Regatha! He had known her name, too. Had she really thought he’d have just returned the scroll and left again?
She looked quickly around the Sanctum, but she didn’t see the planeswalker. She froze in appalled surprise, though, when she did see
…
“Telepaths?” she guessed.
There were two of them. Both women. They emerged from their concealment walking arm in arm. Their bald heads reflected the lights of the Sanctum as their hairless brows cast shadows over unnaturally bright eyes. She saw that their skin was eerily white, and they wore identical pale blue robes with an unfamiliar dark blue symbol embroidered on the left shoulder. They stared hard at Chandra. She nodded, answering her own question. “Telepaths.”
Chandra realized that her physical disguise had been pointless. These two had probably been reading everyone who entered the building!
Fine, read this: drop dead you creepy, bald hags!
The two women blinked in unison.
Well, this was just great. The intruder had returned the scroll to the Sanctum of Stars, told them her name, and told them she might be back. They had obviously prepared for this. She had just as obviously walked into a trap.
That fact became even clearer as about two dozen soldiers now poured into the hall, moving with swift, well-rehearsed efficiency.
Damn, damn, damn.
Eight of the soldiers took charge of organizing the departure of the gawking visitors. The rest of them surrounded Chandra, weapons drawn. In addition to swordsmen, there were six archers among them who drew their bows and pointed their arrows directly at her.
“Now, now, let’s all stay calm,” she said. “I’m sure we can discuss our differences like reasonable adults.”
One of the mind mages warned the guards, “She intends to fight.”
Chandra scowled and tried to block their probing. She knew she was stronger, if she could concentrate. But for Chandra it was actually the opposite. Her mind was racing with possibility. Thoughts were moving in her head with such imprecision, that she barely knew she was thinking. She did know, however, that this whole situation was making her very mad.
They sensed it, or rather they sensed that Chandra’s fuse was short. The telepath who had spoken before told the head guard, “We can’t read her. She’s too erratic.”
The other one said, “Keep hold of her.”
The head guard said impatiently to one of his men, “Where are the Enervants? They’re supposed to be here!”
“Enervants?” Chandra said. “That’s some nerve showing up late for the party.” This was no time for jokes, but she couldn’t help it.
“The Prelate told me you’d be back,” the head guard said. “I said no one was that reckless, but she said that you might be.
So the Prelate of Kephalai had indeed enlisted the planeswalker to retrieve the scroll from Regatha. And he’d reported to the Prelate.
“All right, so I’ve come back,” Chandra said, assessing the situation. “Now what?”
“Now I turn you over the Enervants.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Actually,” the guard said, “I don’t think you’ll like them. They are particularly suited to breaking the will of even the most headstrong. It is said they enjoy torturing their subjects in the way most would enjoy a fine meal. They savor it. They take time over the courses, but are not so gluttonous that they don’t leave a helping for the rats. I should imagine they will have a particularly good time with you.”
There were more than twenty armed guards, a closed space, no visible exits, a scroll to liberate, a couple of mind mages who might have other tricks up their floppy blue sleeves… And whoever the Enervants were, they didn’t sound like a crowd Chandra really wanted to meet.
“You’re right,” she said. “The Enervants are late. I don’t like anyone who isn’t punctual.”
