memorized properly, it’s almost as effortless as reading. These others, these large ones-they represent whole ideas-usually spells, artifacts, certain sorts of energies-” She broke off.
“How faithfully did you copy this?” she asked.
“As well as I could,” he replied, “without understanding what I was reproducing. The drawing was most difficult-I can’t tell even what the parts are, what holds it together. I mean, this seems to be the bottom,” he added, pointing, “but that doesn’t make sense. It looks like it would just fall over.”
“It’s not a drawing,” Letine said. “Or at least not a blueprint for a device. It’s more like a map.” He could hear the excitement creeping into her voice. “This, for instance-I’ve seen this before where it represented a soul gem-or at least the idea of something that can trap a soul. And here, this represents something that flows in only one direction, like a river.”
“Then it is a plan, of sorts?” he asked.
“Right. It could be a device, or a spell, or a series of spells involving-well, at least two arcane objects, this one and that one.”
Colin drew himself closer. “If that’s the case,” he said, “this one might represent Umbriel.” He leafed through his copies of smaller sketches and notations. “You see? The word ‘Umbriel’ is in the passage next to it.”
“Possibly,” Letine allowed. “But if so, what is this one?”
“You know, if you turn it this way,” he mused, “it looks familiar to me-I’ve seen it before, or something really close. Not in Hierem’s chambers, but when I was studying to enter the Penitus Oculatus.”
“That’s a very different context,” she warned.
“I know. It was used by necromancers, back before the Mages’ Guild schismed. It was used to designate ghosts, but the meaning was more complicated. I think it could also mean ‘shadow,’ or even ‘echo.’ ”
“I don’t see how it can mean that here,” she said. “Not knowing any more than we do.”
“What, then? Do you know anyone you trust in the Synod?”
“Hierem is a member of the Synod,” she said. “Maybe we should just ask him.”
“Well, it might come to that,” he said.
“I know someone,” she said. “But he won’t like it if I bring company. You’re going to have to let me out of your custody for a little while.”
“The Dark Brotherhood is still out there,” he said. “They don’t give up easily. I would rather you stayed put.”
She turned and kissed him. “I’ll be careful. I’ll avoid anyplace I usually go, and I’ll go at night. Your protecting me is all very sweet, but I’ve been looking out for myself for a long time.”
“Things are different now,” he reminded her.
“Yes, and I’ll take that into account, right?” A flicker of irritation passed over her face. “Look,” she said, “just because you saved my life and we’ve been playing tussle-bug for a few days doesn’t mean you own me, Colin. What we have here is a common goal and mutual respect. If we don’t have that, then-”
“Easy,” he said. “You’re right. You have as much right to risk your life as I do mine. I just selfishly don’t want you to die. Be that as it may, if you know someone who can tell us if we have something important here or just a recipe for soup, please, go find out.”
“I’ll be careful,” she said again. “What will you do?”
“Well, I still have a job,” he said. “Marall will want a report tomorrow. How long will this take?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “It depends on a few things. A couple of days at most.”
“Days?”
“I have to leave the city.”
“The city is surrounded,” he pointed out.
She smiled. “A girl can’t give up all her secrets right away. Meet you back here in a day or two?”
He nodded.
“Right,” she said, and started dressing.
“You’re going now?”
“It’s dark outside,” she replied. “And time is of the essence, right?”
“Yes,” he admitted. Despite his words, he wanted to grab her, tie her up if necessary. He had a terrible, wrong feeling in his gut, as if he were never going to see her again.
But he didn’t stop her when she went through the door. He walked along with her until their paths parted, and she gave him a little kiss on the cheek. Then he returned to his own apartment.
TWELVE
Mazgar gnashed her tusks as Brennus cleaned the cut in her back, but managed not to let any sound escape her.
“You’re lucky,” he whispered. “Another inch and it would have been your spine.”
“Luck is all I’m having lately,” she grunted back softly.
“Hey,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically serious, “at least we got through. I’m not sure how many of the others did.”
“I saw Falcus go down,” she said. “And Tosh.”
She closed her eyes as he rubbed something in the wound and began to bandage it. She strained her senses at the young night but couldn’t make anything out but silence. Too much silence-no night birds, no dogs barking or wolves howling-just the wind and the rustling of leaves as hundreds, maybe thousands of the wormies strode through the forest below the rock shelter they’d found at dusk. Brennus used his sorcery to further hide them, deaden the sound of their voices, their scent, the life force in them. It had exhausted him, and they still hadn’t been certain it would be enough, but the wormies had been passing for more than an hour without noticing them.
“At least we got a few decent meals,” she said. “And beer! I’d almost forgotten how good it is.”
“We’ll get another,” he said, “when we reach the Imperial City.”
“Yah,” she agreed. “That’s something to look forward to.”
“Divines,” Brennus breathed.
“Now, don’t get silly and start praying,” she said.
“No, no,” he said. “Look.”
She turned, and there it was, a blackness taking up the whole sky. Beneath it, long flickers like lightning reached up from the ground into the shadows, giving the illusion that something huge was walking by on hundreds of tentacles, only a few of which were visible at any given time.
“Each of those is a death,” Brennus murmured. “A soul, drawn up to feed that thing’s engines.”
“Do you think it’s caught up to the others?” she asked.
“Not yet,” he replied. “Not at that pace. We gave them a good head start. Those must be farmers or hunters who either never got the word or were stubborn, like those who stayed in Cheydinhal.”
“Idiots,” she muttered. “That’s likely them passing us down there right now.”
“Right,” he murmured. He didn’t sound good.
“You’re not dying on me, are you?” she asked. “I can’t reach back there, and in a few days it’s going to be itching.”
“There you go,” he said. “That’s incentive to keep living-the promise of scratching your knobby back.”
“Happy to help,” she said. “Now get some sleep. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
“You’re the one with the wound,” he said.
“Yes, and it hurts too much to let me sleep, so do as I tell you, okay?”
“Okay,” he said. He curled up on the stone floor, and in minutes he was snoring.
Mazgar watched Umbriel pass, running the battle back through her head: the mad charge with the Cheydinhal guard, breaking the wormies’ line. That hadn’t been so bad. But then they had to set up their own lines on either side of the gate as Cheydinhal evacuated, and that hadn’t been so much fun. It took hours, and the wormies didn’t rest, didn’t retreat or regroup. They just kept coming, wave after wave of them. In the end their line had been rolled up, and Falcus gave the command to fall back and regroup on the Blue Road-just before he took a spear in the throat. She and Brennus had been driven miles from the road, and now here they were.
