“Don’t kill him,” Solomon added. “We need him to tell us how to shut this down.”
“Exactly. This isn’t going to be easy. Don’t think it will be, and some of us will be hurt. Solomon, we think you should hold back.”
“What? Why?” Solomon said.
“Because if he sees you, he’s going to run, and we might not be able to follow. Jocasta is our surprise. After we’ve got him on his heels, you can come in.”
“If he’s still standing,” Jocasta growled.
Her bravado wasn’t fake. There was little in her life that had ever frightened her, and she wasn’t now. Malachi was going to fall and was going to tell them what they needed to know, of that she was sure. It was simply a matter of making it happen.
“I don’t like it,” Solomon said, “but if that’s how it’s got to be, then we’ll go with it. Everyone ready?”
They split into two groups, Jocasta joining Darius and Willow.
Darius made some ridiculous motions with his hand and a shimmering black hole appeared in the air in front of him.
“After you,” he said, motioning Jocasta to go through.
She grimaced and stepped forward, involuntarily holding her breath. She needn’t have bothered. There was a slight feeling of disorientation, a blink of darkness, and then she was no longer in the conference room of House Towering Oaks.
Instead, she stood in a small chamber, seemingly hewn from bedrock. There was a thin bed, a chest against one wall and a rickety stand with a pitcher and bowl on it. A wooden door was the only exit.
Moments later Willow stood next to her, then Darius came through, his breathing slightly heavy, and the portal disappearing behind him.
“Harder to hold it open than it is to go through it,” he explained, smiling weakly.
“Nice place,” Jocasta said.
“Used to be my bedroom, when I first got here. Malachi believes in making newcomers pay their dues.”
From the tone in his voice, Darius was less than satisfied with the room. Yet Jocasta had stayed in worse places and been glad for it. One more difference between her and the other Folk.
“Let’s go,” she said. “Where are we meeting the others?”
No one said anything.
Darius stood with his mouth open, staring at her.
“You’re kidding,” she said. “You didn’t agree on somewhere?”
“It didn’t even occur to me…”
“Great. All right then. We stick to the plan. Let’s get to Malachi.”
She opened the door and motioned for Darius to take the lead. He stuck his head out, looking up and down the passageway outside before leaving the room.
Willow glanced at her, not saying anything as she passed.
“Love,” Jocasta thought. “Truly blind.”
Outside, the corridor was a tunnel dug through the stone, whether by hand or by magic, Jocasta couldn’t tell.
They walked rapidly along, Darius explaining that anyone they met this far down, whatever that meant, was going to be new to the House, and not much of a threat.
After continuing for a few minutes, and taking stairs up three flights, they still hadn’t encountered anyone.
“Where is everyone?” Jocasta asked.
Darius shrugged. “Hard to say. We’re not a big House, so they could all be gathered together up top somewhere.”
“Not a big House? How many then?”
“A few dozen, maybe. There are no servants or anything, only those of us who can use magic. You either do for yourself here, or some of the older members get those below them to wait on them.”
“A lot like a ship, in some respects,” she mused.
“What’s up top?” Willow asked.
“Up top?”
“Yes. You said that they could all be gathered up top. What is that?”
“Oh, I see. It’s the upper levels of this place. Actual windows looking out over the mountains, nice rooms, comfortable. It’s where Malachi lives all the time and those in his favor get to hang out. The rest of us live down here.”
“How horrible.” Willow said.
“Is it?” Darius answered. “Is it really any different from the nobles living in giant tree mansions while everyone else works and serves them?”
“Yes, because…” The healer trailed off, a troubled look on her face.
“He’s got you there,” Jocasta laughed.
They continued to climb stairs and wind through stone tunnels, until they finally exited to a corridor paneled in wood, with several shut doors on each side.
“Ah,” Darius said. “We’re here. Everyone must be up here for some reason. Now we need to be careful. Not too much farther. Malachi’s office is up another two floors. This way.”
He led the way along the hallway, which took a turn to the right at the end.
When they reached it, he stopped them and slowly peeked around.
“All clear,” he said, and started forward.
A giggle sounded from behind them.
Jocasta spun, dagger already in hand, but there was no need for the weapon.
From one of the rooms they passed, Jamshir emerged, giggling and pointing at them.
“Playing sneaky-sneaky,” he said.
“Jamshir,” Jocasta warned. “Don’t get in our way.”
“Sneaky-sneak-sneaky-squeak… ppppbbbtttt.” He stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry.
He was in even worse condition than when Jocasta last saw him. Still wearing the same dirty robes, he was emaciated and filthy. His hair hung in greasy strings and his beard was matted with drool and rotted food. His eyes roamed around the corridor, never settling for more than the briefest of moments on any one thing.
“Go away,” Jocasta said.
Jamshir ignored her and continued walking toward them, gibbering nonsense spewing from his mouth.
“What’s wrong with him?” Darius asked.
“He’s mad,” Jocasta said. “But harmless. At least, he is now.”
“Let me try,” Willow said.
“No,” Jocasta said. “We have other
