Now all he had to do was find a way out of the room.
This presented itself in the form of a ventilation shaft. Clearly, his captors had never imagined he might escape his bonds, else they would have placed him in a more secure chamber. Most men would not have fit into the shaft but, though tall, K'shar was willow-thin. He pulled himself into the narrow tunnel and wriggled his way upward. Aided by his uncanny flexibility, K'shar passed through several tight turns with little difficulty. He pulled himself out of the mouth of the shaft onto muddy ground, gazing into the crimson eye of the dawning sun.
K'shar stretched his limbs as the flow of blood returned to his hands and feet. His prey was close now. Very close. He felt a strange sense of kinship with the renegade Harper he had been following. When he met her at last, he imagined he would almost regret killing her. Almost.
'I am coming, Al'maren,' he whispered softly.
He broke into a swift run, moving northward out of Soubar.
Sixteen
The four riders picked their way across the bleak expanse of the High Moor. The rough terrain looked as if it had been shattered by a war among giants. Long stretches of treacherous scree gave way suddenly to jagged chasms that sliced across the ground like gaping wounds. More than once they had been forced to travel miles out of their way to find passage. Despite the harshness of the moor, a sprinkling of moss and lichens clung to the rocks, softening the landscape like a gray-green veil. Mari had never before seen such a melancholy land. Yet it was also lovely. She marveled at the stark contrast of sorrow and beauty dwelling side by side, each blending into the other so that she could not possibly have said from which arose the aching in her heart. She sighed, her breath turning to mist in the cold air.
An icy gust of wind snatched the breath from her lips as a spiderweb of glittering frost spread across a nearby heap of stones. A dark blot appeared in the air above the rock. In moments, the swirling patch of darkness resolved itself into a ghostly knight with smoldering eyes.
'In another mile, the walls of this ravine you follow will rise into sheer cliffs,' Serafi said in his sepulchral voice. He pointed to one side with an ethereal gauntlet. 'Follow this gully to the north. It will take you out of the ravine and up to a ridge where you may ride swiftly.'
Then the spectral knight vanished, a chill gloom lingering in his wake.
'Well, isn't he just a ray of sunshine?' Ferret muttered glumly.
Mari cast a look at Morhion. He sat astride his dark stallion, Tenebrous, head bowed. Over the last several days, as they rode deeper into the High Moor, Serafi appeared from time to time, warning them of obstacles or steering them toward easier paths. The mage had told the others of the pact he had forged with Serafi to save Caledan's life. Yet Mari could not help thinking there was something else beneath the mage's brooding. Morhion's pact with the spectral knight, forged ten years earlier beneath the fortress of Darkhold, didn't really explain the spirit's presence on this journey.
There was no sunset that day-the iron gray clouds hid all traces of the sun-but gradually the wan daylight faded, until Mari could barely see Ferret, who led the way astride his bony roan stallion. They made camp in a low hollow that offered some protection from the bone-numbing wind. Supper that evening was only dried fruit, nuts, and hardtack, for they dared not light a fire. They had seen no signs of the shadevari since leaving Soubar, but there was no sense in making themselves any more conspicuous than necessary.
Morhion retrieved a leather-bound tome from Tenebrous's saddlebags. 'I am going to study my spellbook,' he said coolly. With a soft word, the mage conjured a tiny sphere of purple magelight. He sat on a rock, hunching over the book and shielding the faint illumination with his body to conceal it from prying eyes. 'Would you play a song, Mari?' Kellen asked then. Out of habit, Mari had packed her lute in her saddle-bag, but she had not yet brought the instrument out on this journey. She had not felt like making music. Yet tonight the prospect seemed appealing. It might be good to let her mind drift on the forgetful strains of a song. She smiled at Kellen as she retrieved her lute. It was a beautiful instrument, fashioned of cherry inlaid with rosewood. Her adopted father, Master Andros, had made it for her. Its surface had been polished to a glowing patina with long years of use.
The ballad she sang told the story of a prince who fell in love with a maiden trapped in a witch's tower. The prince tried to climb the tower but fell into a hedge of thorns. The thorns scratched his face, blinding him, and the prince became a wandering beggar. Mari paused, her fingers hovering above the strings. Why had she chosen such a mournful song? Kellen had rested his head on her knee, listening. Now he looked up at her. 'The poor prince,' he murmured sadly 'If only he had never fallen in love with the maiden.'
At this, Mari shook her head fiercely. 'Don't say such a thing, Kellen. It is never wrong to feel love. Besides, I have yet to finish the tale.'
Strumming softly on the lute, she sang the remaining verses. After several years the witch died, and the maiden escaped from the tower. In the forest, she came upon a wretched beggar and realized that it was her prince. She cried bitterly, her tears falling on his face. Such is the power of love that her tears healed his eyes and restored his sight. They returned to the tower and lived there together to the end of their days.
Mari played a few final, wistful notes, then let her hands fall from the lute.
'Thank you,' Kellen said quietly.
Ferret had finished repacking their supplies. 'I am going to do a little scouting while there's still a shred daylight,' the thief said.
Kellen hopped to his feet. 'Can I come along?' he asked eagerly.
Ferret gave him a critical look. 'Can you move without making a sound?'
Kellen chewed his lower lip. 'I think I can,' he decided, 'if you show me how.'
Ferret laughed at this. 'I imagine you could at that. Come on then, if it's all right with Mari.'
Mari nodded her assent-the boy could be no safer than with Ferret-and watched the two disappear into the gathering gloom. She turned to see Morhion watching her.
Mari sat down on the smooth rock beside the mage. 'He is wise for a child,' she said after a moment. 'Kellen I mean.'
Morhion stared into the deepening night. 'Sometimes I think he is wiser than any of us.'
She laughed softly. 'You may be right.'
At last the mage spoke again, his voice oddly wistful. 'Do your truly believe what you told him, Mari? That it is never wrong to feel love?'
This seemed an unusual question for the usually reticent mage. Finally she nodded. 'Yes, I do believe it.'
A rueful smile touched his lips. 'You are fortunate then. Would that I could believe in love so strongly as you.'
Mari frowned in puzzlement.
'I mean…' The mage began, then shook his head. 'But it is foolishness to talk about it. Forgive me.' He started to stand.
'Wait,' Mari said intently. 'Why won't you tell me what you were going to say, Morhion? I thought… I thought we were friends.'
His chill blue eyes sent a shiver down her spine. 'Are we?' His tone was not mocking; it was as if he were asking a question whose answer he truly did not know. 'I am not…I am not certain I know what it is to be close to another person, Mari. It is a mage's lot to dwell in solitude.
Mari stared at the mage. What in Milil's name could he possibly mean? All at once, realization washed over her. How could she have been so blind? 'Why Morhion?' she whispered. 'Why have you never told me how you feel?'
The mage shook his head sadly. 'How could I? You are the partner of my closest friend. How could I tell you that-' A bitter expression twisted his face into a sneer. Quickly, he rose. 'I am sorry. I imagine that I must disgust you now.'
Before he could move away, Mari stood and gripped his arm.
'You're wrong,' she said fiercely. 'Yes, I am surprised at your words. Maybe even shocked. The truth is, I really don't know what to think. But there is one thing I do know Morhion, and it is this: There can never be
