Erin Evans - Lesser Evils

“Tarchamus won’t open the doors until we’re dead,” Dahl pointed out. “And we’re well-fortified and ready for a siege. We know to avoid the pit and we know the ghosts’ tricks. If you wait too long, your rescuers are bound to give up. If you convince him to open the doors, they’ll make much simpler prey.”

For one, I’m well aware that you are low on water in particular. My apprentices make careful note of such things. For another, Netheril is nearly through the doors on their own. My rescue is at hand .

“So that your ghosts can chase them into the arcanist’s pit,” Farideh said.

He’ll be far too busy devouring you , the Book said sweetly. Your camp’s not even far enough to make a decent chase .

Farideh nearly sighed in relief. The trapdoor must be near the camp-with Mira’s maps that might be enough to find it. Dahl pursed his lips, considering the Book for a long moment. He looked up at Farideh.

They couldn’t take the chance that the Book might fall into Netheril’s hands. If the doors opened and they didn’t have time to do anything but flee, the Book was at least as important as the scroll. But both of them knew too much about their plans to escape, and had very little new knowledge with which to distract the Book.

“Lorcan,” she said, “would you take it?”

The cambion picked up the tome in both hands, flinching as if about to sneeze as the Book’s magic scoured his thoughts. Well, well , it said, sounding slightly rattled. When did you come in?

“Heavens to Hells,” she heard Lorcan say, as they walked back to the camp. “What did you think you were helping my warlock to do? Those runes you had them destroy made space for a portal, and the spell you assisted her in creating pulled me through.”

I assisted nothing , the Book said. That girl was but my hands and eyes .

“Of course,” Lorcan said. “The heir of Bryseis Kakistos needed a Book to do her spellwork.” He held the book close. “Did you enjoy spinning that tale for her?” he said, low and deadly. “Trying to undermine me? They say you can read people’s thoughts-are you enjoying mine right now?”

The Book did not answer.

By the time the others finally returned, Tam was back on his feet and pacing a hole in the floor. He’d thought through a dozen potential plans-but every one of them needed more information, more hands, more magic. A riot of questions jangled his nerves.

“There you are,” he said, as Dahl and Farideh returned, trailing the freed devil. “Where’s my plan?”

“We’re working on it,” Dahl answered. He nodded to the cambion who was carrying the Book. He and Farideh wrapped the Book in cloaks and stuffed it into a haversack, then Dahl told Tam about Emrys and the scroll, about Farideh’s vision and the escape of the arcanist. “That’s the largest piece remaining,” he said quietly. “If we can get the mummy out of that crypt and trap him up here, we’re free to escape.”

“Indeed,” Tam said. “I don’t suppose you took out any more of the ghosts.”

Farideh shook her head. “Lorcan burned one fairly bad. They kept back after that.”

Tam made a little hmph and she stiffened, as if braced for his reprimand, but Tam held his tongue. Not worth it. Not when the devil had been a help. Brin and Havilar came back then with Maspero.

“How are the doors?” Dahl asked.

“Solid for the moment,” Brin said. “But they’ve gotten through fooling around with battering rams and such. There are wizards working on it.”

“They’ll have a time if they get through,” Maspero said.

“Oh we made a fantastic mess,” Havilar said. “Maspero, Brin, and me together are excellent at figuring out how to trick shady Netherese armies.” She grinned at Farideh. “They might not even know they’re being tricked.”

“Should you get your arcanist free,” Lorcan said, “I’ll wager he’ll make an excellent distraction for the Shadovar as well.”

Tam ignored him. “Mira, you’ve got the maps?”

She spread out a pair of scrolls, neat lines and notes etched over what looked like a ballad and a hymn to the goddess of the sea. “They’re not exact,” she said. “I didn’t dare go measure. But I think I can pinpoint the trapdoor.” She laid a finger on the corner of the arcanist’s crypt. “The floors actually rotate around a central point as they go down. This is the spot that overlaps with the floor we’re on. If there’s a trapdoor near to here, that is where it comes out.”

“Where do you think the weak point of this place is?” Dahl asked quietly. “Structurally.”

Mira frowned. “What do you mean?”

“If we were going to set off the eruption scroll,” he said, “where would we need to do it to bring down the roof?”

Mira blinked at him, appalled. “You can’t.”

“I don’t want to,” Dahl said. He looked to Tam. “There’s no getting around it though-this place is a trap, a tomb for people who were only seeking knowledge. We can’t disarm the trap without destroying it. And destroying it is …” He sighed. “Compared to leaving Tarchamus’s trap wide open, it’s a minor sin.”

“You can’t ask me to do that,” Mira said.

“Then we are leaving it all for Netheril,” he said. “All the spellbooks. All the scrolls. All the information that a maniac wizard deemed precious. We are condemning whole nations to death.”

“Mira,” Tam said sadly. “Do what you will. But you know he’s right.”

Mira pursed her lips, as if willing herself calm. “The column at the centerline of the dome. The one to the left of the entrance, when you face the rear wall. It’s not decorative. If you catch that in the blast, the ceiling will be damaged. It will bury the place.” She tapped the door they’d found to the second level. “And if you keep it close to here, the lava should flow down and block the lower levels, if not destroying them. So about here.” She drew a tight circle around the area beyond the Book’s alcove.

“So you’d have to run for the trapdoor?” Tam said.

Dahl hesitated. “The scroll doesn’t bode well for the caster. We need to find a way to protect them from the flames before worrying about how fast they can run.”

“What do you mean?”

“The spell might consume the caster,” Dahl said to Tam. “We can’t be sure how likely it is without casting it, but by that point, they’ll be dead or they won’t be.”

Is this your destiny then? Tam thought, staring at the scroll. If these were his people, as Viridi’s memory had put it, then he couldn’t ask any one of them to take the chance. He met Dahl’s worried gaze-at least Tam felt sure the younger Harper would lead them out all right. He reached for the scroll.

But Lorcan’s bright-red hand reached over him. “Give it to me.”

Dahl pulled the scroll closer. “I don’t think so.”

“Unless you haven’t mentioned the fact that you are the burning Chosen of Kossuth, both of you would certainly die if you were there when that thing goes off,” Lorcan said. “Whereas I would find it unpleasantly similar to home.” He made a face at the scroll. “Probably. And anything you were planning to do to assist would go a lot further.”

“The ritual against the elements,” Farideh said. “Could that do?”

Tam shook his head. “Even if it helped, it wouldn’t be enough. That spell is meant for bad weather, not fire.”

“But it’s based off the object,” Dahl said, staring at the devil with new eyes. “It couldn’t boost a human’s tolerance, but … the ritual I used on the alarm. It would make it stronger.” He considered Lorcan. “Depending on how much heat you can take and how much the scroll creates, it could make the difference. If Farideh casts the ritual to fortify the both of you against the heat, Tam and I can …” He shook his head. “It needs silver-gobs of silver-and I’m down to a few grains. Without it, we won’t-”