Paul Collins - The Spell of Undoing

‘You're a liar,’ said Tab.

Kull's face flushed and he gripped the cell bars. Tab knew that if it had not been for those bars he would have killed her on the spot. Finally, after a long panting moment, he took a step back, smirking.

‘Tomorrow morning, you will be given a breakfast fit for royalty,’ he said. ‘Then you will provide the day's entertainment. My nobles and I, you see, are in disagreement over exactly how high above the ground we are. And my master magician has come up with a delightful way to measure our altitude.’

Tab scowled and said nothing. She pressed her hands over Torby's ears so he couldn't hear.

‘Apparently, sound travels at a fixed rate of speed. So my master magician has determined that by throwing a child overboard and timing its screams as it falls, we will be able to arrive at an exact measurement. Rather brilliant, I thought.’

And with that, Kull turned on his heels and strode out of the cell block, whistling merrily.

The night deepened. Tab dozed fitfully and woke to the sound of a distant bell tolling midnight. And with the final peal, the first threads of a plan began to knit in her mind. She woke Torby…

Tab cleared her mind, and tried to recall what it felt like to be a rat, to be so small and scared, and always so hungry. She pictured the twitching whiskers on the snout, the feel of a tail stretching out behind, and she let her mind float outwards… and almost at once she was there, inside the rat, peering out from its eyes. It was reaching up a wall as though curious. Smells and sounds leapt at her. She forced the rat to look around and suddenly she gasped. She could see herself – only that wasn't what she looked like. To the rat, she was a tall, thin blob with a pale face and sharp horrible eyes. She was also black and white; the rat, like all rats, could not see in true colours.

She sent the rat hurrying back the way it had come, stopping directly above the key rail. Tab had to give the rat an extra push to do her will. It was hesitant and for good reason. The jump was risky and the rail narrow.

The rat half leapt and half slithered down the wall. Tab held her breath, but the rat was good at its job. It landed awkwardly, started to slip back, then dug in its claws and pulled itself to safety.

Inside the rat's mind, Tab directed it to grab the keys and slide them off the peg. This was the dangerous part. She didn't know how far away the guardroom was and the sound of the keys hitting the stone floor might bring someone. But as she overheard Verris say once, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

She urged the rat to push the keys off the peg with its snout. They hit the floor with a loud rattle. Tab waited, and she could feel both her own heart, and the rat's, beating hard. After what seemed an eternity, she relaxed. No one had come.

Tab had the rat leap to the floor and, very slowly, and as quietly as possible, drag the keys to her cell.›››There›› You're free to go

The rat scurried away. Tab reached through the bars and grabbed the keys. There were only three. The sodden clunk of tumblers told her when she had found the right one. Her heart leapt. With Torby held tight against her, they crept silently from the cell.

‘Torby,’ whispered Tab, ‘I need you to be as quiet as a mouse. Can you do that for me?’

Torby nodded, wide-eyed. She could tell he was scared but he was also excited. Good for him, she thought. They stole past the guardroom, hearing heavy, reassuring snores. Then they came to some steps. They climbed them, halting at a locked door. Tab fumbled for the key ring and mentally crossed her fingers.

But as she inserted the key, the door started to open. Someone was coming in.

In utter despair, she grabbed Torby and whirled to flee back down the stairs, but before she had even taken one step she heard a remarkable thing. Her name.

‘Tab!’

She looked back, and gaped. Philmon and Amelia stood in the doorway. It was almost too much. She felt herself sagging but hands were grabbing her, keeping her steady. She heard Torby whimper and instinctively put an arm around him.

Her head cleared. Philmon's grin was in her face. She threw her other arm around him and hugged him hard.

‘What in the name of all the odd gods are you two doing here?’

‘Oh, we were just in the neighbourhood and thought -’

Amelia elbowed Philmon in the ribs. ‘Shut up.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly, if he cracks one more joke, I swear I'll throttle him.’

‘Hey, that's not fair,’ said Philmon. ‘At least I'm not all doom and gloom.’

Tab looked from one to the other. ‘But -?’

Amelia quickly filled her in. Exhausted, she had gone to bed early, then wakened to find a small blinking seed-gem on Tab's bedside table. She had known at once what it was: an alarm, the kind that was only triggered if something hidden was stolen, or a locked door was opened. The city had been searched at Verris’ request. But no sign or clue of Tab had been found.

Then Florian had started spreading rumours. About how Tab had sold out Quentaris, how she had been working with Tolrush all along and that the first attack had been designed to make her look good so that she would win favour.

‘The seed-gem is designed to take you to the place or object being protected, and that's just what it did,’ said Amelia. ‘I should have thought of it before.’

‘Bit of a shock, though,’ said Philmon wryly, ‘to stumble on a bunch of Tolrushians, I can tell you!’

‘But how did you get here?’ asked Tab.

‘Flew,’ said Philmon.

‘I enchanted an old rowboat – levitated it, to be precise,’ said Amelia proudly. She looked at Torby. ‘I think we should get moving. But who's this?’

‘His name's Torby. They – tortured him. We have to get him to safety,’ said Tab.

Philmon and Amelia heard the appeal in her voice, and both nodded. They couldn't imagine even for themselves what it would be like to be trapped in a Tolrushian dungeon, let alone for a young child. Amelia put her palm to Torby's cheek. It was a measure of his newfound security with Tab that he didn't quite flinch. ‘We're going to get you both out of here, Torby, don't you worry,’ she said. ‘The rowboat's on a tower not far from here. Let's go.’

As they ran, darting from one shadow to another, Amelia filled Tab in on the rest of the story. They had followed the Tolrushians, who already had the gem – Amelia and Philmon had seen them later admiring it – to their flying ship. From what they could overhear, the group had been led by a Quentaran spy or traitor, someone who knew his way around, and who kept mentioning his ‘prodigious reward’.

Tab started at the words. They reminded her of someone, but just then she couldn't think who.

Amelia continued. ‘We didn't know exactly what was going on, but it was pretty clear that if you were still alive, then you had to be on Tolrush, and this bunch knew where. So I enchanted the boat and we tracked them. The rest you pretty much know.’

‘You came here on your own?’ Tab gasped.

Philmon shrugged. ‘We couldn't alert the City Watch. If they knew Tolrush was so close they'd have alerted the Navigators’ Guild and they'd have fled faster than you could say “drop dead”.’

Tab was amazed, and humbled. It must have taken a lot of nerve for both of them to come and rescue her. This was probably the first time in her life that she knew that other people actually cared about her. She felt an odd stinging in the back of her eyes.

‘Nearly there,’ said Philmon as they reached an arched doorway. They had been following an enclosed passageway between high walls. Tolrush was a grim rat's warren of alleyways, tunnels and interconnected streets that had long ago been built over, forming even more tunnels.