Michelle Sagara - Cast in Peril

Maybe that had happened here.

Severn returned. “It’s empty.”

“No sign of who’s occupying it now?”

“None.” He walked straight across the hall and opened the opposite door, entering more quickly. He left more quickly, as well. “Empty.”

He then backtracked down the hall. Kaylin turned to look at the door at the end of the hall, and at the familiar sigils that sat in its center. When Severn returned, she said, “They’re all empty.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. The downstairs wasn’t. Whatever happened upstairs didn’t make a lot of noise.”

Kaylin nodded. “Or it happened more than a week ago.”

“Strong magic?”

She shook her head. “Weak now. Whatever it was meant to do, it did—but the mages left signatures.”

“Michael wasn’t working alone, then?”

She frowned. “One of the sigils is almost illegible, it’s buried so far beneath the other.” The frown deepened. “I’ve seen a lot of sigils. The stronger one looks normal, to me. The weaker one…” She shook her head.

“You recognize them.”

“I’m not likely to forget them; they’re what the Arcane bomb splashed across what was left of my home.”

His jaw tensed; he didn’t. “Don’t touch the door.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Tiamaris is an Imperial Order–trained mage. He might see something here I don’t.”

* * *

The good thing about an enspelled door was it forced Tiamaris to let go of his Dragon form; he couldn’t fit through the entrance to the building otherwise, unless he planned to make a much larger hole in the supporting wall. His eyes had shaded to orange, but it was an orange that was very close to red. Tara, in gardening clothes, still sported obsidian eyes. They entered the building with Kaylin; Severn chose to scout the ground floor while Tara listened in. She could do that and move.

The stairs creaked ominously under Tiamaris’s weight; expecting it, Kaylin waited until he’d cleared them before stepping onto them herself. A fall like this wasn’t likely to cause a Dragon trouble, but it wouldn’t do much good for her.

Tiamaris strode straight down the hall and paused a yard from the closed door. “You didn’t open it?” he asked without looking back.

“No.”

“Is magic now active?”

As Kaylin had magic detectors built into her skin by default, she shook her head. Her skin didn’t hurt. When Tiamaris repeated the question, she said, “Not that I can sense.”

He did something that was definitely magical in response.

“That’s you?”

“It is.” He reached out and opened the door.

Kaylin cried out in shock and pain, half expecting the door to explode outward at the sudden force of magic she felt. It didn’t. It was still in one piece, still attached to its hinges. It didn’t appear to have harmed Tiamaris at all.

But it hadn’t opened into a normal room, either, even by fief standards. It opened into fog and gray, dark shadows. Or smoke without the obvious fire to cause it.

Tara said something sharp and harsh in a language Kaylin didn’t understand. The door flew shut before Tiamaris could take a step into the room itself.

“Lady?” he said, turning toward her, as Kaylin said, “Tara?” They spoke with the same inflection.

Her eyes were obsidian; wings had once again sprouted from between her shoulder blades. “Do not open the door,” she told her Lord softly. “It does not lead to any residence within the fief of Tiamaris.”

“Where does it lead, Lady?”

“To the outlands,” was her soft reply.

“To the Shadows?” Kaylin asked. “Outlands” was not a word she’d heard Tara use before. “To the heart of the fiefs?”

“No. No, Kaylin. If there was such a place in my domain, I would know.”

“But—”

“This is not the same,” she continued. “Not for the purpose for which I was created. It is, however, as much a danger to my Lord’s people.” She didn’t mean the Dragons.

Tiamaris’s eyes had shaded to a cooler orange; Kaylin was willing to bet that was as calm as they’d get today.

“Do you know what she means by ‘outlands’?” Kaylin asked.

“No.”

“Tara, do you think it’s likely that the missing people walked through that door?”

“I think it very likely,” Tara replied.

“Where did it take them?”

“I do not know.”

“Is there some way to determine that?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Enter the room. It is clear the spell is still active.” To Tiamaris, she added, “I do not think they will return that way, but while the entrance exists, there is some possibility. Would you have me destroy it, Lord?”

Yes warred with hope, and hope won, although it was close. “Can you place a guard upon this door, and this building, to ensure that it is not used again without your knowledge?”

“Now that I am aware of it, yes. I cannot guarantee that there are not other points of exit—or entrance—within the fief.”

“Why?” Kaylin asked.

“Because such doorways did exist when I was first created; they were not, in and of themselves, a danger; they were a path between specific locations. Once, before the fall of Ravellon, such doors existed between the great cities.”

“Great cities?”

Tara shook her head; her wings settled into a comfortable fold. “They are gone now. Ruins remain, if that. They were not mortal cities, and against their height, Elantra counts as little. But I did not think to see such a thing again,” she added.

“I am not averse to the study of the ancient,” Tiamaris finally said. “I spent much of my youth in that endeavor, and it was not always considered either safe or wise. It is possible that Sanabalis may cede some of his mages to the study of this door, should I request it.”

“Would you?”

“I would not have you stand guard in this…building…indefinitely; if the Imperial Order assigns its mages here—”

“Do you trust them?” Kaylin cut in.

“They are not Arcanists,” he replied. “They are beholden to the Emperor.”

“They are, but the fief doesn’t operate under Imperial Law.”

“True. But I believe it can be argued that the mages chosen will be…ambassadors for the Empire. Diplomats.” He smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. “It will prevent me from destroying them if they are overweening in their arrogance, but it will likewise diminish their self-importance.”

“I don’t frankly see how.”

“Many of the mages are interested in the ancient and the unknown; the choice of those who are allowed to study here, of course, will be mine. If they anger, annoy, or bore me, I will send them home; if they attempt to remain, I will send them home in pieces.”

“Why let them come here at all, then?”

“Because there is some small chance they will discover what the purpose of this room is—and was—and while they are here, they will defend it as if it were their personal belonging. Should the Barrani—any Barrani—attempt to access this room and this door from this side, we will know, and the mages will be better prepared than my own humble citizens.” He turned to Tara and said in a quieter voice, “It would be wisest, I think, to relocate those citizens who remain in the building.”

* * *

“There is a real Michael,” Tara told them as they left the building and headed toward the Tower, which took longer because there was no portal and no angry Dragon to sit on. “He is a citizen of the fief. He did not, however, approach Yvander in any way today.”

“Do you think the would-be kidnapper was someone who knew both Michael and Yvander?”

Tara frowned and shook her head. “I think Yvander supplied both the image and the words he thought he heard. What I do not understand,” she said, “is why Yvander was being led across the border, rather than to the building itself. If the room there serves as portal, why was it not used instead?”