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filled a cup with water from the pitcher on the table, and drank. After the first swallow, he threw the cup
away from him onto the floor, and spat the fluid out of his mouth-it was not cold, sweet water, but
something thick, warm, and salty. Something like blood.
Dark liquid from the cup ran out across the floor, and as it ran it seemed to form a word in a shaky script:
Read.
"What should I read?" Randal cried aloud.
But he already knew the answer. Slowly and reluctantly, he picked up his candle again, and started up
the spiral stairs. As he climbed, drafts from nowhere plucked at his candle flame. The storm outside
increased in fury.
Something has awakened, Randal thought. Someone knows that I'm here.
He sat at the master wizard's desk and returned to reading the journal. He read of how his old teacher,
Master Laerg, had opened the gate to the demonic plane in an attempt to gain power by killing all the
wizards in the world. But now Randal understood that the plan had not all been of Laerg's own making:
the first idea had come from the demonic plane, in order to bring one of the demon princes into the world
under no control except its own.
Several of the entries in Balpesh's journal discussed this possibility. At one time the wizard would dismiss
the idea as unlikely at best, and at another would give new evidence in its favor. Then, in an entry dated
only three days before, the journal stated positively, 'There is no doubt. The demon Eram has escaped
from the demonic plane, and now walks abroad in our world. It must be found and returned to its own
place before it does true damage.'
Randal turned the page. The entry continued. 'The situation is worse than I thought. We must take
immediate action. I had hoped to gather the most powerful of the master wizards to aid me in the task,
but this threat will not wait. Eram hopes to bring others of its kind across the void between worlds, and
then the time for cures will be past. I must find a way to draw the demon to me, and then fight it myself.
Surprise will be my only advantage. Anything other than swift victory will be defeat. I wish that I could
bring even one other wizard here, but time does not remain for one to come. I alone will construct a trap
in my secret workroom, and await Eram there. The day after tomorrow I believe the demon will come,
but I must begin my preparations tonight.'
There were no further entries.
Randal closed the journal and stood up. The candle on the table was guttering out in a puddle of wax,
and the storm had eased somewhat. A watery gray dawn outlined the shutters in the study windows.
Slowly, he went back down the stairs and into the kitchen. Lys had been dozing on the bench by the fire;
she sat up with a jerk as he came in.
"Balpesh is somewhere in this tower," Randal said, without waiting for her to speak, "and a demon is with
him."
VIII Searches
"BALPESH IS IN his workroom, and I have to find him," Randal said. He sank down on a stool next to
the kitchen hearth. "The room upstairs where we found the candles is just a sort of library. Balpesh did
his reading there, and it's where he stored his books and papers, but I don't think he ever used it for
anything more than minor magic."
Lys shook her head. She had dark circles under her eyes, like smudges of ink on her pale face.
Looking at her, Randal felt renewed awareness of his own exhaustion. It's been two nights since either
one of us had any sleep, he thought.
"We went all through this place," Lys said. "And we didn't find any workroom." A sudden gust of wind,
stronger than the rest, rattled the kitchen shutters as she spoke.
"There's one hidden in the tower somewhere," Randal insisted. "There has to be. And Balpesh must be
trapped inside." Randal sank down onto the bench next to Lys and rested his head in his hands. "I don't
know what to do."
"Randal," said Lys quietly, "that business of your not doing magic. That's just a rule, isn't it? Last time you
broke the rules, it was for a greater good. Couldn't you break the rules for a greater good again?"
He looked up. "And use magic to find the hidden room?"
She nodded.
Randal sighed. "I gave my sworn word. If I break that, then I'm no wizard, and I've proved it out of my
own mouth. When you're dealing with wizardry, stepping off the path even a little gets you hurt. I learned.
Every time I clench my fist, I'm reminded."
Lys looked at Randal's right hand. Slowly he opened his fist and turned his hand palm up, showing her
the puckered red scar where he had cut himself to the bone, saving himself from Laerg's spells. "So what
do we do?" she asked at last.
Randal pushed himself to his feet. "We find the secret room. Let's start tapping on walls."
The morning passed in fruitless tappings and trampings, while the storm raged outside.
By noon, both Randal and Lys were exhausted, and the secret workroom, if indeed there was one, still
remained hidden.
On the pallet by the hearth, Walter slept-but not the quiet sleep of healing. Instead, he alternately shook
with chills and burned with fever, at one time kicking off his blankets, and at another shivering
uncontrollably. Walter's eyes were deeply sunk in hollows, and his face appeared pale and waxy. Randal
or Lys gave him water to drink whenever he awakened and complained of thirst, but they both knew that
the young knight was slipping away in spite of their efforts.
About noon, Lys put the cup of water back onto the table beside the pitcher. "This isn't working," she
said to Randal. "We've got to get something better than water into him."
Randal leaned his aching forehead against the stone wall.
"We haven't got anything," he said. "Except for stale bread, dry cheese, and tough sausage. And I don't
think I can take another meal of those myself."
"There's fresh milk and eggs outside," said Lys. "I can go out."
Randal shook his head. "Not by yourself in a stor m like that. I'll go with you."
"You need to keep looking for that hidden room."
"We'll only be gone a little while," he told her. "And maybe the wind and rain will clear my head a little.
Besides, this is for Walter."
They put on their cloaks and made ready to go outside. Randal crossed over to where Walter lay by the
hearth, and went down on one knee beside the pallet. His cousin's eyelids slowly lifted, and the hazel
eyes focused on Randal.
"Randal?"
"It's me," Randal reassured him.
"Good," murmured Walter. "I've had some strange dreams.... Have you found your wizard yet?"
"Not yet," said Randal. "But I'm looking. Right now, Lys and I are going outside to get you some thing
better to eat. Just rest easy until we come back."
Together, Randal and Lys went downstairs into the storeroom. Randal unbolted the massive, iron bound
oak door on the ground floor, and put his shoulder against it. He could hear the wind howling outside. He
swung the door open, and the two stepped outside. They stepped into a sunlit garden under a blue sky
dotted with high, fluffy clouds.
Lys gasped.
"Illusion," said Randal quietly. "Something is playing with our minds."
"Yes," said Lys, in the same careful tone. "But which is the illusion-the sunshine, or the storm?"
Randal shrugged. "Without magic, who can tell? But we came out to do something. Let's get it done."
They collected the eggs and milked the goats as quickly as they could. As they worked, the sunlit day
took on a brittle stillness. The silence of the air made the sounds of birds and insects seem even louder.
Randal was glad when the work was finished and he could return with Lys to the tower.
As soon as they stepped over the tower threshold, the storm resumed outside with full force. Randal [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]