War of Power (The Trouble with Magic Book 3) (7 page)

Karryl pointed to them. “What are those?”

Evalin placed a finger on one of the squares. “That is the ancient symbol for a burial ground, the five dots representing the five humours that were at that time believed to leave the body at the time of death.”

She moved her finger across the page. “Now, I’m thinking that this is the old road up to the palace.”

Karryl looked closer and pointed to the bottom of the line. “And this is the top of Broad Street. The present road veers off from there and curves round to the right.” He traced a line in the air just above the page. “The smaller burial ground seems to be almost directly in line with the place where I think Keril’s house once stood. It’s a pity those trees aren’t there anymore.”

Her eyes still fixed on the details of the map, Evalin murmured “Why’s that then?” before looking up.

Karryl grinned at her. “Well, then I could look for a copse with a corpse.”

Evalin feigned annoyance but her eyes twinkled. “I’m glad you can keep a sense of humour. I’ve a feeling you may need it.” She leaned over the page once more, her smile hidden as her dark hair fell forward. “There’s something here I think you should see.” She pointed to the last entry on one of the lists of names.

Karryl bent to look where she was pointing, straightened up, and then bent to look again. “It could be. If I’d been named Kaerilaeastius I think I’d have shortened it as well. How old is this book?”

Carefully Evalin turned back to the first page which was covered in neat close script, and pointed to some tiny figures in the top left hand corner.

Karryl frowned. “But that’s only five hundred years ago!”

Evalin smiled and wagged a finger. “Ah! So it may be, but what’s to say it wasn’t copied from a far older document that hasn’t survived? I think Master Keril has had himself placed on guard over the artefact.”

Karryl’s eyes widened. “He must have left instructions as to where he was to be buried. He had it all worked out before he died. Do you think he knew?”

“That he was going to die? Probably; just not that soon. Of course, there is the possibility that his life was being threatened after the Battle of Power, and that’s why he made sure everything was in order.”

Karryl looked thoughtful. “The entity only said that he died. He didn’t actually say how he died.”

Evalin shook her head. “I’m thinking the circumstances of his death are irrelevant. What remains now is to try and get the rest of the riddle solved. The more you know before you start, the better prepared you can be.” Almost tenderly, she closed the book. “Now, perhaps we can go to my study and you can make me a copy of the riddle. You may have memorised it, but I would like to see the words in front of me.”

A short while later, as Karryl studied a framed geographical map of the island of Arinel which hung on the study wall, Evalin studied the words of the riddle that had been retrieved from Keril’s book.

‘No steps are there into my place but downward steps are nine to find a lattice ward bound by a candles time mind what is written there will fade dark sighted eyes will see old bones descry as low they lie awaiting what must be’

Just as he was wondering whether Arinel was the place Mordas had in mind for Symon, and how he would get there, Evalin’s voice broke his train of thought. “Do you have dark-sight Karryl?”

He turned away from his study of the map. “Yes I do, but it’s spell-cast and limited to about half an hour.” He dropped into a chair and folded his arms. “According to the riddle, it would seem that I’m going to need it to see the bones.”

Evalin smiled and shook her head. “I think you’ll be needing it to see something else. It’s all down to where you make the pause when you read it. If you stop after the word ‘time’, then again after ‘see’, it reads completely differently.”

Karryl scanned the words in his mind, placing the stops where Evalin suggested.

He gave her a wry smile. “I should have seen that.” He leaned forward, elbows on knees. “That means that there must be some writing down there that can only be seen with dark-sight. That’s clever.” He frowned and looked at Evalin. “Not all mages have the gift of dark-sight. How could he possibly have known that I would?”

Evalin smiled. “I think he probably made a fair assumption that whoever was given the power to access the book and had the means of extracting the riddle would also have been given that gift. Now, I can see that you’re tired, so be getting yourself off home. I will see Mordas in the morning, to make arrangements for Symon’s little holiday, and we’ll call on you in the afternoon.”

Giving her a grateful smile, Karryl stood up. “That will give me the morning to start my search.” His smile faded. “I think that’s going to be the easy part.”

As he crossed the sitting room, he stopped to look down at the enormous diamond shining on its bed of dark blue cloth. “Will you keep that safe? I don’t think I should be carrying it around in my pocket.”

Evalin chuckled. “It will be quite safe here, and I’m thinking perhaps I’ll not tell Mordas of it for a while. I’ll wait for a more appropriate time. If she asks, say the crystal vanished, which is what she’ll be expecting. Now, give Master Symon my best wishes and I’ll see you both tomorrow, which won’t be long coming.”

Bidding her goodnight, Karryl stepped out into the quiet darkness of the lane. Expecting to be doing quite a bit of walking the next day, he decided to go home the quick way. Nearby, a prowling cat arched its back and hissed as Karryl vanished.

Fronted by a neat cobbled courtyard, the house stood about ten paces back from the road. Square-paned windows in the upper storeys glinted in the pale wintery sunlight. He stood gazing at it, certain it was the right place. Although he had given the original house only a passing glance, it had been the only one set back from the road, and whoever had rebuilt it had obviously used the original foundations. Also, he could see that a considerable number of pieces of the old stone had been utilised in the construction of the outer walls. He realised his interest had been noted when the wide, brass-embellished front door swung open. Aided by a curiously bent and twisted stick, an elderly man shuffled out into the courtyard.

His voice was reedy and tremulous. “Is there something you want young man?” Karryl took a step forward then stopped as the man pointed his stick at him. “Don’t

come any closer! You can tell me from there.” He leaned on the stick and glared.

Raising his hands in a submissive gesture, Karryl smiled. “I was hoping to discover something about the history of your house. I know a little about it already and…”

The old man scowled. “It’s not for sale, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Keeping his expression neutral, Karryl shook his head. “No, it’s nothing like that. Can I come a bit closer? I don’t want to shout.”

The old man rolled thin lips over toothless gums. “Tell me who you are first.” Making a little bow, Karryl introduced himself. “I am Karryl, assistant royal magician at the court of King Vailin.”

Singularly unimpressed, the old curmudgeon shrugged his narrow shoulders and shuffled round to go back into the house. He squinted back over his shoulder. “You’d better come in then. And wipe your feet.”

The old man waited in the gloom beyond the open door as Karryl started across the courtyard. Something low down near the left-hand corner of the wall caught his eye. His heart gave a little lurch. From beneath a thin covering of fine dark green moss and grey lichen a weatherworn letter K taunted him from the corner of a re-used keystone.

He moved towards it and the old man scuttled out like a hermit crab. “Don’t touch anything!” His spindly legs quivered as shook his stick. “I can defend myself you know.”

Karryl stared at him in disbelief, labouring to stifle the guffaw which was threatening to erupt from his throat. Holding up his hands he grinned down at the feisty little man. “You’re quite safe. I just wanted a closer look at something Mr…er….?”

Pale rheumy eyes squinted back, the stick’s brass ferrule stabbing at the cobbles. “Not that it will mean anything to you, but it’s Hieronymus Smeers.”

With that he turned, and shuffling towards the house called crabbily over his shoulder. “You coming in then?”

The front door opened into a long dark hallway which accommodated a plain wooden staircase. A layer of dust covered much of the floor and the place reeked of cats. Shuffling along the hallway, the old man opened a door on the right and showed Karryl into a large gloomy sitting room. The stick was employed to extricate a ferocious looking ginger cat from a shabby upholstered armchair. Lowering himself painfully into it, the old man gestured towards a similar chair occupied by a large tortoiseshell cat which glared a challenge as Karryl moved towards it. Before it could react, it was picked up and placed gently on the floor. Karryl sat down on the sagging cushion, whereupon the displaced cat immediately jumped onto his lap and regarded him with curiously mismatched eyes.

The old man leaned forward on his stick, and indicated the cat. “You’re honoured. Now, what was it you wanted to know?”

Karryl leaned back and fondled the cat’s ears as he considered how much he could safely divulge. “How much do you know about this house’s history?”

The old man sucked his gums. “Quite a bit. Why?”

Karryl jumped in with both feet. “I’m looking for buried treasure.”

He waited for the old man’s reaction. It wasn’t the one he expected. Hieronymus Smeers nodded slowly. “I thought it might be something like that.” Relying heavily on his stick, he pushed himself out of his chair. “Come with me.”

Picking his way round a pair of black kittens engaged in further mutilating the already thread-bare carpet, he led the way out of the room, along the dim dusty hallway and into a large, cold and uninviting kitchen. A number of variously coloured cats peered up from an assortment of broken down wicker baskets. Surprisingly gently, the old man used the tip of his stick to disperse a bundle of rumbustious kittens, then further employed it to indicate a tall, begrimed cupboard standing in the far right-hand corner.

He eyed Karryl in the way a bird eyes a worm. “Can you move that?”

The cupboard was wide, deep and solidly built. A dense festoon of cobwebs spanned the gap between the top and the stained and flaking ceiling.

Karryl studied it for a minute or two, looked down at the old man leaning on his stick, then back at the cupboard. “Where do you want it?”

Hieronymus Smeers shuffled his feet and graced Karryl with a gummy grin. “It doesn’t need to go far. You’ll see.”

Karryl returned the grin. Facing the cupboard, he stretched out his arms to his sides.

The old man cackled. “You won’t get those arms round it.”

The cupboard creaked and groaned in a quite alarming fashion as it slowly broke free to hover an inch or two above the sticky floor. Dark grey mats of cobwebs trailed as the end of the cupboard swung slowly and steadily round to face him. A tiny whirlwind transported a collection of dust, dry leaves, rodent droppings and the shrivelled, desiccated corpse of a mouse across the grey flagstones, to settle in an untidy heap against the far wall. Disturbed by the sudden activity, an enormous spider skittered from behind, to be pounced on and devoured with relish by a thin-flanked tabby tom.

Karryl lowered his arms and the cupboard settled onto the floor. “Will that do?”

Seemingly unperturbed, the old man nodded and sniffed. With a grimy white rag that might once have been a handkerchief, he scrubbed at his beaky nose, and gestured behind the cupboard with his stick. “You might find that interesting.”

The cupboard had concealed a heavy planked, snug-fitting door, dark with the patina of age. Colonies of black warty corrosion had taken up residence on the long iron hinges and large protruding studs. Karryl reached forward and twisted the old-fashioned iron ring. The door was locked.

He turned to see the old man gazing intently at him, and indicated a blackened escutcheon. “Do you have a key?”

Without answering, his host shuffled through a maze of cat baskets and grubby food dishes, to a tall shabby dresser at the far side of the kitchen. He stabbed towards the top with his stick. “Up there; in a box.”

Seeing nothing on the upper shelves but a few old and dusty plates, Karryl stood on tiptoe. Feeling about behind the ornamental pediment, his long fingers came into contact with something square and solid. Gripping it firmly he lifted it down. Despite its size, hardly more than a hand’s length and about two fingers deep, it was quite heavy. He carried the box over to the filmy window and turned it towards what little daylight managed to struggle in. Even through the thick accumulation of grease and dust, Karryl immediately recognised the designs meticulously carved on its top and sides. Quickly and precisely he worked a calming spell. Scraping his thumbnail along the grimy join between lid and box he cleaned a deep groove, and with a bit of effort managed to ease the box open. In complete contrast to its neglected exterior, the inside of the box was clean and unmarked, the finely grained wood providing a perfect foil for the large and ornate bronze key which lay within it. Almost reverently, Karryl lifted it out, hefting the ancient artefact in the palm of his hand.

The old man had sat down on a plain wooden chair and was now watching him with some interest. “That’s as far as I got.”

Karryl raised a questioning eyebrow. The stick was waved at the key. “Taking it out of the box. That’s as far as I got. It wouldn’t let me open the door.”

Karryl put the empty box on the windowsill and turned the beautifully crafted key over in his hands. “Is it the right key for the door?”

The old man gave an emphatic nod. “All the other doors have their own keys; iron ones.” The sight of the key seemed to loosen his tongue. “Each time I tried that key it turned itself over in my hand and faced the wrong way. In the end I put the key away and pushed the cupboard against the door.”

Karryl looked around him. “Is this part of the original house?”

The old man seemed to mellow as he also looked around the grimy kitchen. “This part is all that’s left. Just over a thousand years old. The front of the house was rebuilt about four hundred years ago. The story is that something stopped the builders touching the back, which includes this part.”

Gently plucking off a kitten that was climbing up his robe, Karryl dropped it in a basket and gestured towards the ancient door. “Do you mind if I try?”

The old man ran his tongue over thin lips and nodded. “Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

Age and grime had welded the escutcheon plate to the door, and Karryl was obliged to resort to a basic spell of easing before he was able to push it to one side. The long key slid smoothly in and Karryl felt it engage with the lock. It turned easily, releasing with a loud and satisfying click. Grasping the iron ring Karryl pulled at the door. It remained steadfastly shut. Putting his other hand to the ring he mustered his strength and gave an almighty tug. The obdurate door suddenly yielded, sending Karryl staggering against the back of the cupboard as cold stale air wafted across his face.

With the heavy door pushed back, Karryl struggled to disguise his disappointment. Cold white marble shelves lined the yellowing, lime-washed and windowless walls of an old empty pantry. An unmarked film of dust covered a blue-grey slate floor. The scene offered nothing of immediate interest.

The old man peered round Karryl’s elbow. “Hardly seems worth the effort does it? Would you like a bite of lunch while you think about what to do next?”

Recalling the grimy plates and the desiccated mouse, Karryl held up a hand and graciously declined. “Thank you for the offer, but I’ve already made arrangements.” He took another lingering glance into the pantry before turning away. “Would you mind if I came back tomorrow?”

Hieronymus Smeers scowled up at him. Shuffling towards the kitchen door, he called back. “I won’t be in tomorrow. There’s a spare front door key hanging behind this door. Take it with you when you go. Lock that pantry too. You can leave the cupboard where it is.”

After the old man was out of sight, Karryl stepped into the pantry. Crouching down he held out his hand palm downwards an inch or two above the dusty floor. The tingling in his fingers was unmistakeable. Allowing himself a little smile of satisfaction, he left the cold cheerless little room and locked the door behind him, returning the key to its box. He slipped the box into the pocket of his robe, dropped the spare door key in after it, and left the grimy kitchen.

The old man was in the sitting room, a large blue-eyed white cat curled up on his lap. “You’re off now then?”

Karryl nodded. “Yes. Thank you for your help and hospitality. No doubt I’ll see you again soon.”

The old man gave his toothless grin. “Glad to be of service; and maybe you will.” He made no effort to stand up, so after wishing him good-day Karryl let himself out of the step-less front door and set off up the hill towards the palace. There was something else almost as important he had to do, and with matters having taken such a positive turn, today seemed as good a time as any.

After checking that Symon was comfortable and bringing him up to date with events, Karryl hurried into his study. Unlocking the door of a small concealed cabinet, he drew out the pouch on its necklace of teeth which had been given to him during the achingly moving encounter with the Geffendrogger Podli. With the pouch tucked into the pocket of his robe he left his study, only stopping to tell Symon where he was going. Making for the far side of the city, he headed for a small workshop tucked away in a short narrow side-street. The clear tones of a little golden bell rang through the still air of the shop as Karryl pushed open the door. Taking one step down onto the clean swept blue-flagged floor, he closed the door behind him. From her seat at a workbench a young woman with blonde hair worn in a long neat braid down her back, looked up and smiled warmly. She carefully placed the item she was working on to one side and hurried over to Karryl. He took both her hands in his own as she gazed tenderly up into his face.

Her eyes sparkled. “Karryl, it’s so good to see you. I’ve really missed you, it’s been so long.”

Drawing Aenys into his arms, Karryl briefly rested his cheek against hers before their lips met in a lingering kiss.

Karryl held Aenys at arm’s length and studied her face. “I’ve missed you too, but there’s so much going on right now I’ve hardly had a moment to call my own. Even now, as much as I’d like to be, I’m not here at my leisure.” He flashed her a mischievous grin. “It’s really your brother I’ve come to see.”

Tossing her head in mock indignation, Aenys pulled reluctantly away and lifted aside a heavy leather curtain at the rear of the workshop. “Braen, there’s someone to see you.”

There was no reply, but a few seconds later the curtain lifted again and the tall familiar bald-headed figure of Karryl’s future brother-in-law stepped into the shop.