House of Shadows(109)

Nemienne looked for and found the thread of music the bardic sorcerer was holding. It led slantwise into the dark, but dimly, far along that path, she could once again see her sister. And beyond Karah, a still dimmer form that had to be the prince. Both of them brightened as she watched.

Mage Ankennes leaned on his staff while he peered along the dark path Taudde’s skill was pulling from his flute. The mage’s eyes widened. He turned sharply toward the Kalchesene. “What is that flute? Stop playing!” he commanded.

The foreigner looked across the pool at Ankennes and nearly smiled behind his wooden flute, which he did not lower. The melody he was playing changed again, it seemed to Nemienne. There was something about it that coaxed, that urged…

Ankennes, face contorted with anger, began to wade back across the pool toward the sorcerer. He still held his staff like a weapon, and Nemienne, thinking of how he’d made the mountain tremble with it, swallowed.

The bardic sorcerer backed away to the far side of the circle—a few steps only—and played on. His eyes, wide and wary, went swiftly from the dragon to Ankennes and finally to Nemienne.

“Oh, where is your sister?” Leilis cried to her. “Nemienne, can’t you bring them back?”

Nemienne was impressed that Leilis had understood so quickly, but she could only answer helplessly, “Yes, I’ll try, I meant to, only now I’m not sure—I’m not sure how far they’ve gone, how far they have to come back. But they are coming. Look, they are—”

Nevertheless, she bit her lips until she tasted blood, and stared after her sister as though she could, by sheer force of will, force her faster back to them along the flute’s path. She reached out, meaning to take her sister’s hand as she had done once before—she would draw Karah out of the dark, and Karah would bring the prince with her—

Mage Ankennes lashed out with his staff, striking right through the brilliant circle of light; his staff came down with frightening force against the sorcerer’s guarding arm. The young man did not cease playing, but his face contorted with pain and he staggered and would have fallen against the burning circle except that Leilis caught him. She flung herself between the mage’s next blow and the young sorcerer.

Ankennes swept her out of the way without using his staff, with just a wave of his hand that sent her staggering. She hit the circle of light and cried out, a high-pitched agonized sound that made Nemienne press her hands to her own mouth to block a scream. But Leilis was not dead. The woman staggered back to her feet, and though she was weeping, Nemienne thought it was as much with rage as with pain.

But the mage punched his staff through the circle a second time, and this time Leilis was not there and the sorcerer could not block the blow. The staff struck at his face, and the wooden flute flew across the circle, struck the barrier of light, and crumbled instantly to dust.

The young sorcerer made a short, hoarse sound and went to one knee, reaching a hand out to the little flurry of dust that was all that remained of his flute. Leilis scrubbed her hands across her face, straightened, and glared with desperate fury at Ankennes.

The pathway the music had laid through the shadows faded, and Nemienne, who had almost thought she could feel her sister’s fingers in hers, suddenly lost her again.

“Let the death of the fledgling Seriantes Dragon summon the true dragon of Lonne down the path of mortality,” Ankennes cried. He turned back toward the black pool and the stone dragon.

Nemienne had never hated anyone before, but as she searched in vain for some fading echo of her sister and found nothing, she found she could hate Ankennes. At least she knew, now, that she was right to fight him. Not that she even could. She had a sudden, vivid hope that the dragon would suddenly lift its head and bite the mage in two. But it remained quiescent. And she could think of nothing at all to do.

Mage Ankennes took a step into the black water, hefting his staff once more.

A gray cat dashed suddenly into the dragon’s chamber. For an instant, Nemienne thought it was Enkea, but this cat was larger and darker: smoky black but with white showing beneath the black as it moved, like smoke veiling white mist. It ran across the cavern and leaped without pause onto a high ledge, spinning around to stare out at them all with a fierce wild gaze. Nemienne saw that one of its eyes was green and the other gold. With a thunderous rush, a crowd of men exploded out of the far reaches of the caverns, following the path the smoke-colored cat had laid down.

Mage Ankennes spun, not only startled but, by all appearances, also alarmed. As he had reason to be, evidently, for the leader of the newcomers flung out an arm and a dozen of his black-clad followers headed toward the mage, faces grim.