House of Shadows(88)

“I’ve had apprentices now and again in the past,” the mage observed at last, his tone mild. “Each had unique strengths and odd weaknesses. But I don’t recall any of them having precisely the idiosyncrasies you are displaying, Nemienne. Come in. Have you had breakfast? No? Well, then, perhaps while you do, you can tell me where you have been this time.”

Nemienne meekly followed Ankennes through the stubborn door, trying to decide just how displeased he might be with his current apprentice’s, well, idiosyncrasies. There were no new doors or windows in the hall, this time. Most of the current row of windows looked out into morning light high in the mountains, but the nearest showed a sharp-edged night that glittered with stars. The beech door and the door with the carved animals were both shut fast, but the black door was standing a little ajar. Mage Ankennes gave it a look and pulled it shut as he passed it, with a swift glance at Nemienne. Nemienne flushed under that glance.

The mage made her rice porridge for breakfast, taking fresh bread out of the cupboard and butter out of the ice pantry while they waited for the rice to cook. Nemienne sliced the bread and spread it with butter. Since Enkea was asleep on the chair nearest the stove, Nemienne sat down on the stove’s hearth to eat the bread. The heat of the stove beat pleasantly over her, driving away the memory of cold. Nemienne bit into her bread and tried to decide how to put into words the thin piping and heavy darkness and great carved dragon.

“Did you go through the black door?” the mage asked her. He had sat down himself on the bench by the long table, where he could keep an eye on the porridge. His tone was not unkind, but his slate-gray eyes were chilly.

“No!” said Nemienne. The look in his eyes frightened her. She was relieved she could deny it. “I…” She paused, trying to make sense of the night’s events, conscious of how strange any explanation must seem to anyone who had not been there. Her family, despite the best will in the world, would not have really been able to understand the… the feel of the heavy darkness and the dragon’s cavern. But Ankennes was a mage, she reminded herself. He would understand. And yet, although this ought to have been true, she could not overcome a visceral reluctance to explain what had happened.

But that was silly. It was stupid. What, so far, had Mage Ankennes failed to understand? When had he ever been anything other than kind and patient? She said, trying for a firm tone but sounding hesitant even to herself, “I woke up in the dark—well, that is, I thought I was dreaming, but after a while I knew I was awake. There was music—at least, I’m sure there was, but it was very faint. I couldn’t really hear it—I don’t think it was really meant for me—but I found my sister Karah following the music. She stopped when I caught her hand, and then the music stopped, too. It was after that that I knew I was awake. I thought—I knew—we were deep under Kerre Maraddras, but I don’t know how I knew. Enkea was there, and a kitten someone gave Karah. They led us…” Her voice trailed off. She found herself somehow reluctant to describe the cavern with the black pool and the great white dragon carved into its farthest wall.

“Music drew you into the dark?” murmured the mage. He got up briefly to stir the porridge, then sat back down and looked thoughtfully at her. His eyes were no longer cold, but they held a strange, predatory glint. He seemed to have found this account perfectly plausible, for some reason. He asked, “What kind of music?”

“Pipes,” answered Nemienne. “I don’t know—someone showed me a set of twin pipes Karah had been given, but they were ruined. But it might have been those I heard. I think it was.”

“Interesting,” said the mage, but though Nemienne waited hopefully, he did not explain anything of his thoughts. He merely waved a hand at her: Go on.

“Well…” Nemienne tried to organize memories that now seemed jumbled and uncertain. “There was the sound of dripping water. Of water falling into a pool. You know, the sound that’s always there in the dark…”

“Yes. And?”

“Well, Enkea led us to a place, a cavern, really big. There was a pool there, and water dripping into it, and… there was this carving…”

“The Dragon of Lonne.” Mage Ankennes leaned back in his chair and regarded Nemienne as though she had just this moment magically appeared in his kitchen, next to his iron stove, eating his bread. As though he had never really seen her before and wasn’t entirely certain he was pleased by the sight. “You found the dragon’s chamber.”