observant when he’d last walked outside Granton Castle.
He pictured the layout of the castle in his mind. As long as he chose the right level to exit onto, he would need to turn south, or right, which should lead him to the great hall.
Unless the stairwell let him out in a different direction.
He inched down the stairs in the darkness, keeping a hand on the outer wall to be sure not to miss the opening. His leather glove scraped over the rough stone like a serrated knife cutting a loaf of bread. The wall fell away. Achan gripped the corner with his fingers and walked them around the edge to lead the rest of his body down the next corridor.
A soft beam of light shot out from the left a few paces ahead. Achan moved toward the light and found an indentation in the stone wall like an arrow loop, only this one looked in on a room. He hunched down and peered through the slot into an empty solar. Peek holes. A clever way to learn more about guests, though Achan’s stomach clenched at the thought of anyone looking into his chambers. Perhaps later he and Shung could find any viewing places that looked in on his chambers and block them.
He stepped back, annoyed that neither Anillo nor the duchess had mentioned the peek holes. Surely they hadn’t been spying on him.
Achan followed the dark passageway, keeping his right hand on the wall. Anillo had said a passage led into the great hall. Achan would likely have to turn right at some point to walk down the dais wall. Maybe the passage let out under the dais as it had in Tsaftown.
The wall under his right fingers vanished. He stopped and felt for walls around him. Yes. A corridor spilt off to the right here. Achan turned, walking slowly, scouring his surroundings for any sliver of light. Logic should put a door somewhere along the left wall, but he did not find one.
The wall disappeared again, as did the floor. His knees buckled and his right hand waved for purchase. His left hand and knees broke his fall, thudding against dirt. The musty smell had changed to the bitter scent of soil. He groped for the wall, stretched as far as he could until his fingers found a soft surface. Strange.
He popped back to his haunches and pulled off his gloves. He touched the wall again, scratched the ground beneath him with a fingernail. Packed dirt. Had he left the castle?
He took a deep breath, mind sifting through his options. The idea of following this tunnel blindly left him hesitant, yet so did backtracking when he obviously had the layout wrong in his head.
He could use his bloodvoicing power to leave his body and try to see what was above him, though that would be risky. Not only would there be no one around to wake him if he couldn’t get back to his body, who would know to come looking for him here?
He should go back to Shung.
Failure vexed him. Sir Caleb would be cross no matter when he returned. Best have some manner of success to show for it. Prove he was right? That he could fight alongside his own men?
Stubborn man.
He smiled at the small voice in the back of his mind. Something Sparrow had said to him once. In fact, she had called him stubborn in one way or another almost daily. He had always thought it odd, coming from a boy. Though her odd words and ways were not so strange for a woman.
A crick in his ankles brought him back to the present. He would try the Veil. Since one should always sit or recline to enter the Veil, he twisted his sword out of the way and sat down. He shifted to lean against the dirt wall of the tunnel and stretched out his legs. A long breath filled his nostrils with the scent of soil. Straight up, then straight back down. No distractions. He focused and drifted up.
Through a black void. Memories from his time in Darkness chipped at his thoughts. He ignored the temptation to despair and held fast to his concentration.
Up. Straight up.
Light blinded him. He recoiled and found himself outdoors, floating a foot above a grassy lawn. A wide shadow
He pictured the layout of the castle in his mind. As long as he chose the right level to exit onto, he would need to turn south, or right, which should lead him to the great hall.
Unless the stairwell let him out in a different direction.
He inched down the stairs in the darkness, keeping a hand on the outer wall to be sure not to miss the opening. His leather glove scraped over the rough stone like a serrated knife cutting a loaf of bread. The wall fell away. Achan gripped the corner with his fingers and walked them around the edge to lead the rest of his body down the next corridor.
A soft beam of light shot out from the left a few paces ahead. Achan moved toward the light and found an indentation in the stone wall like an arrow loop, only this one looked in on a room. He hunched down and peered through the slot into an empty solar. Peek holes. A clever way to learn more about guests, though Achan’s stomach clenched at the thought of anyone looking into his chambers. Perhaps later he and Shung could find any viewing places that looked in on his chambers and block them.
He stepped back, annoyed that neither Anillo nor the duchess had mentioned the peek holes. Surely they hadn’t been spying on him.
Achan followed the dark passageway, keeping his right hand on the wall. Anillo had said a passage led into the great hall. Achan would likely have to turn right at some point to walk down the dais wall. Maybe the passage let out under the dais as it had in Tsaftown.
The wall under his right fingers vanished. He stopped and felt for walls around him. Yes. A corridor spilt off to the right here. Achan turned, walking slowly, scouring his surroundings for any sliver of light. Logic should put a door somewhere along the left wall, but he did not find one.
The wall disappeared again, as did the floor. His knees buckled and his right hand waved for purchase. His left hand and knees broke his fall, thudding against dirt. The musty smell had changed to the bitter scent of soil. He groped for the wall, stretched as far as he could until his fingers found a soft surface. Strange.
He popped back to his haunches and pulled off his gloves. He touched the wall again, scratched the ground beneath him with a fingernail. Packed dirt. Had he left the castle?
He took a deep breath, mind sifting through his options. The idea of following this tunnel blindly left him hesitant, yet so did backtracking when he obviously had the layout wrong in his head.
He could use his bloodvoicing power to leave his body and try to see what was above him, though that would be risky. Not only would there be no one around to wake him if he couldn’t get back to his body, who would know to come looking for him here?
He should go back to Shung.
Failure vexed him. Sir Caleb would be cross no matter when he returned. Best have some manner of success to show for it. Prove he was right? That he could fight alongside his own men?
Stubborn man.
He smiled at the small voice in the back of his mind. Something Sparrow had said to him once. In fact, she had called him stubborn in one way or another almost daily. He had always thought it odd, coming from a boy. Though her odd words and ways were not so strange for a woman.
A crick in his ankles brought him back to the present. He would try the Veil. Since one should always sit or recline to enter the Veil, he twisted his sword out of the way and sat down. He shifted to lean against the dirt wall of the tunnel and stretched out his legs. A long breath filled his nostrils with the scent of soil. Straight up, then straight back down. No distractions. He focused and drifted up.
Through a black void. Memories from his time in Darkness chipped at his thoughts. He ignored the temptation to despair and held fast to his concentration.
Up. Straight up.
Light blinded him. He recoiled and found himself outdoors, floating a foot above a grassy lawn. A wide shadow
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