happens is going to be subtle. You’re not going anywhere unless Gerique tells you to, and they’re going to know that. Just be careful, and I’ll do my best. Between us we should get through this.”
“Right. Still not happy about it,” Grand said. “Now get some sleep. I’ll have someone wake you two hours before dawn.”
Serhan left, and walked slowly back to his quarters trying to work out ways he himself would go about separating Gerique from his guard. At least he’d have time on the journey to figure it out. Ocean’s Gate had to be four hundred miles away.
* * * *
The following morning he realised that he’d been over optimistic.
When the honour guard had been lined up in the courtyard, inspected, and inspected again, Gerique himself appeared and moved to the space in front of the column where he proceeded to cast a spell. Serhan listened as keenly as he could, but he was not positioned in the first ranks of the guard and could not hear all that the Faer Karani said.
When the spell was complete a cloud of black smoke appeared to roll up from the ground and form itself into a square about fifteen feet on each side. It stabilised, and smoothed until it was like a sheet of black mirror.
A black door! Serhan had heard rumours about them, but to see one! And Gerique was intending to take his whole honour guard through it to Ocean’s Gate. Everything changed. Transport through a black door was instantaneous. He had no time to think or plan. No time at all. He felt a cold sweat break out on his brow and fought against a momentary panic.
Gerique stepped through the door and the honour guard followed him, two abreast, at the trot. In a moment he was moving, the door approached and he stepped through. It was like passing through a curtain of cool water, but emerging dry on the other side. It took an effort not to stumble when stepping through the blackness, but he managed and found himself jogging into a vast hall.
Grand stopped the column and began to assign the guard. Eight men were posted to the chamber that contained the black door. It would remain open as long as Gerique was here as a symbol of his connection to White Rock. Grand beckoned Serhan.
“You,” he said. “Remain in the hall outside the chamber. Stay alert.”
Then he was gone down the corridor, following Gerique to whatever discussion was to take place. Serhan looked up and down the passageway in which he stood. It was about twenty feet wide and the same in height, all cased in stone, but with great wooden beams across the ceiling, and there was a noise. He listened for a moment and realised that it was the sea, the crash of waves on a rocky shore. It reminded him of childhood.
There was a window and he went to it and looked out. A hundred feet below him, and as far as the eye could see lay the ocean. They really had travelled, in the blink of an eye, four hundred miles. He drank in the view.
The task. He pulled himself away from the window and checked that there was nobody in sight. He knew three spells, passed on to him by his masters in the village, and now he spoke one of them, and in a moment was all but invisible. He knew from experience that he was still just detectable when he moved, only as a distortion, a shadow of motion, but still visible. When he stood still he was impossible to see.
How to begin? He had no idea of the layout of this fortress, but what he could see through the window suggested many levels below him and few above. He walked quickly to the end of the corridor and found a stair that led both up and down. He chose to go up, but there was nothing to be seen, only two or three doors that were securely locked, and no sound from behind them.
He walked back down, passed the floor where he had started and came to another corridor. This looked more promising. Noises could be heard distantly, and he followed them until he came to what looked
“Right. Still not happy about it,” Grand said. “Now get some sleep. I’ll have someone wake you two hours before dawn.”
Serhan left, and walked slowly back to his quarters trying to work out ways he himself would go about separating Gerique from his guard. At least he’d have time on the journey to figure it out. Ocean’s Gate had to be four hundred miles away.
* * * *
The following morning he realised that he’d been over optimistic.
When the honour guard had been lined up in the courtyard, inspected, and inspected again, Gerique himself appeared and moved to the space in front of the column where he proceeded to cast a spell. Serhan listened as keenly as he could, but he was not positioned in the first ranks of the guard and could not hear all that the Faer Karani said.
When the spell was complete a cloud of black smoke appeared to roll up from the ground and form itself into a square about fifteen feet on each side. It stabilised, and smoothed until it was like a sheet of black mirror.
A black door! Serhan had heard rumours about them, but to see one! And Gerique was intending to take his whole honour guard through it to Ocean’s Gate. Everything changed. Transport through a black door was instantaneous. He had no time to think or plan. No time at all. He felt a cold sweat break out on his brow and fought against a momentary panic.
Gerique stepped through the door and the honour guard followed him, two abreast, at the trot. In a moment he was moving, the door approached and he stepped through. It was like passing through a curtain of cool water, but emerging dry on the other side. It took an effort not to stumble when stepping through the blackness, but he managed and found himself jogging into a vast hall.
Grand stopped the column and began to assign the guard. Eight men were posted to the chamber that contained the black door. It would remain open as long as Gerique was here as a symbol of his connection to White Rock. Grand beckoned Serhan.
“You,” he said. “Remain in the hall outside the chamber. Stay alert.”
Then he was gone down the corridor, following Gerique to whatever discussion was to take place. Serhan looked up and down the passageway in which he stood. It was about twenty feet wide and the same in height, all cased in stone, but with great wooden beams across the ceiling, and there was a noise. He listened for a moment and realised that it was the sea, the crash of waves on a rocky shore. It reminded him of childhood.
There was a window and he went to it and looked out. A hundred feet below him, and as far as the eye could see lay the ocean. They really had travelled, in the blink of an eye, four hundred miles. He drank in the view.
The task. He pulled himself away from the window and checked that there was nobody in sight. He knew three spells, passed on to him by his masters in the village, and now he spoke one of them, and in a moment was all but invisible. He knew from experience that he was still just detectable when he moved, only as a distortion, a shadow of motion, but still visible. When he stood still he was impossible to see.
How to begin? He had no idea of the layout of this fortress, but what he could see through the window suggested many levels below him and few above. He walked quickly to the end of the corridor and found a stair that led both up and down. He chose to go up, but there was nothing to be seen, only two or three doors that were securely locked, and no sound from behind them.
He walked back down, passed the floor where he had started and came to another corridor. This looked more promising. Noises could be heard distantly, and he followed them until he came to what looked
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