rock that held the entrance to the
tunnel. "It has been years since we have come into this part of our property. I was almost able to
forget the tunnel was here at all."
Emrillian could see the gaping maw of darkness because she had been woven into the
protective spell so it would open for her automatically. During the early years of her residence on
Moerta, there had always been a chance that the authorities would decide to investigate the old
man who appeared irregularly through the decades, especially when he suddenly settled in the
house with a child and a household of servants. If worse came to worst, they might try to take
Emrillian from him, since she had none of the documentation the modern people of Moerta
decided was necessary to civilized life. She had to be ready to flee into the tunnel at a moment's
notice. Searching through the protective Threads or trying to see through the disguising illusion
would waste precious time.
"Close your eyes and step sideways in your perceptions, to see past the illusion of the
Threads," Mrillis said.
"Oh, right, of course. Step sideways while I'm riding." Grego's voice sounded amused as
well as plaintive.
Mrillis shook his head at the foolery, but Emrillian thought she saw a pleased smile
inside the shadows of his deep hood. She nudged her horse to go a little faster. The faithful,
trained mount didn't even flick his ears when he stepped through the shield of Threads. The two
packhorses under her guidance passed through the shield and she stopped all three horses in the
wide, smooth-floored entryway of the tunnel. In moments, Mrillis and Grego had rejoined her.
She reached with her mind to brush against the star-metal embedded in the walls. Rippling waves
of faint, pale blue and lavender and pink light traveled down the tunnel ahead of them,
illuminating the way, showing how the tunnel immediately dipped down, reaching far below the
sea bed while they were still kilometers away from the water's edge.
"In the name of the Estall, for the people of Lygroes, in honor of all who have gone
before us," Mrillis said. "We go." He nudged his horse and moved out, taking the lead. Grego fell
in beside Emrillian right behind him, and the pack horses behind them. In moments the dark
swirling shield over the mouth of the tunnel vanished behind and above them, and their world
was limited to the globes of light formed by their torches, surrounded by a haze of darkness
edged in soft swirls of magic light.
* * * *
They rode for more than an hour, before Mrillis signaled a halt. Grego waited to see
what his two companions would do. His hand ached from cold, and his arm cramped from
holding up his torch. He wished the protective magic of the tunnel didn't block all technology, so
he could use a handlight, but he knew better. They were moving in the realm of magic now.
Theory was all well and good, and he hoped his lessons in using his imbrose , as well as
the long, pleasant hours discussing magic and how the Rey'kil had manipulated the Threads
would stand him in good stead--eventually. Right now, he would employ the wisdom his mother
had taught him on his first day of school: He had two eyes and two ears and only one mouth,
meaning the Estall intended wise men to listen and to watch twice as much as they spoke.
Silence filled the tunnel, except for the crackle of torches, the rattle of tack and the
rippling of cloth and skin when the horses shook their heads. Grego thought he heard movement
beyond the torchlight. A single rock rolled somewhere in the darkness ahead. What else did he
hear? Breathing? Claws scraping on stone? His imagination filled the blank spaces with clawed
feet, jagged teeth, and burning eyes staring out of the blackness. He wished he had a good, solid
energy blaster in his hand.
"Emrillian, Grego, now we will test how well the two of you work together against real
adversaries." Mrillis broke the silence. "Create the defensive globe, expanding it to touch floor
and
tunnel. "It has been years since we have come into this part of our property. I was almost able to
forget the tunnel was here at all."
Emrillian could see the gaping maw of darkness because she had been woven into the
protective spell so it would open for her automatically. During the early years of her residence on
Moerta, there had always been a chance that the authorities would decide to investigate the old
man who appeared irregularly through the decades, especially when he suddenly settled in the
house with a child and a household of servants. If worse came to worst, they might try to take
Emrillian from him, since she had none of the documentation the modern people of Moerta
decided was necessary to civilized life. She had to be ready to flee into the tunnel at a moment's
notice. Searching through the protective Threads or trying to see through the disguising illusion
would waste precious time.
"Close your eyes and step sideways in your perceptions, to see past the illusion of the
Threads," Mrillis said.
"Oh, right, of course. Step sideways while I'm riding." Grego's voice sounded amused as
well as plaintive.
Mrillis shook his head at the foolery, but Emrillian thought she saw a pleased smile
inside the shadows of his deep hood. She nudged her horse to go a little faster. The faithful,
trained mount didn't even flick his ears when he stepped through the shield of Threads. The two
packhorses under her guidance passed through the shield and she stopped all three horses in the
wide, smooth-floored entryway of the tunnel. In moments, Mrillis and Grego had rejoined her.
She reached with her mind to brush against the star-metal embedded in the walls. Rippling waves
of faint, pale blue and lavender and pink light traveled down the tunnel ahead of them,
illuminating the way, showing how the tunnel immediately dipped down, reaching far below the
sea bed while they were still kilometers away from the water's edge.
"In the name of the Estall, for the people of Lygroes, in honor of all who have gone
before us," Mrillis said. "We go." He nudged his horse and moved out, taking the lead. Grego fell
in beside Emrillian right behind him, and the pack horses behind them. In moments the dark
swirling shield over the mouth of the tunnel vanished behind and above them, and their world
was limited to the globes of light formed by their torches, surrounded by a haze of darkness
edged in soft swirls of magic light.
* * * *
They rode for more than an hour, before Mrillis signaled a halt. Grego waited to see
what his two companions would do. His hand ached from cold, and his arm cramped from
holding up his torch. He wished the protective magic of the tunnel didn't block all technology, so
he could use a handlight, but he knew better. They were moving in the realm of magic now.
Theory was all well and good, and he hoped his lessons in using his imbrose , as well as
the long, pleasant hours discussing magic and how the Rey'kil had manipulated the Threads
would stand him in good stead--eventually. Right now, he would employ the wisdom his mother
had taught him on his first day of school: He had two eyes and two ears and only one mouth,
meaning the Estall intended wise men to listen and to watch twice as much as they spoke.
Silence filled the tunnel, except for the crackle of torches, the rattle of tack and the
rippling of cloth and skin when the horses shook their heads. Grego thought he heard movement
beyond the torchlight. A single rock rolled somewhere in the darkness ahead. What else did he
hear? Breathing? Claws scraping on stone? His imagination filled the blank spaces with clawed
feet, jagged teeth, and burning eyes staring out of the blackness. He wished he had a good, solid
energy blaster in his hand.
"Emrillian, Grego, now we will test how well the two of you work together against real
adversaries." Mrillis broke the silence. "Create the defensive globe, expanding it to touch floor
and
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