The Arcanist (53 page)

Chapter Fifty Five

Yet another secret entrance into the city. Edouard was becoming tired of them – there were so many steps! And as his eyes were getting better at spotting the hidden stairways in the sewers, he was having to explore more and more of them. He was also tired of having to squeeze his way between fake walls and real ones. That seemed to be the way that most of them had been concealed. Most of them also had secret levers in them that would swing hidden doors open when activated. Unfortunately he hadn't become any better at spotting them.

This one was worse than most, not because it was particularly narrow, but rather because the walls on both sides were stone. Cold, wet stone. The entire place stank of mould and disease, much like the rest of the sewer system. But here for some reason the water had condensed on the stone ceiling. it had turned almost to ice and was dripping down on him, splashing on his head and running down his back. He hated it. Still, as he sidled his way along the narrow passage he knew he had to carry on. There could be people on the other side needing to be rescued.

“Seven hells!”

Edouard was shocked when he finally reached the end of the fake stone wall where the stone was replaced by a heavy iron grill. No doubt it was meant to be an air vent though the air it would provide to the building would have been unpleasant. But he didn't care about that. Not when he could peer through the iron grill to discover that he was in a dungeon. It explained the poor light and the damp. But he hadn't thought he was anywhere near a dungeon let alone the city's main dungeon which this obviously was. Apparently he'd got turned around as he'd been trying to head for the temple. Again.

It was easy to do. It was dark in the sewers, the tunnels were all the same, and he kept forgetting how many right and left turns he'd made. He was tired. He hadn't slept in at least a day, and the constant darkness was leaving him sleepy. But still, to be this far off course said something about just how poor his sense of direction was.

On the other hand he decided, it was a bizarre mistake. No one could have expected him to arrive here. This was the city's main dungeon, located directly underneath the Central Inquisitor's Office in the city square. He recognised it from his days of youthful indiscretion. He'd woken up in this very dungeon a few times. Maybe more than a few times. Before his father had talked to him about military service or the priesthood if he didn't sober up.

Someone he thought was going to be chagrined to discover that there was a secret way in and out of the dungeon. And yet he wasn't aware that there had been a lot of escapes from the dungeon. He didn't remember a lot of reports about prisoners on the run in the city. And why else would you want a secret passage in and out of a dungeon of all places?

Still, it was also a lucky mistake. The Seven had been kind to him. Because the dungeon was full, and not with veiled soldiers. Normally it would hold up to a couple of hundred prisoners, most of them awaiting trial and sentencing. Or sleeping off nights on the ale. Normally however, the prisoners would be in their cells. Not now though.

Someone had obviously decided that that was insufficient for their needs, and so the main area of the dungeon was also filled with prisoners. In fact it was packed. From what he could see through the grill there had to be three or four hundred people sitting in the main chamber of the dungeon where the gaolers would normally sit. They were propped up against walls, against the doors of the cells, against the endless seeming stone columns that supported the huge ceiling above, and even against each other. The gaolers he assumed were right outside the dungeon, perhaps even upstairs. They'd turned the entire dungeon into a single cell in an effort to hold more prisoners.

Edouard spent some time studying the people there, checking carefully that there were no soldiers among them. But there weren't – and why he thought, would there be? Not inside the cells. Once he was satisfied that there weren't, he started cutting through the iron grill and the stone.

It was slow work. The stone of the fake wall was just as thick as the stone of the real one at his back. But still, he was getting used to using his magic. In his normal life he never threw fireballs around. And he almost never cut stone or iron apart with his magic. But these last few months he had been doing a lot of both, and the practice was helping with his concentration and his feel. The magic came more easily too.

Of course he was seen. In the darkness the light from his cutting finger of fire was unmistakeable, and the moment the finger burst through the stone to splash on the ceiling beyond people came running. He told them to be quiet and that they were being rescued and simply carried on with his work, hoping that they had the good sense to listen. If they attracted the guards' attention they wouldn't be escaping today. Or at all.

Twenty minutes of concentration cut a wedge a foot wide and five feet tall in the stone allowing him to push the blocks over into the dungeon. Then, once he’d cut through the iron grill he had a full sized doorway. After that things were predictable. He squeezed himself to the other side of the door he'd just cut and people started pushing past him. A couple of them at least had thought to grab the torches from the walls, so they had light, and he hoped they remembered to stick together as they made their way through the sewers and to follow the arrows on the ceiling, but that had to be in their hands. He could only do so much and hope they didn't panic and do stupid things.

There were so many of them! That was the thing that stayed with him as the prisoners squeezed by him one after another. Normally when he found a basement or similar, there would be ten or twenty people under guard. But here they just kept coming and every time he thought he must be near the end and peeked into the dungeon, there was still a thick mass of bodies pressing their way forward. He tried to keep a rough count of how many that was, but soon gave up. It was a lot and that was enough for him.

In time – and his best guess was that it had taken them longer to escape past him than it had to cut the doorway – the main part of the dungeon was empty. But his work wasn't done yet. There were still the actual cells to empty. They'd been filled with prisoners before the others had been forced into the main chamber, and the doors had been locked and bolted shut. They were still trapped.

That required him to enter the dungeon himself.

Edouard didn't like that. He didn't like walking out into the open. He felt exposed. And he didn't like being in a dungeon either. It brought back too many unpleasant memories. But it had to be done, and he forced himself out into it.

Once there his first task had to be to make sure that none of the soldiers realised what was happening. Or if they did, that none of them could come rushing in. So he hurried to the main door, a huge oak and iron hinged monster that had to weigh half a ton, and started melting the iron. It wasn't long before he was certain that the hinges would not bend again and the lock would not turn. But he had to make certain that the door could not be forced open, and that required the use of the rack. Or actually just the chains from it. He simply cut a few lengths from them and then welded them to the iron hinges on both sides of the door and knew that the door was as secure as he could make it.

The thing that kept bothering him as he worked was why there were no guards. There should surely have been some on the other side of the doors. Someone should have been keeping watch. Someone should have heard. But it seemed no one had. Maybe the door was simply too heavy for them to hear what was happening inside the dungeon? Maybe they had simply decided that the door itself was sufficient to keep the prisoners locked up. He didn't know. But it troubled him.

Still, he had work to do. Work that began with cutting open the locks on the cell doors and releasing whoever was trapped inside. So that was what he did.

It was a slow business. Not because the locks were particularly thick or of good iron – they weren't – but simply because there were so many of them. Still, every cell was full and each time he opened one another half dozen prisoners came out looking confused. The wood of the doors was so thick that they hadn't been able to hear what was happening outside. And of course there had been no light. Not even a candle. So after however many days they had spent locked up in the cells without food or water or light, they were understandably confused. It took time and many repeats to make them understand that they were being rescued, and to tell them where to go.

After the twentieth cell door opened though he thought he recognised a familiar face, and it was his turn to be confused.

“Kyriel?” It was a Tenarri woman and she looked like her, but not quite. In the darkness it was hard to be certain.

“You know my sister?” The woman suddenly stood up straight and strode towards him, allowing him to see her a little more clearly. She'd also answered his unspoken question – but given him another one in its place.

“Sister?” He hadn't known that Kyriel had a sister. Or that she was in Therion. But then he knew so little about her that it wasn't surprising. Kyriel said very little about her past, at least to him. He guessed that April knew more.

“Kyriel of House Mystral. I am Valia of House Mystral. Where is my sister?”

“Oh!” That was a question Edouard hadn't expected though he should have, and it took him a moment to find the words.

“I don't know. I'm sorry. She came into the city to help save people from these rock gnomes and hasn't been seen since.” He didn't tell her that she was quite probably dead. He couldn't be that cruel. But he suspected that Valia could probably work that out for herself.

“Now you're trying to save her?”

“I'm trying to save as many people as I can. Theria is about to be overrun by my brother's army. The cannon are tearing its walls apart as we speak. And there are all these people trapped inside it. I have to get as many out as I can.”

Which reminded him that he still had work to do and he gave the rest of the people he'd just freed from the cell the same speech he'd given all the others and then set to work on the next cell door.

“You are close to Kyriel?” Valia didn't leave with the rest, choosing instead to stay behind and ask him questions.

“I am Edouard Severin of the House of Barris. My house and the Temple of Tyrel are allies.” Maybe it wasn't the answer she'd asked for, or even the one she'd wanted to hear. But he wasn't sure he had the answer she wanted. He had very few answers. Just a lot of work to do.

So he just kept working, opening cell door after cell door, and giving the same speech he gave to everyone to them. Through the door, down the stairs into the sewer, follow the arrows in the ceiling, and dive under the outflow, then see his brother Marcus. And all the time as he worked, Valia was there beside him standing silently; watching him and making him nervous. He didn't quite know why.

Eventually the last door swung open and he gave his short speech for the last time and his work was done. For the moment. But as the last half dozen or so headed for the secret passage out of the dungeon, Valia remained.

“You should go Valia. I don't know where your sister is and I have no way of finding her. And this is a very dangerous place to be right now. Outside others may be able to tell you more. Marcus may know.”

“He is close to Kyriel?”

“No. He's close to Denetta, another handmaiden, and to our sister April who also serves Tyrel. Tyrel would know. I think.” Actually he had no idea what Tyrel knew. Only that he would never dare to imagine that she didn't know something.

“You will bring me to him?”

“No. I have work to do. But just follow the arrows to the outflow and you'll meet some of his soldiers. They'll bring you to Marcus.” Edouard was becoming tired of the questions by then. Surely he'd explained everything. Or maybe he was just tired period.

“But you will keep searching for her?”

“Yes.”

“I can't let you do that.”

She struck quickly, before he was even aware she was going to attack, and her fist connected with Edouard's cheek, knocking him back a step. It was a surprisingly powerful blow and he tasted blood. But it was only a distraction, and even as he was trying to make sense of what was happening she darted low and grabbed his pistol from his holster. A second later he was standing there staring straight at his own weapon from the wrong end.