Luck in the Shadows

careful here."
    "What about magic?"
    "That's one thing we probably don't have to worry about. If Kassarie's really a Leran, then she'd never stoop to using the unnatural methods of the hated Aurлnfaie. But there will be traps, killing traps, and we'd damn well better not get cocky."
    A careful search found no sign of any secret openings or traps.
    "Looks like we'll have to look elsewhere for our entrance," muttered Seregil.
    "But where?"
    "Upstairs, I think."
    Alec looked over at the pile of rubble. "How could there be anything above us? Look at this! The whole inside of the tower must have been destroyed."
    "Yet from the outside it appears that just one side of the top of the tower was broken; it shouldn't have done this kind of damage."
    "You mean this mess is just a trick, a fake?"
    "Either that or I'm completely wrong." Seregil grinned crookedly. "But why leave the tower broken unless there was some reason?"
    "So we go up?"
    "We go up."
    "Micum! Come here!"
    Snapping awake, Micum groped for the lightstone under his pillow. The room—Seregil's old apprentice chamber—"
    empty, but Nysander's anxious voice seemed to hang on the air.
    Pulling on his breeches, Micum hurried down the corridor to the wizard's bedchamber. Nysander was dressed already in his old traveling coat and breeches; his face was dark with concern.
    Micum felt a sudden coldness in his innards.
    "What's happened?"
    "We must go at once!" Nysander replied, throwing on his cloak. "They are in some terrible danger, or were—I pray Illior it was a premonition and not a seeing vision."
    "Of what?" demanded Micum. "What did you see, Nysander?"
    Nysander's hands shook as he yanked his cloak strings closed."Falling. I felt them falling. And I heard them scream."
    Seregil and Alec crept up the northeast tower stairs to the second floor of the keep and found the door unbarred, though there were brackets set on both sides of the jamb. Covering their lights, they took a cautious peek at what lay beyond.
    It was dark here, but there was the feel of open space around them. From somewhere nearby came the buzz and rumble of assorted snores, though it was difficult to judge exactly where the sleepers might be. As their eyes adjusted, they could make out a dim light faintly illuminating a broad archway in a far wall. The acrid smell of a forge, mingled with the tang of metal and oil, suggested that the room was an armory or smithy.
    Seregil found Alec's wrist and squeezed it, silently directing him to follow the wall to their left.
    This direction proved fruitless, however. There was a door into the ruined tower, but a heavy forge had been set up in front of it. Returning to the other tower, they made their way up to the top floor.
    At the top of the stairs they inched the door open and saw a long corridor. Some distance away, a night lamp hung at what appeared to be a juncture with another corridor. By its light they could see that the walls were richly frescoed in the latest style, and that the floors were inset with polished mosaics. Somewhere behind one of the many carved doors that lined the corridor lay their enemy.
    Stealing up to the night lamp, they found that this upper story was laid out in four quarters, divided by two diagonal corridors that ran between opposing towers.
    The corridors looked very much alike, including the doors, frescoes, and patterned floor. Three, including the one they'd come up, ended at tower doors. At the end of the southeast, however, the wall was covered from floor to ceiling with a large tapestry.
    As hoped, the hanging concealed another door to the ruined tower and this one had been fitted with a heavy lock. Signing for Alec to hold back the tapestry and keep watch, Seregil began a careful inspection. The ornate mechanism was tarnished, but it smelled of oil, as did the heavy door hinges. Running a finger over the lower hinge, Seregil sniffed at it, then held it under Alec's nose. The boy grinned, understanding at once; why maintain the door to a ruined tower so carefully?
    The lock was swiftly dealt with, and cold night air struck their faces as the door swung out onto a moonlit rampart. The square, flat surface they stood had been repaired, but the southern and eastern parapets had been left in ruins. The paving flags sent an aching chill up through their bare feet and ankles.
    The wind moaned through the broken stonework, whipping their hair across their faces as they edged over to the remains of the southern parapet.