Tangled Webs

caught in the spells.”
    “If you play by the rules,” Lucivar said. “The sun’s going to shine in Hell before I play by someone else’s rules—especially some landen prick who wants one of us to help him commit suicide.”
    “He’s Blood, not landen,” Daemon said. “I don’t think he expected anyone to know he was behind this game, so I doubt he anticipated experiencing a slow execution firsthand as fodder for one of his stories.”
    Lucivar stared at him as if half his brains had just fallen out of his ears.
    “Even someone as strong as you can get caught by webs like this,” Jaenelle said. “Have you forgotten when we got caught in the Jhinka attack a few years ago? Those weren’t the same kind of webs, but close enough.”
    “No, I haven’t forgotten,” Lucivar replied. “I’ve learned a few things since then.” He looked at Daemon. “That’s why I know you can’t go into that house—and I can.”
    “What makes you think—?” Daemon began.
    Lucivar swung his arm out, shoulder high, his hand in a tight fist.
    Daemon felt the punch of Ebon-gray power as it hit the tangled webs that surrounded the house.

    The house shook. It felt like a violent gust of wind—or a fist—had slammed into the house, trying to knock it off its foundation.
    “Hell’s fire,” Rainier said. “What was that?”

    Daemon had been able to feel the webs around the spooky house. Now he saw them. Lucivar’s power lit them up—and revealed some of the things they hid. Just for a moment. Just long enough.
    “No wonder the house didn’t look balanced on the land,” Jaenelle said. “There’s actually three attached houses here, and two of them were sight shielded.”
    Lucivar nodded. “Spells wrapped around places of transition—like a staircase or door—can be used to move people without their being aware of it. The illusion spell preys on their sense of where they are and how long they’ve been doing something simple. They think they’re going up a regular flight of stairs or going through a door, but they’re really being herded down a corridor that leads somewhere else. Surreal and Rainier are probably in the second or third house by now.”
    “I’ve never heard of illusion spells that could do this,” Daemon said, glancing at Jaenelle. “Have you?”
    “No,” she replied, sounding as puzzled and intrigued as he felt.
    Lucivar looked at both of them and shrugged. “I guess it’s not part of the Hourglass’s standard training.”
    “So where did you learn about this?” Daemon asked.
    “From Tersa.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “I learned about trap spells and transition illusions from Tersa.”
    “Tersa walks in the Twisted Kingdom,” Jaenelle said. “You know that.”
    Lucivar shrugged again. “Most people think in straight lines; Tersa thinks in squiggles. Just means it takes a little longer to get an answer when you ask her a question.”
    Daemon rubbed his forehead, trying to dispel the headache that was brewing. “You talk to Tersa?”
    “I visit her a couple times a month. I’ve done that for a few years now. We sit in the kitchen and drink ale and eat nutcakes.”
    He saw Jaenelle shudder at that combination of tastes. The combination didn’t appeal to him either, but it brought up other questions. “Why don’t you have to drink milk in order to get nutcakes?”
    Lucivar grinned. “I told her ale was Eyrien milk.”
    You prick, Daemon thought, feeling resentful because he’d never thought of something like that. “You visit my mother.”
    “Yes,” Lucivar replied.
    “You never mentioned that.”
    “It’s none of your business.”
    He rocked back on his heels, not sure how to respond. It wasn’t any of his business as long as Tersa wasn’t harmed by it.
    “I don’t know what you’re fussing about,” Lucivar said. “I drop in, ask a question, and just listen while I have a glass of ale. A lot of what Tersa says has nothing to do with the question, and some of it makes no sense to me at all, but she picks up all the scattered pieces of information as she wanders the paths within her mind. It’s up to the listener to recognize what he needs and put the pieces together.”
    He could picture them in the kitchen of Tersa’s cottage, with Allista hovering nearby. And it occurred to him that it might be a relief to Tersa to have the company of someone who could recognize her gifts of knowledge and experience without asking her to think in straight