White Road

tool roll and dropped it in. It bounced off something and rolled under something else, butthey could still see the glow of it. As far as they could tell, the place was deserted.
    Alec pulled up their rope and reset the grapple so they could climb down into the shop. Seregil slid down first and retrieved the stone. Going to the cellar door, he opened it enough to see that there was no light there, either.
    Alec came down and took out a light of his own. “Look,” Seregil whispered.
    There were footprints in the dust around the bookcases and a chair beside a lamp stand. A few others showed that people had walked around the room and gone to the small tent at the far end. It was painted with rings of what were most likely alchemical symbols of some sort. The dust was disturbed in front of it, showing where someone had knelt down, presumably to investigate its contents.
    Curious, Seregil went to the tent and pulled back the flap while Alec began searching the bookcases. In addition to a few leather bags and a gold chalice, there was a locked casket that looked large enough to hold a book like the one Alec had described.
    The lock was a large one. These were often the most dangerous, being large enough to hide a nasty surprise, like a poison needle on a spring. After a close inspection, however, Seregil slid a pair of slender picks from his roll and went to work. A moment later he heard the click of several tumblers. He grinned as he raised the heavy lid, but the casket was empty.
    “I don’t see it in the bookcase,” Alec whispered, joining him. “It’s not on any of the tables, either.”
    Seregil showed him the empty box. “Would it have fit in here?”
    “Yes.”
    “Damn!”
    They spent some time searching the room, but it was no use. Nothing like the book Alec recalled was to be found.
    “Bilairy’s Balls,” Seregil hissed.
    “Maybe some other alchemist took it.” Alec looked around. “Then again, everything else is just as I remember it. Nothing appears to have been moved.”
    “Except books.” Seregil went back to the cluster of footprints in front of the bookcases. There were no empty spaces between the volumes. “Whoever it was knew what they were looking for, to the exclusion of all else. They paid no attention to anything else here, except books and that tent. You’re certain the book you saw would fit in that casket?”
    “Yes.” Alec stared around into the shadows. “Wait. What about the cellar? And that locked room they kept me in down there?”
    But once again, there was nothing like a book anywhere; everything was just as Alec remembered.
    “Ulan?” whispered Alec.
    “We’ll see. Come on.”
    Seregil went up the rope first. As his head cleared the roof, however, he heard an outcry in the distance. It was coming from the direction of the gully. From what he could make out, someone had found their horses and raised an alarm.
    “There, in the workshop!”
    Seregil looked around to find a man balanced on a ladder placed against the garden wall to his left. He must have gone up to see what the fuss was about.
    “Guards! The workshop,” the man shouted, disappearing down the ladder. “Fetch the key, someone!”
    Seregil quickly climbed down the rope and found Alec already struggling with the heavy anvil. He hurried to help and they heaved the trapdoor up. People were at the door now, and someone was not waiting for the key. The door shook on its hinges as someone tried to break it down.
    “Go get the lower door open,” Seregil whispered.
    Alec disappeared down the rickety wooden ladder bolted to the side of the narrow shaft.
    Seregil took a deep breath and grasped the ring on the underside of the trapdoor. It was tricky, pulling the heavy door in such a way as to not get brained by it. The only way was to throw all his strength into it, then hang on tight to the ring as the whole thing crashed back into place. If the ring came loose, it was a long way down.
    But it didn’t, and he found the ladder with one foot and clambered down after Alec.
    Alec was at work on the large iron lock with two of his heaviest picks and had it open as Seregil’s feet touched ground. Dashing into the tunnel beyond, they closed the door. Alec jammed one of the picks into the workings of the lock, then bent the long end flush with the door. “That should slow them down a bit!”
    They set off down the dank passageway at a run. By the time they reached the ladder at the far end of the tunnel, they were