Edge of Darkness ~ A Darkness & Light Novel Book Three (10 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ferris came for Ciara shortly before midnight. Garek's men remained at their posts outside her door, and said nothing as the two slipped from the room and made their way from the tower, skulking down the stairs like a pair of thieves. Ciara's boots scraped against the floor, echoing loudly in the stillness of the sleeping castle. She tried to lighten her step, but it seemed the more effort she put into it, the harder it became. Ferris managed to move with far more stealth as they bypassed the Great Hall, keeping to the narrow servant's corridors that wound around toward the kitchens.

At least twice, they were forced to duck into doorways or hide around corners to avoid the guards on their rounds. Each time, Ferris tucked Ciara behind him, keeping to the shadows. Each time, Ciara's heart slammed so loudly in her chest she feared the guards would hear and the cell Ariadne hoped to save her from would become her new home. Then the guards would continue past without noticing them, and Ferris would flash Ciara a quick, reassuring smile.

As they entered the kitchen, the Sciath put a finger to his lips and gestured toward the form of the cook's apprentice curled up on the hearth in front of one of the huge fireplaces. The boy muttered something in his sleep, punctuated by a loud snore as he rolled to his side. Ferris waited until another snore rumbled from him before taking a thick, tallow candle from the stock on the mantel. He crouched down to reach past the boy and light it from the low banked fire, then motioned Ciara to follow as he led the way to a large store room at the back of the kitchen.

The earthy scent of tubers, drying herbs, and salted pork momentarily overwhelmed Ciara with a rush of images of her Aunt Meriol's kitchen. The gaping hole in her heart, left my Meriol's death, widened, and Ciara swiped at her eyes to brush away a gathering of tears. Ferris glanced back at her, a question in the crinkling of his brow. Ciara shook her head and waved him on. If she gave in to the sorrow those memories provoked, the weight of them would combined with her fear of what would happen if they were caught, and render her immobile.

Ferris crouched down at the rear of the room and passed the candle to Ciara in order to move a crate and several bulging sacks out of his way. When he took it back from her, he held the flame close to the floor, ignoring the dripping wax as he ran his fingers across the rough stone, searching for something. Ciara leaned in to watch over his shoulder, throwing occasional glances back at the kitchen in case the apprentice woke and wandered in.

A faint blue glow drew her attention back to Ferris. A pattern had emerged beneath his palm, the light tracing delicate lines in the stone. He whispered something and the image wavered, blurring and scattering to reform in the outline of a trapdoor, complete with handle. Ciara cringed in expectation of rusty hinges groaning in protest as Ferris grasped the ring and pulled slowly upwards, but the door lifted silently.

Ferris angled the candle to shed a bit of light into the gaping hole. "The ladder's still here," he whispered over his shoulder. "Wait until I'm down before you start after."

He sat at the edge of the hole, dropped his legs through, swiveling as he felt around with his feet until he found the first rung. He turned to climb down, managing to make it look easy even while holding the candle. It took longer than Ciara liked for him to reach the bottom. The dim candlelight showed her very little beyond the side of his head. He looked around, then walked off to be swallowed by the dark

Ciara waited, heart pounding. She peered back toward the kitchen, then leaned further toward the hole.

"Ferris?" Her hoarse whisper echoed but garnered no reply. "Ferris." She tried again, louder, casting yet another glance over her shoulder. It would be hard enough to explain being in the store room, let alone sneaking through an obviously trapdoor.

A muffled response reached her ears, and gradually the wan candlelight came back into view.

"Are you all right?" Ciara asked.

"Aye. Toss your pack down, then come along, but be careful. A few of the rungs feel a bit soft."

Ciara did as instructed with much less confidence than Ferris had shown, cautiously testing each step before committing her weight to it. Once on the ladder she glanced down, but the faint glow from the candle showed nothing of her surroundings. She concentrated on where she placed her feet, trying to convince herself that, if she did fall, the drop wouldn't be enough to do any real damage. She startled when Ferris's hands settled on her waist to guide her down the last few rungs.

"Take this," he said, and handed her the candle. Even though he pitched his voice low, it reverberated around them, giving the sense of being in a vast, empty space.

An irrational flutter of uncertainty danced in Ciara's stomach when Ferris started back up the ladder. For a brief moment she feared he intended to leave her trapped down there. That Ariadne had decided it would be best for the empire if Ciara just disappeared. But he stopped partway up and reached out with his hand to draw a wide circle in the air over his head. A flash of blue broke the darkness, and then Ferris dropped lightly down to rejoin her.

"Aren't you worried using magic will trigger the city wards?" Ciara asked, barely above a whisper.

Ferris shook his head. "The spells that conceal these doors are benign and rudimentary, created by the mages themselves. They're as much a part of Nisair as the wards are. Besides, they're known to only a small few, the theory being that if you know them, you're meant to use the tunnels that lay beyond."

He moved away and stooped to pick something up off the floor. When he returned, he held a torch. He touched it to the candle and it sputtered stubbornly before flaring to life, and Ciara shielded her eyes from the sudden influx of light.

"How is it you can use them? The spells. I thought the Sciath didn't have any magic. That's what all the legends say, anyhow. If I'm remembering them correctly, that is. I wasn't always the best student."

"You're remembering correctly," Ferris said. "Full-blooded Sciath possess no magic of their own, not in the way most understand it, that is. Nor can they manipulate it as the na Duinne can. They can only divert it from its intended target."

"They? I'm sorry, maybe I misunderstood. I thought Ariadne said you were Sciath."

"The Sciathian bloodline isn't completely dead, but neither is it completely pure. Except perhaps in the last of the na Duinne, and it's very likely Lord Bolin is all that remains of them." He bent to retrieve Ciara's pack, and slung it over his shoulder. "We best be moving on, m'lady."

"I can take that," Ciara said, reaching for the pack, and hoping she hadn't somehow offended Ferris with her questions.

"No doubt you can." Ferris moved out of her way with a tip of his head to indicate she should come along as he started walking, holding the torch out ahead of them.

***

The last time Ciara had followed anyone down a dark passageway, she and Bolin were making their escape from Donovan's fortress. Those tunnels had been suffocating, barely tall enough for Sandeen, and blacker than pitch. Bolin hadn't wanted to risk a light so, to keep from falling behind, Ciara had clutched the coarse hairs of Sandeen's tail tightly enough to make her skin raw.

By contrast, the wavering light from Ferris's torch showed smooth walls with enough room between them for three people to walk abreast. Cobwebs brushed across Ciara's skin in a phantom caress, trailing down from the high, arched ceiling.

Their passing stirred up the thick layer of dust coating the cobbled floor. Ciara rolled her lips and blinked furiously to fight back a sudden sneeze. She finally had to give in to it and several others, muffling them as best she could in the crook of her arm, terrified the noise would bring the guards down on them.

"No worries," Ferris said in response to her wide eyed look of apology. "You could scream down here and no one would hear. There's naught but solid stone between us and the surface, and this branch runs directly under the eastern wall."

"Oh." The comment didn't quite put her at ease. Ciara glanced at the side of Ferris's face, chiding herself for the trickle of unease running through her. It was silly. The Sciath had given her no cause to feel uneasy, and Garek had vouched for him, even if he didn't care for him. Plus, Andrakaos seemed completely enamored of the man.

Ferris must have felt the weight of her stare, and the contemplation behind it, because he looked her way and flashed the same quick smile he had when they managed to dodge the guards. "You've no need for concern. I'll see you through safe enough. We'll come out on the far side of the road, well out of view of the city wall."

Ciara nodded and rubbed at her nose to quell another sneeze. Not wanting to leave her mistrust hanging, she asked one of the many questions piling up in her head. "What was this tunnel used for?"

"I'd have to guess this one served as a means for members of the royal family to pass in and out of the city without notice," Ferris said.

"This one? How many other tunnels are there?"

"Quite a few from what I’m told."

"And the doorways?" Ciara nodded toward one of the doors irregularly spaced along the way. "Do they lead to the others?"

"Some do. Most are… meeting rooms." Ferris gave her a sidelong look, the corner of his mouth quirking. "Political intrigue, liaisons, and the like. I doubt they're used very often any more. There hasn't been much courtly maneuvering since Dain took the throne, and I'm fairly certain he doesn't keep a mistress. I'm not in Nisair much these days, but from the lack of footprints, I'd say we're the first to have come down here in a good long while."

"So you don't live here?"

"No."

Ciara waited for him to elaborate. When he didn't, she let the question drop, and contented herself with surreptitiously studying him as they walked. He carried himself with a smooth, easy confidence that would have bordered on cockiness except that it didn't feel forced or fed by ego. His dark hair, cropped short so that it just brushed the collar of his shirt, looked nearly black in the wavering torchlight, and something about his eyes put Ciara in mind of Ariadne. Their shape, perhaps. Or the crinkling at their corners that hinted at a wealth of good humor hiding just beneath the surface. It gave the Sciath a familiar look, like someone Ciara had seen in passing, but now couldn't quite place. He had quite a few years on Ciara, but she guessed him to be a bit younger than Garek, though she had learned that judging age in those possessed of any magic whatsoever, was a fruitless endeavor.

Ferris angled his head her way, his mouth twisting in that cockeyed smile that gave him a bit of a roguish appearance. "So, now you're wondering who I am, then?"

Ciara looked away with a small shrug. "No." She glanced back after barely two more steps. "Well, yes. But I've really no right to pry. Except we are traveling together, and it might be nice if we got to know one another."

"It's not as though it's any great secret," he said. "For the most part, I'm Lady Ariadne's man."

"For the most part?"

"I'm not bound to her by any oath, so free to do as I please in that regard."

"So you're a mercenary?"

He gave her a quick, sharp look that on anyone else would have preceded a scolding. Ferris merely followed it up with, "No. And for future reference, m'lady, that's not an assumption most honest men would take as well as I. Mercenaries aren't well thought of."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." Ciara blew out a long sigh. "It seems I have a lot to learn about, well, everything, I guess. I didn't mean to insult you."

"There's no harm, m'lady. Insulting me isn't easily done." They walked in silence for a bit before Ferris asked, "A question of you then, if I may?"

"Of course."

"Where is it you hail from?"

"Near the village of Hess, a day's ride or so east of Guldarech. My aunt was a healer. And you? I didn't recognize the language you used with Ariadne."

"It's Cearnease," he said. "I was born in Cearne, to the north and west of here, on the shores of the Inlet."

"Your accent sounds a lot like Bolin's."

"'Tis his home as well."

Ciara frowned. "I thought he was raised in the Greensward."

"So he was." Ferris gave her a curious look. "You've not known him long, I take it?"

"About five years or so."

"Ah. A drop in the bucket of that man's life." He came to a sudden stop and gestured toward a blank wall before Ciara could ask anything further. "We're here."

He passed Ciara her pack and, taking a cloth from an alcove in the wall, draped it over the torch to smother the flame, plunging them back into utter darkness. A dull thud followed, and Ciara jumped. The creak of leather and Ferris's soft voice preceded a now-familiar blue glow. It rippled across the wall, outlining a man-sized rectangle. A fresh, cool breeze carrying the scent of dank leaves, rushed in to greet them as the stone faded to leave a gaping hole. 

"I've horses waiting a short way through the trees," Ferris said as he flicked up the hood of his cloak. "Wait here while I fetch them back."

He slipped out of the tunnel to be swallowed by the night. Before Ciara's imagination could conjure more misgivings about his motives, the clop of hooves and jangle of harness reached her ears and Ferris reappeared. He handed the horses' reins to Ciara and went to seal the doorway. When Ciara looked back, she saw only a weathered standing stone. The chill, damp air brushed a shiver down her spine and Ciara tugged her own hood up to ward it off. Ferris touched her arm to get her attention and put a finger to his lips, pointing behind them in the direction of Nisair's walls. Then he angled his head toward the waiting horses. He gave Ciara a leg up, and she grimaced as she lowered herself onto the cold, wet saddle. Ferris mounted his own horse and they were off, the woods around Nisair wrapping about them.