Rebel's Cage (Book 4) (53 page)

Seeking worked only with people, sorcerers. The only time he’d ever done this with an inanimate object was when he’d
focused on the properties of the Key and found the silver rod he believed might be part of the Calyx. But that process would never work here.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Seeking.’

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s something sorcerers can do, to find … something.’

‘Will that help you find the books?’

‘I don’t know – but that’s what Vaughn meant, and I believe he got it out of one of the books in the collection.’

Osbert’s confusion was obvious. ‘But how can you know that if you’ve never seen—’

‘Because it’s a line out of a book called
Flail an Feer,
a book sorcerers have been reading for centuries. There’s little chance Vaughn would have come across – or read – that book if it didn’t belong to such a library. And it’s exactly the kind of book Vaughn would be afraid of and want to hide.’

Robert held up his other hand for silence as his senses slipped beyond the walls and out into the rest of the Guildehall. Room after room he passed faint auras, and other things he would have liked to examine more closely; he pushed it hard, unwilling to concede that it couldn’t work. But—

‘No.’ Robert came to an abrupt halt and opened his eyes. There was no sign at all, and yet, he couldn’t fault Osbert’s logic: Vaughn
would
have hidden the books here, and he wouldn’t have destroyed them – he was clever enough to know how valuable they could be to him.

And, of course, that was how he’d learned to make that Bresail.

He sighed. ‘Where none shall Seek and none shall find. What’s the complete quote?’ He half-closed his eyes and summoned up the words,
‘Allaying hope and placing it where none shall Seek and none shall find, until again it comes, against all but those who would destroy, and those who would confuse, to feed where hunger will deny.
That’s …’ his words tailed off almost to a whisper, voicing the thoughts as they came to him, ‘that’s a section about the Calyx … written in … No. So, if none will Seek it, then none will find it, but if I Seek it …
Why would none Seek it? Because they wouldn’t know what to look for—’

By the blood, he was such a fool – too busy making it more complicated than it needed to be.

Why
wouldn’t
these books have some connection to the Key? They were about the same age, from the same origins.

Once more he moved to stillness and held his breath. As he had done when he’d found the silver rod, he framed all he knew of the Key in his mind, then let his Senses free, to roam where they might, giving them no direction.

For long, blissful seconds, he lost himself in the images that washed through him. Then, abruptly, a corner of his awareness was snagged sharply, turning him, focusing him on the central pillar of the Hall.

‘Sweet Mineah,’ he breathed, long and slow. Then his face, without asking, shifted and creased up into a smile he could not control.

He’d found them at last: the answers he needed. They would all be here, in the books Vaughn had tried to hide from him.

‘Well?’

Osbert’s voice cut into his thoughts, barely jilting his elation. ‘It’s here. I don’t know how he did it, but it’s here.’

Wide eyes darted from him to the pillar, the face snapping from relief to horror and back to relief so fast Robert couldn’t keep up. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Positive.’

‘I’ll get some tools …’

‘No need.’ Robert replied quietly. ‘Anything a Guilde stonemason can put together, a sorcerer can take apart.’

‘But you’ll bring the roof down!’

‘I’ll be careful. Just move back a little.’

Osbert straightened and shifted out of the way.

Robert knelt down in front of the pillar base where each block was carved with a different animal shape, all of them in some kind of motion. He felt along the edges of one stone, to discover it was a facing, not a support stone. He pressed his hands against it, let the power shift from his belly, out through
his palm and into the stone. He felt it slip and alter its weight. He moved back a little and the stone came away.

In front of him was a space in the pillar, a gaping hole that led somewhere deeper into the floor. He reached into the darkness until his hand came to something. Something dusty and bound in leather. With another grin he pulled it forth and held it up for Osbert to see. He blew once, sending a cloud into the air, then opened it up to the first page.

Osbert grabbed his shoulder. ‘Bring the others out.’

‘Of course.’ Robert reached in again, and again, passing the books to Osbert to stack on the floor. And still the books came. He lost count after fifty. Then finally there were no more and Robert was surrounded by more freedom than he’d
ever
hoped for.

He reached out, his fingers itching to touch and discover, his eyes soaking in the sight of so much of the future clearly written in the past. These books would contain the Cabal lore that had been lost when the Enclave library had been destroyed in a fire. There would be records here, of the work Cabal and Guilde had done together, of how they had both served the Empire. The Guilde had always seen it as their sacred duty to gather knowledge and write it down, for safety’s sake, to be a part of handing that knowledge on. This had always been the central core of all that the Guilde was.

And with them working so closely together with the Cabal, for so many centuries, there
had
to be mention of the Prophecy in there somewhere, its origins, its purpose, and perhaps even a copy of the text. Nash himself believed it to be so – and he knew far more than Robert did. He might finally have a weapon he could use. And the Enclave could regain so much lore that had been lost.

He picked up the first book to hand, reverently brushed the dust from its surface and opened to the first page. The language was obscure, the text open and curvaceous – but he was sure he’d seen it from somewhere. Certainly enough to let him get—

‘Destroy it.’

‘What?’ Robert looked up to find Osbert standing before
him, beyond the line of books, holding his robes away as though he would be poisoned.

‘I said, destroy it. Destroy them all.’

Robert frowned and scrambled to his feet. ‘This is a joke, isn’t it?’

‘No joke. I’m sorry,’ Osbert said apologetically, ‘but I never intended for you to keep them.’

‘You never intended …’ Robert gestured down at the books and scrolls, some bound in tooled leather, some in plain. All shapes and sizes, along with a few unbound manuscripts: possibly the most valuable collection he’d ever seen in his entire life. He looked back up at Osbert. ‘But don’t you see, if you give them to me, then they can only help ensure Nash’s defeat. Serin’s teeth, Osbert! You had the sense all these years to know they were dangerous! Don’t make me destroy them now, when they could be such a powerful weapon against Nash and his kind.’

Squaring his shoulders, Osbert turned and faced him. ‘But I don’t know that you and Nash
aren’t
the same kind.’

‘But—’

‘No!’ Osbert snapped. ‘You seem to forget what you are – and
where
you are! Have you forgotten that it’s the Guilde’s sacred duty to eradicate sorcery from the face of the land? That’s been our goal for more than five hundred years—’

‘And those are Vaughn’s words, not yours. Can’t you see that suspicion, prejudice and bigotry are all that stands between you and me? We are the
same,
Osbert – we just have different skills! Damn it, man, don’t destroy these books just because you don’t understand!’

‘I’m not going to destroy them. You are.’

Robert straightened up. This was utter insanity, and he had to stop the man at all costs. ‘And if I say no?’

‘Your friend Godfrey dies. If you try to save him, I’ll burn the books while you’re gone and raise the alarm that you are here.’ Slowly Osbert raised his hand and pulled Godfrey’s wooden trium from his robe pocket. He drew it up to hang before Robert, leaving it there long enough for him to recognise it.

His breath caught in his throat and he swallowed hard, fixing his gaze once more on Osbert. Even now, he could still smell fear on the man – a fear of so many things. His voice emerged soft and very sad. ‘You have done such a brave thing, and now you will destroy what good you would do. And what will you tell Nash when next he asks?’

‘That’s my concern, not yours.’

‘You’ll lie to him? And make him believe? Then why not let me take the books and lie to him still. Or …’ Robert scrambled for a compromise, something that would leave him with a little hope, ‘or let me look through the books and choose those most useful, and then I’ll … destroy the rest. Just don’t …’ He knew he was begging, but he didn’t give a damn. What was dignity compared with stopping a catastrophe? If he didn’t beg, if he didn’t back away from this, the demon would let loose. ‘Please, Osbert. You’ve trusted me enough to get me here, to let me see them. We never knew each other well before, but you must be able to see I’m not the same as Nash. I beg you, don’t make me do this.’

Osbert stared at him, as though he couldn’t believe that he actually had Robert in this position. But still he shook his head slowly, his face pale, his words short. ‘Do it. Now.’

Could he? Could he somehow protect the books from Osbert, and still get through the Guildehall and find Godfrey before Osbert could call the alarm? But there were soldiers beyond the door, more than Robert could handle on his own, and at his first appearance, the alarm would be raised and Godfrey would be a dead man. If they did get away, they would have to escape the city, at night, after the gates had been locked, with all Kenrick’s army looking for them.

And the future King of Lusara sat waiting above, relying on his protection, looking down and watching. Learning.

But he couldn’t destroy these books.

He turned back to Osbert, but the man’s gaze was stony and convinced, terrified and reaching for hope, just as Robert was.

And Osbert
was
right about one thing: if Robert did destroy these books, Nash would never be able to use them against Lusara or the Enclave.

Still his throat grew tight as he stepped clear of the books. His eyes stung as he raised his hands. He needed only to relax his control a little, but even that was enough to scare him so he almost strangled it. But the power filled him all the same, coursed through him as though delighted that he would be the one to shatter his own hopes. The demon loved moments like these.

He let the power loose, flying from his fingertips, landing on the floor in a bright flash of fire more intense than any seen before in this Hall. Then it was done. No smoke, no overwhelming stench: just a mountain of black ash stirring slightly in the air currents.

‘You have no idea the damage you’ve just caused,’ Robert murmured, his voice as black as the ashes. He waded into the pit, causing a wave to rise about his ankles. ‘Set Godfrey free. I did as you asked.’

‘No, you haven’t. What’s that there?’ Osbert moved forward, but stopped short of the ashes.

Robert bent down and lifted one surviving book free of the black dust. ‘That’s odd. I don’t know how that survived.’ With almost loving hands, he placed it on the stone he’d removed from the pillar, and raised his hand again. Another, smaller flash split the air, but the book remained untouched. How could that happen? He picked it up and turned to Osbert, who was staring at him, eyes wide.

Then Osbert’s gaze changed completely and regret edged into his tone. ‘Very well, you may take that one. I don’t care. Now, please go. Whichever way you choose, but just go. Nash could come any time and I don’t want—’

‘You
don’t want?’ Robert would have laughed if he hadn’t felt so numb. He tucked the book inside his jacket, doing up the buttons. The weight of it was small and puzzling – and of little comfort. He stepped clear of the ash, almost following Osbert to the door. ‘I have your word about Godfrey? Your promise?’

Nodding, Osbert hurried to his freedom, only to find his feet frozen in place.

‘Your promise, Osbert,’ Robert gave in to the impulse to scare the man. ‘Or you’ll have my revenge.’

Osbert’s response was fast and honest. ‘My promise. I go to release him now.’

Robert freed him, staying long enough to watch Osbert reach the door, but there the Proctor stayed for reasons of his own. He reached into his pocket once more, drawing forth a piece of paper. He folded it over in his hands a moment, then looked up.

‘Those rumours of prophecy? You didn’t ask how I knew they were fake.’

‘Fake?’ Robert blinked, but went along with the odd question. ‘How did you?’

‘Because I started them myself.’ Osbert looked at the paper again. ‘Kenrick asked me to. After he had me translate this. I think he stole it from Nash. You might be able to read it better than me. Do with it what you will. I … Thank you for your help.’

Robert took the paper, but kept his gaze on Osbert as he turned and unlocked the door, closing it firmly behind him.

For a moment, Robert just stared at the paper in his hands. Thick parchment, solid ink. Words he couldn’t read, a language he would have to research.

He turned swiftly, pushing the paper into his jacket next to the oddly surviving book and ran across the Hall to the wall opposite. Taking a leap off the ground, aided only slightly by his powers, he caught hold of the balcony edge and hauled himself up and over – to find a pair of huge blue eyes staring at him in wonder.

‘I—’

‘Shh,’ Robert urged. ‘We can still be heard. Come, let’s get out of here before I decide to pull that pillar down after all.’

With Andrew behind him, he retraced their steps back into the wall, up the impossible stairs and out again into the roof space. There he had to stop to shift the book around beneath his jacket, because it wasn’t sitting right and he didn’t want it
to slip out at the wrong moment. He picked up their cloaks and tucked them under his arm. Then he led the boy across the roof. Not once did he trust himself to look back and see if Andrew was still following.