The Thirteenth Scroll (42 page)

Aurya spared the priest barely a glance as she strode past him into the church. The
empty
church. As Giraldus shouted to his men, Aurya once more tried to pick up the traces of the child. But with the opening of
the door, it
was as if everything she had been sensing had flown out in a single gust, to quickly dissipate in the open air. She whirled
on the priest, who had followed her with aged, shuffling steps.

“Where is the child?” Aurya demanded.

“What child do you seek, daughter?” the priest asked placidly. “The only child here is Our Lord in the arms of His Blessed
Mother.”

The priest waved toward a crude painting of the Madonna and Child that adorned one wall. Aurya barely spared it a glance.
Eyes blazing, she stepped closer to the priest, surprised that he neither flinched nor drew back from her.

“Do not try to lie to me, priest.” She spat the word. “I
know
the child is here. You cannot hide anything from
me
.”

The old priest laughed—actually
laughed
at her. Aurya felt her anger double, grow to dangerous proportions.

“I have nothing to hide, daughter,” he said. “Search if you will—I am alone, except for the Presence that is always here.”

At a nod from her, Giraldus and his men began to search. Aurya stood watching the priest for any signs of nervousness, any
sudden twitch or shifting of his eyes that might betray the child’s location. But he remained placid as a sheep. His pale,
rheumy eyes did not leave her face and the little, almost dim-witted half smile never wavered from his expression.

It was maddening for Aurya. “If you have nothing to hide, why was the door barred—and why are you here when the rest of the
town is home and asleep?” she demanded.

“I often stay late,” the priest replied pleasantly. “I enjoy saying the final Office here instead of alone in my rectory.
I barred the door to protect the sacred vessels. There have been rumors of armed men abroad.” He stared pointedly at the sword
in Giraldus’s hand.

“Your rectory, where is it?” Aurya was unwilling to give up.

“It is behind the church. Come, daughter, I will show you. You may search there, too, if you wish. Again I say, I have nothing
to hide from you.”

At those words, Aurya knew there was no point to continue. The child was gone; the white dove of her dream had flown away
in triumph after all.

But not for long
, she thought.
I will find you yet
.

“Come,” she called to Giraldus and the others. “There’s nothing here anymore. I don’t yet know how they got away or what part
you played in this, priest,” she said, turning back to the old man. “But be assured, I will find the child—and I will
destroy
any who get in the way.”

Aurya headed for the door. Once away from the town, she would do a true Spell of Finding… and she did not care how many of
the men she had to drain to do so.

Talog led the others down the long dark tunnel with a swiftness that would have been impossible without him. Although Lysandra’s
Sight
was still strong and not dependent upon any external vision, although Renan held a lantern that kept himself and Selia from
stumbling, it was the Cryf who was able to see obstacles long before the others and guide them quickly past.

That this route had not been used in many years was obvious by its state of disrepair. They had to scuttle around rocks and
crawl over places where walls had partially collapsed or pieces of ceiling beam had given way. But their passage was never
blocked completely, and somehow they managed to keep going.

“Giraldus has reached the church,” Lysandra told them at one point, though how long they had been underground or how far they
had traveled, she could not say. In such a place as this, time and distance felt obscured. But her words sparked them to even
greater effort; each of them knew they had to get Selia safely away.

Part of Lysandra wished they could travel this tunnel all the way back to the Realm of the Cryf, for as long as they were
underground they could escape detection. But another part of her, the greater part, longed for the feel of open air. She had
to fight not to give in to the occasional wave of claustrophobic panic that swept through her, whispering of collapsing tunnels
and cut off air.

Finally, the floor began to slant upward in a long, gentle slope that was easily climbed. As they ascended, Lysandra felt
herself breathe more easily.
We’re going to make it
, she promised herself. Still, it seemed an impossibly long time before,
finally
, Lysandra felt the soft kiss of fresh air upon her cheek. The others felt it, too, for Renan whispered the call for a brief
rest before they left the safety of the tunnel.

They all dropped gratefully to the floor, giving their muscles a chance to recover. Renan squatted next to Lysandra for a
moment.

“Where are they?” he asked her softly. “Can you
see?”

This ability, this
Far-Seeing
, was still too new to Lysandra for her to use easily. In time, perhaps, that would come—but for now it took concentration.
She closed her eyes as she endeavored to turn her
Sight
backward along the route they had just traveled.

“They’re still at the church,” she told Renan after a moment. “They’re searching it. Father Peadar is talking to Lady Aurya.
She’s very angry that he is not telling her what she wants to hear. I think they’ll leave the church
very soon. We don’t have much time. How long do you think it will take us to reach the boats again?”

“That depends on how many hours a day we can travel,” he said. “If Talog can stand more light so we can keep going longer,
we should be there in two days instead of the three it took us to get here. Are you strong enough for that after—“

He did not have to say the rest. She knew what he meant; he meant after the magic pursuing them had almost destroyed her.

“I’m fine,” she told him. “The Darkness is gone. I don’t believe it will be a danger again.”

What she did not need to say was that many other dangers were waiting to take its place. Renan’s touch on her arm said he
understood.

He rose and went back to Selia’s side. The girl needed more reassurance than any of them and Lysandra was glad Renan was here
to give it.

There was joy ahead for Selia—if they survived this journey and the many trials that still stood between her and the throne.
When that joy came, it would be carried on the wings of trust and friendship, and it would forever replace the dull ache with
which Selia had lived for so long.

Lysandra could hear Talog’s breathing where he sat by the entrance to the tunnel, surveying the landscape outside. Feeling
her way along the wall, she crawled over to him.

“What do you see?” she asked him softly, grateful again for his eyes, formed to see in the realm of the Cryf.

“We be two miles, mayhap three from the town,” Talog told her. “But, the way before us crosseth open ground—and if we find
not shelter before the rising of the Great Light, we shall be revealed unto our enemy’s eyes.”

“How far to the bogs?” Lysandra asked.

Talog shook his head slowly. “I know not.”

“The maps—Renan’s maps—will they show where we are?”

“Again, I know not,” Talog admitted. “The maps reveal the land, but not this passage. The map of the Cryf showeth what the
Hand of the Divine hath devised, not the hands of the Up-worlders.” Talog took a deep breath. “But for thee, Healer, and for
She-Who-Is-Wisdom, I shall try.”

Talog joined Renan, and Lysandra heard the rustle as the priest unfolded the map of Rathreagh. The two conferred over their
possible location. After a moment, Selia’s voice joined them.

Good
, Lysandra thought.
She’s getting involved. The shell she has built around herself is beginning to crack. Youth heals so quickly
.

And Selia has grown up here
, Lysandra’s thoughts continued.
Perhaps she will know something that can help us, something Renan and Talog can’t see on the map
.

Talog returned. “Healer,” he said. “She-Who-Is-Wisdom hath said the first of the boglands lie but a night’s travel east and
south. If we go swiftly and rest not, we shall be there in safety before the coming of the Great Light.”

“And then?” Lysandra asked. “How long into the day can you travel, Talog?”

“I am Cryf,” he answered solemnly, “whom the Divine named
Strong
. I shall go as long as is needed. She-Who-Is-Wisdom must reach the Realm of the Cryf. Eiddig awaiteth our return. He knoweth
the Holy Words. He shall know what must be done.”

I hope you’re right
, Lysandra thought but did not say.
Someone had better know
.

Lysandra stood. One of them had to signal the end of their rest—it might as well be her. Once more she sent her
Sight
back along they way they had just traversed.

“They are leaving the church,” she said just loudly enough for all to hear. “They have to find their way out of town and gather
their men, but they will not be long behind us.”

“I shall lead,” Talog said again. Lysandra nodded, and winding her fingers deeply into Cloud-Dancer’s fur, she prayed that
in this darkness would lie their salvation.

The same prayer was in all their hearts as, one by one, they emerged from the tunnel. Then, with only the moonlight and Talog’s
wondrous eyesight to guide them, they set out at as quick a pace as they could manage, hoping to cross the open land before
the dawn.

A
urya and the others picked their way back through the town with the same frustrating slowness that they had entered. But the
cobbled streets were becoming more treacherous with each moment. The wind had shifted and now blew straight in from the sea,
picking up the spray of high tide and beginning to deposit a light, slick layer of moisture over the stones.

Inwardly, Aurya screamed; outwardly, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep her horse to a safe pace, reminding
herself that a fall and a destroyed animal would mean a delay that could put any hope of overtaking her quarry far out of
reach.

Finally, the narrow, winding streets gave way to hard-pack and the horses’ hooves could once again gain purchase. But even
now she would not let her control slip. She could not just
follow
her enemies, hoping they were soon found—but a Spell of Finding took both time and energy.

Outside of town, she reined her horse to a stop and called to Sergeant Maelik. “Gather your men who are guarding the roads,”
she ordered. “Baron Giraldus and I will await you at the next open field. And do not delay, Maelik—is that clear?”

Aurya’s voice grew hard as she said this. She was gratified to see the understanding flash in Maelik’s eyes; it held a spark
of fear, assuring her he would obey, even without the use of magic. For all his swagger, Maelik was a superstitious man, and
men of his type were more easily controlled than they appeared to those who did not know the truth of human nature.

As Maelik motioned to his men, Aurya turned to Giraldus. She reached out and laid a hand gently on his cheek.

“I know you’re angry,” she said, her voice more gentle this time. “But shortly you will see that I’ve only done what was needed—for
both of us.”

The light of anger in Giraldus’s eyes faded a little with her touch. Not completely, but enough to let her know that when
the time and circumstances were correct, she would be able to persuade him into forgiveness.

She gave him the smile that he alone ever saw. “We’re
close,” she said, “so very close to having all we’ve ever dreamed of together.”

Aurya clicked her tongue and gave her horse a little nudge. The gelding sprang forward as if it, too, was tired of the sedate
pace necessitated by the cobbles. She did not need to look back to know Giraldus followed; the Spell of Obedience was too
well set for him to have a choice—and Aurya
liked
this control far too much to give it up.

As soon as he was able, Aurya knew Giraldus would demand the spell’s removal, and her explanation. She had to be ready for
that moment. Giraldus loved her—but he was also someone whose temper rivaled her own, while his
control
did not. She could, of course,
magic
away his anger… but she preferred to
persuade
it away, using that magic all women possessed but too few used adequately. As she rode, she prepared herself with the arguments
she would give Giraldus for the spell’s necessity and yes, she would make a great show of removing it.

She would also reset it as soon as he was once more asleep.

A half hour outside of town, Aurya found a clearing to suit her purposes. Rathreagh was not a province of forests, like Camlough,
where meadows had to be discovered among the trees and farms cut out and claimed from the woodlands. It was a province of
bogs and stones.

But here, in this clearing south of Caerryck, the stones had been removed. The place, though not large, lay uncluttered and
level in the moonlight, as if waiting for Aurya to come along and make use of it. She rode into the center of the area and
dismounted, giving her reins to Giraldus. While he saw to the horses, she walked the perimeter of the clearing. It was a circle,
nearly perfect, of ancient design and made by human hands. This had
been a place of power; Aurya could feel lingering traces of it still, as if the earth itself had absorbed some of the magic
once performed here.

Who, she wondered, had cleared this circle, and what had been its purpose? What magic was powerful enough to have left its
imprint still discernible? Here and there around the perimeter, she found little piles of stones. There was no doubt they
had been put there deliberately, but they told her nothing of the hands that had so placed them.

She returned to where Giraldus was standing. “Maelik and the men should be here soon,” she said, “and then I can begin. But
I need a fire—there, in the center.”