The Crimson Crown. Cinda Williams Chima

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Of one thing, he had no doubt—if Dancer or Willo went to Gray Lady and ended up dead, he’d never forgive himself.

      He had to find a way to minimize the danger.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       A CRACK IN THE MOUNTAIN

      Han and Dancer left Marisa Pines before dawn the next morning. Willo saw them off, embracing them as if giving a benediction. She stood watching until they rode out of sight.

      Han and Dancer would circle wide around the city of Fellsmarch, and come at Gray Lady on the south flank, to Crow’s secret entrance to the tunnels within the mountain.

      Han had transcribed the sketches Crow had made in Aediion to the map he’d taken from Bayar Library. It was like trying to sing a half-remembered song. He hoped it was close enough, that the tunnels had not been discovered, and the landscape of the mountain hadn’t changed. A lot could happen in a thousand years.

      On another page, Han had scribbled the opening charms for the doors and corridors inside the mountain. He made two copies—one for himself and one for Dancer.

      He had aimed to be on the mountain by midday so he’d have time to search for the tunnels and make his way through in time for the meeting at four in the afternoon. In his panniers, he carried his council clothes—his fine blue coat, the wizard stoles Willo had made for him, and his best black wool trousers.

      Gray Lady had loomed ahead of them all morning, her moody peak shrouded in cloud and mystery.

      At the base of the mountain, Han and Dancer left the road to the Council House and rode cross-country around the base, always moving upward. They kept a close eye on their back trail, hoping that any ambush they might encounter had been laid closer to their destination.

      Eventually, they climbed into the clouds. Han drew the mist around himself like a cloak, a supplement to the glamours they’d constructed that morning.

      On the other peaks surrounding the Vale, small crofts, cabins, and clan lodges peppered the land and clung to the high benches wherever the land was level enough to build. Herds of sheep grazed on all but the most vertical, inhospitable slopes.

      There were few signs of human life on the wizard stronghold of Gray Lady. Han and Dancer crossed game trails and little-used horse tracks filling in with summer growth. Farther from the road, they wound through stands of stunted trees, the branches twisted by prevailing winds.

      Han couldn’t shake the knowledge that he was deep in Bayar territory. That’s what you wanted, he said to himself. Toe-to-toe and blade-to-blade.

      He and Dancer had to leave their horses behind when the way became too steep for the animals to navigate. They staked them in a tiny upland meadow, within reach of grass and water, setting charms against four-legged predators.

      Slinging his panniers over his shoulders, Han led the way upward, sometimes walking upright, sometimes scrambling on hands and knees, his saddlebags slamming against his hips.

      He used his sleeve to blot mist and sweat from his face. His hair was plastered down on his forehead. I’ll be in fine shape at the council meeting, he thought. “We must be getting close,” he said aloud, pausing on a small ledge until Dancer caught up.

      Rummaging in his pannier, Han surfaced his notes from his session with Crow. Putting one hand on his amulet, extending the other in a wide sweep, he spoke the first charm, one intended to reveal magical barriers and power channels.

      Tendrils of magic flicked out over the mountainside, and it lit up like solstice fireworks. Webs of spellwork covered the ground, layer on layer of brilliance. It was elegant, beautiful, fragile as spun glass, reflecting a fierce and desperate genius that crackled with power. The texture of it was familiar to him from his sessions with Crow. Exquisitely efficient.

      Han and Dancer looked at each other, eyes wide.

      Han set his feet, closed his hand on his amulet again, and spoke the first of a series of unraveling charms. Gently, he teased away the magic layer by layer, sweat beading on his forehead, exercising a level of patience he didn’t know he had. Crow had drilled into him the consequences of careless mistakes.

      Gradually, a new landscape emerged that had not been visible before—a fissure between two huge slabs of granite; a rocky pathway leading upward.

      When all magic had been scraped away, Han let go of his amulet and stood breathing hard, as if he’d climbed the mountain at a dead run.

      “I think it’s clear now,” he said, when his breathlessness eased. “But my amulet is half drained. Anyone with less power on board would be done for the day.”

      “I wonder if the barriers are designed to do that,” Dancer said. “To wear down any wizard who tries to enter on his own.”

      Cautiously, they began to climb again, Han in the lead, his notes tucked inside his coat. Periodically, they came across new magical traps, cleverly hidden around turns, designed to send them over cliffs or into dead ends or sliding into ravines. Han disabled each one, acutely conscious of his dwindling magic supply. If he’d had any doubts about Crow’s identity, they’d been scoured away. If he’d had any lingering question that his ancestor was a magical genius, it was answered.

      Dancer looked back the way they had come. “Did you notice?” he said, pointing. “The barriers go back up after we pass.”

      And it was true. Their back trail was now obscured by a veil of magical threads. Which meant that they’d need power to return the way they’d come.

      Han gritted his teeth. There was nothing to do but press on.

      The entrance to the cave would have been easy to miss if they hadn’t been looking for it in the shadow of a massive slab of granite shaped like a wolf’s head. Unlike the rest of the pathway, there was no telltale magic obscuring the entrance; just shrubbery and trees that had grown up over a millenium.

      Han released a long breath. This was it—the back door into Gray Lady that had lain hidden for a thousand years. He hoped.

      From the angle of the sun outside the cave, Han guessed it was midday. They had four hours to navigate the tunnels and reach the Council House. The plan was that Dancer would come that far with Han so that he’d be familiar with the tunnel system for their return trip.

      The opening itself was small, leading to a long tunnel they navigated on hands and knees. Han was prickle-skinned and dry-mouthed all the way. At any moment, he expected to be blasted to bits or incinerated by some nasty charm that Crow had forgotten to mention. Now and then he touched his amulet to dispel the smothering dark.

      A brightness up ahead said they were reaching the end of the tunnel.

      Han emerged first—into a cave the size of the Cathedral Temple, where Raisa had been crowned queen. Wizard lights burned in sconces on the walls, glittering off pillars of quartz and spires of calcite in every color. Could they really have been burning for more than a thousand years? Or had someone been here since to replenish them?

      A waterfall cascaded a hundred feet from a tunnel entrance СКАЧАТЬ