Elementary by Mercedes Lackey Page B

Holme-on-Spaulding-Moor. Da was talking about the earthquakes that had rumbled through years back. Tom’d been serving then, out of the country, but he’d heard how the family and other Earth Mages had banded together to ease those quakes from what they might have been. He wasn’t sure exactly what they’d done, or how they’d done it, and he cursed himself for a fool for not asking further. All he knew was, it had taken them all working together to mitigate the force and consequences.
    And here he was, a lone Earth Master in the City of London, and warning signs abounding.
    Could that be it? The ravens, the lions roaring in the Lion’s Tower, the upset in the menagerie. Were the creatures all trying to speak to the state of the land?
    He looked down at the letters surrounding him without really seeing the pages. It seemed a mite too convenient that such information would arrive just at this moment. His family’s powers lay with the Earth, with the occasional Air and Water allies. And the Earth was tied firmly to the present and the past, with no tendency toward foresight. But Tom knew well enough that the Elemental forces of magic had their own paths. To dismiss this as coincidence was to risk ignoring a warning.
    That he would not do.
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    A few days later, Tom got his chance to investigate—after the Ceremony of the Keys, when the Tower was locked up secure for the night, and its residents settled in and cozy in their beds. His watch was the White Tower this night, the oldest tower, and the one with the deepest cellars . . . dungeons years past.
    He waited at his post until there was nothing but the depths of the night and the sound of his own breath around him. Then he took up his lantern and headed down the twisting stairs. He’d go down, take care of this business, and then nip back up to his position. And if any should find him, well, he’d say he’d heard a noise.
    It was cooler there within, the stones radiating damp and chill. His breath fogged out ever so slightly. Standing at the base of the stairs, he held the lantern high and saw small, cramped halls running off in each direction, crammed with crates, barrels, and old furniture. To see it, you’d think it was nothing more than Granny’s attic that needed cleaning out.
    Tom knew better. He checked his shields, holding them as tight as he could. His was a simple plan. Get to the deepest part, extend his focus into the foundations and farther, down to the very depths of the earth, and see if he could sense any tensions in the land below. Just a swift, simple probe, and then he’d return to his duties—
    He heard a clatter from behind a crate to his left and pivoted, his lantern swaying in his hand, causing the shadows to dance. “Who’s there?” he whispered, his heart pounding.
    A glimpse, nothing more, of a rat, its tail disappearing into shadows.
    Tom barked a laugh at himself and his racing heart, then focused on the task at hand. Lifting his lantern again, he headed down the narrow ways, ignoring the cells to the sides, down to the deepest part of the “cellar,” trying to catch his breath.
    He found a place then, between crates and barrels, and set the lantern down. He plucked at his uniform, adjusting it here and there, as he willed his heart calm and his breath steady.
    Normally, he’d call his Elemental allies and ask them to aid him in this task. He was strong in his own Element. But he’d not call any to this place. With the filth of London all about them, the sickness in the earth below the Tower, and the foulness of its moat waters, he hadn’t the heart.
    No, he’d do it himself. But not the usual way, of merging with an area below his feet, slowly expanding into the land in a strong wave. He’d not expose himself, either. He’d seek down into the bedrock below them, more like a needle thrust. He’d shape