the foundries of Egisburg, and had been installed here quite openly. Her excuse both then and now was safety and nothing more; it was, she considered, a reasonable reason for locking any door, and Crisen at least did not question it. Also, and more importantly to Sedna’s mind, she possessed the only key. Unsnapping a jewelled catch which released its elaborate wards from the body of the ring, she inserted that only key into the lock and twisted: once, twice, and the iron door opened.
Had Sedna been a little more observant she might have noticed the miniscule scratches round the keyhole’s outer rim, and also might have discovered a thin film of grease within it, the metal-flecked residue of which glistened faintly on the key as she withdrew it. But she was not… and she did not.
For at that point she hesitated, and strangely so; all her preceding actions had been swift and sure, not considered by first or second thoughts. Yet now something prevented her from reaching into the casket. Fear, perhaps, or merely apprehension—an unwillingness to discover at last what it was that had brought her here.
Steeling herself, Sedna put both hands inside and withdrew the bulk of
Enciervanul Doamnisoar
, momentarily repelled as always by the smooth, sleek contact of its flawless leather cover, knowing as she did what that leather was supposed to be: the skin of a virgin girl, probably of the same peasant stock as Sedna was herself, her back flayed with flint while she still lived and then tanned to the softness of a lady’s glove as binding for this most terrible of grimoires.
“Probably pigskin,” Sedna muttered to herself as she laid the book down on a lectern. She said something of the sort on every occasion when she had cause to touch the awesome volume, although Father and Mother and Maiden all witness how few those occasions had been; and despite that reassuring scepticism she still had to resist a wish to wipe some unseen residue of suffering from her hands. It was several minutes before she could force herself to unsnap the three bronze hasps which held the covers shut, and longer still before she opened them.
When at last she did so, she found with a little thrill of horror that no searching through its pages would be necessary. The book was accomplishing that all by itself. Logic stated that this was because—like all such thick-spined hand-bindings—there was a tendency to fall open at some weak point in its structure. But logic had no room for argument where magic was concerned… The leaves flicked past, making a tiny sound like mice behind wainscoting, and gradually slowed as if some unseen scholar neared the place he sought. Then they stopped.
And Sedna bit back on a wail of fear.
Unseen behind her, two pairs of eyes watched curiously through spyports all but hidden behind a carefully arranged half-row of scrolls…
----
Aldric emerged slowly from the barrow, noting with a faint, disinterested surprise that the shadows thrown by the surrounding trees had barely encroached upon the clearing from the places where he had last observed them. This meant that he had been within the mound for less than a quarter-hour—yet it had seemed much more. Strange indeed…
A human figure, no more than a vague outline of black against the silvered grass, was watching him from beneath the lightning-blasted tree. Though he could not see the eyes, he could sense them on him and sense too something else: annoyance… ? disbelief… ? perhaps relief… ? Aldric could not tell. His hand moved almost of its own volition to the holstered
telek;
but he had already recognised the silhouette of Evthan’s lanky frame and forced himself not merely to relax, but even to wear a thin smile on a face which it did not fit. False bravado, he thought grimly, was coming to be a habit and a bad one at that. A poor, playacting affectation. The smile dissolved as if it had never been.
As he drew closer, he could make out details—and these did
Had Sedna been a little more observant she might have noticed the miniscule scratches round the keyhole’s outer rim, and also might have discovered a thin film of grease within it, the metal-flecked residue of which glistened faintly on the key as she withdrew it. But she was not… and she did not.
For at that point she hesitated, and strangely so; all her preceding actions had been swift and sure, not considered by first or second thoughts. Yet now something prevented her from reaching into the casket. Fear, perhaps, or merely apprehension—an unwillingness to discover at last what it was that had brought her here.
Steeling herself, Sedna put both hands inside and withdrew the bulk of
Enciervanul Doamnisoar
, momentarily repelled as always by the smooth, sleek contact of its flawless leather cover, knowing as she did what that leather was supposed to be: the skin of a virgin girl, probably of the same peasant stock as Sedna was herself, her back flayed with flint while she still lived and then tanned to the softness of a lady’s glove as binding for this most terrible of grimoires.
“Probably pigskin,” Sedna muttered to herself as she laid the book down on a lectern. She said something of the sort on every occasion when she had cause to touch the awesome volume, although Father and Mother and Maiden all witness how few those occasions had been; and despite that reassuring scepticism she still had to resist a wish to wipe some unseen residue of suffering from her hands. It was several minutes before she could force herself to unsnap the three bronze hasps which held the covers shut, and longer still before she opened them.
When at last she did so, she found with a little thrill of horror that no searching through its pages would be necessary. The book was accomplishing that all by itself. Logic stated that this was because—like all such thick-spined hand-bindings—there was a tendency to fall open at some weak point in its structure. But logic had no room for argument where magic was concerned… The leaves flicked past, making a tiny sound like mice behind wainscoting, and gradually slowed as if some unseen scholar neared the place he sought. Then they stopped.
And Sedna bit back on a wail of fear.
Unseen behind her, two pairs of eyes watched curiously through spyports all but hidden behind a carefully arranged half-row of scrolls…
----
Aldric emerged slowly from the barrow, noting with a faint, disinterested surprise that the shadows thrown by the surrounding trees had barely encroached upon the clearing from the places where he had last observed them. This meant that he had been within the mound for less than a quarter-hour—yet it had seemed much more. Strange indeed…
A human figure, no more than a vague outline of black against the silvered grass, was watching him from beneath the lightning-blasted tree. Though he could not see the eyes, he could sense them on him and sense too something else: annoyance… ? disbelief… ? perhaps relief… ? Aldric could not tell. His hand moved almost of its own volition to the holstered
telek;
but he had already recognised the silhouette of Evthan’s lanky frame and forced himself not merely to relax, but even to wear a thin smile on a face which it did not fit. False bravado, he thought grimly, was coming to be a habit and a bad one at that. A poor, playacting affectation. The smile dissolved as if it had never been.
As he drew closer, he could make out details—and these did
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