off the walls. ‘You always had peculiar ways of letting me know the people you disapproved of.’ He rubbed his nose. ‘Which was almost everyone, I might add.’ With a flick of his fingers he dismissed the Chondrin, who, after retrieving his weapons, withdrew, closing the gates after him.
The Salamander breathed deeply. ‘Ah! Feel that! It is almost like being on the surface three centuries ago. Do you hear the birds? Did you recognize the calls? You are sufficiently knowledgeable to have heard of birds.’ He waved, a curiously brusque movement for such a normally expansive gesture. ‘All of this is not wasted on you, I trust,’ he drawled.
Ronin forced himself to sit completely still and say nothing.
The Salamander’s right arm, lying thickly along the arm of his chair, was somehow menacing. ‘Let me tell you something. It has been many years since you have been here. Everything has changed.’
He cocked his head to one side as if listening to a far-off but important conversation. ‘How peaceful it is here,’ he said after a time, his tone soft and reflective. ‘How comfortable, how secure. It took me quite a long time to build this. For instance, this room was under construction when you were last here. It has taken an enormous effort to get all the elements gathered and integrated. The lighting was difficult but, as you can see, not insurmountable. But the birds, the birds, dear boy! For a while I thought I would never hear them in here.’ He cocked his head again. Their sweet singing sounded over the music of the water. ‘Ah, listen! In the end it was worth it. This place gives me great pleasure.’
There was silence for a time, at least a cessation of human speech, during which a kind of dreamy peacefulness descended upon them.
Broken. ‘And you have changed the most, dear boy. You are no longer my Student. You are a Bladesman. That is in itself significant.’
Ronin let out the breath he had been holding. ‘Yes?’
‘It means that you have been extremely fortunate in not having run across a Saardin without a sense of humour.’ Once more he laughed. Ronin thought he liked to hear the sound of it.
The laughter died suddenly. ‘Or have you? One hears the most distressing stories. You seem to have put yourself into a somewhat embarrassing position.’ One eyebrow arched, giving him a vividly predatory look.
‘What have you been told?’
He shifted his bulk in the chair. ‘Enough to wonder how much of your training here you still remember. Freidal distrusts you, that is not a good thing.’ He looked down at his jewelled hand, then up again. ‘He can become quite—um—annoying.’
Ronin sat rather stiffly. ‘I did not come to you for that reason.’
‘Indeed? But I daresay that you will have to adjust to the fact that you blundered. He has marked you; perhaps he is having you watched. I need only—’
‘No.’
‘I thought not. It makes no sense, but then—’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps then you will tell me why you came.’
Ronin nodded. ‘It is about a Magic Man,’ he said.
For a time after he had finished, the Salamander said nothing. He laced his fingers, resting them on his thighs. The scent of cloves came very strong on the air. The ‘birds’ sang. Along one wall, moss had been encouraged to grow, moist and green. Ronin found it hard to believe that they were underground. He felt isolated, quite disconnected from the world Downshaft, and he recognized this as a form of offering. It was no accident that the Salamander had received him here.
‘How do you suppose,’ the Salamander said, ‘I am able to maintain all of this?’ His hands unfolded like a fan.
Ronin thought: So it has been a mistake after all. He got up.
The Salamander’s eyes opened wide. ‘Ah. What is it?’
‘There was a time when this was necessary,’ Ronin said angrily. ‘Now—’
‘Indulge me.’
‘As you said, everything has changed.’
‘Did I not teach you all explanations in their
The Salamander breathed deeply. ‘Ah! Feel that! It is almost like being on the surface three centuries ago. Do you hear the birds? Did you recognize the calls? You are sufficiently knowledgeable to have heard of birds.’ He waved, a curiously brusque movement for such a normally expansive gesture. ‘All of this is not wasted on you, I trust,’ he drawled.
Ronin forced himself to sit completely still and say nothing.
The Salamander’s right arm, lying thickly along the arm of his chair, was somehow menacing. ‘Let me tell you something. It has been many years since you have been here. Everything has changed.’
He cocked his head to one side as if listening to a far-off but important conversation. ‘How peaceful it is here,’ he said after a time, his tone soft and reflective. ‘How comfortable, how secure. It took me quite a long time to build this. For instance, this room was under construction when you were last here. It has taken an enormous effort to get all the elements gathered and integrated. The lighting was difficult but, as you can see, not insurmountable. But the birds, the birds, dear boy! For a while I thought I would never hear them in here.’ He cocked his head again. Their sweet singing sounded over the music of the water. ‘Ah, listen! In the end it was worth it. This place gives me great pleasure.’
There was silence for a time, at least a cessation of human speech, during which a kind of dreamy peacefulness descended upon them.
Broken. ‘And you have changed the most, dear boy. You are no longer my Student. You are a Bladesman. That is in itself significant.’
Ronin let out the breath he had been holding. ‘Yes?’
‘It means that you have been extremely fortunate in not having run across a Saardin without a sense of humour.’ Once more he laughed. Ronin thought he liked to hear the sound of it.
The laughter died suddenly. ‘Or have you? One hears the most distressing stories. You seem to have put yourself into a somewhat embarrassing position.’ One eyebrow arched, giving him a vividly predatory look.
‘What have you been told?’
He shifted his bulk in the chair. ‘Enough to wonder how much of your training here you still remember. Freidal distrusts you, that is not a good thing.’ He looked down at his jewelled hand, then up again. ‘He can become quite—um—annoying.’
Ronin sat rather stiffly. ‘I did not come to you for that reason.’
‘Indeed? But I daresay that you will have to adjust to the fact that you blundered. He has marked you; perhaps he is having you watched. I need only—’
‘No.’
‘I thought not. It makes no sense, but then—’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps then you will tell me why you came.’
Ronin nodded. ‘It is about a Magic Man,’ he said.
For a time after he had finished, the Salamander said nothing. He laced his fingers, resting them on his thighs. The scent of cloves came very strong on the air. The ‘birds’ sang. Along one wall, moss had been encouraged to grow, moist and green. Ronin found it hard to believe that they were underground. He felt isolated, quite disconnected from the world Downshaft, and he recognized this as a form of offering. It was no accident that the Salamander had received him here.
‘How do you suppose,’ the Salamander said, ‘I am able to maintain all of this?’ His hands unfolded like a fan.
Ronin thought: So it has been a mistake after all. He got up.
The Salamander’s eyes opened wide. ‘Ah. What is it?’
‘There was a time when this was necessary,’ Ronin said angrily. ‘Now—’
‘Indulge me.’
‘As you said, everything has changed.’
‘Did I not teach you all explanations in their
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