The Emperor of All Things - By Paul Witcover Page 0,199

seem crude by comparison. He had examined it, seen its workings stir inexplicably to life, experienced, for the briefest instant, the release of its uncanny destructive power – which, despite everything, he could not help thinking had been merely a fraction of what it was capable of, under the right conditions … whatever they might be. He imagined whole armies laid to waste in the blink of an eye, proud cities reduced to rubble. And here he was now, closer than ever to claiming it for himself … or, rather, he reminded himself with a sinking heart, for a creature of the Otherwhere, whose unwilling agent he had become. Like it or not, when he finally held the hunter in his hands, he would call for Tiamat … and he had no doubt that the dragon would come to claim its prize.

The rattle of the returning platform roused him. He stepped in, then turned to face outwards, arms at his sides. He heard a click, followed by the ratcheting of gears, and felt the gathering force of the mechanism an instant before it engaged and lifted him more smoothly than he would have thought possible. The pallid green light of the vial he clutched in one hand slid upwards along with him like sap rising in the trunk of a tree.

Then the platform slowed and halted, and there was Longinus, pulling him into a storeroom the twin of the one he had left behind, save that this one was lit by a solitary candle set in an iron brace upon one wall. Quare, standing beside Pickens, watched as Longinus reached behind the stack of barrels from whose hollow insides he had just emerged; another click, and the missing front of the stack swivelled around and back into place.

Longinus turned to them, his eyes hard and glittering as chips of flint. ‘Here is where it gets interesting, gentlemen,’ he whispered. ‘I regret to say that there is no secret entrance to the Old Wolf’s den. Or, if there is, even I do not know of it. Nor will my key unlock that door. I must pick the lock. While I am doing so, we will be at our most vulnerable. If we are discovered, and an alarm is raised, we shall have no recourse but to fight our way back out. I do not rate our chances highly in that regard. Thus, it is essential that anyone who stumbles upon us be silenced before they can give warning. As I will be otherwise occupied, and Mr Pickens is unarmed, that duty falls to you, Mr Quare.’

He nodded.

Longinus produced a watch from within the folds of his cloak. ‘It is almost three o’clock. I do not think we can safely tarry more than an hour.’

‘But what if the hunter we seek is not here?’ Pickens asked. ‘What if the Old Wolf has taken it to his chambers for the night?’

‘It is here,’ Quare said before Longinus could reply.

Pickens threw him a sharp glance. ‘How can you know that?’

‘Let’s just say I have a feeling. A very strong feeling.’

‘But—’

‘Enough,’ interjected Longinus. ‘Let us be about our business, gentlemen.’

He listened for a moment at the door of the storeroom before cracking it open and slipping out. Pickens followed, and Quare came after, emerging into an empty hallway. The candles in their sconces had been extinguished for the night, and the greenish light of the vial in his hand gave everything a murky, underwater glow. Pickens and Longinus held vials of their own. Longinus was already halfway down the corridor, heading for the door of the Old Wolf’s den, Pickens as close behind him as a shadow. Quare made to draw his blade, then, reconsidering, unslung his crossbow instead, armed it, and hastened after them, his heart keeping time with the song of the hunter, which had, once again, ratcheted up its intensity, as if sensing his approach.

Longinus reached the door and knelt before it. Pickens stood at his back, holding his vial up to illuminate the lock while glancing up and down the corridor, though little was visible beyond the nimbus of their chemically generated lights.

Quare’s skin prickled with the sense of unseen eyes upon him. He had always felt this way in the guild hall – and not without reason. But there was no obvious sign of observation now. The doors on either side of the corridor, as far as he could tell, remained closed, and no sound intruded on the hush of