The Will of the Empress - By Tamora Pierce Page 0,124

see Fin next!

The stair seemed to descend forever. The walls around them were carved stone, cut from the living rock under the palace. They were also old. The two mages passed through sections that had been braced with heavy wooden beams to keep the passage from collapsing. Fin must have had fun carrying a knocked-out girl down here, Briar told both Sandry and Tris.

Too bad he didn't fall and break his neck! Sandry retorted.

Well, then he might have also broken yours, Briar pointed out. Excuse me for saying as much, but I wouldn't dare show my face to your uncle if I'd let that idiot kill you and himself. The only way His Grace wouldn't keelhaul me is if I could give him Fin.

At last they reached the bottom and a door. Tris listened at the keyhole for a moment, tugged at an unraveling braid she had pulled from its net, and flung a fistful of hard air at the door as she thrust it open. The air exploded into the room, knocking over the table that stood between two men, scattering cards, mugs, their unsheathed swords, and a bottle on the floor.

As Tris and Briar came in, the men jumped to their feet, cursing, and grabbed for their fallen weapons. Tris loosed hair-thin bolts of lightning at the blades, forcing their owners to drop them with a yelp. Briar went over to collect the swords and strip the guards of their daggers and any other weapons. Once he was done, Tris set a ring of lightning around the throats of each guard. They dared not move a hair for fear of touching those fiery collars.

"Please, Viymese, don't kill us," babbled one rogue. "He's our master, we had to obey!"

"Shut up," Tris ordered softly as her fistful of wind dropped a coil of rope in her outstretched hand. "You annoy me."

Briar opened the other closed door in the room. The scent of salt and drops of spray struck his face. He looked back at Tris. "It's a cove tucked under the cliff."

Tris set about binding one guard's hands. "So that was the plan? Escape with her by boat?" When he said nothing, she gave the rope a hard yank. "We don't need both of you," she pointed out.

Would you really? Sandry asked. She could see all this through her friends' eyes. Would you really kill one, when it's Fin who's to blame?

They don't know that, snapped Tris. She took away his lightning collar and shoved the man onto a chair. As she tied his legs, Chime flew to his shoulder. To make sure he didn't kick, the dragon gripped his shirt collar with her hind paws and his nose with her forepaws. She leaned into his face and silently hissed, her curved glass fangs within an inch of his eye.

"Yes — by boat," said the talkative man. He stood perfectly still, sweat dotting his forehead in large beads. "Up the coast to a place where my lord has a cart and household troops waiting."

"They've got a long wait, then," Briar said, shutting the door to the cove. "Now, let's see about this box." He went over to it, running his hands over the iron straps that held the top in place.

"You can't open it," said the talkative guard as Tris tied his arms, then removed the lightning collar. "Bidis Finlach has the key!"

"Locks are for the unimaginative," said Briar, placing his hands on the wood of the box. "Unless they're artists, of course. Normally I'm all for art...." He fed himself into the wooden boards. They were new, as they had to be to take the magic that had been placed inside them, all relatively young and plump boards, not long off the tree. Briar called that green life to him, yanking it from the wood, leaving them dry, wizened, and shrunken. The box fell to pieces. Briar caught the iron straps to keep them from hitting Sandry. Once they were safely put aside, Briar helped her to her feet.

She stood, her eyes watering in the sudden light. Once her vision cleared, she lunged for the open stairway door and nearly toppled. Briar held her as her legs cramped and her wounded feet refused to take her weight. He looked around for more linen to use as bandages. Not finding any, he took off his belt knife and swiftly cut off the surly guard's coat. Raising his knife, he was about to remove the man's shirt when it simply dropped