succeed without the sword, or Geran to wield it?”
The halfling shook his head, and came to a halt. He looked back up to Mirya. “What happened?” he asked.
Mirya couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. “I betrayed him,” she said in a whisper. “Rhovann bewitched me tendays ago, and I didn’t even know it until I turned Geran in. It’s my fault.”
Hamil stared at her, a hard and cheerless look that chilled her to the marrow. His eyes flicked to Sarth, and Mirya realized that he was speaking silently to the sorcerer. The tiefling studied her for a moment, and shrugged. “It’s a clever and ruthless ploy,” he said to Hamil. “Rhovann is a wizard of formidable learning, brilliant and unscrupulous. Why should we be surprised that he conceived something like this?”
“Because I hate it when my enemy proves more clever than I thought,” Hamil replied. “How do we know that she isn’t still under the wizard’s influence? He used Mirya to catch Geran, maybe he now hopes to use Geran to catch us.”
“That I can test,” Sarth said. He advanced on Mirya and peered into her eyes. The tiefling’s orbs were the color of hot brass in the shadows. “Be still, Mirya. This will not harm you, but I must be certain. Zamai dhur othmanna.” With the last words, he raised his rune-marked scepter and brought his magic to bear; his eyes glowed as bright as candles, and Mirya felt a strange tingling sensation over her skin. She shuddered, but tried not to retreat.
After a moment, Sarth nodded to himself. “No enchantment holds her, but I detect the fading impression of one that was recently upon her. We can trust her.”
“That’s a relief,” Mirya said. “I feared that I was still under Rhovann’s spell without knowing it.”
“Start at the beginning, then, and explain to us what happened,” Sarth said.
Mirya started to speak, and then stopped herself. “No. We haven’t the time for that,” she answered. “I’ve a few loyalist fighters assembling near the Council Hall now. Every moment we delay, Geran remains in Rhovann’s power.”
The halfling and the tiefling stared at her. Then, slowly, Hamil nodded. “All right. Perhaps Rhovann isn’t expecting anyone to be able to mount a rescue so swiftly. Or perhaps we’ll all get killed. I don’t suppose you have a plan?”
She shook her head. “I can get you to the Council Hall unseen. After that, I hoped you’d have an idea.”
Hamil replied with a low laugh. “You surprise me, Mirya. You’re too practical for this sort of nonsense. Well, lead on, and we’ll see what we see.”
“This way, then,” Mirya replied. She led the halfling and the sorcerer back to the open cellar and its hidden entrance to the buried streets. A distant flicker of lightning brightened the sky as she scrambled back down to the old door, and the raindrops started falling thicker and faster. Her allies paused as she levered the door open again, looking dubiously at the dark passage revealed. Mirya retrieved her lantern and ducked inside; after a moment, she heard Sarth and Hamil following.
“Well, now I understand what you meant about getting to the Council Hall unseen,” Hamil said softly as they hurried along. “I never knew any of this was down here. How far do these tunnels go?”
“They lie under much of the new town, anywhere there’s been building atop the ruins of the old city,” Mirya answered. “They reach to Cart Street to the south, and as far as High Street on the east, but they don’t cross the Winterspear, of course. Still, they’re useful for smuggling and staying out of sight.” They passed through the old wine cellar, but no one was there; Mirya didn’t waste time, and simply pressed on ahead at the best speed she could manage. In another hundred yards she passed by the cramped door leading into Erstenwold’s cellar, and took a branching passage to her right. It took her one or two false turns, but she finally found her way to a wide but low cellar half filled with old rubble. Old casks, barrels, and trunks were stacked haphazardly around the bottom of an old wooden staircase that led up to a wooden door.
In the dim gleam of a lantern whose shutter was open only by a sliver, she saw several hooded figures waiting by the foot of the stair. Brun Osting raised the lantern and opened the shutter by a little more. “Mirya, is that you?” he called in a low