Lacuna - N.R. Walker Page 0,54
kill anyone who dared look at Crow, let alone touch him . . . That was very real.
It was messing with his head.
He needed to find some focus. But more than that, he needed answers.
Maghdlm was in a large guest room, sitting by the window, when Tancho and Crow entered. They’d brought Asagi with them, and Soko, Karasu, and Kohaku filed in and stood by the wall. She had a blanket over her lap. Her head bandage was clean and she looked much brighter.
“I trust we find you well,” Crow said.
She smiled. “As well as expected. Thank you both, for bringing me here.” She turned to Karasu, Kohaku, and Soko. “Thank you, all.” Then her gaze fell to Asagi.
“Maghdlm,” Tancho said. “This is Asagi. Trusted mentor and advisor. He witnessed something you might offer explanation to. A hundred creatures came ashore, walking out of the ocean. They trudged into this castle, killing one of my men. And then with sorcery of some kind, they drew a large circle of sparks in the air and made a doorway.”
Maghdlm’s eyes went wide. Even her swollen eye opened for a second. “They did?”
Tancho studied her for a long moment. “You mentioned a doorway to Crow and myself earlier.”
She leaned forward, staring at Asagi. “Above the compass rose?”
He nodded. “Yes!”
She sat back and turned her sorry gaze back to Tancho and Crow. “Then it would appear we got out of Aequi Kentron just in time.”
“Is that where they went?” Tancho asked. “How can you be sure?”
“I can’t be certain, but I would guess.”
Crow frowned. “So, for these doorways to work, they need a compass rose tiled into the floor?”
Maghdlm nodded.
Crow stood to his full height, his eyes sharp. “There is a compass rose tiled in the grand hall of the Northlands’ castle.”
“There will be one in every castle in all four lands,” Maghdlm replied calmly. “It is how they travelled a thousand years ago. Our ancestors, before the wars when they were closed off and forgotten.”
“We must warn them. Your people, Crow,” Tancho said. “And Samiel and Elmwood.”
“Yes. We must.” But then his eyebrows furrowed. “Closed off?” Crow asked Maghdlm. “If they were closed a thousand years ago, how did they use this one just days gone past?”
“Sorcery,” Asagi said. “I watched them do it.”
Maghdlm gave a nod. “A better question, perhaps: How did they know about it?”
“A more urgent question,” Crow said. “A door opens both ways, does it not? What’s to stop them from coming back through? Right now? Or tonight when we sleep?”
That had Tancho’s immediate attention. “We need to close it. Lock it. Tear it from the floor if we need to.”
“We need to warn the others first,” Crow said. “I must get word to my castle.”
Tancho turned to Maghdlm. “Do you know how to make it work? You said you could show us. Can you open a doorway to the Northlands’ castle?”
She gave a small nod. “It is a magick long lost. But I can try. Though I have no tools with me,” she said. “Nothing.”
“We have alchemists here,” Tancho said. “They can supply you with all you need.”
Maghdlm smiled wearily. “Good. Then take me to the compass. Let me see where it is they went.”
Asagi had a push-chair brought for Maghdlm and they made their way to the grand hall. It was a large room, with large white tiles and a huge silver compass rose in its centre. Similar to what Tancho had seen at the grand hall in Aequi Kentron.
He’d walked over this a thousand times, stood on it, even played hopping games on it as a small child. He was led to believe the compass signified all four equal lands, and Aequi Kentron at the centre. It had made sense. It still made sense.
The symbol for Aequi Kentron was the compass rose. As Tancho’s was the fish, Crow’s the raven, Elmwood’s the tree, and Samiel’s the desert wind.
But now the compass symbolised something else, and so too did Aequi Kentron.
Something Tancho wasn’t sure he liked.
Tancho studied the tiles, looked at the compass itself, and it took him a moment to realise what had changed. There were two outer circles: one at the midpoints and the other at the outer points of the compass.
Had the inner circle moved? Seeing it now he wondered if it had always been this way, but surely not . . .
“The inner point circle has moved,” he said, unsure. “The arrow now points . . . inward? How is that . .