Astonishment went through the hooded creatures and they babbled faster to each other as Hamar’s legs finally buckled, – the two captors forcing him back up again. The man in red allowed all of them their excitement and then cut it short.

“Change him out of those clothes, Adept,” he said. “See to him well!” Then the big man gave an odd smile and turned and went back where he’d come from, the others bowing out of his way.

….

One of his captors steered Hamar ahead at the boy’s limping pace. Hamar kept looking to see if hooves or paws were flashing out from under the creature’s hem as it walked, but he couldn’t be sure. Instead he gained just enough presence of mind to number what might be exits down the archways they passed, – whatever good that would do him!

They charged along, the breeze changing to a moaning wind that fled down a deeper passageway here and there, whipping the torches lining them and making the place seem alive.

Hamar steeled himself, enough to suddenly lengthen his stride to test his captor’s grip. The iron grip never loosened.

Secretly he kept numbering the doorways on his fingers, – eighteen, nineteen, now twenty, twenty-one, then he lost count. Doors with wooden fronts had brightly painted letterings or symbols, none of them like the chalkings he’d seen on goods in the market. A few of them were ajar and had strange smells coming out, some very bad, some heady with perfume.

Occasionally he heard talking going on inside them, or what could have been chanting.

Suddenly there was a whine and rapid panting which got louder as they neared an open door. As they flashed past he saw a dog inside it who was five feet up in the air! Its eyes were wild as it twisted and kicked and cried out, paddling its way around in a circle! It was there one second and then gone.

Flying.

He’d seen a dog FLY! This place could do that!

But the wonder cut short when the next doorway stank like a rotten goat carcass. And further along from that one was another that had a basket placed outside it that was full of small skulls, – domed ones that didn’t look animal!

He whispered down into his chest, ‘I am Hamar Mi-sha Baltshazar. I’ve been through worse, no one has got me yet,’ but he felt like an empty sack. He craved his mother’s arms with all his heart and hated himself for it.

He kept counting doors, tried hard to memorize the stone patterns leading back to the entry. He told himself this wasn’t rescue, only a sparing, only for a time, he must keep his wits; these creatures were not really being kind now, just interested, – what if they stopped having any when they found out he was a nothing? He must make them all trust him till he could find a way out and make a run for it!

But how fast could they run in their gowns? And what other powers did they have?

The thirty-fifth door went by, or maybe the thirty-sixth, or fortieth, – alarmingly through the many twists and turnings Hamar had run out of numbers for them. The cavern seemed to be snaking underneath the whole of Al Musar!

All along the walls were small designs that were something like the hex signs of the villagers. New hexes were scribbled over old ones, some very faded, –  alarmingly so, as if majic wars always went on down here. Then he and ‘Adept’ arrived at a curtained-off wall and stopped. By then Hamar was no longer sure of the way back, and when Adept let go of his collar, Hamar stood.

The creature pulled the curtain aside and held the torch high for Hamar to walk ahead of him. Inside, they were in some sort of storage chamber. The Adept put the torch in a wall-holder. In front of them a high chest gleamed with enamelled drawers, while shelves to its right were stuffed with folded garments.

Then the Adept grasped the edge of his hood and dramatically dropped it back, revealing a chalky human face marked with a single blue tattoo between his eyes. A menacing man, but only a man, and otherwise ordinary looking! His eyes were dark and glittery though, and intensely looked into Hamar’s as if trying to see what the man in red had seen.

“We do not hide our faces when we’re in the rooms,” the Adept said, and then from a shelf he pulled out a tunic. He held it up to Hamar and let it drop down its full length before folding it onto a stand. He wrinkled his nose at the boy’s beggar smell.

“You don’t know how to wash?” He pointed over to a basin, “The jug and bowl are for washing! Leave the rags,” and then he retreated to stand guard in the hall.

Pages: 1 2 3