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.But there was nothing at all.Jute strained to listen, but there was only silence.He was afraid, for the silence held an anticipation, not unlike a ward—a coiled expectancy seeking its moment of violent release.He touched the door handle, expecting the tremble of a ward spell infused through the iron.There was nothing.However, the door was locked.He turned out his pockets, but he did not even have a bit of fluff, let alone a piece of wire.Someone had emptied them.He frowned at that, for he had a habit of keeping his pockets stuffed full of interesting things that he collected: perhaps a polished mouse skull, some walnuts if he felt hungry, a ball of string, the remains of an expired ward that Lena had proudly given him, and always a piece of wire.But his pockets were empty now.He examined the bed, but it had been made by a craftsman with no love of metal, for there was not a single nail in its frame.The chair Severan had sat in and the table by the door were no better.They looked to have been built by the same hands—notched and grooved with wooden joints.The candle.It sat on a copper plate.Wax had run down and built up on the metal in draperies.The candle would not come unstuck from the plate when he tried twisting it, and he ended up splashing hot wax on his fingers.The flame went out, plunging the room into darkness.He did not mind darkness.He never had, even when the Juggler had locked him in the basement for the first time.That had been years ago.He had been smart enough then, as a young child, to pretend terror and tears for the Juggler’s satisfaction.Being locked in the dark had become the Juggler’s favorite punishment for him.That and beating him.He’d choose the darkness over a beating any day.Never mind that now.The candle.He froze, unsure if the voice was sounding within the room or from within his head.The skin prickled on the back of his neck.“Who are you?” he said.I told you before, boy.There’ll be time for that later.The voice subsided into silence.Jute shivered, despite the stuffy air in the room.The candle came away from the plate in his hand in one wrench.His fingers found what he hoped for: a metal spike protruding from the center of the copper plate, ideal for impaling candles.Ideal for picking a lock.He bent the spike back and forth until it broke free from the plate.It took him a while to pick the lock, for his hands were shaking so badly that he dropped the spike twice and had to fumble in the dark for it.But the tumblers of the lock were simple, and the door creaked open.A glow flooded into the room.He peeked out into a gloomy hallway stretching into shadows on either side.High on the wall hung a lamp glimmering with pale light.The light flickered as if something moved behind the glass.A dark spot appeared on the lamp and then grew outward, no thicker than his finger, wavering toward Jute.He slammed the door shut.An understandable response, but too late.“What was that?”A very nasty spell.Run!Jute flung the door open and darted out into the hall.He had one glimpse of rippling, black tendrils wriggling toward him, with the lamplight streaming from their midst.But then he was running down the hall and into the shadows.A flight of stairs.His foot slipped on the first step and he caught at the banister to steady himself.The stairway descended down into a high-ceilinged chamber shrouded in shadows.There was no way to tell whether someone or something lurked below, but Jute didn’t care.He hurtled down the steps in panic.He turned at the bottom of the stairs and looked back up.A light shone at the top, and then a dark blotch spilled like fog over the highest stair.With a whimper, Jute plunged away into the darkness.He tripped over a chair and fell.Bit his tongue and tasted blood in his mouth.He stumbled to his feet, disoriented.Felt the smooth wooden top of a table and skirted it.The shadows were thickening into almost discernable shapes.The moon bloomed through one water-streaked window.It was raining outside.Behind him, the sea of darkness flowed down from the last step and surged forward.Frantically, he looked around for a door.“Dispel!” said a voice.The darkness vanished and ordinary shadow reclaimed the room.Two quick steps sounded and a hand grabbed Jute by the throat.He found himself staring up into Nio’s face.“How’d you get out?” said the man.Jute could not answer.Nio’s fingers tightened around his throat, choking him.“I want answers,” Nio said.“Now.Tonight.If I have to flay them from your flesh, one by one.I can’t wait any longer on the qualms of my tiresome old friend [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]