Fire - Kristin Cashore [111]
Ten men. She thought she could handle that while holding the floor plan and thousands of moving figures in her mind.
How her power had grown, with practice. She could not have done this a year ago. Only last spring, the First Branch had utterly overwhelmed her.
Her party of ten ascended the steps to the third level. Now move down the hallway and turn into the corridor containing your rooms, Fire thought to Gentian and Gunner. Her mind raced ahead to that very corridor and found it alarmingly full of people. She sped some up, slowed some down, and sent some into their rooms, forcefully in the case of the strong-minded, for there was no time to take the proper care. When Gentian, Gunner, and their five attendants turned the corner to their rooms, the hallway stretched emptily before them.
The hallway was still empty moments later when Gentian and Gunner came abreast of their rooms. Stop there, she told them. She switched to the minds of the soldiers hiding in the suites around Gentian’s. When Murgda’s men rounded the corner, she sent the soldiers a message: Go now. Soldiers piled into the hallway and set about capturing Gentian’s five guards and Murgda’s three spies.
Run! Fire screamed at Gentian and Gunner, perhaps unnecessarily, as they seemed already to be running. They’re onto us! Run! Run! Down the hallway! Turn left at the lantern! Now, down that corridor! Look for the green door on the left! Through the green door and you’re safe! Yes, you’re safe. Now up, up. Climb the stairs. Quiet, slow. Slow down. Stop, she thought. Stop for a minute.
Gentian and Gunner stopped, baffled, frantic, and alone, on a spiral stairway somewhere between levels five and six. Fire kept a finger on them, petted and soothed them, and stretched back to the hallway where the short, nasty scuffle had taken place. Did you get everyone? she asked the soldier in charge. Did anyone see you?
The soldier communicated that all had gone well.
Thank you, Fire said. Well done. If you have any trouble, call for me. She took a long, steadying breath and returned to Gentian and Gunner on the stairway.
I’m sorry, she murmured soothingly. Are you all right? I’m sorry. I’ll take care of you.
Gunner was in no good humour, breaking loose a bit from her hold. He was angry about the loss of his guards, angry to be huddled in a narrow stairway, furious with himself for allowing a monster to commandeer his intentions and put him in danger. Fire flooded him, overwhelming him with heat and with feelings and suggestions designed to stop him thinking. Then she sent him a steely and certain message. You knowingly put yourself in danger when you came traipsing into the palace of the king. But you have nothing to fear. I’ve chosen you, and I am stronger than the king. Take hold of yourself. Think how much easier it’ll be to injure him with me on your side.
Simultaneously Fire checked the corridors to which this spiral stairway led. Gala guests walked and mingled in the corridor of level eight. Level seven was empty.
Brigan was on level eight. But Fire’s mind was growing sluggish with fatigue.
Brigan, she thought, too weary to concern herself with manners. I’m taking them to level seven, to the unoccupied rooms just below you. When the time comes, you may have to climb down by the balcony.
Brigan’s response came quickly: this was perfectly fine. Fire was not to worry about him or the balcony.
Go up, Fire told Gentian and Gunner. Climb. Yes, one more level. Now quietly through the door. Down the corridor, yes, and turn left. Slowly . . . slowly . . . Fire strained to remember the guest plan and to feel where Brigan was. There, she said finally, stop. Enter the room to your right. Gunner was still spluttering. She gave him an unaffectionate shove.
Inside the room, Gunner’s anger changed to puzzlement, and then, quite abruptly, to contentment. This was odd, but Fire had no energy to contemplate it. Sit down, gentlemen, she told them numbly. Stay away from the windows and the balcony. I’ll be there in a few minutes and we can talk.