Legacy of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [67]
We approached the garden, then the building came in sight. Scylla cut the air car’s engines. It hovered noiselessly above the garden wall near the spot where I’d fallen while trying to climb over.
I don’t know what I’d expected—anything from the building surrounded by Technomancers to flames leaping from the roof. What I had not expected was to find the building dark and quiet and seemingly as peaceful as when I’d left.
The air car crept forward, drifting over the white flowers with their heavy, drooping heads. The car came to rest not far from the back door.
“There’s no one here!” Eliza exclaimed, clasping my hand in her excitement. “They didn’t come! Or maybe we’re ahead of them! Open the door, Reuven!”
My hand was on the button.
“They’ve been here,” said Scylla. “They’ve been and gone. It’s over.”
“You’re wrong!” Eliza cried. “How do you know? You can’t know. . . . Reuven, open this door!”
She was frantic. I hit the button. The door swung open. Eliza slid out. She turned to retrieve the Darksword, which I was still holding.
“You should leave the sword hidden in the car,” Scylla advised, climbing out. “It will be safe here. You’ll need it later—for bargaining.”
“Bargaining . . .” Eliza repeated the word, licked dry lips.
I slid across the seat, out from under the sword. Even in my worry and fear, I was relieved to be free of its loathsome touch. Eliza stared suspiciously at Scylla, then made a grab for the sword’s hilt.
“If I leave it, you’ll take it!” she said, struggling to lift the Darksword.
Scylla shrugged. “I can take the sword anytime I want.” Hands on her hips, she smiled at us and her smile seemed menacing. “I don’t think you two could do much to stop me.”
Eliza and I looked at each other and reluctantly we acknowledged the truth. Neither of us was in any shape to battle this woman, although, I recalled, I had not seen her carrying a weapon, either on her person or in the air car.
“But I don’t want it,” Scylla continued. She slammed shut the car door on her side. To my astonishment, she tossed me the keys.
“What do you want?” Eliza demanded.
“Ah, now that’s a bit more difficult to explain,” Scylla replied.
Turning on her heel, she walked across the garden, leaving us with keys to the air car. We could do what we pleased with the Darksword.
I drew out rny electronic notepad, typed swiftly. The Technomancers could be waiting for us inside! Leave the sword here.
“Do you trust her?” Eliza asked me, agonized.
Maybe, I hedged. What she said makes sense. She could have taken the sword from us back there on the highway. It would have been like taking candy from two babies.
“I hope you’re right,” Eliza said fervently. She shut the door and I locked it. The Darksword, wrapped in its cloth, lay on the backseat of the air car.
I, for one, was glad to be rid of it. I felt stronger, my weariness eased. I was more hopeful. Eliza also seemed relieved to be rid of the burden. We hastened after Scylla and reached her just as she was entering the door through which I’d come out.
The hallway was dark and silent. Perhaps it was my overwrought imagination, but the silence had a chill feel to it. It was not the blessed silence of a house asleep. It was the silence of a house that is empty. A tinge of smoke hung in the air. We came to my room. The door was partially open and I distinctly remembered having shut it when I left.
I stepped to the door, looked inside, and stood, transfixed.
The bed had been ripped open by what appeared to be giant claws. Long slashes cut through the mattress. Gouts of feathers lay in heaps on the floor. My knapsack had been torn apart, my clothes strewn about the room. My other possessions—shaving kit, comb, brush—were scattered everywhere.
“You see,” said Scylla. “They were searching for the Dark-sword.”
Despair robbed me of breath. I ran to Saryon’s room. Eliza stood dazed in the hall, staring with disbelief at the destruction.
The door to my master